SONG: Jenny of Oldstones by Florence + The Machine
TW: mentions of suicide
Fianna
"Jaime fucking Lannister," Robb shook his head in a low whistle, unsure whether to be amused or abhorred by the man's sudden arrival. The last time he and Fianna had seen the Kingslayer, he was trapped in a cage, covered in his own shit. Now, he was willingly coming to them. And alone, at that.
"He's either a fool or a distraction," Fianna agreed, the two walking side by side to the Great Hall where Ser Jaime was to be placed in front of themselves, and Daenerys by default, for an impromptu trial.
"You've been awfully quiet since last night," he commented with a wry smirk, "I wasn't that awful in bed was I?"
"No, it's the only reason we're still together," she teased with a breathy chuckle, hoping her comment would distract him from what was really on her mind. Robb and Fianna had made an agreement once never to keep a secret, which was exactly why she had planned on telling him today about Jon. Too many a time she had let a secret come between them, she felt she could trust him with this one.
Jon had stormed past her after the revelation in the crypts, sulking off to his chambers to be in solitude. She guessed he wouldn't be joining Daenerys in bed that night. It wasn't that she had particularly wanted to speak with Jon about their newfound connection, but Bran's words still rang in her mind.
Everyone was already waiting by the time they arrived, all eyes on a rather sour looking Daenerys and a sullen Jaime Lannister. They didn't begin until the Northern King and Queen sat down.
"A trial is the last thing on people's minds right now," Fianna spoke after a beat of silence, "but it's either listen to what the Kingslayer has to say or let a free-for-all happen. I'm sure one or two, or half a dozen of us, have reasons to want this man dead."
"I'd like to go first," Daenerys drily requested from beside her, eyes as fiery as her dragon's throats. She took a second to stare him down longer, before opening her mouth. "When I was a child, my brother told me a bedtime story about the man who murdered our father. Who stabbed him in the back and cut his throat. Who sat down on the throne and watched his blood spill across the floor. We also talked about all the things we would do to that man when we took back the Seven Kingdoms and had him in our grasp."
Fianna's nose twitched, finding Daenerys' anger a little misplaced. Of all the despicable things the Lannister man did, even solely to the Starks, his slaying of Aerys Targaryen was something she didn't hate him for. And she knew Robb felt the same.
Aerys had burnt Robb's grandfather and uncle for pleading their sister's safe return, oaths be damned, he deserved to be stripped of his throne and life.
"It's good to see you again, Kingslayer," Robb smirked cockily, leaning forward in his chair with eyes trailing up and down the man's appearance. "How about that one on one sword fight you requested? I think I have a better chance now."
"It's a shame it took me losing a limb for a King to find the balls to fight me," Jaime fired back, but Robb's amusement never simmered down. From the last time they met, and now, Robb still held the power over Jaime's life.
"I don't see your sister's army," Daenerys added with narrowed eyes, "I see one man, with one hand."
"She never had any intention of sending her army North," Jaime admitted truthfully, "she has Euron Greyjoy's fleet and twenty thousand fresh troops. The Golden Company, from Essos. Even if we defeat the dead, she'll have more than enough to kill the survivors."
"It's almost as if Cersei Lannister couldn't be trusted," Fianna spit, casting a dark glare towards a furious Daenerys and a defeated Jon.
❄️
"I don't trust him," Robb muttered under his breath, walking alongside Fianna as they exited the hall, upon listening to Jon and Sansa's suggestions for his life to be spared.
"Me neither," she sighed tiredly, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips. "Lest we forget, the man came within seconds of killing me at the Whispering Wood."
"Jon is right though," Robb admitted, watching as the Kingslayer freely walked around the courtyard. "We need every man we can get."
"That doesn't mean we trust him," Fianna argued, "but I'll admit he was brave to come here by himself."
Robb stopped to look at his wife with a small, agreeing smile, watching as she let out a prolonged yawn. Fianna hadn't slept well in days, anxiously waiting for the war horn to sound and signal an incoming attack. The signs of her lack of sleep came in the form of dark under eye shadows and a pale face, making her appear older than she actually was. Occasionally, realisation would strike Robb about how young he and his wife still were. Their experiences had left them feeling aged, despite only being twenty three and twenty four respectively.
Over his shoulder, she caught eyes with Jon, having noticed that he was already looking at her. Once they made eye contact, he nodded his head towards the doorway to the crypts, signalling that he was finally ready to talk.
