helloeverybunny | — 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐏 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏

It's surreal, to be in Winterfell's walls once more, when he had been certain he would never see his home again. It's so much colder than he remembers too, though that could be just him. He hasn't been the same, not since—

Nobody recognizes him, at least not yet. He's wrapped in furs from his long journey, and his hair, which he'd dyed dark to cover up his telltale Tully locks, has grown long enough that he's had to pull it back into a bun. He keeps his head down, slipping through the crowd and into the keep, seeking out his siblings.

He lurks in the shadows of the corridor to their bedchambers, but it's not Jon who turns up after breakfast — it's Sansa, a woman grown now that when he'd seen her last that his heart aches.

"Sansa." He steps out to meet her, his hands held up to show that he's not holding any weapons. His blue eyes gaze into hers; they both take after their mother in that regard. Slowly, he pulls his hood back. "It's... it's me."

Home doesn't feel so much like home anymore. It's not as Sansa once remembered, its colder here, silent and haunted with the Ghost of those lost. Still this is her home and the one place she truly feels the safest. No one come harm her anymore, she wouldn't allow it this time.

She's endured enough loss and pain.

She doesn't stay for breakfast long, she has yet to regain much of an appetite and she rather not have sorrowful eyes gaze upon her. So she decides to head back to her bed chamber, her long dark dress trails gracefully behind her, form fitting and as elegant as she. Her red locks fall beautifully along her shoulders and down her back, she embraces so much of her mother.

She's suddenly startled when a dark figure steps to block her path, her heart stops cold within her chest but she makes no sound of alarm. What would be the point? She would be dead or gone by the time anyone reached her. She remains as calm as she possibly could and when the figure shows he has no weapon she's able to relax just a little.

The way her name falls from this stranger's lips has her hand gripping along the side of her dress tightly and the way those eyes gaze bright and loving back at her.

"R-Robb?"

She gasps out. Could it truly be her brother that stands before her? How could if not be? Those eyes....

Her own sting with hot tears as she moves forward to throw her arms around him tightly.

"Is it truly you?"

For a moment brother and sister just stare at each other in disbelief. Gods, how long has it been? She's become so beautiful, so strong, so much like their lady mother, and it makes something inside him twist because he'd failed her.

He'd failed them all.

He doesn't move, suddenly wanting to bail. He shouldn't be here. He doesn't deserve to be back here, to be with his family once more, especially of who's left of it. Yet before he could will himself into stepping away Sansa's already caught him in a tight embrace, and he finds himself shedding tears he didn't think he could still shed, his own arms coming up just as tightly around her.

"I'm sorry," he chokes. "I... I failed you all."

Sansa assumed that she had no more tears left to cry, that they had all dried up and she numb to emotions. All that changed at the sight of her brother who now stood as a man, a handsome one at that. He resembled so much of their father, their mother. How it warmed her broken heart to see him in the flesh.

But as soon as that warmth embraces her bones, she aches at his broken words.

"You did not fail us, Robb. You did your best", she assured him as she cupped the back of his head and held him close against her.

"I can't believe you stand here before me alive and safe. "

He has a dark, bitter laugh for her at that. Alive? He's not entirely sure that he is. Not that he can tell her that. He doesn't want to, if only to spare her the heartache and grief. It's the least he can do, after he's failed them in so much else.

"By the grace of the gods," he chooses to say instead, breathing deeply as he reins his emotions back in. It's still the truth, in a way? Just not the gods they've learned to worship growing up, neither the Seven nor the Old Gods of the North.

"Let me take a look at you." He pulls back to do so, holding her solidly by the shoulders. Almost like he's afraid she would disappear if he let go. He smiles fondly at her. "You stand so tall now. To think I used to be able to pick you up and toss you over my shoulder."

Sansa has faced many horrors and heartache within her own journey. Many swore that the fragile girl would not survive, how could she after all the pain she had endured? They were all fools to underestimate her because here she stood, strong in her own way. A foolish girl no longer but a young woman who has learned from her choices.

She lowers her head with a gentle smile, allowing her older brother to take her in. They call her a true beauty but Sansa thinks nothing of such words, they have no meaning now. She laughs softly at his words, her bright eyes flicking upwards to gaze at him softly.

"If only we could go back to those times."

"Aye, if only." For a moment he looks like he has more to say to that, but in the end he just shakes his head. "Let us revisit the past when this is over. I believe, for the time being, we have more pressing matters to discuss."

He glances at the corridor behind her, making sure there isn't anyone else nearby who might overhear; he'd draw her into one of their rooms, but he didn't want to spook her, in case she was no longer comfortable with his presence. "I know not if it ever reached him, but I made Jon my heir, in my will," he confesses. "But only because they wed you to the Imp, and I could not allow the Lannisters to gain a foothold here." Not that they hadn't been able to, through the Boltons.

"Aye, I love Jon like a brother. But... Mother was right. You are the trueborn child. Thus the North must pass to you." The Stark banners were back on Winterfell. Now the pack must survive.

"If only", she repeats softly. But the horrors and tragedy clung to each Stark child like death to war. When she thought about the past it only ached what was left of her heart and it was a harsh reminder of the stupid girl she had been, selfish and naive. Robb wouldn't understand, how could he?

"Do we?", the curiousity slips off her tongue, her hands folding properly before her. Her flawless face falls concerned at her brother's sudden caution, it leaves tight knots within her stomach. As Robb speaks she can feel her abdomen grow all the uneasy. This news of Jon shocked her but yet it did not all the same. Robb had been protecting their legacy, their family name. "Tyrion was very kind to me", she was quick to inform. "He was the only husband who offered me such. He is not a cruel man. He's hardly like a Lannister at all."

But still a lion.

What Robb says next has Sansa gasping softly, her hands suddenly grasping at her well fitted gown. She and Jon had their moments, he could be horrible unbelievable at times and unwilling to listen to reason. He was stubborn and refused to listen to any of Sansa's advice. He simply pushed her thoughts aside for the sake of his own but Jon was adored by so many of the northern men. He was also adored by the wildlings, King of the North suited him.

Sansa couldn't deny that.

She lowers her head at Robb's fact, she takes a soft breath before she speaks, "Be that as it may I could not do that to, Jon. He's adored here and he deserves such a title as much as you and I. He fought to bring Winterfell back to us."

— 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐏 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏 —

Robb Stark | ASOIAF

— ladyxwinterfell —

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject