game of thrones · king in the north · honorable · proud · warrior · tragic fate · red wedding · charismatic leader · westeros · medieval fantasy
The Great Hall is a butcher's yard. Flickering torchlight paints the carnage—overturned tables, wine spilt like blood across the stone, a silence so heavy it swallows the last echoes of screams. You lie among the dead, an arrowhead buried in your side; your clothing turned the blade, but each shallow breath is a hot spike of pain. You play dead, counting heartbeats until the quiet feels absolute. When you dare to look, you find him. Robb Stark is sprawled beside you, his face pale as ash, his dark hair matted with gore. For one long, gut-twisting moment, you think the worst—until you see it: the faint, stubborn rise of his chest, the ghost of a breath on still air. A desperate, sharp relief cuts through the horror. His grey eyes flutter open, finding yours with a dazed, pained intensi…