"I'm going to double check the food reserves, I'd imagine we'll burn through most of it feeding the soldiers for the war to come," she explained, hoping he bought her excuse. Having no reason to suspect anything, Robb departed after leaving a kiss on her cheek, prompting his wife to follow after Jon when her husband was out of sight.
❄️
When she entered the crypts, Fianna could just about make out his dark figure further down. Having visited them enough times, she knew he was standing in front of the statue of Ned Stark. She walked slowly, debating the upcoming conversation in her head before she would eventually meet him.
"He risked his marriage for my well-being," Jon began, barely sparing her a glance as he remained fixated with Ned's face. Fianna hadn't seen the man since she was ten, and even she knew it bore no resemblance to the actual man.
"He loved Catelyn, and he still risked it all to protect me," Jon continued, shoulders slumped with stress.
"I've risked my marriage before for secrets," Fianna admitted, stopping when they were finally side by side.
"Was your grandmother's identity one of them?" Jon questioned, turning to face her with a raised eyebrow. In truth, Fianna and him were never close. But now they were bonded in a way no one else could relate to - an unwanted lineage.
"I found out about Rhaella Targaryen a little while before Robb returned to me," Fianna sighed, turning to face him. "I was too happy to have him back to risk making him see me in a different light."
"And did he? See you differently?"
"No," Fianna's lips lifted, "but it didn't change anything anyways. I was still born a Bua, your situation is a little more dire."
"That's how you could ride Viserion then?" He asked knowingly.
"And how you could ride Rhaegal," she finished. Fianna eyed him for a moment as he turned to peer at the statue again. "Have you told Daenerys?"
"No, that's a conversation I'm not ready for," he answered gruffly. "You know, when I found out that you and Robb had gone against me, at first I was angry. You made a fool of me in front of every Northern lord and lady."
Fianna stayed quiet, eyes trained forward and refusing to give a reaction.
"But then I thought of why I bent the knee in the first place," he continued, tone lighter and less tight. "Because none of this truly matters. All that matters is surviving. You've seen what they can do, you yourself nearly died."
"It is important," she agreed, "but so is what happens afterward."
"Well, we won't have to wait long to find that out," Jon sighed, an undertone in his voice that caught her attention.
"What do you mean?" Fianna pressed, eyeing him carefully.
"Tormund said they'll be here before the dawn."
At his revelation, Fianna's eyes widened dramatically, her feet scrambling backwards. There was so much they weren't ready for, so much to do. She thought they'd have more time.
Jon simply watched as she turned and ran as well as she could with her bum leg, desperate to put the final preparations in place. And to spend what was potentially her last day with her children.
❄️
Robb
Robb Stark had been in a frantic pace after hearing the revelation about the Night Walker's imminent arrival. There were so many strategies he had hoped to implement and discuss before they perished, and now, he would have no other choice but to do what he could in the time they had.
"Your grace," Gendry interrupted him mid-stride, a rather strangely shaped weapon poised in his hands.
"Yes?" Robb forced himself to stop and turn to the boy, the stress catching up to him as he hoped the conversation wouldn't be a waste of their limited time.
"I made that weapon you wanted for the Queen," he answered promptly, raising the tool up again. Robb tilted his head as he checked it over. It almost seemed to be two weapons in one, with a stick connecting both edges. One end held a short chain to rather heavy looking spiked iron ball, the other held a dragonglass pointed blade.
"What is it?" Robb questioned, taking it from his hands and marvelling over it.
"It's a mace, the Lannisters have just started forging these in King's Landing. It's a new design," Gendry explained, using hand gestures over it.
"Will she be able to use it?"
"Definitely," he answered without hesitance, "you mentioned Queen Fianna used to wield longswords, so I'm assuming she has a lot of upper body strength. One whack with the spiked ball will incapacitate them long enough to stab them with the dragonglass. They're strong, but they're still a bag of bones. Bones break."
A proud smirk lifted up one corner of Robb's lips, testing the weight of the weapon himself. He had asked the Baratheon bastard for a weapon he believed would better suit Fianna's strengths. Now that one of her leg's was weaker than the other, she would be more heavily reliant on her upper body.
"I appreciate this, Gendry," Robb thanked him, a genuine smile forming as he clapped the boy on the back. A figure caught the corner of his as he did so, standing stationary a few feet away. Expecting it to be another steward requiring his assistance, Robb turned reluctantly to face him, his mouth falling open in surprise once he saw who it was.
Theon didn't speak immediately, nor move at all for that matter. He simply stood, looking terribly fearful, staring at Robb. Letting the hand that held the weapon fall limp by his side, Robb took the initiative to step toward his former friend.
Robb stopped mere feet away from the Greyjoy son, fiercely staring him down and watching as he fidgeted under his gaze.
"I-... I've come to fight for Winterfell, your grace," he murmured eventually, voice taut with nerves. Theon jumped when Robb took another step forward, unable to read the expression on his face.
He would have been less shocked if Robb had hit him, instead of what he actually did. Which was wrap his arm around his shoulders tightly, bringing him into a brotherly hug he hadn't experienced in years.
Theon froze in his grip, before eventually lifting his shaking arms to embrace him in return. They stayed for a moment, until Robb could get his point across. Whatever Theon had done in the past, he had more than paid his dues for. Robb knew first hand how Ramsay's cruelty had no boundaries, and couldn't feel anything but protective over Theon. His brother.
"Thank you," Theon whispered when they finally pulled apart, wincing when Robb clapped a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"No, thank you," Robb replied, voice filled with sincerity and thankfulness.
❄️
Fianna
Night had fallen across Winterfell, and with it, the realisation that in mere hours at least half the people around would be dead. With Aifric's hand clasped in her own, and Eddie's in her other, Fianna frantically rushed across the castle ensuring every man, woman and child knew their place and were equipped with food, weaponry or both.
"Mama?" Eddie's sweet voice met her ears, interrupting her from pointing a woman towards the entrance to the crypts. Fianna looked down at her son as he rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I'm tired."
"I know, sweet boy," she bent down, pressing a kiss to his cheek tenderly and glancing over to make sure Aifric was alright too. "We just have to make sure these people are okay. And then we'll get you to bed, alright?"
"Fianna?" A voice met her ears. Standing up swiftly, she turned to see Rickon waiting patiently for her to finish.
"Rickon," she sighed in relief, not having seen the boy all day. "Are you alright? Have you had your soup and bread?"
"Yes, I have," he nodded, looking a little antsy as he prepared to tell her what was on his mind. "But I haven't been given a weapon."
Fianna froze at his comment, swallowing harshly. She had known Rickon since he was a boy, and was struggling with coming to terms with the fact he was more of a man than a child now. It was only natural he'd assume he would be fighting too, all other boys and girls his age were enlisted.
"I- about that... ," she stammered, a sympathetic expression on her face that Rickon immediately recognised.
"No, Fianna," he disputed before she even began. "You can't leave me out of this fight. Not this time. You need everyone you can get."
"But not you," she argued in return. "You haven't been trained well enough for me to feel confident putting you against these things."
"I've trained more than some of the butchers and stewards you've armed, yet you're sending them out there," he scoffed, shaking his head in annoyance.
"I know," she sighed, "and that's selfish of me. But please, I need you to stay in the crypts with Aifric and Eddie. There's no one else I'd trust to keep them safe. They need you down there-"
"Don't give me that shite, Fianna," he cut her off, his language surprising her. Perhaps he grew up faster than she thought. "I'm not a child, I'm not going to believe I'm going down there to protect everyone."
"But you are!" Fianna fought back, gesturing for him to come close so she could talk lowly. "In the crypts, if anything goes wrong, I need you to lead them out of there. There's a passage underneath Rickard Stark's statue, once you push it it'll reveal a tunnel. The tunnel leads you to Wintertown if you follow it to the end."
"Why tell me this?" He asked, his interest piqued.
"I've been in enough battles to know something always goes wrong," she swallowed thickly, lowering her voice further to stop the children from hearing. "People we know are going to die tomorrow, no matter what we do. If they break through to the crypts, it's going to be up to you to protect everyone down there."
Her words silenced Rickon, who hadn't considered the responsibility of being one of the few, or only, able-bodied and somewhat experienced people down there.
"One day," he started, looking down towards the ground, "you're going to let me fight beside you. And who knows, maybe I'll even save your family like you and Tiernan have saved mine."
❄️
The scene was almost becoming too familiar for Fianna Stark. An intimate counsel meeting, everyone crouched around a map, and those cursed pawns representing army divisions.
"To recap," Robb began, placing a pawn in the shape of a curved sword at the front, "the Dothraki horde will be leading. I'll be leading the Stark bannerman, Fianna will take the Bua's, they're large enough in numbers to divide off, Lady Brienne will command the Knights of the Vale, Grey Worm with the Unsullied, Tormund with the Wildlings and Lady Mormont will command a small garrison inside the castle for retreat."
"Neither the Twins nor Riverrun answered our raven," Sansa revealed, much to his chagrin. Surely his own uncles would have at least considered assisting in the battle of life and death?
"We can't beat them in a straight fight," Jon sighed, also staring pointedly at the set up.
"Not to mention we are almost hilariously outnumbered," Fianna commented drily.
"So what can we do?" Jaime asked, earning a wary side glance from Robb. Never did the eldest Stark boy imagine he and the Kingslayer would be putting their heads together to fight for his home.
"The Night King made them all," Jon revealed, "they follow his command. If he falls, getting to him may be our best chance."
"From what Tormund has told us," Fianna lifted one of the dragon pieces, "we can't let Viserion anywhere near Winterfell. He could level it in minutes."
Although she'd never admit it in front of others, a part of her did indeed blame herself for Viserion's death. It honestly surprised her that Daenerys never thought the same.
"If that's true, he'll never expose himself," Jaime refuted with a shake of his head.
"Yes he will," Bran disagreed, speaking up for the first time, "he'll come for me. He's tried many times before, with many Three-Eyed Ravens. He wants an endless night, and to erase the world. I am it's memory."
"You're going down to the crypt then, where it's safest," Robb told him, not willing to put his brother at risk. Raven or not, Bran was still Bran in his eyes. Albeit, a little weirder.
"No, we need to lure him into the open before his army destroys us all. I'll wait for him in the Godswood."
"Have you gone stark mad?" Fianna scoffed at the suggestion, "we're not going to dangle you out in open air like that. I say we use the dragons to obliterate his armies, and then turn the scope to him. The dragons could take out a hundred of them in less than a minute."
"No," Bran repeated. "The dragons will be needed to fight Viserion. He'll have to fall from his dragon."
"Luckily, our Fianna has experience with that," Tiernan joked, trying to lighten the heavy tension.
"Regardless," Sansa interrupted, turning to her wheelchair-bound brother, "we're not leaving you alone as bait."
"He won't be," Theon cut in, his voice still low, but slowly he was beginning to regain his confidence. "I'll stay with him. With the Ironborn. I took this castle from you, let me defend it now."
Making eye contact with Robb, the Stark heir gave him the most gratuitous expression he could muster, along with a nod of appreciation. Fianna watched the interaction curiously, she wasn't sure when Theon and Robb had mended bridges. But she would be lying if she said she wasn't glad to see it.
Fianna had seen firsthand how betrayed he felt at Theon's escapades early in the war, having considered him a brother. She also recalled the horrible times Robb suffered through after escaping Ramsay Bolton, the trauma having left a scar. According to Robb, Theon had gone through ten times as much as he had.
"If I may suggest, I don't think it's wise to send your Dothraki battalion forward on their own," Fianna warned, turning her attention to Daenerys, who stiffened at her comment.
"And why is that?" Tyrion asked on her behalf.
"The Dothraki are currently the most vicious fighters in Westeros," Daenerys answered tightly.
"We have to assume that the Night King's army has greatly increased since we last seen it, there are two Northern households unaccounted for and we know one of them has been compromised already. The Dothraki may be fierce, but they are too greatly outnumbered."
"Perhaps you'd rather send your own army forward first then?" Daenerys fired back with a twitch of her eyebrow, silencing her effectively.
Once the meeting dispersed with the idea of rest in mind, Robb took the opportunity to present Fianna with her gift.
"I have a surprise for you," he grinned excitedly, making a beeline for an object in the corner covered with a thin blanket.
"Is it a barrel filled with Wildfire?" She teased with false excitement, unsure what he was about to unveil to her. Within seconds, he lifted the weapon into the air and presented it towards her proudly.
It was the strangest object she had seen yet, the only recognisable aspect of it being it's dragonglass tip. The other end linked to a chain carrying a heavy, iron ball.
"What is it?" Fianna asked with furrowed brows, taking it into her own hands and twirling it in a circle to test its weight.
