the vision slips away into nothingness (Robb/Jeyne)magisterequitumOctober 17 2011, 20:40:32 UTC
(so instead of doing what I'm supposed to do, I did this.)
He has never been to King's Landing. He knows not of what the city looks like, or the sea around it, or the smells of the streets and its people, or what the birds sound like, or what the land looks like outside the gates. Does the ground give way to green hills like the areas around Winterfell? Is the sky grey or blue? He does not know. He knows less of what the Iron Throne looks like.
Stories have been told. There are always stories, and even more that follow when the ones from before no longer offer any entertainment. Descriptions of the twisted metal, forged from fire and conquered swords, are plentiful. And if even they had not provided enough detail, Robb remembers his father's recount; his father had never liked to linger over the past events of the Rebellion, but stolen snatches had been picked up.
Robb knows what he is fighting for. His sisters, his family, the North, to stay alive. But what comes after? He is King in the North, hailed by his men.
He looks down at the sleeping form of Jeyne next to him. Her eyes are closed, her cheeks flushed from the warmth of sleeping under the heavy furs. He looks at her and thinks, what next, what happens after they win? Winterfell and his sisters and the woman lying next to him are all he desires.
Robb closes his eyes and tries to imagine the Iron Throne. He tries to form the picture of him sitting upon it. The image refuses to hold, and he is left with blackness.
Re: the vision slips away into nothingness (Robb/Jeyne)midnightblack07October 21 2011, 02:37:50 UTC
this is lovely!!!
I love how well you captured Robb's desire to do the honourable thing and protect his own while highlighting just how little he desires the power of a King; *sighs* my beautiful tragic boy =(
He has never been to King's Landing. He knows not of what the city looks like, or the sea around it, or the smells of the streets and its people, or what the birds sound like, or what the land looks like outside the gates. Does the ground give way to green hills like the areas around Winterfell? Is the sky grey or blue? He does not know. He knows less of what the Iron Throne looks like.
Stories have been told. There are always stories, and even more that follow when the ones from before no longer offer any entertainment. Descriptions of the twisted metal, forged from fire and conquered swords, are plentiful. And if even they had not provided enough detail, Robb remembers his father's recount; his father had never liked to linger over the past events of the Rebellion, but stolen snatches had been picked up.
Robb knows what he is fighting for. His sisters, his family, the North, to stay alive. But what comes after? He is King in the North, hailed by his men.
He looks down at the sleeping form of Jeyne next to him. Her eyes are closed, her cheeks flushed from the warmth of sleeping under the heavy furs. He looks at her and thinks, what next, what happens after they win? Winterfell and his sisters and the woman lying next to him are all he desires.
Robb closes his eyes and tries to imagine the Iron Throne. He tries to form the picture of him sitting upon it. The image refuses to hold, and he is left with blackness.
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ROBB. MY CREYS. I love this.
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I love how well you captured Robb's desire to do the honourable thing and protect his own while highlighting just how little he desires the power of a King; *sighs* my beautiful tragic boy =(
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