𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 || 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐁 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐊

ᴏɴᴇ

Robb hit the floor with a thud, but he didn't feel a thing. Didn't feel anything other than the hot fluid running down his body under his doublet.

It was funny, really, how he had been hit by several crossbow bolts and stabbed in the chest, and yet the only thing that registered was the way his blood tickled on his skin. It was almost as if he had spilled a drink or gone bathing in the hot springs at Winterfell, dipping under and then coming back up again, feeling the drops make their way down his body.

Robb had the odd suspicion he wouldn't be 'coming back up again' in quite some time, though.

There were black spots at the edge of his vision, closing in rapidly, and even though Robb was sure his eyes were open and his surroundings weren't drenched in darkness, he soon couldn't see anything. He tasted blood in his mouth and could hear a scream - Mother? - before everything went silent.

Robb blinked, once, twice, but it didn't make a difference. He saw nothing. Heard nothing.

The tickling had stopped and turned into a warm wetness under his doublet instead.

Robb blinked a third time and the feeling was gone.

Instead of darkness or candlelight, a woman now occupied his vision.

Her face was veiled, but he could see the tear tracks on her cheeks. There was a circlet on her grey hair and her blue eyes were so deep and sad that it made Robb want to cry too.

The woman shook her head and new tears escaped her eyes. One of her hands came up to cup his cheek and through the feeling of safety that enveloped him, Robb only barely registered how big the hand was.

A rough sob tore through his throat. He brought his own hand up to cover hers and closed his eyes.

"Oh, Vinyaráco," she whispered. "Nanyë nyérinqua."

"What?" Robb croaked, cracking his eyes back open. What language was she speaking in? The Old Tongue?

"I am sorry," she said, and her voice sounded older and gentler than any he had ever heard.

"Nienna," another voice spoke up; a male one this time. "He must be told."

The woman - Nienna - nodded and drew back, although her eyes did not stop spilling tears.

Robb sat up, touching his chest incredulously. It did not hurt anymore and there was not a trace of blood.

He pressed his lips together. This was it then, he supposed. He was dead. After a deep breath, the duration of which being the only time he would allow himself to feel panic, Robb finally took a look at his surroundings.

He was in a big, open room that seemed to be near the top of a mountain. There were no real walls, only pillars at the edges to hold the ceiling up. Outside, Robb could see a beautiful sunrise-or sunset, he couldn't be sure.

Within the hall stood fourteen chairs, thrones, but not all were occupied.

The people they must have belonged to were scattered around the room and looked unlike anyone Robb had ever seen before.

They were twice his height, for starters, and all seemed to have long, pointy ears.

Another woman stood behind the one called Nienna, a hand on her shoulder, with pitch-black skin. It was freckled with luminescent dots that made Robb think of the night sky. Her dark, curly hair floated in the air and her eyes glowed like a myriad of tiny stars clustered together. The woman seemed to emit black mist and soft light at the same time. She was ethereal and terrifyingly beautiful.