ashes to ashesbloodofpykeMarch 23 2012, 21:30:20 UTC
He’s dead, they tell him. Flayed and broken and beaten, but dead. He doesn’t ask, but they tell him anyway, almost relishing the words, these Northmen who will always want for blood. Ramsay made him a pet, they say, and lived up to the Bolton name, and he’s dead too, the Bastard of the Dreadfort, but the important thing is Theon’s dead, and isn’t Your Grace pleased by these tidings?
He doesn’t answer, only sits there, fingers tapping on the hilt of his sword, fingers tangled in Grey Wind’s fur, until his men bow and scrape their way out the door, leaving behind only their words. He’s dead, Robb thinks, wondering if he should be as happy as they tell him to be. He’s dead, he thinks again, memories crowding in his mind. He’s dead, he thinks one more time, and he remembers the words falling from his lips, I want his head, he had ordered, and he wonders again how he should feel
( ... )
He doesn’t answer, only sits there, fingers tapping on the hilt of his sword, fingers tangled in Grey Wind’s fur, until his men bow and scrape their way out the door, leaving behind only their words. He’s dead, Robb thinks, wondering if he should be as happy as they tell him to be. He’s dead, he thinks again, memories crowding in his mind. He’s dead, he thinks one more time, and he remembers the words falling from his lips, I want his head, he had ordered, and he wonders again how he should feel ( ... )
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thx you so much
this is just what I needed
(now I don't even know if this is better or worse than the other way around)
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