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Somehow, Robb always knew it would to end this way. Well, Perhaps not this way, with a man and a knife rushing to his stomach, but he always felt the ghost of treason upon him.
The King in the North had been nothing more than a bedtime story, such as Old Nan used to tell him at night, when he couldn’t sleep, when he lamented he still had to take castles and rescue maidens to go to sleep like children do. He was not a child, he was grown and didn’t need to listen to the old nanny or his lady mother. They couldn’t tell him what to do. He was Robb Stark, future Lord of Winterfell. And somehow, Robb always knew that he was to become even more, too.
The men shouting in a cold dark night, the heat he had felt inside as “King in the North!”, “King in the North!” had broken the silence white as snow. A thrill nobody could refuse, a false promise anyone would fall for.
Robb Stark watched as the assassin approached, he sensed he was moving fast but his own mind moved slow. The knife, the features of the man went blurry, Robb couldn’t tell his killer’s eyes, he couldn’t tell if there was honest regret. A Frey. It was a Frey. They didn’t know honesty, nor honor.
Honor had took his father to the grave and now there he stood, Ned’s son, dying of the same foolish death. Suddenly it was like Ned was there with him, a large hand on his shoulders repeating to him their house’s words. Winter is coming. Winter was coming for him, with all its coldness through a dagger’s blade.
Starks knew cold and knew to face it, but they also knew to fear it.
His mother, his screaming mother, was there too. She was desperately trying to save him by pleading something Robb couldn’t hear. When did his ears went deaf? Everything was so silent and still. His hands, his legs, all gone. How it was he was still standing? No one could stand without their legs and feet, yet he was.
Seconds, minutes, hours and days and months and years. All of them rushed together and then they were gone, as suddenly as they had came to him. Robb felt them leave his body one by one. Finally he couldn't see nothing, speak nothing, hear nothing.
Jeyne.
Mother.
Greywind.