(no subject)
He felt the arrow in his shoulder hit hard and deep and staggered. Others followed it, and his mother was pleading for his life and he tried to tell her that it was no use, barely staying on his feet, but then the man raised his sword. "Jaime Lannister sends his regards," he said, and drove the blade home-
He opens his eyes.
Wait. There's something wrong here. Something very wrong here. He's lying on his back in the snow, he can see his breath in the air, it feels like Winterfell again. A moment later he blinks. Winterfell. He can attach that name to a place, but not clearly...of course, nothing is clear. A nose shoves into his face, a pink tongue licking him worriedly. He shoves it away, finding a name for the enormous wolf crouching over him. "Grey Wind?"
He pauses and takes an inventory of things. He still has a name. And he remembers dying, and other things are coming back slowly - he'd been a king. "The King in the North," he says, the words occuring to him. But other things are more immediate.
He hurts like hell and he is freezing. There is still an arrow through his shoulder, broken off halfway at the shaft and making a mess of the snow around him. And a house, not far away.
Still confused, but just following his instincts, Robb Stark hauls himself up using his direwolf, and leaning heavily on the pony-sized wolf, stumbles and staggers through the snow to knock at the door, shivering, bloody, and trying not to be scared. So much for "The King in the North." He doesn't really feel like much of a King.
He's never felt closer to his nearly seventeen years.
T: Robb Stark, from George R.R. Martin's a Song of Ice and Fire, taken from dying, but he doesn't remember a lot of what's happened or where he is. Come help him out a little.
He opens his eyes.
Wait. There's something wrong here. Something very wrong here. He's lying on his back in the snow, he can see his breath in the air, it feels like Winterfell again. A moment later he blinks. Winterfell. He can attach that name to a place, but not clearly...of course, nothing is clear. A nose shoves into his face, a pink tongue licking him worriedly. He shoves it away, finding a name for the enormous wolf crouching over him. "Grey Wind?"
He pauses and takes an inventory of things. He still has a name. And he remembers dying, and other things are coming back slowly - he'd been a king. "The King in the North," he says, the words occuring to him. But other things are more immediate.
He hurts like hell and he is freezing. There is still an arrow through his shoulder, broken off halfway at the shaft and making a mess of the snow around him. And a house, not far away.
Still confused, but just following his instincts, Robb Stark hauls himself up using his direwolf, and leaning heavily on the pony-sized wolf, stumbles and staggers through the snow to knock at the door, shivering, bloody, and trying not to be scared. So much for "The King in the North." He doesn't really feel like much of a King.
He's never felt closer to his nearly seventeen years.
T: Robb Stark, from George R.R. Martin's a Song of Ice and Fire, taken from dying, but he doesn't remember a lot of what's happened or where he is. Come help him out a little.