A quiet night was rare in Arcadia, the world thrumming with action and noise in the daytime as people bustled from one place to the next. The city was one of the last remaining hubs for human life, though it teetered on the break of revolution day in and day out. Shadows whispered about the faction called 'Phoenix', a rebel organization threatening to overthrow the group of soldiers that claimed that their main cause was peace. They gave out food rations, checked for signs of infection in the land... This place had a strange mix of magic and technology, the former all but lost to the chokehold modern advances had given to it, but there was magic nonetheless in the earth. Phoenix hoped to revive that magic, to bring this earth back to its former glory. But magic was wild, untamed, and unpredictable. And so the government fought to keep it controlled, to restrict its uses.
That was where they came in. It had been believed that they were to help bring the magic back to this land, to make it whole again, lively and thriving.
But, as usual, their group of travelers are divided. Perhaps it would be better to kill Phoenix's leader? Perhaps the true fix would be to ensure the government stays in power? The answer is never so clear cut.
Still, every day is a struggle to survive. Lurkers - animals, plants, and humans infected with too much magic - come out at night and in the shadows, looking for more energy to feed upon. They are remnants of an old age, corrupted by the disease in the earth, and vengeful. No one is safe, not without precautions. They've found refuge in the abandoned subway, first with a group of others - the poor - who live down here, and then further down in other tunnels and up above, in the overrun nooks and crannies that make up the old inner subway system.
It is here that Neria can be found, igniting a fire with her magic in one of the old trash cans in an attempt for both warmth and light. She's sitting in the dark, awake at too early an hour because of those awful nightmares that have plagued her since her journey as a Warden began. They're getting worse, she must concede. The things she's witnessed are traumatic and have taken a steady toll; dreams wrought with dragons and the Taint are now full of dead friends and faceless enemies, memories lost, people disappearing. It's difficult.
But she manages. She always has. It just gets harder with every passing day.
A sound alerts her to someone's arrival and she lifts her head, surprised to see a familiar face in the shadows. "Robb?" No more 'ser', no more 'lord'. They're on closer terms now after so long. "My apologies-- Did I wake you?"
His memories of home are becoming blurry. Sometimes it takes him longer to memorize the face of his mother or the voice of his father. There are moments where he spends hours sitting somewhere alone, holding on to the crown he used to wear. He likes to think he handles everything better now, the disappearance of his sister, losing his close friends. Never forgotten, but gone however. And he still lives this life, he is still the one left behind. But the confusion and anger had subsided a long time ago and he has found a certain solace in being just a young man called Robb Stark.
He came to accept this new life.
Robb had not taken a stance regarding Arcadia's matter. He never chose sides, he always tried to keep the peace, keep wars and discussions at bay. For a young king who used to be surrounded by war he wanted to avoid such a thing at all costs. And even with the fights in Arcadia he stayed neutral on everything.
When he hears Neria rise Robb remains quiet, curled up inside his sleepingbag. He knows of her nightmares, after all, it is hard to not notice how restless she can be while sleeping. It is a worrisome thing to see her suffer like that.
Robb still yawns when he comes closer to the fire she made. "I have been awake for quite a while," he says while he adjusts his long, brown cloak, Grey Wind following behind him. "Are you well? I noticed you tossing and turning this night."
"I didn't wake you, did I?" she asks, ashamed that she might have. The past few days have been trying for all of them, and they all need their rest. She has grown accustomed to staying awake throughout the night, keeping watch. One good thing about Warden stamina is the capability to keep going, endless, tireless, until there is nothing left. She has, thankfully, avoided that inevitability so far.
She looks over at Grey Wind and gives the wolf a gentle and fond smile, and then she moves over to let him sit. Her other hand goes out, stoking the fire in the rusted trash can, just enough to give a faint glow over their camp. Most everyone is tired, curled up in their blankets, waiting for the sun to rise. She envies them the peace of dreamless sleep.
"I'm fine," she says, in answer to his question. "I'm used to them." The nightmares, she means. Some are fabrications of the Taint in her blood, other times the Archdemon calling from across the empty Void. But some, still, are more recent circumstances and memories of her past come back to haunt her. She doubts she will ever be free of them. They are as much of her life now as they were before. "I did not think it wise to remain in my bedroll to wake the others." She offers him a wan smile. "I seem to have caused trouble anyway. I'm sorry."
