Northern lights

104. Dance under the stars

The candlelight flickers gently as Rosalie slowly makes her way through the dimly lit castle corridors. Some walls are damaged, others collapsed, but this part of the castle is fairly unscathed. Her steps are unsteady, and she leans on the intact stone walls for support as she struggles to walk. Her body aches with exhaustion and pain, every movement a reminder of the fierce battle she had fought.

Her once immaculate armor and clothes are now torn and stained, evidence of the hardships she had endured. Dirt and blood mar her fair skin, and her eyes are red and swollen from the tears she had shed in private. Despite her disheveled appearance, there is still a regal grace to her as she moves, her determination evident in every step.

Jaime follows behind, his eyes never leaving her. He wants to be by her side, to offer her the support she needs but wouldn't ask for. Not openly, at least. And so he walks the same corridors, aware that she needs space to process what had happened. Instead of walking by her side, he stays one step behind, like a loyal knight he promises himself to be, ready to protect her at a moment's notice.

As they reach the final corridor, near the chamber where Robb lays, Jaime hesitates, not wanting to intrude on this deeply personal moment. As much as he desires to hold her hand through it all, he won't disturb them. But Rosalie turned to him, her eyes seeking reassurance, and he knows that she wants him there with her, or at the very least, close enough that she feels his presence.

"Jaime," she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper so no one can hear, "please, stay with me."

Jaime nods, his heart breaking for her. He steps closer, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'll be in there with you, just by the door," he says softly. "I won't leave your side."

She looks at the guards standing by, realizing one of them is Jon.

"You've seen him?" She asks, her voice raspy. 

Nodding curtly, Jon lowers his gaze. It's a bad sign, she realizes. Jon could never look her in the eye when he knew he'd find destruction instead of peace. 

Chewing the inside of her bottom lip, she clears her throat. "Well then, I suppose I shall see for myself."

"Rosalie", Jon croaks, shaking his head lightly as she looks back at him. For a moment, it felt as if she was back in the courtyard, on the very first dinner she attended with the Starks. He looks at her the same way he did that night, longingly, laced with sorrow. That night, they were so unburdened by history and feelings. Rosalie can tell he liked her even then, she's no fool though she might have been in the past. The stakes weren't as high when she last saw this look in his dark eyes, not for her, at least.

"I'll be alright, Jon." No, she won't. She'll never be alright again. 

Breaking eye contact, she nods at Jaime, hoping he remembers what he promised. Luckily, he did. Together, they enter the chamber. The air is heavy with tension and grief. Robb lays on the bed, still unconscious, his body bandaged and bruised. Rosalie approaches him slowly, her steps faltering as she reaches out to touch his hand. It's cold, unresponsive. Whenever she'd take his hand, Robb would make sure their fingers intertwine or he'd hold her hand so tightly as if to borrow some of his strength.

Quickly glancing over his body, Rosalie crinkles her nose. Some of the bandages have red blossoms staining them, revealing the wounds are still open and bleeding. His chest rises slowly before deflating in a tremble-like manner. 

"Robb," she whispers, her voice breaking with emotion. "We were supposed to dance under the stars, remember?"

"I wish it was like this all the time", she sighs contently as she allows her cheek to rest on Robb's shoulder. Swaying to his humming, she closes her eyes. There's a battle looming over their heads like a sword ready to fall and though they refuse to mention the peril, she's unable to forget it.