Robb x Gwen Master Archive [ Part 4 / 6 ]
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely;
Crowned with lillies and laurels they go, but I am not resigned
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Robb x Gwen Archive
Part ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX
a.k.a. Gwen lives in Westeros and it's getting really dramatic
They try to find Rickon everywhere, in the Godswood, in the stables, with Beth, but he was no where to be found. "Anywhere?" Robb asks when they meet outside Mikken's forge. Gwen shakes her head and Bran, atop of Hodor, suggests the crypt.
"He knows he isn't to be down there," Maester Luwin frowns.
"Yeah, he does," says Bran. "Hodor."
The air in the crypt is hard to breathe. Both Robb and Gwen take a torch to light their way with Hodor stomping along. "Why has he run off?" Gwen asks. Robb's shoulders slump just slightly.
"I told him I was to leave before the morning. He didn't like that at all." The tunnel splits in two and Robb sends them down one while he and the maester head off in the other. Bran tells Gwen about each stone figure: Lord Rickard and Brandon Stark, his grandfather and his uncle - both of whom had died before he was born. Gwen had never entered the crypts and neither had half of Winterfell. These were the ghosts of the Starks, a long line of hundreds, carved in stone.
Suddenly, Hodor cries out and a black shadow moves out of the darkness. Before she knew it, she was forced sideways - dropping the torch - and slams into the wall of the tunnel. "Shaggydog!" cries a voice she recognizes as Rickon's. The boy of six emerges from the shadows as well, all dirt and grime, a perfect match for the wild direwolf beside him baring its teeth.
"How many times have we told you to keep Shaggydog from hurting people!" Bran scolds from above Hodor, the giant stableboy was stilled in fear of the direwolf.
"It wasn't his fault, he didn't know who was coming!"
"It doesn't matter, Maester Luwin will have them all locked up in the godswood if that thing keeps on."
"Robb wouldn't let them do that."
"Yes, he would. He always listens to Maester Luwin --"
"What's happened?!" Robb and the maester come barreling to the chaos and Shaggydog bares his teeth once more. "Gwen!"
"I'm fine," she says, but she can feel pain shoot up from her ankle. "I stumbled is all."
Maester Luwin takes the torch while Robb takes her from under the legs to lift her. Bran calls "Shaggydog, to me!" and the direwolf follows them out of the crypt. Maester Luwin scolding Rickon the entire way, deciding that the only place for the beast was in the godswood.[direct tumblr link | orig. posted October 2011]
[direct tumblr link | orig. posted October 2011]
The moon is still high in the sky when she stirs from a fitful sleep. And she soon finds out why.
"Shh, easy. You're still hurt,"; Robb is just a blur to her as she blinks away the heaviness in her eyes. "I've come to tell you that I've named Maester Luwin castellan of Winterfell and to care for Rickon and Bran, until you're better. And only until you're better - I shan't hear that you've tired yourself. Be patient with Rickon, he is only a boy and misses his mother and father. Well, you know." He sighs, and she does. Rickon was the only Stark she had the privilege of seeing grow from babe to boy. She nods, swallowing, watching as Robb sits in silence.
"And?"
"And," his eyes find hers, the back of his fingertips trace her cheek. "I came to see you one last time."
"Not the last."
He doesn't answer.
[direct tumblr link | orig. posted Nov 2011]
It's a fortnight before Lord Stark returns from his visit to the Wall. His company of thirty files into the yard and Lady Catelyn welcomes them all home with a hug and a kiss; Sansa following her lead and Arya grumbling about next time. Gwen watches from above, noticing the cheery smile on Bran's face as he dismounts. He was nearly fourteen and Lady Catelyn had a fit when Lord Stark deemed it appropriate for Bran to see the Wall. Rickon whined nearly the entire time they were gone.
Then Robb comes riding in behind Ser Desmond, but something is amiss. He has a tight frown on his lips, and his eyes were almost completely shadowed by the furrow at his brow. Gwen sees his forced smile when Hullen pats him on the shoulder and says a few words. And then he looks up and spots her, and her heart somersaults to her throat. His bright eyes are dark somehow, cold and frightened and it makes her uneasy to notice how different they are. Something's happened. But he's back and he's safe, so she throws up a smile, hoping to convey her happiness at the sight of him.
Grey Wind leaps back from his playful fight with his sisters when Robb starts to leave, Farlen's dogs barking their heads off at the scent of them. Later, when Gwen leaves Sansa from helping her dress for supper, Robb is waiting against the stone wall outside. "Gwen," he breathes, eyes flashing the same cold fear she saw earlier. Robb pulls her into him by the hand and Gwen becomes buried in a bundle of arms and fur. It wasn't unpleasant being back in his arms, only that the urgency and the need emanating from him worried her.
He doesn't talk about the journey, the Wall, any of it, even at her inquiries. Robb only holds her, a strong grip at her waist and the other pressing at the back of her head. "Robb," Gwen murmurs against his neck. His finger tips brush the curve of her ear and he presses a kiss against her temple. After what seemed like hours, Gwen relaxes, her worries melting away in the familiar feel of Robb.
Until he pulls away.
"Our house. Our words," says Robb, low and heavy - the blue of his eyes darker than she had ever seen. Her grip on his sleeve tightens.
Winter is coming.
[direct tumblr link | orig. posted Nov 2011]
"And if you succeed?" Gwen asks, apprehensive.
"If King Robert's convinced that white walkers are roaming the north, Father believes we'll ride against them," says Robb. "Ser Alliser Thorne and Jon are riding down with proof of them, a hand severed from one of their own turned wight. It should be enough."
"What if it isn't?" Robb sighs, taking her hand in his hold on the table acknowledging her worries.
"Then Father intends to rally the northmen at least and he says he thinks even Jon Arryn may ride with him. The north still follows the old religion and long lines from the Crannogmen to the Dreadforts still heed the stories of the white walkers. You're familiar with them?" Gwen nods, remembering the constant tales Old Nan would tell her at the drop of a pin. Stories of the War of the Dawn, of Joramun who woke the giants, and Bran the Builder who rose Winterfell from the ground. "But if all goes well, King Robert will bring a host that could finish wights and wildlings both."
"And you, you'll be riding with them," she states, a fact she knows won't change.
"I'm a man grown and my place is by my father's side. Even Bran's old enough to squire for Ser Rodrik."
"But you're not dealing with wildlings or even another man's army," Gwen grabs his hand atop of hers and holds it firmly. "I saw you the day you came back from the Wall, you were shaken to your wits in a way that I've never seen." Robb's jaw clenches.
"Believe me when I say I'd much rather stay here and never set eyes on the Wall again. But Uncle Benjen is missing and so are dozens of other Nightsmen and if the wights are behind it all, we've to stop it," he says. "And this will allow me to show them what I can do, to be worthy of Winterfell."
"You already are," says Gwen, hating the idea of him facing death for what honor he does not need.
"Then let me be worthy of you."
With that Gwen feels far worse than before.
[direct tumblr link | orig. posted Nov 2011]
It takes nearly two months for the force of the entire Seven Kingdoms to mass upon the plains of Winterfell. Banners of houses great and small littered the grounds for miles and miles, and if Gwen had thought no gathering could beat that of Lord Renly and Lady Maergary's wedding, she would be wrong. The enormity of the army makes her knees weak and her insides curdle knowing what all of it meant. All of the kingdoms will be marching against the north, against the monsters beyond the wall. Not giants nor shadowcats nor mammoths, they were facing a much more dangerous enemy - ghosts of a legend, shadows of a scary story.
The thought of Elyan and Robb, Jory Cassel and even Bran fighting against a walking dead made her anxious to the point of nausea. The northmen are set to lead as the vanguard marching toward the Wall. Robb told her nearly everything of the plans, a small way to comfort her or himself she wasn't sure.
