A Time for Wolves, Fire and Winter

Darkness, it swarmed him from every side. But he knew that if he strained his tired eyes just enough, he'd be able to make out the small interior of his cell and the bars that kept him inside. He knew that if he squinted hard enough, across the room, the pale form of his mother could be visible. How it pained him to see her, even through the darkness. He could tell her once proud auburn hair was a matted mess, how her beautiful face had become frail and gaunt. She sat in the same position, barely moving, with her thinning body slumped lifelessly against the metal bars in her cell.

After the Wedding, when he and his mother and all the surviving Northerners were first dragged into their cells, he was sure their deaths were imminent. Each time a guard or a jailer entered the room where the prisoners were kept, he drew in his breath, waiting for them to be hauled out of their cells, heaved into the blinding daylight and be beheaded, if the Freys had enough honour to give such swift deaths, he would always add, feeling a scowl appear on his face. But it never happened. No beheadings. No being dragged out of cells. Nothing… nothing except the torment.

Edmure… he was an exception. He had been dragged out, taken away. His Uncle had also been thrown back into his cell a few moonsafter. No beheadings. Edmure never told him, his mother or anyone else of what occurred during his short period of time back in the world…

Over his time in the cell somewhere in the Frey's dungeons, the guards had created some sort of game. To him, there seemed to be one rule… torture him, his mother or any other Lords inside the dungeons with scraps of information- information regarding Westeros and the people in it. Of course, the Frey guards favoured the information about the remaining Starks; how they were alive… or dead, the stories changed from guard to guard. And each time he had no knowledge of what was true and what was simple deception. Sometimes they talked about Arya Stark, how she had been raped and killed by the Bolton's bastard, while other times they changed their tales and suggested she was alive, but being tortured by her Bolton husband. On other occasions, Sansa was the one who was married to Ramsay Snow, or the one who had been slaughtered.

Each time the guards played that game, his mother would plead for them to stop, the pain of being ignorant to her children's fates tearing her apart. And when they ignored her, she would begin to wail and scream, the sounds echoing all-round the dungeons the way her screams had during the Wedding, after her blade had slashed Lady Frey's throat.

In that moment during the wedding, Robb Stark thought he was going to die. He thought that Roose Bolton's pale blue eyes would be the last thing he would ever see when the cruel Lord began to approach him, a dagger gripped firmly in his hand. He had given one last desperate glance at his dead wife, blood pooling all around her, and another last look at his mother, listening to Bolton's nearing strides.

The word "Mother." Had left his lips, when the sudden sound of a blade entering someone's flesh caught his attention. Realising, to his shock that it was not his own body the sound came from, and noticing the sound of footsteps had abruptly stopped, Robb slowly motioned his head in the direction of the noise.

The whole hall fell silent.

Roose Bolton was dead. There was a large, gaping gash in Bolton's neck. His blue, stone cold eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling, his scarlet blood seeping through his chainmail, accumulating onto the floor. A man Robb recognised a Black Walder was standing above his corpse, the dagger stained with Bolton's blood clasped in his hand.

From that moment, one question lingered in Robb's mind, persistently pestering him.

Why did the Freys kill Roose and spare us?

Over the time he had spent in his cell however, Robb had begun to accept the fact that he would never have an answer to his burning question given to him, with Robb receiving only japes meant to mock him and cruel remarks from the guards that were stationed inside the dungeons.

One of the Frey guards was particularly disliked by Robb, with his raspy voice carrying such poisonous words that wounded his spirit on very occasion that the japes and comments shot from his mouth.

"The whole world thinks you're dead," were the words that hurt Robb the most. Not because they were distinctly cruel, or because they were especially malicious. They hurt him because it was the only thing about Westeros he knew for certain was true. Robb knew that his remaining family, however few they were now, had grieved for him and moved on, he knew that the North had a new Warden of the North, and that every person outside the Twins had heard of how Robb Stark, his Lady mother and the other Northerners were massacred at the Twins, dead to the world. The guard's words reminded Robb that no help was coming and that no help would ever come.

If they don't kill us, we'll rot in here. Through Summer, Autumn… Winter… Robb shuddered at that, Gods, I'll spend Winter in here.

Robb was sure that he would one day go mad. Every day, the madness looms in the back of my head, threatening to invade. He gave another look to his mother, feeling insanity creep closer each time he saw her in her frail state.

Despite the pain of seeing Catelyn Tully, Robb forced himself to stare, long and hard. I have to face up to what I did… to what I have caused. Watching her from his cell, he thought sadly, she is here because of me. I broke an oath… she is here because of me… they are all here because of me. Robb focused on his mother's small form, taking in every mark of pain, visible even in the darkness of the dungeons. I need to punish myself… Robb thought desperately, realising instantly how crazed his thoughts were slowly becoming.

