A Northern Rose - Game of Thrones // Robb Stark

A Distant Memory

Hi guys and happy holidays! We're nearly at the end of the story now, and this was meant to be the last chapter but it seemed super long so I've had to split it into two. The next should be up shortly, but for now I hope you enjoy!

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Six years had passed since I had last seen Winterfell, and I still remembered everything about it. How it looked, how it smelt, even how the cold air tasted when it first began to snow.

Everything had changed since then.

It was a strange feeling, having to believe that everyone I knew and loved was dead. I had no news of them, and if I did it was one rumour or another. I couldn't be sure of any of it, but I refused to believe the bad.

Ser Rodrik kept me informed when he could, but it was only a few times a month that he visited and even then he couldn't stay too long. Maester Luwin had been true to his word, but whether he was alive to know that I certainly didn't know.

Where I'd once lived in a castle, I now lived in a small wooden house with a great fire pit in the centre - just enough for two. Brandon had insisted he slept in the small room upstairs, where sometimes he could see the towers of Winterfell through the trees.

He asked about it often, though he couldn't remember it, and sometimes he didn't even believe me. He said that I'd made it up to make him feel like a Prince when all the while he was a farmer's son. I'd laughed at that.

It was only when Ser Rodrik visited, armour hidden under his cloak, that he believed me. He'd been learning how to hold a sword now, and promised himself that he would practise every day so he could protect us.

He was all I had left.

He asked about Robb a lot, wondering what he'd been like and if he was a good fighter and what he looked like. I could only tell him that he looked just like his father, and I wasn't lying.

I was glad no one in the village knew of Robb by face, as it would be hard to mistake. His auburn curls fell messily and his eyes were a light blue; even how he held himself was similar.

However, I had to convince myself that Robb was dead.

I had to stomach that thought a long time ago, and now it just felt as if I was talking about someone I used to know. I still loved him, though. It was impossible not to, alive or dead. Never had I thought about or considered anyone else, despite the offers. I would always be a Stark at heart, even if the world had refused me that luxury.

The talk for weeks had been that The Young Wolf had been killed.

Some said in battle, others said at dinner, but the final result made no difference.

At that news Brandon had cried in my arms and I'd told him that it wasn't true, but little did he know I shared those tears.

It all seemed a world away, and yet my heart was shattered.