And then the day comes when the largest army ever seen in the history of Westeros marches out, and Gwen feels as though the world is suffocating her. She dodges Robb as long as she can but eventually he corners her to say goodbye. It's the most difficult exchange she's ever had with him in all her years here, through all the pains growing up alongside him. Gwen thinks back on the people she's ever had to part from: her mother and father on their sickbeds, the kind Lady Morgana of Camelot, and her own brother time and time again.
" -- ask me to be brave, and I feel a coward all the same, but please. Ask me anything but to stand and watch you leave." The words tumble out of her and the look on Robb's face makes her ashamed. He was facing more important matters, fighting for the kingdoms, fighting against horrors, and she couldn't even see him off. But she hates it, she hates being the one left behind. Her face crumbles and breathing becomes impossible when Robb throws his arms around her, keeping her steady. This was wrong, she was supposed to be strong for him. It takes a bit to gather her wits and he must be embarrassed of what a mess she's become, but he only holds her until she faces him.
"If only I could keep you by me and safe as well," he whispers against her lips. "Wish me well and pray to all the gods there are that we win. And every night I'll know you're with me. Should anyone ask what keeps me on, I'll tell them I've a lady more gentle than the Maid, as sturdy as the Smith, and more kindly than the Mother."
His optimism exasperates her, but even she could not help but snort, "I'm no lady."
"Not yet," says Robb. "But once we are wed, what a fine lady you will be."
All Gwen could do was gape before Robb captures her lips with his own, and with that, she pours all her luck and whatever graces the Seven have to offer her to him. Bring him back to me.
[direct tumblr link | orig. posted Nov 2011]
The girls line in a row to farewell the men. Sansa following Lady Catelyn's every gesture and the Septa and Septon offering blessings. Rickon stands off to the side and waves away the soldiers, hugging Bran goodbye, and being altogether more lordly than she had ever seen. Only Arya and Gwen weren't down below, the Lady Stark fearing that Arya would find a way to slip away unnoticed among the faceless troops. As a result, Arya was in a fouler mood than ever. "Mother never trusts me, why would I want to go to the Wall!"
Gwen knows it isn't a matter of what was up north rather than who. Syrio Forel, the Braavosi dancing master Lord Stark had commissioned for Arya in King's Landing, easily agreed to come north to Winterfell with the Starks. And Lord Stark was pleased to hear that the Braavos man had offered his services even further to ride with them against the cold dark. With already the promise of Jon as well, Arya had ample reason to sneak away unawares.
Lord Eddard Stark mounts his steed and together with King Robert and Lord Arryn, they lead their men out of the yard - the open field seemingly tiny with the numbers that filled it. Instead of following close behind his father, Robb takes a moment more to look up to her. His face is schooled in an expression of duty and courage, but Gwen knows the truth.
Go on then, she says. Be quick about it all so I might be selfish again. Gwen breaks his gaze and nods toward the column of men making their way down the way to the Kingsroad. It seemed harder for him to turn away from her than it was to watch him leave, but she must and she does. Her one last comfort is seeing Grey Wind bounding aside of Robb, heedless of the other mounts. Keep him safe, Grey Wind.
[direct tumblr link | orig. posted December 2011]
... never seen snow of such heights. None of Farlen's dogs are eager to try to dig themselves out, and the horses are more than content to stay in their stalls. Remember the year of the storm? Rickon was still a babe, and Sansa swore up and down that it was well and truly winter. The snow's piled thrice higher than it was then. It's so silly to tell you this, you're having a much harder time up north. Is it odd to imagine you swimming in it? I do hope you're well. I'm a terrible comfort, but I want you safe nonetheless. Keep Grey Wind with you, he's remarkably perceptive and a steadfast guard. But you know that, don't you? With all my hopes,
-Gwen
Robb glances over the letter for the dozenth time since it was handed to him by Sam, his gloved fingers scratching at the beard at his mouth and he feels the grin that's made its way to his face. Once more and then I shall see to Father, he decides and again he reads Gwen's tidy words and nearly laughs at how he hears the melodic sound of her voice in his head, as if she were next to him speaking these very words.
