001 | video

[wolvesremain]

[ When the feed begins, only the side of a boy's face can be seen; blue eye wide but drowsy from lack of sleep, pale skin, and a peek of a mess of auburn hair. He looks young, but weathered. His attention isn't on the camera, though, and when he speaks, it's to address someone else entirely. ]

That isn't yours. [ The camera jostles as he reaches

Comments

( video/action/IDEK )

[practiced]

[ Ever since Arya's arrival, followed quickly by that of Jon Snow, Sansa has made a habit of checking her bracelet several times a day - twice in the mornings, once when the sun is highest, three times in the afternoon as it darkens into evening. She is not foolish, or at least that is what she tells herself; she will not hope beyond hope for Robb's arrival, or mother's.

But still she checks, which is why it is not long after Robb posts that she finds herself scrambling - yes, unladylike - from the back of her wagon. She had known that voice and that blue-beyond-blue eye. Grey Wind, he had said and so that's what Sansa calls, her skirts twisting about her as she forgets all courtesy long enough to shout over the sound of the carts: ]

Grey Wind! Grey Wind, to me!

[ It had worked when Jon Snow arrived. Surely, it would work now. ]

( action! )

[wolvesremain]

[ Whatever Robb was expecting, it wasn't that. When Grey Wind hears someone calling him, his ears perk to attention and it isn't long before he takes off in the direction the voice originated from. Startled, Robb only really has moments to react and follow the direwolf, duck all but forgotten.

It's when he catches sight of that familiar Tully fire hair that his heart speeds up and his own composure all but melts. Grey Wind gets to her first, of course, happy to see her, but not quite so happy as Robb. He hesitates once he's about ten feet away in sheer disbelief before he closes the distance. His sister, his little sister, in one piece and surely far from the Lannisters.

He doesn't wait to gather his own words before he moves to pull her into a fierce hug, the air in his lungs all but evacuating. Grey Wind busies himself by returning for the duck Robb dropped. ]

( action! )

[practiced]

[ It takes Sansa a moment to catch sight of that familiar shadow ducking between ox and horse and cart alike. But when she finds it she refuses to lose sight of it again, refuses to blink even though the dust has kicked up into her eyes, making them water and sting. ]

Grey Wind, [ she says again, the name spoken like a memory only now just returning to her. Sansa thinks to stoop low to greet the large beast but she stops herself just short of bending, realizing that no, Robb will be here soon, and when I see him again, I must not be upon my knees.

Hastily, she smooths her skirts, rumpled from her descent from the cart. She touches her hair, she straightens her back; she tries to look poised and composed and a lady. It will make him happier to see me, Sansa thinks. It will make him proud, even if I am unworthy of it.And so, when Robb finds her moments later, Sansa is waiting, her hands balled into tight fists at each side as she wills herself to stillness. A lady would not run, would not throw her arms about him and squeeze

( action! )

[wolvesremain]

[ Sansa could be layered in dust and dirt and Robb wouldn't be less happy to see her than he is now. He hadn't thought it possible after all that had happened; the war, the politics, the mistakes. And yet, here she is, in front of him and in his arms.

He feels her sob - how could he not? - and pulls back, lifting a hand to tug off a leather glove so he doesn't dirty her skin by touching her with it. The glove falls to the ground and he touches her cheek.

You're real; soft, warm to the touch, and solid. Bone and flesh. I'd thought you a ghost or a dream.

He'd had dreams of their reunion too many times, but none of those dreams could compare to the real thing. And when he smiles, it's for her and a smile that hasn't graced his face since Winterfell. ]

Are you well, dear sister? [ He pulls back enough to look her over for any injuries, for anything out of place. ]

( action! )

[practiced]

[ She had dreamed of it as well, their reunion. She had prayed and wished and hoped for it - stupidly, the Lannisters had made her believe, but that did not keep Sansa from the Sept and the godswood. She'd prayed day and night; she dreamt of his victory; she'd wished the Lannisters' heads upon the wall. The way any good sister would. Perhaps monsters won but only for a short while, Sansa dared to hope; in the end honor would return to the land and that honor would bear her elder brother's name

( action! )

[wolvesremain]

[ Robb still isn't sure what brought him here, but there's an entirely selfish part of him that simply doesn't care at the moment. What matters is a part of his family is here and safe, away from the war torn lands that had become normal since their lord father had been accused of treason.

