Hi everyone ! I'm back ! Kinda :P
I've had a pretty rough few years, my twin brother died and I dropped off the grid for a bit there but after this (horribly done might I add) season I was in the mood to write a lil something again ! I'm hoping to get back into it and want to have another updated out next week but we'll see how it goes ! Hope you're all doing great :)

twenty three

Her feet hit the ground with a determined force, mud splattering as she pushed her way through the armed Stark soldiers. She was nearing the edge of camp, the soldiers gradually thinning out as she approached a clearing amongst the bare trees. She saw a blur of an icy blonde head and charged straight for it. Brienne of Tarth stood with another Commander, standing dutifully with her hands crossed in front of her though her face was solemn as concerned eyes flickered through the trees.

Arabelle slowed as she approached Brienne, their eyes holding each others for a spell. More was said and understood looking into the tall woman's eyes than words possibly could in this moment. Brienne bowed her head respectfully. She wasn't a woman of many words at the best of times, but Arabelle understood her sentiment. Arabelle placed her hand on Brienne's shoulder. For once Arabelle had no words either.

Twigs cracked and snapped in the trees beyond them, everyone's eyes snapping up to watch Lady Catelyn emerge, her eyes red and hair ever so slightly dishevelled. With the back of her hand she wiped the wet from the corner of her eye and moved to smooth what few hairs were out of place. Her face was stone. Arabelle stiffened as the auburn-haired Lady approached, unsure of what she could possibly do or say to ease the pain of a woman who was like a second mother to her. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Arabelle almost choked on her sadness – the news had not yet sunk in for her, she didn't feel it quite yet. It was as if she'd been plucked from this world by the God's and hurled into an upside down one. Her thoughts were of Robb. Of his pain… of his mother's… even Arabelle's own father would be devastated losing his dearest friend, his brother.

Sansa.. Arya.. Bran.. oh Gods, poor little Rickon. They'd all lost a father.. and one of the best men in the Seven Kingdoms. And Jon.. a father who showed him unconditional love when even Sansa and Catelyn would not. No, Arabelle's grief was not important. Not now.

Ned's death is going to change this entire war.

Catelyn cleared her throat as she came to hold her hands together in front of herself. "Report back to your posts, immediately. Now is not the time to let down our guard."

The commander standing by Brienne nodded and stood to attention before spinning on his heels and pointing back towards the camp, ushering what few soldiers had stood guard in the clearing back out.

"I will have you remain here, Ser Brienne, until my son has returned from his business."

Brienne nodded. "Of course, my Lady."

Catelyn's eyes met Arabelle's. Arabelle almost choked. She was frozen, absolutely helpless. Until her arms moved of their own volition and she wrapped Lady Stark in a warm embrace, her wet eyes brushing against her shoulder. Catelyn tensed first, but upon realising the three women were alone she relaxed in Arabelle's arms, allowing herself a small moment to feel.

The older woman pushed Arabelle from her, her head turning as she made a point to look through the trees, silently asking Arabelle to follow. Catelyn exhaled sharply as she picked up her skirts slightly, stepping forward to wade her way through the mud back to the camp. Arabelle swallowed before she took off into the trees.

It was not long before she came upon her love. She heard grunts first, grunts that turned into what Arabelle understood were battle cries. The sound of blade against wood, the chains of armour singing together as they moved. He was hacking and slashing his blade as hard as he could into the tree, which looked much worse for wear than Arabelle imagined it had just that morning. He didn't notice her approach, though it was probably hard to hear over his thoughts.. and himself.

"Robb.." She called out to him as she slowly approached, careful to avoid his wild swinging. He couldn't hear. "Robb.." She tried again. He kept swinging, his panting heavier as his movements slowed. "Robb!" She yelled, her voice breaking as she rose it.

He stopped, his sword raised above his head as his eyes found hers. She could feel a dagger embedding itself in her very heart as she saw his dark, empty eyes. He dropped his sword at the sight of her, the anger from his face twisting into an expression that Arabelle would liken to one she'd seen many times on Rickon after Old Nan had told a few of her stories; a frightened young boy.

Robb stepped towards her and almost collapsed from exhaustion, his love quickly putting her body under his to hold him upright. His heavy armour though was too much for her, forcing them both to their knees. She didn't care. She couldn't feel it. He buried his face in her neck as she felt it get wet, her hand rising up his armoured back to his hair, holding him close to her. He let himself sob, he was gripping her for dear life. Arabelle rubbed his head as he sobbed, her heart cold as her gaze fell to the mangled tree before them.

"They'll die for this. I promise you. Every.. last.. one."

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