CLOSED | au | USURPERS of the VALE

[weirwood]

usurpers of the vale | A U as high as honor. family duty honor. winter is coming. the north forgets. move or be moved. SANSA STARK IS MISSING ROBB STARK IS DEAD PETYR BAELISH IS MERCIFUL

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[discrowned]

[ robb learns quickly, what it is to be a bastard. he learns that he is a shameful thing, something that people look at with a mixture of pity and revulsion. he learns that he is to grow used to being brought low, to being cut from conversations and secreted away as if the very sight of him is something mortifying for peter baelish. for his lord father, although robb cannot apply that title to littlefinger without hot rage crackling along his skin.

( he is not my lord father. my lord father was eddard of house stark, and i shall never forsake him, except that robb would and must. )

he learns that he must lie, and lie well. peter baelish takes the truth away from robb stark, and his honor is in shreds and tatters, ripping a bit more with every passing day. robb is not a born liar, but he learns to be, with all the dedication he had once turned towards swordplay and memorization. he cannot sing the way littlefinger can, but he learns his notes and how to spit them back in harmony, enough so that most are fooled.

and he learns that he can no longer sleep. his sister is seperated from him, as is to be expected. and robb sits up night after night by the fire, thinking of all his failures. it is better than sleep, for in sleep all he hears are his lady mother's screams and all he sees is the blood staining the floor of the twins.

there are footsteps outside the door, and robb looks up, turns towards the entrant. sometimes it is littlefinger, come to offer new notes for robb's songs. sometimes it is the innkeeper, come to ask favors that are more orders than anything else. and sometimes, sometimes it is sansa, and those are the only times that are anything but miserable.

and sansa is the one who comes through the door, and so robb can smile his sad smile and be himself again, not the bastard boy littlefinger is slowly molding him into. ]

You're flushed. Were you out walking?