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WHO: Robb Stark & You!
WHERE: Various places
WHEN: 6th / 7th of July
WHAT: A variety of things
WARNINGS: bullying, that's never fun :(

After school
Robb has never been bullied in his entire life. And there has never been any stranger who dared to call the oldest son of Eddard Stark, heir to Winterfell itself, any names. Of course there were japes and laughter, but it was never meant out of malice. Modern kids thought differently, though. Not even his position as an ImPort can change this, apparently.

So he can be seen in front of the school, fighting it out with a slightly larger, blond boy. Some curses can be heard and some punches can be seen. No way in seven hells Robb is going to be craven and run from a fight.

Back home
Robb is in a very, very bad mood because of what happened at school. Also, he hates school and he wishes they could bring Maester Luwin here to teach him the things he had to know. Of course, he has landed a few punches but the other boy returned them just as good.

He slips inside the farm with a swollen cheek and a bruised ego, hoping that none of his siblings will see him. Or his lord father, that would be even worse.

In the woods
Not far from the farm where he lives there is a small group of trees. It is too small to call it a forest but green enough to give him a feeling that he’s far away from the big city. It is a bit of a cold day and he is dressed in a pair of jeans, a leather jerkin and a warm cloak. He could also wear his modern coat but the fabric felt strange and some sort of slippery. Silk, but the wrong way.

It is still a bit of a sore point that he has no real sword. Every hero needs a real sword, this wooden one was good for practice but when it came to actual cutting it is nothing but useless.

In his free time Robb has made a couple of dummies for practice. It is not much, just two man-shaped forms made out of branches and some rope. Before attacking them Robb takes on the stance Ser Rodrik has taught him, keeping his sword close to his chest before he strikes. After that he breathes out loudly and rams his wooden sword into one of the dummy. First a bit careful, then somewhat harder. And finally he simply unleashes his fury to stomp the bloody thing in the ground.r

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[ The woods are the closest Theon dares to get to the Starks’ farmhouse on any normal day. It isn’t that he wishes to spy on them. If anything, he feels the same as Robb. He’ll never admit it, but he misses Winterfell just as much as he ever missed Pyke, and this little wood is the closest mimic he’s found for the Godswood. On occasion, he’ll bring his bow to the clearing and take a few practice shots. He hasn’t let any of them know, of course, but the marks left from arrows in Robb’s dummies should be hint enough that he’s been present here before.

He hadn’t expected to find Robb today and for a moment, he fears his anger may have to do with him. Perhaps Jon or the Kingslayer let something about his treachery slip, but then he sees the swelling on Robb’s cheek, and he breathes easily again. Smirking, he calls out lightly: ]

If you’re looking to make it bleed, I’m afraid you’ll have your work cut out for you.

Shut your mouth!

[Robb snaps immediately after Theon's words and keeps on slashing at the dummy.]

I have not asked for you to speak nor your bloody opinion!

[And it hurts a little to speak with a swollen cheek.]

[ At first, Theon looks shocked by Robb’s sudden outburst, but his response is to merely shrug as his smile disappears and his expression darkens. ]

I don’t take orders from you.

[But he doesn’t leave, and he actually does shut up for a moment . He watches moodily as Robb slashes away at the dummy, vaguely considering critiquing his form just to be defiant. After a moment of thought, he decides to go a different direction with it. ]

Shouldn’t you be taking this out on whoever did that to your face?

[Robb huffs loudly.]

I take it you would only take orders from me if I’d wear a crown, not?

[It shows that he is not in a good mood at all.]

I did! And tomorrow I will do it again! [Gods be good, that boy had some nerve...] How dare he!

[ Theon doesn’t respond to Robb’s question, because he doesn’t know the answer himself. He had taken orders when Robb wore a crown, but he had also broken his trust. Where does that put him?

Again, he smirks, partway out of fondness and partway out of amusement. Robb would never survive if he had been born with brothers like Maron and Rodrik. It’s a wonder Theon himself managed to survive them. ]

Imagine Prince Joffrey’s ugly face in place of his own. You’ll get the job done far more quickly.

[When Theon mentions Joffrey he pulls a face.]

Ugh, no...that is not something I wish to remember. I hope, that when I become king that we get to face one another on the battlefield. [The anger hasn't left his face at all.]

And they were ugly enough already. [Robb sighs and focuses his attention back to Theon's face.] Will you spar with me?

I believe that you might, and you’ll beat his ass into the mud.

[ He says it with a smile, but he knows that Robb never will face Joffrey on the battlefield, and that adds another weight upon his shoulders. Robb should have lived. He died too young, harboring too heavy of a burden.

All the same, Theon swallow the lump in his throat and swaps his bow for a wooden sword. ]

I’ll spar with you—only if you’re interested in losing.

