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I remember the day you bid me farewell and we embraced
The summer snow in your auburn hair, and something glittering in your eyes
We said nothing more but we know
Winter is coming.
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He feels dizzy. After they took the castle, everything has been in a state of blur. He doesn't remember much.
He dreamt a lot. White, black and something soft. Suddenly it's all gone, he's in the wolf forest again, but he couldn't find Grey Wind. He searched and searched, there is nothing and the night is falling, something terrible is about to happen.
There's a hand gently touching his forehead, he hears a female voice saying, "his fever is gone."
He didn't know anything about fever, but if it's the feeling of hot and cold at the same time, he knows that.
"Your grace", another voice calling him firmly.
He managed to open his eyes. It's Smalljon.
"I’m sorry, your grace", he said, "but it's urgent."
His expression is easy to tell, a mixture of sadness and anger. Robb knows, whatever that he's about to say is not something that's going to make him feel better.
"What happened?"
"I'm afraid Winterfell has fallen, your grace."
A stab at heart. He feels the pain, his head swimming, not fully recovered from the fever.
He didn't say anything so Smalljon continues,
"It's the Greyjoys, your grace. They have betrayed us."
I should have known. He thinks. A knife so well hidden behind the smile of Theon Greyjoy. A turncloak's smile.
He feels his eyes hurt so much he wants to cry but he's the king so he can't do that. He wants to say something but the words couldn't get out of his throat. He closes his eyes, "any news of Bran and Rickon, my brothers?"
"Nothing I'm afraid, your grace. Nothing from the Raven."
Black wings, black news, like mother always says. He thought. He doesn't know if mother has already learned this yet but he couldn't bring himself to think. Every bits of him shouts hurt and pain. He just wants to lie down and forget, this is a nightmare and it might go away like it did all these years. He remembers the dream of white and black, soft and warm. A voice he's too familiar lingering besides his ear, "I will keep you safe Stark."
When he opens his eyes again he sees a face of a girl. Oh yes the girl from the castle, he remembers her face, beautiful and elegant. What's her name?
"Hey," she said, "you are awake."
"Thank you for taking care of me." he said, trying to force a smile.
"Don't worry I'm here for you. I'm sorry for your lost."
He must have got that funny feeling again because the next minute she is wiping away liquids from his eyes and softly caressing his hair.
He closes his eyes again, he hasn't been touched like this in a long time, not even his mother. He's the King in the North.
The last time, the last time... summer days, the pool in the godswood, timid smile and timid hands, white skin, black curly hair, Grey Wind and Ghost running around each other merrily, a soft voice chanting his name and eager promises of love, a feeling called happiness.
"J...J..." he feels the heat coming back but couldn't bring himself to say that name because he was so far away, another world another lifetime maybe.
"It's Jeyne," she smiled and whispering in his ear.
……
"She... she comforted me." That's what he told his mother after he wedded her.
But what he couldn't say is that, what brought comfort was a memory of white and black, soft and warm. Something he cherished so much ever after the day he had the summer snow in his auburn hair.