Robb shakes his head shortly. “And if so it matters not,” he says while he moves to sit down next to her. It is true that he is tired but his fatigue goes further than just lack of sleep. The intensity of his wolf-dreams are increasing and sometimes he actually dreams about being Grey Wind and finding himself able to smell through its nose, see through its eyes and hear with its ears. Such abilities belong to a skinchanger and for a young king to be able to do such a thing...it worries him. It is a taboo he does not wish to speak of.
Before lying down next to him Grey Wind bumps his nose against Neria’s arm in greeting, uttering a soft huffy sound. After a soft yawn he scoots a bit closer to the fire, warming his hands briefly.
“You always say that,” he retorts, a hint of worry in his voice. “That it is something you are able to cope with. But if such things plague you in your sleep it is probably just the opposite of that.” Robb had trouble coping with the people he had lost through time. Especially, and foremost his sister. The memory of that day that the Trumps did not open a dungeon for her is still fresh inside his head, he still remember how Liminal Space had looked, what people said to him and how he failed to cope.
“Neria, please cease your apologies.” He moves a little to squeeze her shoulder in a reassuring way, looking at her with a small, warm smile on his face. “If you wish I can leave Grey Wind with you more often so he can watch over you while you sleep. He is fond of you and I swear to you, he has never been fond of others except for me or my family.”
At the mention of his name Grey Wind stirs a little, his tail wagging slowly.
She reaches out and runs her fingers briefly through Grey Wind's soft fur as he passes, giving the wolf a smile. He is strangely gentle, not unlike her mabari would be, and she knows in her heart that he is a reflection of the man who sits beside him. He is regal and kind, fierce and loyal. She respects both of them equally.
Neria lifts her gaze to Robb as he sits and she shakes her head. "I can no more stop my dreams than I can ask the sun to set in the east and rise in the west. It is a sickness in my blood and I will carry it until I pass from this world." Here, she pauses, looking into the fire. "...Until I pass from this world for the last time," she amends, for she has died during these Jaunts before and will do so again. She does not fear death. But one day, she will show the signs of corruption and everyone will know the sort of monster she became - as all Wardens do - to combat the Blight in Thedas.
She chuckles softly, the sound mirthless. "I would not object to having him at my side," she says, grateful but also teasing. "Still, I think he would prefer to remain beside you instead." She reaches out once more to stroke down Grey Wind's flank. "Though you would make a fine companion, I do swear," she says pleasantly to the direwolf.
Robb moves to pull his knees up, wrapping his arms around them as he sits, staring into the fire. Tomorrow was going to be another long day.
“Aye, I know of that.” His voice is soft, partially because of all the sleeping people around them, partially because of the thoughts that bother him. “But how is it a sickness of the blood? If you will it I...” But he stops right there, pressing his lips back onto each other again, knowing very well that such a proposal can be considered quite an indecent one. To share a blanket would not be a right idea. “And you will not...” Robb frowns a little, a bit unsettled by the idea of his friend passing away for a last time.
At his words Grey Wind utters a soft howl, expressing the sadness his master feels. “Let us not talk about passing and losing one another,” Robb finally says with a shake of his head. “It is too early to talk of such gloomy matters.”
Nevertheless he knows that the things they’ve been through has damaged them both significantly. Neria had her nightmares, Robb had his moments where he completely zones out to venture to that safe place inside his own mind. There would be a day they would not be able to accept these truths anymore, one day they would break.
Robb look at his direwolf for a moment, reaching out to move a hand over his head, fingers scratching behind his ear. “Grey Wind does understand you are a friend of mine. If he would not have taken a liking to you he would have taken your fingers or even more already. I have seen him tear a man in two once.”
Neria looks over at him, frowning. Her voice lowers to a gentle tone as she watches him. "Wardens are tasked to combat the Blight and to put an end to darkspawn. We combat them by becoming tainted, like them. We can sense each other and we have...similar advantages. We have prolonged stamina, for instance. We can fight much longer, much more ferociously, than a typical human can. But we are also plagued with their hivemind. We share a deeper link than many can fathom." She does not often talk about the Wardens any longer, bound to secrecy. But she may never see them again, and there is nothing Robb can do to hinder the cause. "My nightmares are partially fueled by my connection to them and to the Archdemon. And the rest of them are...natural nightmares." If they can be called that. Neria looks to the fire for a moment. "I have seen things many people should not see in their lifetimes, and that was prior to being trapped here for the first time."