The fact that he hadn't listened to their mother about Theon still hangs steady guilt over his head and likely will for as long as he lives. Their family had suffered for it just as Theon had meant for them to. But here, in this unfamiliar place, he could keep Sansa from harm and that was more than he ever thought he could ask for.

He can't help but let out a small, but happy chuckle at her words and the way she smiles into his palm. The embrace is a welcome one and he holds her to him, his ungloved hand resting on the back of her head gently, careful not to muss her hair. ]

And you've grown more the lady. [ His voice is full of certain fondness and affection. So very much like our mother.. She's nearly as he remembered, only more practiced and

( action! )

[practiced]

[ It is, perhaps, the greatest compliment Sansa can hope to be given. That she receives it from her brother - and a king no less - makes it that much greater. Only now does she think to bow, something of a curtsey as she dips in front of him, though her hand reaches to find Robb's wrist behind so that his grasp does not slip from her. This makes the bow somewhat awkward, of course, but Sansa manages it with the kind of practice and skill that comes from being born a lady - skin to soul. ]

And you a king, Your Grace. [ The words taste triumphant in her mouth. How long had she wished to bow to a true king and not a monster draped in lion's gold? There are still tears on her face but Sansa's voice trembles with both pride and exultation, a giddiness unlike any she's felt before spreading now from the pit of her stomach like hope - beautiful, once-cruel hope - blossoming out of long-sown desperation

( action! )

[wolvesremain]

[ Robb can't help but smile at her perfect display of ladylike grace even in their surroundings of dust and wagons. Only Sansa. His hand stays where she directs it and it's in that moment that he realizes just how much she's grown and just how strong she's been. And to hear those words from her... Well, there's a certain pride that comes with it and Robb finds that in itself is wholly indescribable.

But with that pride comes the familiar weight. It causes his breath to stagger for just a moment, though it's hardly noticeable and he covers it with a fond smile. ] You have my thanks for the compliment, my lady.

[ And again the embrace is welcome - there will never be another hug from those he loves that he will take for granted. Each is special in its own right and those from his family hold the most value out of them all. They've been apart for so long. ]

Would that I could have sooner, dear sister. [ With that, he wipes the remaining tears from her cheeks and gives her a small smile, blinking away what little moisture has crept

( action! )

[practiced]

[ As she looks at her brother now, the light catching on that scant gloss in his eyes, Sansa tries to remember the last time she knew Robb to cry - Robb who was older and strong and brave, Robb who had been a part of Sansa's life since the very first of her days. A lord must not cry, a king doubly so, and for a moment Sansa feels something like pity for her dear brother and the crown that she suddenly realizes must weigh heavily upon his head. In a motion, she reaches for it now, even though it is not there resting atop his auburn curls. But the gesture is apparent, its meaning clear.

They had been children when they'd left Winterfell. Time and distance has made them hard as winter wind - even Sansa in her silks, though she is slow to see it - and war has made them old. ]

A king cannot bend to the needs of one. Your responsibilities- [ She shakes her head and again thinks, oh Robb, what a weight. ] I would have waited - faithfully, brother.

[ She smiles again, though there is still some of that sadness in her eyes. If only

( action! )

[wolvesremain]

[ That simple action of her reaching towards the crown that isn't physically there, but still weighing on him, does more than Robb could have previously thought. It serves as a gentle reminder that he is still indeed King in the North here. Maybe not by title in particular, but on other, more prominent levels. As the oldest, he has a responsibility to keep Sansa, Arya, and even Jon (though, he could protect himself, Robb would not hesitate) out of harm's way. A different setting does not change that. Instead, it enforces it.

He let them down once, he won't do again. ]

I know you would have. [ He holds his head a little higher, if not for himself, for her. Back home, he had a war to worry over complete with the politics. It would take him even longer to reach her there.

He brightens considerably at the news of their siblings. With that brightness comes the return of what's left of Robb's naivety. Even in a place as strange as this, they could be a family again - a pack. ] I look forward to seeing them again.

( action! )

[practiced]

[ And with Robb's brightening comes a brightness to Sansa as well, as if somehow seeing it in his face has suddenly granted her permission to her own. With Arya had come the first relief and then, with Jon Snow, had come the second. But to have Robb here with her now seems a different kind of relief altogether; less qualified, more complete. She and Arya still fought and Jon Snow still loved their youngest sister best, but Robb at least understood Sansa in some part, understood her desire to be a true lady and did not think her silly and stupid for it. ]

We three will have to fight one another over who is happiest to see you again. They will be as proud as I am, and as full. We'll glut ourselves on your company, given how starved we've all been of it.

