Northern lights

77. When the world stops (part 1)

When you love somebody, no amount of time or distance can diminish what truly lies in your heart. All the pain, all the obstacles, the pent up anger and frustrations are simply there to remind the soul there's another part of it wandering the world alone. It's yearning to be made complete, to be wanted and accepted by it's other half, to be understood, nurtured and protected by the same fire it lit deep in your core. 

That fire has given Robb life, twice now. 

Once it had been ignited in Winterfell when he saw an exquisite beauty riding into the courtyard, reminding him of the women he thought to be fictional from the tales his mother would tell Sansa before bed. The second time was when he was revived from a cruel death and unimaginable betrayal which sparked all the memories of Rosalie that were shrouded by darkness before. 

That night had haunted him ever since, the image of his mother's throat being slit replaying in his mind, the warmth of her blood as it soaked his cheek pressed against the cold of the cobble floors in Frey's castle, the way her eyes lost their light just before his did too. 

So many believe once you've died you lose your senses immediately. Robb has learned otherwise. It felt like hours for him. His vision went first, something he was thankful for. At least he didn't have to watch his mother's corpse as they began tearing at her clothes and flesh. His hearing was next, but not before he heard of the way his mother was to be fed to the pigs. She'd never be buried. Next was his sense of smell and taste so he no longer felt the metallic odor and taste of blood. Unfortunately, it took a while longer for his inability to feel pain to truly take place. That was taken when his head was.

Robb had been trapped in the empty shell his body became once the dagger pierced his heart. He couldn't think, he couldn't move or speak, he was there to bear witness of what happens to the dead when they're lost to the living. Once the darkness truly took him, he was grateful.

Until he opened his eyes again.

Ever since, Robb had been ridden with regrets - those who concerned his family, his people and particularly the woman he had wronged in far too many ways for Robb to ever forgive himself. 

He's tried to keep her memory alive in all the years he's spent in exile, blinded by his desire to reunite with her, with his family as well. Robb attempted to draw her from memory, to recall the way her eyes would light up whenever they'd meet his or the way they'd look like swirls of honey when the sunlight shone upon them. He'd press his fingers to his lips, trying to remember how gentle Rosalie's seemed, how happy he was when he learned how unequivocal they are in claiming what they deem theirs. 

His lips are dry now, parted as they notice hers quiver. The eyes he spent years trying to perfect on a piece of parchment have now widened in disbelief. Earthly tones of her irises are dimmed by the redness of eyes who have seen far too much sorrow. Her long eyelashes are visibly wet from the tears she must have shed just moments before, he concludes. 

Shaking his head ever so slightly, his breath escapes him. She had stolen it, taken it as payment for all the time he has spent away from her. A clattering sound of metal crashing against the ground does nothing to remove the unyielding eye contact between the old flames that have now been reignited to set the world ablaze.

The sky feels the intensity of their heartbeats too as it lights up and roars with thunder, beginning a storm that leaves Robb terrified of what might happen when it ends. 

What if Rosalie had moved on from him? What if she's meant to be relentless as the lightning, striking his heart one last time before walking away?  

What if he's just a distant memory? An echo of an old life she no longer wishes to be a part of?

Robb had no doubt as the storm had cast a light on her face - she'll always be the Northern star he'll follow.