She is not alone in her trauma and her pain. All of the Travelers have suffered in some way. She does not feel special or more troubled than others. It is merely compounding circumstances, that she is harried by both memories of the past and nightmares tied to the Taint. Neria offers him a small, sad smile. "You are kind, Robb. But I've accepted my fate. I know what's to come." She would be luckier to be slain in battle. But here, there is no way for her to end her life peacefully. She will eventually succumb to the poison in her blood and become nothing more than a monster herself.
"I suppose you're right, though. There's no point in speaking on it, not when we are living. We have time." Endless time, if the Trumps want it. It is a blessing and a curse. She has had years with the people around her and will have more still, all collected in their shifting haven.
Grey Wind howls and she directs her attention to the wolf, to the sadness she hears, and her smile dims. "Valen was much like him. Foolish looking thing, with large jowels. But he could tear a man's throat open." Her eyes grace Robbs and her smile strengthens. "Then I will be glad for his company," she says, "as I am glad for yours."
Robb listens silently while his fingers poke at a small pebble lying on the ground. Everything he has heard, has seen, has experienced, made him realize how small his world has been. He has always tried to be as open as he could to other people's stories but he has never been able to interpret their words entirely. He came from a realm torn by war, wearing a crown that had become too heavy for his shoulders and magic...magic was nothing but hearsay. Demons and monsters were nothing more than the stories Old Nan told him and his siblings. And well, the wolf dreams, he rather kept them to himself.
But he gets what Neria tells him. It silences him for a long time and his eyes seem to be focused more on that pebble than her face.
"We have time here," he echoes with a nod. It is a bit naive to think like that, he knows that. Time did not last forever. It wasn't in their hands anyway. He used to think about Jeyne a lot, hoping that every day here would mean a day closer to a return. But now even those memories started to fade. And he wanted Neria to be well and happy but her fate would not allow that.
Despite all of that he says: "If there is a way to prevent it, I will stand for you."
Robb isn't surprised to hear Grey Wind howl in such a way. Sometimes the direwolf seemed to act the way Robb felt and vice versa. And this isn't a pleasant conversation. Still, he smiles as well, nodding.
It takes him an awful long time to finally reach out and take her hand, squeezing it briefly.
She opens her mouth and then closes it again. It would be easy to tell him that he will not be able to save her, that he cannot prevent what is inevitable. But that seems too cruel. Robb is hopeful, carrying light where he may to bring her comfort. Who is she to dash his hopes and concerns? She exhales instead, nodding, her eyes on Grey Wind and the fire and nothing else. For a moment, she cannot face him.
But then he takes her hand and squeezes it, and she feels her heart thunder uselessly in her chest.
In Thedas, she was called fearless. She had faced an Archdemon and killed it. She had sacrificed everything for the people around her. She had become a commander in the face of adversity and destruction. But all of this pales in comparison to how Robb has made her feel and the kindness he has given her. It is overwhelming, all of it poured into a well in her heart that is now too full. She has never been very good with feelings or with romance. In the years after the Blight, she had a few dalliances, all of them physical and nothing more. She had sheltered her heart in stone.
Intentional or no, Robb was coaxing it out.
At length, she squeezes his hand back, tender in the gesture, and speaks softly: "I cannot thank you enough for your kindness." It sounds formal at first, and foolish, and she sighs. "You have given me more than you know, Robb. I am...incredibly lucky to have you beside me."
While Robb has lost all hope about going home a long time ago, he tries to remain hopeful for the future and for the friends he made here. That role as the North's young king is something far away from him. He is just Robb now. No king, not even a lord, just a young man travelling.
There had been times where he had been watching Neria from afar, wondering how it would feel if his hand would be holding hers. How it would be to cover her lips with his. But everytime such feelings came up he squashed them immediately, thinking about Jeyne, his queen. The only woman he should love.
But here he sat right next to her, his fingers wrapped around her hand and he can't look at her. Even the thought about Jeyne waiting for him isn't working anymore, her face had become blurry and her voice...he could not even remember her voice anymore. His heart hammers inside his chest and he watches how his fingers slide over her hand after she had squeezed his hand back.
"I perceive myself as the lucky one here." Robb still isn't looking at her, his fingertips tracing the knuckles of her hand slowly. He is everything but good at admitting to his feelings. "If it weren't for you I would have...not been able to cope with any of this."