[ Releasing Robb now, she moves to take his hand in both of hers, squeezing it tightly before holding it close to her side. She would take him back to the wagon where he could sit and rest and wait for the others. She would offer him food and drink and comfort. Yes, Sansa

( action! )

[wolvesremain]

[ Robb may not have been lost without Sansa, Arya, and Jon, but he certainly wouldn't wish to be without them. Not again. It's still a bit surreal for him to be speaking with her face to face. The last he heard from her specifically was by raven and in her own penmanship, but in the queen's words. To see her here now wearing that smile he could easily recall from their days in Winterfell... Well.

There's a chuckle for her words, lighter in nature than it's been in what feels like ages. ] I would hope to glut myself on all of your company as well, if possible. So, I suppose it will be mutual. It's been so long since we've all found ourselves in the same place and spent time together.

[ The way in which he says it is clumsy in nature, the eagerness for family taken precedence for the moment. Once Sansa squeezes his hand, he returns it gently. He would follow her anywhere she lead at this point and even Grey Wind seems to realize this as he seats himself within their line of sight.It has been a while since I've seen her. She returned

( action! )

[practiced]

[ Sansa has already decided: she will not leave Robb's side again. Not for anything, there is no need greater to her than her nearness, having already made the mistake once in her eagerness to travel south to King's Landing. She remembers still, how fervently she had begged her mother to entreat their lord father with her case; a lion to wed, a queenly crown to don - how could have Sansa (young, silly, foolish Sansa) ever resisted? But those had been the follies of youth and Sansa, older now, endeavors to never transgress against her own blood again

( action! )

[wolvesremain]

[ Sansa's silence tells him more than a simple response ever could. Combined with the flush of her cheeks and the way she's gripping his hand, worry quickens his heart until he can hear the beat of it even in his ears. He could entertain various ways to make the Lannisters suffer and he has done so, often and vividly in his anger and hurt, but right now his little sister is standing before him, more vulnerable than she'd be during their reunion.

But he knows, as sure as he knows the blood that flows within his veins, that if he finds they've harmed her in any sort of way, it will only deepen his thirst for their suffering.

With a deep breath, he turns to face her, never once even thinking of pulling his hand from hers as he allows her to squeeze it. ]

Sansa- [ He starts, tone softer than it's ever been as he lifts his free hand to touch her jawline, eyes full of concern and the need to protect her. ] I will not press you to speak of it, but I will entreat you to. What has happened has already taken place, but I swear to you that

( action! )

[practiced]

[ She had spoken of the Lannisters to Jon only for a moment and, in that moment, had let the madness take her. It had been enough to shock Jon Snow to wonder, his eyes growing wide as she felt her brow lower and her voice grow sharp; but it had been weakness, a mistake like all the others in that she could not let it happen again. Whatever rage lay inside her, Sansa willed it to quietness, forcing it to find satisfaction in this place and the reprieve of peace and togetherness it offered. Suffering and anger were meant for times of war and, as far as Sansa could tell, the war could not touch them here.

Sansa presses her face again into Robb's hand and, again, her eyes begin to hurt though this time Sansa does not cry. There is no fierceness in her voice when she speaks, no wolf - not like when she'd exchanged words with her half-brother. Instead there is a note of sadness, a little bird's lament, like wings crushed under the tread of barbarous boots. ]

He was not kingly, Robb, [ she tells him. No, not kingly at all. ] And his

( action! )

[wolvesremain]

[ Robb could reassure her that Joffrey and his Guard will suffer for all the pain they've inflicted on Sansa, their family, and the many other tarnished houses they've left in their wake, but words so harsh are not meant for a lady's ears. Robb had learned that at a very young age from the lips of their father, no doubt, and it had stuck ever since. He does not wish to scare her or hurt her even further. If he did, he'd never forgive himself.

The look on her face, the fight that's left her eyes, and the way she presses into his had very nearly breaks his heart. She's strong, he reminds himself though he knows so already. It's something he could never forget, something he reminded himself of in a sort of mantra everyday she was behind Lannister walls.

But that doesn't stop him from pulling her into another embrace with one arm, unwilling to let go of her hand. ]

They will never touch you again, dear sister. Not while I breathe.