Winter In My Heart | ROBB STARK.

LX. The Sacrifice

2..

Two whet nurses had just emerged from behind a closed door, two bundled bodies each wrapped in blankets in the crook of their arms. He heard a surprised gasp fall from his own lips as he trailed toward them, lifting his now massive hand up to gently pet their soft heads. The whet nurse in front of him looked far from ecstatic at the new delivery, anxiously looking back and forth between him and the closed door.

"The healer says she's bleeding too much."

1..

The warmth from the fire was nothing compared to the warmth that had settled over his body. The fiery redhead next to him laid her head against his shoulder, the two now fully comfortable with the other as they had bridged a gap between them. She had curled into his side, whispering prayers for his safety in the coming hours, and for that of their family.

0.

❄️

Robb

By the time Robb had reached the courtyard, the giant he had heard shouts about was already dead. Squinting through the misty air, he stepped toward it, giving it a slight kick to make sure it wasn't playing with him. It was then that he had noticed a much smaller body laid on its other side, limp and likely dead.

Struck by the girl's size, he stepped around the carcass and shook his head with sadness as he recognised little Lyanna Mormont. Robb always thought of her as invincible - but it was clear the Army of the Dead spared no one.

A pain-filled screech of one of the dragon's was heard from above, prompting him to snap his head up and investigate. It was a very familiar sound, albeit one he hadn't heard since Viserion had been shot down.

Grey Wind suddenly galloped out from one of the tunnels, his coat matted with fur and teeth dipped in blood. The direwolf paused some metres away, waiting for an instruction from his master. Robb knew that he was alright for the time being, but he couldn't stand not knowing about his wife's condition any longer.

"Go help our girl," he commanded, petting his head momentarily before both master and pet separated, sprinting in opposite directions to help those that they loved.

The second he reached the broken through gate, he saw a dark mass fall through the sky and skid across the ground about a mile away from himself. He couldn't tell from that distance whether or not it was Rhaegal or Drogon, but either way, it's rider would need his help.

As much as he hated to admit it, they would have been positively fucked if they didn't have Jon and Daenerys' air support in the form of two full-grown dragons. Looking around at the home he grew up in, there was a definite feeling of loss filling him. Whatever the wights hadn't destroyed, the fire did. But even still, Winterfell had been rebuilt many times before and would be again.

"Robb Stark," a feminine accented voice called out, urging him to turn around to its source. He found the caller in the form of a woman, clothed all in red with a serene calmness on her expression that contrasted with the chaos around her. Robb recognised her as the magical woman that had brought fire to both the Dothraki's swords and the trenches.

"What?" He asked hesitantly, chest falling up and down with exertion as she slowly made her way across the bloodied courtyard towards him, as if a war wasn't raging all around her.

Robb swung his dragonglass blade through an incoming wight, trying to focus on any incoming enemies whilst she approached him. When they were finally close enough together for her to grab his blade, she did so with a firm grip, tugging it to rise up.