It's an uncomfortable weight in her chest, tightening on her lungs. She wants to say something, anything, and wishes she was just a bit more brave about her own feelings. Neria can tell people many things and is not afraid of admitting what is true for others or what may be certain about a situation. But she has always had difficulty speaking of what was in her heart, knowing that in the end, it will never end well.
Exhaling, she looks at their hands and then at him. "I don't like seeing people hurting," she says, because that is a universal truth. "You have always been kind to me. Your friendship means more to me than you may realize. You have kept me from despair more than once."
It's so easy to skirt the real matter at hand.
"I hope to remain at your side, Robb Stark, come what may, in this world and the ones that follow." She smiles crookedly, almost sadly. "You do not have to be alone so long as I am here." A pause. "...If you'll permit me."
He wants to embrace her. Just reach out and pull her close and tell her that everything will be well and that he wasn't planning on leaving her. Instead of that Robb remains still, not letting go of her hand.
Neria's words make him feel oddly warm on the inside, his heart picking up speed again. "And I will continue do so, Neria." The tone of his voice is soft but stern. They are not talking about their friendship anymore. It is something beyond that.
"I will." Robb nods firmly, his blue eyes meeting hers. "Do not ask me for permission, Neria. We both know that...we wish to spend our time in eachother's company." The stern tone that was in his voice earlier has made place for doubt. "If you permit me..."
Robb stops talking, knowing that that would be a very indecent proposal.
It's been years since she has seen the green of Thedas, the high walls of a Circle tower, the brimming fire in the commander's hall. And still, she thinks it is easier for someone to pretend than to truly love someone who is a mage. Who is an elf from the Alienage. Robb has never once made her feel hated or despised. He's been open with her from the start. It hurts, how she feels for him. But she doesn't want it to stop.
They are not talking of friendship any longer. She's glad the charade is mostly over.
"Yes," she says, as if he's made a truer proposal than he has. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she nods. "Yes, of course I permit you. You have... You have always been welcome."
Her hand tightens over his and, at last, she leans into him.
Robb had always been a person who followed his heart instead of his head. When it came to strategy, to war, to battle he could be cold and calculating and dreadfully logic. But when it came to everything else he followed his heart.
And that is exactly what he is doing now, listening to what his heart tells him. Those feelings are not something fake, not a lie the Trumps put in him. It had been something that had been growing. From that first moment they shared wine together until now, where they could not hide it any longer.
The way her hand tightens around his encourages him to just let go and give in. Of course, he is a man wed, but it all seems so far away. So blurry. And all he wishes right now is to see that sad smile disappear from Neria's face, to assure her safety.
Before his lips brush against hers he whispers softly: "No harm will come to you, I promise."
She holds his hand even tighter, tilting her face so their lips fit together better, and she leaves the promise there, accepting and sealing it. It's then that she parts from him, just briefly, long enough for her to lift her gaze and smile slightly. "I'm not worried for myself." But that he'd make her a promise is enough. She knows his heart is in the right place, always yearning to help others, no matter what.
Neria kisses him properly this time, grasping tightly to his fingers as she does so. She can feel the outward tension in both of their bodies through their fingers, through the way they clasp one another. Even so, this feels...right. She feels warm and safe, for the first time in a very, very long time, and she doesn't want this feeling to end. Not just yet.
Neria's lips are soft and her kiss is kind and gentle. Yet, the grip she has on his hand is tight, as if letting go might mean that this world was going to end. And he shares that sentiment, really. He notices that he has been yearning for a closeness like this. This warmth, this feeling. It makes him wonder how long he has had these feelings for the young woman.
Robb apologizes to Jeyne somewhere between moving closer and deepening the kiss, the words forming in his mind but knowing that he will never be able to say them out loud. His home is far away. And Neria is right here. And he is careful when he moves his free hand, fingers brushing her cheek softly.
His cheeks felt warm and he is not sure if it is just because of the small fire that burned next to them.
It's as if he has given her permission to breathe. Just that brief touch of fingers to cheek, the tightness of his hands on hers in reassurance, is enough to make her move. She turns, knees touching his as she does so, and she tilts her head to better accommodate the fit of their lips. They part momentarily, enough for an intake of breath, and then she is kissing him once more, deeper this time, mirroring how he moves for her.