"It's a mace," he explained, "I had Gendry make it for you, he thinks it will be less troublesome to carry than a sword."
Fianna opened her mouth to protest, but Robb - knowing she was about to lecture him for implying she was weak, clapped his hand over her mouth.
"Ah, ah, ah," he quietened her, an amused grin forming. "You're lucky I'm allowing on the battlefield at all, Fianna. The Gods know you aren't in the best possible condition. Take this weapon and ease my mind, please."
Waiting a second, he dropped his hand to see if she'd protest again. Instead, she dropped her head sullenly, embarrassed of her own constraints. He slipped his fingertip underneath her chin to lift her head, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss.
"I'm only doing this to ease your mind," Fianna mumbled against his lips with a chuckle, "not because you told me to."
"Come on," he slipped his arm around her waist, "I want to spend our last hours with the twins."
"Our last hours?" She echoed with a scoff, "that's a rather morbid thought."
"You're right," he sighed, holding back a chuckle, "your last hours."
That comment earned him a smack in the chest once again.
❄️
Tiernan
"I haven't seen much of you today," he spoke directly into her ear to startle her, gaining the reaction intended when Sansa jumped in shock. Clutching her bowl of soup tightly to prevent from spilling it, the redhead clapped her free hand over her chest to still her racing heart.
"I've been busy, I've also spent some of it with Theon," she revealed, sitting down on the nearest barrel. Her tone suggested she didn't intend to make him jealous, but Tiernan wondered none the less.
"I remember the last time I saw a Greyjoy," he sighed wistfully, "I believe it was he and his sister attacking my home and pillaging houses under our allegiance."
"Theon has suffered immensely for his crimes," Sansa defended without hesitation, a warning in her voice that told him to back down.
"I'm not doubting that, my lady," he held his hands in the air in defence. "So tell me, what's on your mind in what's potentially our last few hours?"
"My mother," Sansa admitted, "my father too, but mostly my mother."
Tiernan remained silent, waiting for her to continue. And continue she did.
"I watched my father die, and it was one of the worst moments of my entire life. I've completely blocked out the image from my mind. But my mother... I can't stop thinking about what she felt in her final minutes. How scared she must have been, how heartbroken she would have been thinking her son, and probably daughter, was dead."
Tiernan shook his head in sadness, offering his hand out for her to hold. Upon settling down her now-empty bowl, Sansa actually allowed him to clasp her hand in what was probably the first time she had been so open with him.
"You've suffered enough for any woman ten lifetimes over," he told her, giving her fingers a light squeeze.
"Anyways," she breathed a laugh, downplaying her emotions out of embarrassment and quickly swiping away a stray tear that had pooled under her eye. "I heard your mother married a lowly man out of love. She was either a fool, or a genius."
"A fool," Tiernan answered, his flat tone catching her by surprise. "I suppose if she had chosen to marry out of status she'd probably still be alive."
"Your mother is dead?" Sansa murmured in shock, never having heard about it.
"She's been dead since I was 9," he admitted, finally making eye contact once again. "My mother raised both Fianna and I, but my father died fighting in the Rebellion. According to Cillian, she was never the same afterward. She tried her hardest for our sake, but it all became too much for her..."
Sansa copped onto what he was suggesting and clapped a free hand over her mouth in shock and horror.
"Tiernan... I-" she stammered, struggling to find words.
"It was me that found the body," he continued, finding a cathartic release in finally talking about it. "You're the only one I've told about it, aside from Fianna and Cillian. Everyone else was told she died from a fever, to preserve her legacy."
"I am truly sorry, Tiernan," she spoke sincerely, tears once more forming, except on his behalf this time.
"It's alright," he sniffed, forcing a smile to make her feel better. "I wonder does anyone else have as much bad luck as your family and mine does. Both of our parents are dead."
"We should form some sort of club," Sansa joked, knowing that Tiernan would appreciate some humour to distract from the dire revelation he had just made.
"The 'traumatic experiences club', and you'd be our leader," he teased, causing her to chuckle.
A comfortable silence befell them then, the two content to simply sit with one another while they waited for impending destruction. But all Sansa's mind could focus on was the Bua boy in front of her, wondering how he would react if she acted upon the thoughts in her head.
