Comment fic meme
Some members liked the idea of having a kink meme/comment fic meme on got_exchange, especially since the other ASOIAF/GoT kink memes are fairly dead at the moment. (It's only posted on the mod account journal because I don't want anonymous comments on the exchange comm.)
A couple of rules before we start:
- please include the pairing/character (and maybe a short ( Read more... )
A couple of rules before we start:
- please include the pairing/character (and maybe a short ( Read more... )
When Robb looked south, he saw Jeyne. He saw her coming up over the nearest crest, saw her standing beneath the shadow of the trees, saw her in the valleys below, as if lowered into the ground in death. Robb was assured by his scouts that there was no news of any harm befalling her; of course, they never heard any news of Jeyne. Still Robb imagined he kept seeing her come for him from the south, where he had left her at Riverrun. And every time her beauty made him struggle for air.
But beauty was nothing compared to revenge.
I'm sorry, Jeyne, he thought. Someday I will find you, and I will rest at your side. But not yet.
- - - - -
Petyr Frey was the first.
Robb and the Brotherhood found him wandering the riverlands with a group of camp followers. The Frey recognized him. When Robb approached with his sword drawn, he fell to his knees, his companions dead around him, and prayed aloud to his gods. Robb liked that, took savage delight in causing the sort of fear that only a god's intervention could quell.
He only regretted having to wipe the blood off his blade afterward. He liked the idea that Frey blood might permanently stain it red, but a rusted sword is a useless one. Robb cleaned it meticulously, comforted by the fact that it would drink again soon.
- - - - -
A caravan holding a Frey woman and her children, on the way south. Robb didn't know where they were going or why. He didn't care. His men told them there were Freys on the move, and Robb went to them without thinking. Thoros disapproved of the killing of children. Robb had, too, once long ago. Some part of him still did, it seemed, and Thoros helped him to make the children's death as painless as death could be, at least. Robb turned the caravan around, with the three bodies of the Freys inside. The horses trotted down the road toward the Twins, and Robb's throat was dry in anticipation of its discovery. Their guards he left dead at the roadside. Their blood was useless to him. It could not heal the burns he got from the fire within him.
- - - - -
Bolton marched north with two thousand Frey blades, but Robb cared not about the swords at his command. Only the three living Freys in his party. The wolves of the riverlands, a pack so large that there were bounties upon it, led Robb to Bolton. They were like camp followers themselves, feasting on the things men left behind. Sometimes on the men themselves, the weak and downtrod. The brothers of Robb's band of men disliked following the wolves, but the wolves did not mind Robb, and he knew they would not be harmed. She never approached, but Robb saw the giant female that led them. It wasn't even her size that told Robb what she was. It was the way she would howl at night, a sound that sung through him.
Robb thirsted for Frey blood, the only liquid that could soothe the wounds of the Starks, and sometimes at night when he followed Nymeria and her pack, he thought that maybe she did, too.
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