Her chest aches, clenches, and she tries her damnedest not to hope or dare to dream that this might be the start of something more. It's only one kiss. Neria exhales and then one hand loosens from his hold so she can come closer, wrap an arm around his shoulders, and keep him that much closer.
One kiss, one night, it doesn't matter. She wants more.
He realizes more than ever how much he needs this. This closeness, that connection with another, to truly belong. Just like her he has lost a lot over the years. A home, a wife, family, friends. It all seemed to seep through his fingers like sand and he had been unable to grasp it. Like it always has been.
But this was real and warm. And Robb Stark does not want to ruin this as well. Not Neria. Not ever. And he finds his head full of promises again, his heart full of warmth. And he tries to convey all of that into one single kiss.
When she moves closer he does the same, shifting to sit more on his knees, his fingers tracing her jawline with utmost care. Slowly he curls another arm around her waist, his hand lightly resting on her back while fingers carefully dig into the fabric of her dress.
"Neria..." Robb whispers after he breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against hers. "...This...I..." He hates it when words fail him and for a second annoyance flashes in his eyes. Kings do not stammer. "It feels good."
If Robb is full of promises and warmth, she is heat reflected, her head spinning with excuses instead of promises. She has a duty to fulfill, a contingent of soldiers in her care (family to her now, nothing less), and a short life to live back home. She has every intention of returning to them and the thought makes her ache. Robb has become too important to her, too close that she feels if she left, she knew she'd be heartbroken. But the reality is this: they will part ways and return to their worlds as they are, to fulfill futures neither of them want, far apart from each other.
That's why this moment is so much more important to her. Seasons change, people change, and their time together may be short. Tomorrow, they might be separated. But right now, tonight, they are alive and they are together. Every second is precious.
Neria leans back against his forehead and opens her eyes to look at him for just a moment. She smiles, nose brushing his. "Then don't stop," she murmurs, hold tightening on him, as if offering comfort with the press of her body instead of something much more intimate. "You have my permission." To have her, to be close, to fall apart in front of her, it doesn't matter; she will stay, she will hold him, and she is his tonight. "You needn't hold back," she promises, and kisses him again, just a brush of her lips to his.
His heart fills itself with a pleasant warmth when he hears those words from her mouth. After all they have been through, after all the people they have lost and dangers they have faced, they still are together. And maybe their time will be short and it could very well be that one day he will notice that she has returned to her homeland, leaving him here to solve matters for the Trumps.
“Losing you would be a terrible thing,” he admits softly, his forehead still resting against hers, fingers still digging into the fabric of her clothes. His cheeks glow a little with the trust she has in him and when her lips slide over his again he manages to capture her lower lip between his for a couple of seconds. “Then I will not...”
It pains him a little to have to break that kiss to get up and lift her up. Not far from the fire lie two blankets on top of a small pile of furs.
“Grey Wind, keep watch,” he says, his voice surprisingly curt and commanding. Yet, when his eyes are back on her face the smiles a warm smile and can’t help to feel a bit giddy about bedding her.
“You should not hold back either, I wish to look at you when you come undone.” The tone of his voice is soft and kind and his face is as red as a beet.
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museboxings2014-09-27 01:00 am
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That was where they came in. It had been believed that they were to help bring the magic back to this land, to make it whole again, lively and thriving.
But, as usual, their group of travelers are divided. Perhaps it would be better to kill Phoenix's leader? Perhaps the true fix would be to ensure the government stays in power? The answer is never so clear cut.
Still, every day is a struggle to survive. Lurkers - animals, plants, and humans infected with too much magic - come out at night and in the shadows, looking for more energy to feed upon. They are remnants of an old age, corrupted by the disease in the earth, and vengeful. No one is safe, not without precautions. They've found refuge in the abandoned subway, first with a group of others - the poor - who live down here, and then further down in other tunnels and up above, in the overrun nooks and crannies that make up the old inner subway system.
It is here that Neria can be found, igniting a fire with her magic in one of the old trash cans in an attempt for both warmth and light. She's sitting in the dark, awake at too early an hour because of those awful nightmares that have plagued her since her journey as a Warden began. They're getting worse, she must concede. The things she's witnessed are traumatic and have taken a steady toll; dreams wrought with dragons and the Taint are now full of dead friends and faceless enemies, memories lost, people disappearing. It's difficult.
