When Two Starks Walk into Braavos
Mar. 24th, 2015 09:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kingofthenorthIn all of Westeros, it was known that the King in the North was dead and Winterfell had fallen into ruin. No one knew of the Stark family, as it was presumed they were all dead, wiped out over the last two years due to the war sparked by the fall of Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark's 'treason'.
Robb should've been dead, as he took a fatal blow to his abdomen, but for some reason Walder Frey took pity on Catelyn's pleas and bothered to send him to the healers, yet still sending the ravens of the notification of his demise. That was the deal: Robb was to leave the north, if he survived, and to never return. It was some Stark soldier killed that was paraded around in Robb's clothes, decapitated with Grey Wind's head attached. Frey only had so much mercy to provide, you see.
Septicemia set in Robb from his wounds, and he ran a fever that was known to kill the young, old, and weak, but in the wee hours of the night four days later was when he broke it. His mutterings and delusions ceased and he started waking up. When Robb was able to barely raise a spoon to his mouth, that was when Frey's hospitality ran out and he kicked him out with the specific instructions of how he was to leave Westeros. They shaved him clean and sheered his curls, hoping no one would recognize him as he was set off to the Narrow Sea to board a boat and sail to Essos, leaving everything behind.
He had never been on a ship before, and the sea sickness nearly devastated his already weakened state. The pain in his abdomen muscles burned and ached as he vomited nothing from his stomach. Every night he prayed to the Gods, asking why he had lived and what purpose did he serve now. Talisa was dead, his son along with; his brothers were presumably dead, his sisters most likely were as well. His mother... Her wounds were too devastating, he had heard, and she too perished on the floor of the great hall in the Twins.
By the time Robb landed in Braavos, a beard was already growing back into his face, and his hair was just beginning to show the curls again, although still very short. He stumbled onto the ground from the ship, looking equally parts lost and in wonder of the new city. It was here he had to determine what to do next, as he knew no one in the city.
Robb should've been dead, as he took a fatal blow to his abdomen, but for some reason Walder Frey took pity on Catelyn's pleas and bothered to send him to the healers, yet still sending the ravens of the notification of his demise. That was the deal: Robb was to leave the north, if he survived, and to never return. It was some Stark soldier killed that was paraded around in Robb's clothes, decapitated with Grey Wind's head attached. Frey only had so much mercy to provide, you see.
Septicemia set in Robb from his wounds, and he ran a fever that was known to kill the young, old, and weak, but in the wee hours of the night four days later was when he broke it. His mutterings and delusions ceased and he started waking up. When Robb was able to barely raise a spoon to his mouth, that was when Frey's hospitality ran out and he kicked him out with the specific instructions of how he was to leave Westeros. They shaved him clean and sheered his curls, hoping no one would recognize him as he was set off to the Narrow Sea to board a boat and sail to Essos, leaving everything behind.
He had never been on a ship before, and the sea sickness nearly devastated his already weakened state. The pain in his abdomen muscles burned and ached as he vomited nothing from his stomach. Every night he prayed to the Gods, asking why he had lived and what purpose did he serve now. Talisa was dead, his son along with; his brothers were presumably dead, his sisters most likely were as well. His mother... Her wounds were too devastating, he had heard, and she too perished on the floor of the great hall in the Twins.
By the time Robb landed in Braavos, a beard was already growing back into his face, and his hair was just beginning to show the curls again, although still very short. He stumbled onto the ground from the ship, looking equally parts lost and in wonder of the new city. It was here he had to determine what to do next, as he knew no one in the city.
no subject
Date: 2015-04-14 03:04 am (UTC)"I've... lost my way, but having been alone enough, I think I know what I need to do." He needed to gain his strength back, and figure out how to bring them back to Westeros without the others interfering. He didn't want the iron throne, never had, but the Starks belong in Winterfell.
no subject
Date: 2015-04-14 03:31 am (UTC)"The Gods don't spare anyone. It wasn't your time so you survived." Had her views always been so starkly pragmatic? There was always a streak of it, but there had been an optimism there before, burned away by sorrow, terror, and in the end the cold sort of anger that could swallow a person whole. Revenge was a funny thing that way.
"Just... rest for now. You have this room for as long as you need, and they'll at least feed you in the evening. Nothing fancy like back home, but it'll be warm." A thin sort of smile; compared to the other noble houses, the Starks had always tended to be very simple in their tastes as far as food went, both from a preference to be more mindful, as well as a rationality to try and avoid excesses where they weren't needed.
"I'll have to go back to the House in the evenings, but I can visit you before I go to the fishmongers in the morning and after I finish selling." She had to keep this a secret. As well as she could anyways, it was harder to hide a brother than it was a sword after all. "If anyone asks, I did this favor because I wanted to hear about things going on in Westeros."
It wasn't hard for those around them to know she wasn't a native Braavosi girl, and the idea of her being homesick was certainly not outside of the realm of possibility. She knew that she'd been seen with him, that the inkeeper would probably gossip, but it was a risk she was willing to take. She wanted nothing more than to spend her time with him, just bask in the relief that someone in their shattered little family was still alive that she wasn't alone in the world, but she couldn't risk her position either.
no subject
Date: 2015-04-15 05:24 pm (UTC)"Bring me warm water and some rags before you leave." His wounds were healing, but there was still risk of infection. He was no longer running fevers, but he was doing everything he could to prevent illness returning. He had some bandages left from the kind sailors, though he'd have to find a healer or Maester at some point for more.
When she returns with the supplies and places the bowl down on a table, Robb stands and thanks her, "Go, before questions are raised. I'll see you in the morning." When he thinks she's at the door and leaving, he removes his shirt and began working at the bandages, covering just below his sternum and binding his middle. There was another thick bandage around his left shoulder, wrapped around his chest and back where the arrows had struck. Those wounds were healing faster and better than his abdomen, which was to be expected. It still would be a while before he could do any physical labor, but given his situation, he'd have to make due and bear the pain.