you gotta hold on to what you got, babe

[nedstarksbastard]

Who: Jon "Ned Stark's bastard" Snow, Robb "king of sad trombone noises" Stark (kingofbadlifechoices), Sansa "wants snuggles and cakes gets struggles and no cakes" Stark (steeledskin), and Bran "guys I fucked up and told the truth" Stark (summerschild)
Broadcast: n/a!
Action: Blue Fish. warnings for ASOIAF spoilers and discussions of death.
When: Just after these two threads.

[Jon does not stop first at Robb's room. He's not sure he can do this alone, as he told Sansa--he'd rather do this with all of them in one room. He could argue that it's for a pragmatic reason--he'd been beyond the Wall at the time of the Red Wedding, he doesn't have all the details--but in truth, he's not too sure he'll be able to keep his composure while talking about it.

So he finds Sansa and Bran, first.

Then he knocks on Robb's door, and breathes out. His breath, damn it, comes out just a little shakier than usual, his guard down much more than usual. With the developments of the past few hours, his walls have taken something of a hit, though he's trying very hard not to show the sheer panic happening inside.

Another knock. Open up, Stark.]

Comments

[kingofbadlifechoices]

[Robb nods slowly and musters some sort of smile.]

Aye, the truth. [He is not sure if he is truly sad at the prospect of dying. What saddens him is that he dies in such a way. That there is no honorable death on the battlefield, there is no flock of children to look forward to and his family is nowhere near safe. And he will never be able to get justice for his father's death.

And while his siblings tell him the truth he tries to look at them and process their words. He tries to nod and he tries to pretend that he is perfectly able to string all this information together. But somewhere between Jon mentioning the death of his men and Bran talking about all those people who have been part of his own youth dying he starts to feel angry. His hands clench to fists and he presses his lips tightly onto each other.]

They put Winterfell to the torch, is it not? I cannot do anything at all anymore. Getting out... [Robb snorts the most bitter snort that has ever existed. What was he thinking? Being able to accept such truths, to take them like a man and nod bravely because he is a king and that is what kings do. At this point Robb feels anything but a king. More like a failure of a brother and a son.] I cannot get out of there... [He covers his eyes for a moment, trying to rub his tears away with the palms of his hands.]

And mother...?

[steeledskin]

[ she wrings her hands to the point of pain -- digging her thumb into the muscle tissue between her fingers. it's an anxious, worried gesture. by the morning, there might be bruises. but she needs to express herself somehow. true emotion would be too clumsy. tears would be unladylike.

sansa's throat feels hoarse and hot when she finally pipes up with a shred of honesty: ] With you, at the Red Wedding. I want to believe the two of you had each other, at least.

[ quiet blessings and threadbare thoughts. she's prayed for this memory often enough, alone, in the cold heights of the vale. hope that at least they were together when they died. ]

[nedstarksbastard]

[Catelyn.

Gods, Lady Catelyn.

Jon has never felt any warmth from her, has always been treated rather coldly by her, has always known she never loved him--the bastard, the reminder that her husband's famed honor had faltered for a night. But even then, he hopes she had a quick death, a merciful one, even if he privately doubts the Freys cared overmuch about being merciful. She deserves that much.]

I'm sorry. [For what? For Robb's lady mother? For not being there, like he had so wanted to be? For not knowing until long after the wedding? For failing, in so many ways? For keeping all of it a secret?

Where does he even start?]

If there's anything else you want to know, you can ask, and you'll have an honest answer. [You're gonna regret that, Snow.]