But she manages. She always has. It just gets harder with every passing day.
A sound alerts her to someone's arrival and she lifts her head, surprised to see a familiar face in the shadows. "Robb?" No more 'ser', no more 'lord'. They're on closer terms now after so long. "My apologies-- Did I wake you?"
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He came to accept this new life.
Robb had not taken a stance regarding Arcadia's matter. He never chose sides, he always tried to keep the peace, keep wars and discussions at bay. For a young king who used to be surrounded by war he wanted to avoid such a thing at all costs. And even with the fights in Arcadia he stayed neutral on everything.
When he hears Neria rise Robb remains quiet, curled up inside his sleepingbag. He knows of her nightmares, after all, it is hard to not notice how restless she can be while sleeping. It is a worrisome thing to see her suffer like that.
Robb still yawns when he comes closer to the fire she made.
"I have been awake for quite a while," he says while he adjusts his long, brown cloak, Grey Wind following behind him. "Are you well? I noticed you tossing and turning this night."
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She looks over at Grey Wind and gives the wolf a gentle and fond smile, and then she moves over to let him sit. Her other hand goes out, stoking the fire in the rusted trash can, just enough to give a faint glow over their camp. Most everyone is tired, curled up in their blankets, waiting for the sun to rise. She envies them the peace of dreamless sleep.
"I'm fine," she says, in answer to his question. "I'm used to them." The nightmares, she means. Some are fabrications of the Taint in her blood, other times the Archdemon calling from across the empty Void. But some, still, are more recent circumstances and memories of her past come back to haunt her. She doubts she will ever be free of them. They are as much of her life now as they were before. "I did not think it wise to remain in my bedroll to wake the others." She offers him a wan smile. "I seem to have caused trouble anyway. I'm sorry."
no subject
Before lying down next to him Grey Wind bumps his nose against Neria’s arm in greeting, uttering a soft huffy sound. After a soft yawn he scoots a bit closer to the fire, warming his hands briefly.
“You always say that,” he retorts, a hint of worry in his voice. “That it is something you are able to cope with. But if such things plague you in your sleep it is probably just the opposite of that.” Robb had trouble coping with the people he had lost through time. Especially, and foremost his sister. The memory of that day that the Trumps did not open a dungeon for her is still fresh inside his head, he still remember how Liminal Space had looked, what people said to him and how he failed to cope.
“Neria, please cease your apologies.” He moves a little to squeeze her shoulder in a reassuring way, looking at her with a small, warm smile on his face. “If you wish I can leave Grey Wind with you more often so he can watch over you while you sleep. He is fond of you and I swear to you, he has never been fond of others except for me or my family.”
At the mention of his name Grey Wind stirs a little, his tail wagging slowly.
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Neria lifts her gaze to Robb as he sits and she shakes her head. "I can no more stop my dreams than I can ask the sun to set in the east and rise in the west. It is a sickness in my blood and I will carry it until I pass from this world." Here, she pauses, looking into the fire. "...Until I pass from this world for the last time," she amends, for she has died during these Jaunts before and will do so again. She does not fear death. But one day, she will show the signs of corruption and everyone will know the sort of monster she became - as all Wardens do - to combat the Blight in Thedas.
She chuckles softly, the sound mirthless. "I would not object to having him at my side," she says, grateful but also teasing. "Still, I think he would prefer to remain beside you instead." She reaches out once more to stroke down Grey Wind's flank. "Though you would make a fine companion, I do swear," she says pleasantly to the direwolf.
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“Aye, I know of that.” His voice is soft, partially because of all the sleeping people around them, partially because of the thoughts that bother him. “But how is it a sickness of the blood? If you will it I...” But he stops right there, pressing his lips back onto each other again, knowing very well that such a proposal can be considered quite an indecent one. To share a blanket would not be a right idea. “And you will not...” Robb frowns a little, a bit unsettled by the idea of his friend passing away for a last time.
At his words Grey Wind utters a soft howl, expressing the sadness his master feels. “Let us not talk about passing and losing one another,” Robb finally says with a shake of his head. “It is too early to talk of such gloomy matters.”
Nevertheless he knows that the things they’ve been through has damaged them both significantly. Neria had her nightmares, Robb had his moments where he completely zones out to venture to that safe place inside his own mind. There would be a day they would not be able to accept these truths anymore, one day they would break.