There was another time where Robb had been pushed too close into the realm of madness. The pain hurt so much I needed to escape… Robb surmised, wincing as the emotions flooded back to him. But he compelled himself to recount the story none the less.

It was soon after he and the others were dragged down into the dungeons. He was woken up from his slumber by the bawdy singing of the Frey men, with Black Walder accompanying them. Robb initially was drawn to the song which filled the cells- The Rains of Castamere, obviously some attempt to express the victory of the Lannister's. However, Robb quickly noticed that some of the men were carrying something…

Food perhaps? Robb had thought hopefully.

However, as the men drew closer, Robb began to doubt that. What is it? He asked himself as he noted the size and shape of what the men carried. Is it water? Chamber pots? No… it's too large.

His confusion quickly subsided however, when the men placed whatever it was in front of his cell. His nose was instantly hit by a foul stench, and he saw two familiar brown eyes blankly staring back at him.

"No…" He managed to say.

Not her…

Anyone but her…

Robb cried out instantly, retreating to the corner of his cell, practically slamming himself against the wall, while the deep laughter of Black Walder echoed throughout the cells. But Robb didn't focus on that. All he could see and smell and sense was the corpse of his dead wife, dumped carelessly onto the stone floor so close to where he cowered in fear and grief… oh, the grief.

Once the shock and horror of seeing her had finally left him, he slowly crept over to where her corpse lay. Robb could hardly look at her. Her skin already appeared to have discoloured, with her naked body looking strange and pale. Her eyes were so blank, and her stabbed belly was very much visible in the darkness, dried blood covering her abdomen where his child once grew.

The Freys began to laugh, the sick sound ringing in Robb's ears for days after.

"I'd fuck her, best do it soon before that beautiful body of hers rots." One of them sneered.

"May I present, Queen Talisa Stark, wife of his grace Robb Stark." Another mocked.

The last comment stuck with Robb; "Your Grace, this could have all been avoided had you married a Frey as your supposed Stark honour promised and assured us. Instead you broke your oath for this foreign whore."

They left her body in the dungeons for weeks after, her smell getting worse, her face changing into that of any dead corpse. He no longer recognised her. It was a constant reminder of what he had lost… and why I lost it.

He was so close to madness he wanted the insanity to take him, to distract him, to free him.

But they took her corpse away eventually, the Freys remarking she's be dumped into the river. After that Robb's sanity began to fight back, and his mind was restored. For better or for worse… Robb was not quite sure.

Robb didn't know how long ago it was when they'd brought his wife into the dungeons, but judging by the amount his hair and beard had grown, he guessed about three years. I can't be certain.

On rare occasions, he would converse with his mother about their family. Despite how bittersweet those conversations always were, Robb knew they were the only times he enjoyed in his imprisonment.

"Sansa must be a real and great beauty, more beautiful than me now." Catelyn would always tell him, her voice thick with emotion as the melancholy words left her lips. "And Arya… she must be as wild as ever, and maybe beautiful too." She'd weep during these interactions, and Robb could never reach his mother to comfort her.

Neither of them knew what had happened to Arya and Sansa, but talking about them always brought relief to them. Conversing about happier times, when Arya, Sansa, Bran, Rickon, Jon and Ned were all safe in Winterfell also helped relieve the pain somewhat, though the memories served as a cruel reminder of all Robb had lost.

"Remember the time Arya got angry with Sansa and ripped half of her gowns apart. Sansa was in hysterics and Arya hid in Jon's room for an entire day." Robb recalled one day, laughing and feeling sad at the same time.

He heard his mother laugh, keeping the weak ghost of a smile on his own face for a few moments longer. But the smile disappeared as his mother's laughter turned into sobs, growing louder and louder, sounding more and more desperate and grievous.

"I failed them Robb."

No, I did.

"Mother, it is not your fault. The fault is m-" He began to tell her before being cut off by Catelyn.

"NO." She exclaimed, voice breaking, "I should have never let them leave Winterfell… I should have never left." She cried so loudly one of the guards began to menacingly stride up to her, getting ready to smack her over the head and tell her to be quiet. However, sudden screaming from somewhere above them stopped the man in his tracks.

The guards shared a look, with one of them saying "I'll go see what the commotion is about. Stay 'ere"

"If you need me upstairs, come fetch me." The other said as the guard opened the door and left the dungeons.

As he listened in on the wails, confused and slightly alarmed, Robb noticed the screams grew louder, more piercing and more frequent. Robb, his mother and all the other prisoners were deathly silent, wondering what could be going on upstairs to cause a chorus of frightened screams.