[ before his father rode south, robb had never killed a man. but then suddenly he was the protector, and things had gone rushing ahead of him, and he'd had to be a man and no longer could he avoid the sight of blood. he saw it every day now, coating the blade of his sword and he'd wipe it away and sigh, and think of the days when he'd never used anything but wooden practice swords.
he doesn't like thinking about that, especially not now. ]
Alright...alright.
[ he's steeling himself, taking a breath before tossing himself headfirst into this situation. it takes a moment to make the cut, because his hand shakes and a shaking hand is the last thing he needs.
it's a neat cut. not painless, but neatly done, a sharp slash across his forearm. and he follows her example after, wipes the flat against his sleeve before holding the knife out to her. he says nothing, but his expression is silently imploring, in a way that a king's should never be but robb can't help.
NO ONE'S GONNA MESS WITH THEM.
he doesn't like thinking about that, especially not now. ]
Alright...alright.
[ he's steeling himself, taking a breath before tossing himself headfirst into this situation. it takes a moment to make the cut, because his hand shakes and a shaking hand is the last thing he needs.
it's a neat cut. not painless, but neatly done, a sharp slash across his forearm. and he follows her example after, wipes the flat against his sleeve before holding the knife out to her. he says nothing, but his expression is silently imploring, in a way that a king's should never be but robb can't help.
what now? ]