Robb look at his direwolf for a moment, reaching out to move a hand over his head, fingers scratching behind his ear. “Grey Wind does understand you are a friend of mine. If he would not have taken a liking to you he would have taken your fingers or even more already. I have seen him tear a man in two once.”
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She is not alone in her trauma and her pain. All of the Travelers have suffered in some way. She does not feel special or more troubled than others. It is merely compounding circumstances, that she is harried by both memories of the past and nightmares tied to the Taint. Neria offers him a small, sad smile. "You are kind, Robb. But I've accepted my fate. I know what's to come." She would be luckier to be slain in battle. But here, there is no way for her to end her life peacefully. She will eventually succumb to the poison in her blood and become nothing more than a monster herself.
"I suppose you're right, though. There's no point in speaking on it, not when we are living. We have time." Endless time, if the Trumps want it. It is a blessing and a curse. She has had years with the people around her and will have more still, all collected in their shifting haven.
Grey Wind howls and she directs her attention to the wolf, to the sadness she hears, and her smile dims. "Valen was much like him. Foolish looking thing, with large jowels. But he could tear a man's throat open." Her eyes grace Robbs and her smile strengthens. "Then I will be glad for his company," she says, "as I am glad for yours."
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But he gets what Neria tells him. It silences him for a long time and his eyes seem to be focused more on that pebble than her face.
"We have time here," he echoes with a nod. It is a bit naive to think like that, he knows that. Time did not last forever. It wasn't in their hands anyway. He used to think about Jeyne a lot, hoping that every day here would mean a day closer to a return. But now even those memories started to fade. And he wanted Neria to be well and happy but her fate would not allow that.
Despite all of that he says: "If there is a way to prevent it, I will stand for you."
Robb isn't surprised to hear Grey Wind howl in such a way. Sometimes the direwolf seemed to act the way Robb felt and vice versa. And this isn't a pleasant conversation. Still, he smiles as well, nodding.
It takes him an awful long time to finally reach out and take her hand, squeezing it briefly.
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But then he takes her hand and squeezes it, and she feels her heart thunder uselessly in her chest.
In Thedas, she was called fearless. She had faced an Archdemon and killed it. She had sacrificed everything for the people around her. She had become a commander in the face of adversity and destruction. But all of this pales in comparison to how Robb has made her feel and the kindness he has given her. It is overwhelming, all of it poured into a well in her heart that is now too full. She has never been very good with feelings or with romance. In the years after the Blight, she had a few dalliances, all of them physical and nothing more. She had sheltered her heart in stone.
Intentional or no, Robb was coaxing it out.
At length, she squeezes his hand back, tender in the gesture, and speaks softly: "I cannot thank you enough for your kindness." It sounds formal at first, and foolish, and she sighs. "You have given me more than you know, Robb. I am...incredibly lucky to have you beside me."
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There had been times where he had been watching Neria from afar, wondering how it would feel if his hand would be holding hers. How it would be to cover her lips with his. But everytime such feelings came up he squashed them immediately, thinking about Jeyne, his queen. The only woman he should love.
But here he sat right next to her, his fingers wrapped around her hand and he can't look at her. Even the thought about Jeyne waiting for him isn't working anymore, her face had become blurry and her voice...he could not even remember her voice anymore. His heart hammers inside his chest and he watches how his fingers slide over her hand after she had squeezed his hand back.
"I perceive myself as the lucky one here." Robb still isn't looking at her, his fingertips tracing the knuckles of her hand slowly. He is everything but good at admitting to his feelings. "If it weren't for you I would have...not been able to cope with any of this."
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Exhaling, she looks at their hands and then at him. "I don't like seeing people hurting," she says, because that is a universal truth. "You have always been kind to me. Your friendship means more to me than you may realize. You have kept me from despair more than once."
It's so easy to skirt the real matter at hand.
"I hope to remain at your side, Robb Stark, come what may, in this world and the ones that follow." She smiles crookedly, almost sadly. "You do not have to be alone so long as I am here." A pause. "...If you'll permit me."
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Neria's words make him feel oddly warm on the inside, his heart picking up speed again. "And I will continue do so, Neria." The tone of his voice is soft but stern. They are not talking about their friendship anymore. It is something beyond that.
"I will." Robb nods firmly, his blue eyes meeting hers. "Do not ask me for permission, Neria. We both know that...we wish to spend our time in eachother's company." The stern tone that was in his voice earlier has made place for doubt. "If you permit me..."