Deciding that their potential last night alive was as good as any, Sansa shot forward and caught him by surprise, pressing her lips to his. Tiernan froze in temporary shock, unable to quite believe that Sansa would ever actually return his budding feelings.
Eventually, the shock wore off, as he brought his hand up to cup her delicate cheek and kiss her in return. White walkers be damned, Tiernan thought, Sansa Stark could melt the ice of the Night King himself.
❄️
Fianna
"I want a story!" Aifric babbled, voice muffled by the mound of furs and blankets surrounding them. For the night, the twins were brought to sleep next to Robb and Fianna, cuddled in the centre of the bed between them.
"No, you can't have a story, you have to sleep," Robb gently flicked the tip of her nose, his voice soft when speaking to her.
"Just one? Until we fall asleep?" Eddie prompted, looking back and forth between his two parents.
"I want the one with my name!"
"Alright," Fianna conceded with a playful eye roll, laying down to rest her head against the pillow. "There once was a girl named Aifric Bua, who was the fiercest woman in all the land. And she met a man named Cregan, who hailed from the Stark family.
"Aifric didn't like Cregan at the beginning, mainly because he was stubborn and pigheaded, like all Starks are-"
"Hey!" Robb interrupted with an incredulous look.
"Anyways, eventually Aifric began to fall for Cregan, and they were engaged to be married. But then, one day, a foreign ruler came and wanted everyone to name them the new King."
Eddie gasped childishly, Fianna couldn't imagine his reactions if she were to tell the true story. But a child-friendly one seemed appropriate for their ages.
"Cregan got into an argument with this King, and that meant they weren't friends any more."
"What happened then?" Aifric innocently asked, eliciting a shared gaze between Robb and Fianna.
"Well, they made a compromise and all lived happily ever after."
"What's a compomiz?" Eddie questioned, until Fianna soon ticked his ribs and he was left a giggling mess.
"Why are you still awake?" She chuckled at his reaction, taking her fingers away before she woke him up too much.
"That's a boring story," Aifric yawned, curling into her father's chest. Fianna scoffed in amusement, if only she knew the truth. The children began to doze off eventually, their antics of the day catching up with them.
"Are you awake?" Robb's voice whispered after quite some time. Fianna was still very much awake, and was merely in the midst of stroking her children's hair."
"Yes."
"Are you afraid?" He asked, his voice strong but with the slightest of quivers that Fianna didn't fail to miss.
"Terrified," she admitted, squeezing her eyes shut to block out the anxious feeling sweeping her body. "But how are you? It's been a while since you've been in battle, Robb..."
"I'll be much better when Dawn comes around and we've won the war," he replied with a breathy laugh, his features just barely distinguishable in the darkness.
"You know," she started, letting out a shaky exhale. "I've been in far more battles that the average person. Too many battles. And I've never dreaded one as much as this."
"I know," he agreed after a moment of contemplation. "I have never gone into a battle actually feeling more like a loss is inevitable, than a win."
"Promise me you're going to see that Dawn, Robb," she pressed, pushing down the threat of tears within her. She didn't need to break down, not now.
"I swear to you, Fianna," he lifted his arm across their twins to reach her hand, conjoining their fingers. "I will always find my way back to you."
"And I'll always find my way back to you."
❄️
Despite being under the impression that she would never sleep in the current circumstances, Fianna found herself jumping awake at the sound of the war horn. Immediately, terror ripped through her body, her eyes darting down to the bleary eyed twins who were just waking up in confusion, and to the empty space of the bed beside them.
"Robb?" She called out, scrambling from bed and slipping on the armour already laid out for a quick application.
"Mama, what's going on?" Eddie questioned, he and his sister following after their mother's steps and climbing from bed.
"It's time to go below, my loves." Fianna knelt down, tugging them forward for an embrace before she would take them to Rickon for a journey to the crypts.
When it came time to let them go, she found herself unable to do so, squeezing them tighter and tighter and saying several prayers for their well being. Finally, she found the strength to let go, pressing prolonged kisses to each of their heads.
The door whipped open suddenly, Fianna whirling around in the hopes of greeting Robb. Her hopes were dashed when saw Rickon instead, waiting alongside Shaggydog to take the twins beneath.
The reality of the situation had finally settled fully. This was it, the final battle was commencing.
And Fianna had never got the chance to say goodbye to Robb.
❄️
Fair warning, episode 3 had quite a few character deaths, but the next chapter is worse