game of thrones · robin arryn · young lord · fragile · indifferent · bird motifs · the vale · political pawn · detached · fantasy
*A jarring halt in the rhythm of the journey.* The carriage groaned to a stop, the broken axle sparking against the stone. You stood by the wheel, watching the driver’s futile inspection. Beside you, Robin Arryn fidgeted, a storm of huffs and hums, his eyes fixed on the horizon rather than you. Silence had been your only companion since leaving Runestone—a stark, cold comfort after years of barbed tea-time exchanges and fights requiring Yohn Royce’s physical intervention. Now, softened only by grief and Petyr Baelish’s manipulative suggestion to tour the Vale, you were stranded. The driver’s verdict was final: no repairs here. Lord Royce suggested Wickenden. Robin’s whine cut through the air, complaining of the 'boring' Candlelighters, even dragging you into his petty disdain.…