Lannister Blood

7 - Fallen Kings

I barely feel the pain in my wrist when I collide against the walls of the Red Keep. I have to make the music stop. It played the night the Starks were slaughtered, I know it. I don't know how, but I do. As I stumble to wherever it's leading me, flashes of that night appear before my eyes. Catelyn Stark's knowing face when she heard the tune of my father's song at the celebration. The armor revealed under Roose Bolton's sleeves. The look of horror on the faces of others as Talisa was stabbed repeatedly in the stomach.

I close my eyes but the scene won't go away. The blood flowing throughout the room acts as if a sinister work of art. Robb mourns his late wife, completely in a state of shock as Catelyn wails for him to leave. She begs Walder to let him go. Walder refuses snidely, making my hate for the man all the more present in my bones. I long to rip his throat from his body. The way he and his sons treated me was vile. It took months for me to be able to scare them more than they scared me.

Robb looks to his mother, calling out to her before Roose steps up to him.

"The Lannisters send their regards," he hisses before plunging the blade into him.

I scream but nothing comes out. I reach into the abyss but touch nothing. I want to strangle Roose until his veins explode and his eyes turn red. How dare he use a name that belongs to me. I pray to the gods that Robb didn't see my face in the list of names that must have flashed before his eyes. At least, not in malice. I had nothing to do with his downfall. I would have died willingly before I participated even remotely. But he had no way of knowing. For all he knew, my kindness towards him was all a lie.

The Rains of Castamere plays even louder in my ears. I cover them with no change. Then there's a flash of Robb's corpse tied to a horse with Grey Wind's head sewed on. The unsettling cheers and disgusting words coming from foul men's mouths fill the humid air. My vision blurs as the scene of the Red Wedding fades and the long halls of the Red Keep seep in. Just when I believe I'll collapse, I see him. Standing at the end of the hallway, wearing all black and a lost expression, is the late King in the North.

Robb Stark.

I shake my head and shut my eyes tightly. No. It's another hallucination. A vision or strange memory of some sort. Robb Stark is dead. He died and-

The Young Wolf lives.

The voice I haven't heard since my training session with Bronn echoes like a loud command in my ears. I can't tell if it's male or female. It's as if someone is whispering harshly and yet trying to make their voice louder at the same time.

"The Young Wolf is dead," I reply aloud, but I can't hear myself over the music and echoes.

I plead with whatever is going on in my head to stop. I don't know what it wants. My knees crash onto the ground and I clutch my head in my hands. The blackness behind my eyelids morphs into a scene. It's as if I can see myself crouching down with my head in my hands. I'm rocking back and forth. Then I see Robb coming down the hallway towards me. There's a wicked scar running along his exposed neck. Despite that, he looks entirely normal expect for the paleness of his skin. He kneels down and leans close to my ear.

"Come find me."

His voice cuts through the music and everything is silent. I rip my eyes open, instantly crawling away from where I heard the familiar voice directly in my ear.

I'm alone in the hallway. There is no music, no inhuman whispers, no dead Starks.

My whole body trembles with fear.