The Songs of Winter | Robb Stark

Chapter 33

Robb Stark

With a surge of anger coursing through me, I grab Olly by his collar and lift him off the ground, slamming him against the cold stone wall. The impact echoes in the silent room, and I lean in close, my face inches from his. "What did you do?" I demand, my voice low and seething with rage.

Olly squirms in my grip, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and defiance. "We did what had to be done. He made a mistake bringing those wildlings past the gates!" The defiance in his tone only fuels my anger, each word slicing deeper into my gut.

"Listen to me and listen clearly, you little shit." My voice rises, filled with an intensity that could ignite a fire. "You're going to tell me every single person who had something to do with this." My grip tightens, and I can feel the pulse of my anger thrumming through my veins, hot and relentless.

Just then, Edd approaches, his face a mixture of concern and authority. "Thorne did this, no question about it," he states firmly, his eyes narrowing. "Let him go for now. You don't want a little boys death on your conscience." He nods toward Olly, who is now visibly trembling under my grasp.

I scoff, a bitter laugh escaping me. "You don't know what I'm prepared to have on my conscience." With that, I release Olly, letting him drop hard onto the ground. "Tie him up. He's not going anywhere." My voice brooks no argument, and the other Night's Watch brothers spring into action, grabbing Olly and securing him to a nearby post.

Before I can gather my thoughts, Ser Davos enters the room, and his gaze lands on Jon's lifeless body sprawled out on the table, a sight I still haven't fully allowed myself to confront. It sits in my peripheral vision, a grim reminder of more of my failure.

"So it's true," Ser Davos says, his voice thick with shock and disbelief.

My mind unravels as I hear him speaking, but his words barely penetrate the fog of despair enveloping me. All I can think about is Jon's cold body left in the snow, the blood pooling around him like a dark halo, and the treacherous sign of 'traitor' resting next to him. I stare down at my hands, still stained with dried blood, a morbid reminder of the endless nightmare I find myself trapped in—an endless cycle that feels like it will never end, not unless you end it yourself.

Before I can spiral further into my dark thoughts, a sharp knock at the door jolts everyone to attention, pulling their swords out. The room goes tense, and we hear a woman's voice from the other side. "Ser Davos."

Edd glances over his shoulder at Davos, who gives a slight nod. The Night's Watch brothers sheathe their swords, tension crackling in the air. Edd strides to the door and opens it, revealing Melisandre, her presence commanding as she steps inside. He closes the door behind her, cutting off the outside world.

"I saw him in the flames. Fighting at Winterfell," she says, her gaze fixed on Jon's body, a somber reflection of the tragic reality we face.

My eyes remain locked onto hers, refusing to glance at Jon's still form. I speak coldly, my heart heavy with grief and anger. "Well, I can't speak for the flames, but my brother's gone."

I look down to find Ghost nudging my hand, a soft whimper escaping him. Leaning down, I run my fingers through his thick fur, seeking comfort in his presence as Edd continues, "He'll have seen we didn't come. Thorne will have made it official by now. Castle Black is his."

"I don't care who's sitting at the high table!" I shout, my voice rising, echoing the frustration and rage boiling within me. "Jon was my brother, your friend, and those fuckers butchered him. Now we return the favor." The last words spill from my lips like a vow, a promise of vengeance I intend to uphold.