Inhaling sharply, Rosalie opens her eyes only to be welcomed by darkness. It's never been this dark when she'd call out for her ghosts. At least it wasn't before she nearly touched death herself. Robb said it himself, she was in that dream as more than a desperate soul reaching for those she loves - she was almost a ghost as well.
Swallowing thickly, she turns around, hoping to glimpse anything she can cling to, but the darkness she's wrapped in has snuffed out the light. Holding her hand out, she feels it tingle with fire that resides within her. The air around her crackles with energy as she focuses on the power inside her, the primal force she fears will one day overcome her and ravish the world she's been trying to save - for the people who've suffered enough, for all those she lost and all those she hopes to find...for Robb and their future that hangs in the balance. She can't allow herself to lose control, not while she still has something to lose.
She visualizes the flames, the tingling in her hand turning into the prickling pain of a thousand needles. Calling on her power in this place is much harder, as if it is a cage made of one power that will not allow the other to appear.
Then, as if responding to her call, a warm and gentle glow begins to form in the palm of her hand. At first, it's a faint shimmer, like a distant star trying to pierce the night sky. But as Rosalie concentrates, the glow intensifies, growing brighter and warmer.
A rush of exhilaration courses through Rosalie's veins as she feels the fire taking shape. It may be difficult, but she can control it. At first, she believed it was fear or anger that brought her powers to the surface, but her will can be just as powerful an instrument in wielding this power.
The flames grow in her hand, their fiery tendrils licking at her palm, yet not causing any pain or harm. It's a controlled blaze, dancing at her command.
As the flames cast a warm and soothing light around her, the darkness retreats. Shadows shrink, and the corners of the room are illuminated with a soft, golden glow. Rosalie stands amidst the radiance, her eyes searching for her love in the light.
"Robb?"
The fire in her palm is her own creation, a reflection of her power, her spirit, and her determination. It's a connection to something greater, a way to bring light and hope even to the darkest moments. If she can do this with fire, she can hold onto Robb as well. She must.
"Please come to me." Her voice echoes with no response. "When you were to go behind the Wall with Jon, you made me a promise." Pausing, her lips quiver. "You told me you'd come back. Even if you died, you promised to come back again. I am your wife and I am holding you to that promise, Robb Stark!"
Biting into her quivering bottom lip, Rosalie's eyes narrow. She's always been able to summon the dead to her by simply thinking of them, by grieving them. Her heart is screaming for Robb to appear, and her skin aches at the mere memory of his loving touch.
"You promised", she says quietly, her flames growing colder, blue as Robb's eyes were. She looked into hundreds of blue eyes but never had she felt safe and cared for, yet one glance from a mysterious Stark heir left her haunted for life.
Walking into the darkness, her chest shakes as she tries to stifle her sob. Doesn't he know she would gladly trade places with him? If there was a chance to make it a reality, she'd accept death for Robb to breathe again. While his chest rises and falls in harmony, Rosalie would be content. She's damaged, and her hands are bloody with so many lives she claimed; some deserving, some not at all. Unlike Robb, Rosalie isn't honorable nor is she innocent. Twisted into a mirage of herself, Rosalie did whatever was needed to ensure survival. Gods, she was so scared Robb would stain his soul with her darkness. Part of her hoped he'd leave her before he was caught in the tar trap she became, but Robb looked at the ruination she had turned into and still stayed. He's embraced the lurking wolves hungry for revenge she has been feeding and tried to domesticate them. Rosalie should have expected as much, he is a Stark and those wolves were born with his last breath. The rest of the pack joined as her family turned to ash, as Jaime broke her heart, as Dickon was burned alive. She's not ready to have more wolves join her pack now. She can't keep them docile as Robb did.
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Northern lights
Fanfiction"A rose thrusted in a world of wolves and lions is quick to grow sharp thorns." Rosalie Tyrell finds herself in a dangerous game of hearts when she catches the eye of more than one man: Robb Stark, the honourable heir of Winterfell, Jon Snow, dashin...