King Robert's host had broken up into three at the Wall. Renly and Stannis were made to take the Eastwatch-by-the-Sea onward and the Karstarks and Lannisters from Shadow Tower. The Kingsguard remained by the king's side, and Robb was pleased to ride side by side with Arys Oakheart, the White Cloak that unhorsed him in the last tourney. They had only ridden out from Castle Black three days ago, but the endless cloudy skies make the journey feel like weeks.
Jon interrupts him then, having crept up from behind and smirking at him. "Your face has an odd sort of madness to it. I suspect it only to be a woman. Careful, Stark, or you'll find yourself stuck with a wife." His brother, Jon, had always ribbed him about anything and everything and it felt good to have him back - however dire the circumstances. Robb was struck with the blissful camaraderie of their youth, and it helps him being so far from home and so very cold.
"Who are you to say, Snow. You're already married," says Robb, slipping the letter inside his leather jerkin. "To the Wall and the Watch."
Jon shrugs, a lopsided smile on his complacent face. "And to the wind and the winter. The Wall is my citadel and the land beyond my play grounds. Aye, my wife is lovely." And strangely enough, Robb isn't surprised to see the contentment in his face. The Wall was always a dreaded place, however honorable their father made it to be. Perhaps it wasn't until now that the whole Seven Kingdoms realized just how honorable. Jon nods to the letter now hidden, "Well then? Who is she?"
"It's Gwen," Robb answers casually, spotting Ser Desmond across the campgrounds waving him off to see his father. He notices Jon's surprise out of the corner of his eye.
"Gwen? The serving girl? The one from the south," Jon recalls. At Robb's nod, he asks, "Still, even now?"
He thinks of the letter, of her voice, of her face among the crowd during the joust - eyes twinkling at his not-so-subtle gestures for her token. He remembers the tears saying goodbye, the need to keep her safe, their shy first kisses wrought with new-found eagerness and frightening juvenescence. Robb takes hold of the handle of his scabbard, wrapped in the cloth she had given him for the tourney.
"It's always been her."
Later, he asks for parchment and ink from Sam and lights a candle to pen his response.
... though I suspect Greatjon Umber would be willing to let me climb his shoulders to get through the snow. Bran's near unbearable to be around, though his energy is almost catching. I'm only afraid what horrors he might find from this. You'll find this letter without the others. Father wants to only write sparingly and if need be, but Jon's got a friend caring for the ravens. A Samwell Tarly of Horn Hill. A frighteningly large boy, but with a frighteningly larger heart - and he's clever, even. He's been a good friend to Jon and I'm glad for it. Jon says he'll be able to send whatever messages I want sending, within reason, of course. Thank you for all your comforts for they are most heartening. I shall keep your promise and trust you to as well. Honorably yours, my lady.
-Robb Stark
Wrapped inside the letter, Robb leaves a single fern leaf - one so robustly green and with bristles that felt like velvet against the skin - because beyond her love for flowers was her love for life. Life and hope in the bleak darkness.
To him, she was both.
[direct tumblr link | orig. posted Nov 2011]
While Rickon is in his lessons, Maester Luwin gives her leave to send a raven. Gwen climbs the steps and opens the door to the rookery, feeling the cold more sharply here. She sees the windows are bare and and most are unable to be shut, the flurries of snow piling across the city and the land beyond to the south. As she passes the cages, the ravens call out to be tended to and fed though she knows Maester Luwin has already done so that morning. From the folds of her apron, she pulls out three small notes. One for Elyan, who is, for once in his life, yearning the stifling heat of a forge. She writes back to him, telling him that when he comes home, he's welcome to clear out Father's old smithy. But he needed to come home first and with every letter she sends, she hopes he does. She hopes they all do.
