eldeststark

After, no doubt, much persuasion and shoving and paternal orders, Robb is in his own bed, sleeping soundly, with a wolf across his legs and not looking too terribly dignified at the moment, sprawled across the double bed, the skin of his face already starting to peel where it was burned. Those who would like to speak to the young King in the North (sometimes), they may approach him now, where he is holding court with such aplomb.

Feel free to wake him up. He's slept long enough anyway. Though the yellow eyed wolf watching the door from his perch might be deterrent to some.

In typical dramatic teenage fashion, Robb is outside, emoing by the lake by pitching rocks at it, mouth set in a firm little line, eyes a little red but at least he's not actually crying. Just upset. Really upset. This morning? Has kind of sucked. And he has rope burns on his wrists. And isn't sure if he can go and consult his protectors yet, or more if he has the bravery to do so.

This sucks.

The dusk today sees a young man outside, knee deep in a progressively deeper rectangular hole, looking annoyed, worried, and confused. Every so often he looks up and snaps something sharply to the pony-sized wolf pacing in taut circles above him, that seems to have something to do with what can only be a body.

Grey Wind's muzzle is still bloody and his eyes glow in a still angry way. However, his boy is determined to do something right, because he'll be damned if he's going to let anyone - even his wolf - desecrate someone else's body. It's another kind of petty revenge. Because that's what it's all about, right? Revenge? 

Even if killing Jaime Lannister really wasn't as satisfying as he'd expect it to be. And that expression...

And it's occurred to him to wonder what happens when the Kingslayer gets back. Because that is how it works here, isn't it? And what's worse, what will happen if the Hound decides to reclaim Lannisterial loyalties. Robb is really beginning to wish he'd thought about this a bit more.

Damn all Lannisters. He scowls at the half dug grave and goes back to work. Going to do this properly.

Robb woke up alone with his head pounding, so it took him a bit before he remembers properly what happened when he was so inexplicably drunk. And then he is on his feet and pulling on his clothes and looking frantically for Sugar, or one of his mentors, or anyone, really, who can give him some advice about what to do with this Terrible Crime he has just committed - not only sleeping with a woman he's not married to, sleeping with a woman who isn't his wife and already has a husband and this is all so -

Auugh. For an excruciatingly honorable Stark, this is a catastrophe.

Robb is married. Robb is a Stark. Robb always does the honorable thing.

Robb is currently sprawled on a couch with a Sugar on top of him, still clothed but probably not going to stay that way too long. Drunk, horny, and with a young woman he really likes - and the kissing is really making him lose his head. He wraps his arms more tightly around her and makes a pleased little noise.

Robb has had an extremely eventful past couple weeks. And doesn't know what to make of them. His sister's here, he lost his chance for revenge just as he had it, Joffrey and Tywin Lannister are dead, Roose Bolton has the North, and Tyrion Lannister is here.

The last, perhaps, troubles him most. He doesn't know what to make of the man. He's a Lannister, but on the other hand...

At any rate, he's outside again, stretching out his shoulders and waiting, probably for his swordmaster, wolf at his side and gaze distant. Feel free to come talk to a puzzled young king.

It's as though he's hovering above the hall, a raven instead of a wolf. There are too many corpses, too many of them wearing Stark or Tully or Umber colors - loyal colors. But two things catch his eye.

( Read more... )

Moments later finds the pair outside in the dark, in the snow, Robb hacking viciously at one of the practice dummies, furious and disgusted and muttering his own litany of names. "Raymund Frey. Walder Frey. Roose Bolton. Lothor Frey. Walder Frey. Tywin Lannister. Cersei Lannister. Jaime Lannister. Joffrey Lannister. Tyrion Lannister."

Robb Stark doesn't get drunk very often. Very often here meaning pretty much ever. He might have had a bit much at the Mardi Gras party.

His head hurts now, and he's sitting in the kitchen looking miserable and hoping people don't talk too loudly. Grey Wind is enjoying something on the floor, looking amused. Silly boy.

T: Quite belatedly.