Robb stops talking, knowing that that would be a very indecent proposal.
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They are not talking of friendship any longer. She's glad the charade is mostly over.
"Yes," she says, as if he's made a truer proposal than he has. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she nods. "Yes, of course I permit you. You have... You have always been welcome."
Her hand tightens over his and, at last, she leans into him.
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And that is exactly what he is doing now, listening to what his heart tells him. Those feelings are not something fake, not a lie the Trumps put in him. It had been something that had been growing. From that first moment they shared wine together until now, where they could not hide it any longer.
The way her hand tightens around his encourages him to just let go and give in. Of course, he is a man wed, but it all seems so far away. So blurry. And all he wishes right now is to see that sad smile disappear from Neria's face, to assure her safety.
Before his lips brush against hers he whispers softly: "No harm will come to you, I promise."
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She holds his hand even tighter, tilting her face so their lips fit together better, and she leaves the promise there, accepting and sealing it. It's then that she parts from him, just briefly, long enough for her to lift her gaze and smile slightly. "I'm not worried for myself." But that he'd make her a promise is enough. She knows his heart is in the right place, always yearning to help others, no matter what.
Neria kisses him properly this time, grasping tightly to his fingers as she does so. She can feel the outward tension in both of their bodies through their fingers, through the way they clasp one another. Even so, this feels...right. She feels warm and safe, for the first time in a very, very long time, and she doesn't want this feeling to end. Not just yet.
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Neria's lips are soft and her kiss is kind and gentle. Yet, the grip she has on his hand is tight, as if letting go might mean that this world was going to end. And he shares that sentiment, really. He notices that he has been yearning for a closeness like this. This warmth, this feeling. It makes him wonder how long he has had these feelings for the young woman.
Robb apologizes to Jeyne somewhere between moving closer and deepening the kiss, the words forming in his mind but knowing that he will never be able to say them out loud. His home is far away. And Neria is right here. And he is careful when he moves his free hand, fingers brushing her cheek softly.
His cheeks felt warm and he is not sure if it is just because of the small fire that burned next to them.
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Her chest aches, clenches, and she tries her damnedest not to hope or dare to dream that this might be the start of something more. It's only one kiss. Neria exhales and then one hand loosens from his hold so she can come closer, wrap an arm around his shoulders, and keep him that much closer.
One kiss, one night, it doesn't matter. She wants more.
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But this was real and warm. And Robb Stark does not want to ruin this as well. Not Neria. Not ever. And he finds his head full of promises again, his heart full of warmth. And he tries to convey all of that into one single kiss.
When she moves closer he does the same, shifting to sit more on his knees, his fingers tracing her jawline with utmost care. Slowly he curls another arm around her waist, his hand lightly resting on her back while fingers carefully dig into the fabric of her dress.
"Neria..." Robb whispers after he breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against hers. "...This...I..." He hates it when words fail him and for a second annoyance flashes in his eyes. Kings do not stammer. "It feels good."
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That's why this moment is so much more important to her. Seasons change, people change, and their time together may be short. Tomorrow, they might be separated. But right now, tonight, they are alive and they are together. Every second is precious.
Neria leans back against his forehead and opens her eyes to look at him for just a moment. She smiles, nose brushing his. "Then don't stop," she murmurs, hold tightening on him, as if offering comfort with the press of her body instead of something much more intimate. "You have my permission." To have her, to be close, to fall apart in front of her, it doesn't matter; she will stay, she will hold him, and she is his tonight. "You needn't hold back," she promises, and kisses him again, just a brush of her lips to his.
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“Losing you would be a terrible thing,” he admits softly, his forehead still resting against hers, fingers still digging into the fabric of her clothes. His cheeks glow a little with the trust she has in him and when her lips slide over his again he manages to capture her lower lip between his for a couple of seconds. “Then I will not...”
It pains him a little to have to break that kiss to get up and lift her up. Not far from the fire lie two blankets on top of a small pile of furs.
“Grey Wind, keep watch,” he says, his voice surprisingly curt and commanding. Yet, when his eyes are back on her face the smiles a warm smile and can’t help to feel a bit giddy about bedding her.
“You should not hold back either, I wish to look at you when you come undone.” The tone of his voice is soft and kind and his face is as red as a beet.