The other two notes are of Robb. One is the last letter she received, nearly a month and a fortnight past, with Robb's quick scrawl.
The farther north we travel, the darker it seems. Father intends to ride deeper into the Haunting Forest on the morrow. We've word of Qhorin Halfhand leading men from the Shadow Tower. Most of the Southron men are with the Halfhand, Elyan too, as I'm certain you know. Jon says it's a terrible ordeal out west, being so near the Frostfangs, and I fear Elyan much braver than I. Give my love to the girls and Rickon. Bran sends his as well, for all his lack of writing. I hope you well, love.
-Robb
Gwen palms the note, worrying the edges. He hadn't written since, though the maester had given Lady Catelyn a missive from Lord Stark three weeks past. He must be all right, she tells herself. She slips open the third note, her tentative words suddenly seeming uncomforting even to herself.
Arya's gotten better from her fever, Gwen wrote. Your mother wonders if it would be better for the girls to be more south, to take them to the Eyrie with Lady Arryn. I don't know if she ought to, the road's dangerous with nearly all the Kingdoms up north and I suppose a part of me doesn't want to be so far away. I don't know if you've gotten my letters, and I'm afraid we might run out of ravens if I send any more. Please write, if you have a moment. It will do my nerves a world of good. With all my prayers,
-Gwen
She's rolling up the letters to tie to a raven when a fluttering behind makes her turn. A raven comes flying inside, hopping from ledge to crate to table, back to the ledge, cawing loudly to be attended to. Gwen bites her lip, thinking of calling for Maester Luwin. Instead, she slowly makes her way towards the new raven. The bird bounds away onto one of the cages after she unties him, creating a raucous choir of calls from the other carriers. Gwen unrolls the slip, noting it being addressed to no one. Three words and a feeling of utter fear.
There are Others.
[direct tumblr link | orig. posted Nov 2011]
The sounds of horns sends a chill through Gwen. Sansa looks from Septa Mordane to Gwen and gather her skirts to run out. They follow her in stride and soon everyone in Winterfell are gathered in the yard. The portcullis is raised and men file in, the standards of Stark and Tully, Baratheon and Lannister, and Umbers and Bolton fanning in the winter wind. Gwen looks for Robb's brown gelding, hoping to see him from afar. But she only catches sight of red cloaks and white stallions, mistaking Lady Catelyn's brother for Robb briefly. The people give a loud cheer to see Lord Stark, sporting a new scar across his cheek but otherwise looking no worse for the wear. Rickon beside her gives an excited shout and he starts jumping up down, Shaggydog pouncing back and forth alongside him.
But still no Robb. She sees Hullen without Harwin, and Ser Rodrik steers his mount with only one hand, the other missing from the wrist down. As more soldiers ride in, the people press back and Gwen finds herself behind broad shoulders and waving sticks.
And then across the field, she sees. A white palfrey rides in among dark steeds and upon it sat Robb, cloak-less and cheeks rosy from the ride. Gwen takes the sight of him in, the scratches and dents in his armor, the bandage around his leg. But he was alive. Alive and whole and back and gods if she didn't miss his face. She watches him scan the crowd, and she knows he's looking for her. Here, her mind screams. I'm here. You're here. Here.
Robb glance over her and back, and he sees her. He does. After greeting his mother and pushing Bran forward for her to fuss over, he makes his way through the crowd, only just acknowledging the welcome of the people he passed. She does the same, mumbling her apologies though she isn't all that sorry because she's waited and prayed to all the gods for this day for the past two years.
"Gwen," he says, stopping just in front of her. She could've taken up his sword then and bashed him over the head with it. "My lady."
She had forgotten his promise, too blissfully delirious over his return to concentrate on what it meant. "My lord," she breathes, and she pulls him into a kiss for all the see.
On to part 5.