Northern lights

80. I want to go home

Rosalie & Robb

Body shaking, Rosalie walked with her head high and her tears glistening under candlelight. Her hand felt the seeping warmth of Robb's as cold took over her insides. There had never been such a feeling of despair spreading through her, for when she learned of her sister, brother and father's murder it was rage, not inconsolable grief like this...last time she felt it was when she learned Robb died. 

Jaw clenching, she didn't dare look to the man bravely walking next to her as if she didn't have a sword to his throat earlier. Swallowing thickly, she didn't make a peep as sobs tried to escape her throat. 

What's the point of crying over what is impossible to stop? 

She could try sending a raven or riding to Highgarden, but the road is long and she is but human. If she truly understood her power, the one that lingered in the depths of her heart and soul gifted to her by her maternal ancestors, she might be able to save her grandmother...but she doesn't. She spent so long running from her dreams and what they might mean, it had never occurred to her she might be able to use them as a form of communication. 

Even if she knew how, it's unlikely she could fall asleep now. Rosalie's rattled to the point of insanity, the kind that could make anyone either useless or deadly and she has yet to see what side the coin will land on. 

Struggling to keep himself quiet, Robb took worried glances at his darling rose. He had been so used to her imperturbableness in the past that seeing Rosalie barely keeping herself upright is testing his thundering heart. 

Giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, he pressed his lips in a thin line to prevent himself from speaking. He's aware of the impossibility of preventing the attack on her home, of the impending doom her line is to face once it occurs...he once suffered in the same manner. The day he sent Theon to Winterfell only to learn of his betrayal will forever be ingrained in his mind. The feeling of rage intertwining with helplessness is unforgettable. 

Arriving in front of her room, Robb's the one opening the door for Rosalie. He notices her pause, her lips parting just enough to allow a heavy sigh pass them before she enters. Like a needle in a compass drawn to its true north, Robb follows her inside and closes the door. He rests his back on it. 

Rosalie walks to the window, crossing her arms over her chest as she stares ahead. Robb can see her shoulders shaking, knowing she's unraveling and there is nothing he can do to stop it. There are few times in life he felt as useless as he does now and as he takes a few steps toward her, he stops when her voice reaches him.

"I want to go." 

Clearing his throat, Robb folds his hands behind his back. "Go where?"

Licking her lips, she glances at him over her shoulder. Her eyes are filled with sorrow, drowning in tears that have already formed rivers down her cheeks. Every time she makes herself a promise she will no longer cry, Rosalie finds herself in a situation where tears cannot be avoided. Not for long. 

"Home", she replies quietly. "I wanted to go home, but then Sansa sent me the letter which put me on a path to Winterfell." Turning back to the window, she continues. "I don't regret helping her and Jon, but I wish I went home. I wish I spent that time with my grandmother."

"Do you believe you could have stopped it from happening if you were home now?" 

Slowly, Robb's feet carry him to her, the distance between them bothering him. There's no reason to be so far from her, to keep himself at bay like he had to all these years. He can be with her now. This time, he can hold her up when she feels too weak to stand.