The Songs of Winter | Robb Stark

Chapter 10

Robb Stark

The cold air clings to my skin as I sit on a worn wooden stool beside Olly, the boy's hands working diligently beside mine as we prepare for the coming battle. The steady rasp of metal on wood fills the silence between us. We sharpen arrow after arrow, the rhythmic motions of our hands a small solace in the shadow of the looming attack on Castle Black.

The memories of my first encounter with the wildlings flicker in my mind, like a flame struggling against the wind. It was a lifetime ago, back when I still called Winterfell home. I remember the wildling woman, Osha, and how I gave her mercy—an act of compassion that seems almost foreign now. Back then, the lines between right and wrong were clearer, the world simpler, less stained by blood and fear. But those days are gone, buried beneath the weight of the choices I've had to make since.

I steal a glance at Olly, his youthful face set in concentration as he works beside me. His hands are small, his fingers still clumsy with the tools, and I can't help but notice the slight falter in his technique. His strokes are uneven, and the arrows he's working on come out wobbly, the shafts crooked instead of straight and true. In a battle, even the smallest flaw can mean the difference between life and death.

I reach over and place a gentle hand on his, halting his movements. "Here," I say softly, "let me show you."

He looks up at me, his eyes wide and earnest. This boy has seen more than he should have at his age, but there's still a spark of innocence in him, one that hasn't yet been extinguished by the brutality of the world we live in.

I take the arrow from his hands and guide him through the motions, showing him how to hold the shaft steady, how to keep the pressure even as he sharpens the tip. His hands tremble slightly under mine, but he listens, eager to learn, eager to do his part.

"Like this," I explain, demonstrating the proper technique. "If the arrow isn't straight, it won't fly true. And if it doesn't fly true..."

"It won't hit its mark," Olly finishes for me, his voice quiet but resolute.

I nod, a small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "Exactly. Every arrow matters, Olly. Every single one could save a life."

He nods, determination hardening his features as he takes the arrow back and begins again, this time with more care, more precision.

As I'm about to continue on my arrows I hear a commotion near the front gate. I put down my arrows and tell Olly "Keep going, I'll be back."

Walking towards the gate I witness Pyp and Sam yelling at eachother "Thorne gave me strict orders to not open the gate." Pyp remarks to Sam.

"Oh, Pyp open the f*ing gate!" Sam yells.

"What's going on over here?" I ask interrupting their little spat.

Sam turns to me and yells with disbelief "Gilly is out there with little Sam and your wife's two servants!" He yells out upset.

Turning back to Pyp I say "Open the gate."

Pyp sighs and opens the gate once it's open the three women stumble in. Iridessa and Sophie spots me and starts bowing but I spot them "No need for that right now ladies, I'm just happy you both are alive and well."

Iridessa nods and says "They're coming here next to Castle Black, my King."

I nod at this "We know, which is why you lot need to stay somewhere safe." Turning to Sam I tell him "Sam! Get these ladies to somewhere safe." But as soon as the words leave my mouth my stomach fills with dread at the sound of the horns blowing meaning it's time "Shit." I mutter underneath my breath.