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you should've seen the way he was looking at you. like you're an ocean and he's desperate to drown.
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Robb had seemed to descend upon Hermione with the silent inevitability of the plague of Redspots that had once ravaged Westeros. One moment he was absent, and the next, he was everywhere. In the kitchens, the stables, Bran's bedchamber, the Dining Hall—every corridor seemed to harbor his presence. If Hermione did not know better, she would have sworn he had sent someone to shadow her every step, ensuring she posed no danger to herself.
"It's only his concern for your well-being," she would chide herself when her patience wore thin, yet the weight of his vigilance felt excessive. She half-expected to find him hovering over her bed in the mornings, his shadow a constant presence.
Today, Thalia and Mary had taken Leo and Rickon outside, and Bran was occupied with his studies under Maester Luwin's stern gaze, leaving Hermione alone. Seizing the rare opportunity for solitude, she retreated to the one sanctuary Robb seemed to avoid with the fervor of a man fleeing Greyscale: the library. But even here, it seemed, her misfortune clung to her like a second skin.
She was halfway through a tome when the door creaked open and shut with a familiar, heavy tread. No words were needed to identify him; Robb's distinctive footfalls announced his arrival.
"How are you today?" His voice was laced with a smile, and he halted just inches from her side.
"Same as yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that," Hermione replied with a hint of exasperation, turning a page with a deliberate slowness. "Your mood swings, however, are giving me whiplash."
Robb leaned on the table, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Hermione set the book aside, running her fingers through her hair in a gesture of frustration. "One moment you're commanding your guards to confine me and ignoring my existence, and the next, you're putting on that insipidly charming face of yours as if nothing ever happened."
Robb's face contorted into a puzzled frown, his lips pressed together in a tight line. He dragged a chair to sit beside her, his gaze curious. "What are you reading?"