[ He smirks, tipping his head slightly. Robb may be younger, but they had trained together, and he knows well that Robb has always been the more skilled swordsman. ]

Kaneki goes to the woods quite often; he trains there, away from everyone so he won't hurt anyone. It's easy for him to control his powers, but he know how intense he gets, even during a training session on his own (specially on his own). Few hours training in the woods mean Kaneki returns covered in tree bark and dirt, and though it's not something he minds too much, that's how Robb will find him - as if he fell down some hill or ravine, or was attacked by a bear.

he spots Robb attacking the dummy and for a second there he isn't sure if he should intervene, but the boy seems a bit angry.

"I think he gives up." the dummy, he means. Robb wins.

It takes a while before Robb realizes someone is speaking to him. He continues to slash his wooden sword through the straw man’s torso a couple of times before he steps back and takes the time to focus on the stranger that appeared next to him.

“Huh?” There is a big frown on his face when he answers. “Who?”

The face of the young man is somewhat familiar to him yet he has trouble connecting it with a name.

"The dummy. It seems like you are really angry at it." Kaneki speaks softly, almost with an amused tone. he gets getting into training a bit too serious, but ultimately it's better not to spend all of your energy with one single attack, so the training can last longer.

He sighs and takes a step back, wiping his forehead shortly.

"I did not have a good day, I must say." The swollen cheek says enough and thank the gods that wounded pride is not a very visible thing. Robb tries to smile while saying it but he fails miserably.

kaneki glances at Robb's cheek and hums after. "I see." he really does, it looks pretty obvious, in fact. "Did the other person also get some bruises in return?" he hopes it was another kid, and not some violent adult, honestly.

First blood is yours, my lord. Or perhaps that's first bark.

[This is not Jaime's city. and certainly not Jaime's woods, though they lack the features of the northern wilds he was just mocking Robb Stark for not a few months back. In truth, Jaime did not even intend to be here. Obligations bring him to this city, and the terrible map contained within his communications device has led him out here. Then he had simply followed the sound of wood hacked against wood. and so here he is--and here he has been, too, long enough to catch the end of Robb Stark's tantrum.

If he had two hands, he might have interrupted with dry applause, but he has only the one. His jacket's sleeve is pinned neatly to hide the sight of his stump, an awkward end to his arm. This will surely not be the only difference Stark will mark in him since last they met--more weathered, more bearded, wearing the strange garb of this world, trousers and a jacket, a t-shirt and leather shoes cut much shorter than boots. And no sword.

Robb Stark looks much younger than Jaime had last seen him, too. That is of little surprise now that he's spoken with him. He is not the king who led his army to victory in the Whispering Wood. He is scarcely more than a boy. A curious thing.

But not a thing which inclines Jaime to any kind of kindness. He nods toward the downed dummy.]

You're very savage with your blows. He's not likely to fight another day. You'll need more branches.

[Robb hears the words but that is all. He is too focused on slaughtering that tree and all he can think of that things would be so very different if he had a real sword. Gods be good, heads were going to roll for sure! No simple peasant boy mocks the future lord of Winterfell while punching him in the face.

And suddenly he notices a man standing close to him. All beard and no arm with a mocking tone in his voice that annoys the crap out of him. Robb takes a couple of seconds to pant and lower his sword, eyes narrowing at the sight of the other man.]

Ah.

[Yeah, he recognizes that voice. The Kingslayer. Or well, the Kingslayer without an arm.]

Hmph... [Robb pulls a bit of a face.] ...You do not look as if you are able to fight another day either, ser. [Would that be his sword hand? Did someone cut off the sword hand of the infamous Jaime Lannister? Robb cannot remember if the man was right or left handed.

All he remembers was the sight of Jaime when he arrived at Winterfell. A splendid example of how a knight should look. If they weren’t the Kingslayer, that is.]

He saw Robb from the kitchen window before he even walked through the door. The swollen cheek was familiar from the various blows they shared with each other and the other boys in Winterfell. It didn't take much to guess where and how he came by them. Robb had always had a hot temper and a great deal of pride.

By the time Robb came inside, Jon is waiting at the door, holding out a piece of raw meat and a bit of beer. Whatever the laws of this world, they had something stronger back in Westeros.

"Sit."

Robb looks a little worn down when he enters, taking the meat and beer without saying much. He is in a foul mood and his head is full of promises to himself to beat that other guy to a pulp tomorrow. After all, Robb is no craven and he has never been afraid to fight. Still, he does listen to his brother and slides into one of the chairs.

“I do not want a bloody lecture.”

"I'm not going to lecture you." When had that changed? When had he become their father? He shook of that surprise and took the seat opposite Robb. He'd let his amusement show, if it wasn't clear his brother wasn't already in a bad temper. Instead, he took a drink of his own bear, leaning closer to get a better look at his face.

"You give as good as you got?"

The fight has just broken up when Sansa arrives at the school looking for her brother. It's a random occurrence that happens whenever she is off work early and needs something to do. Sometimes she looks for Arya, other times for Jon but today it's Robb that she seeks as she walks towards the school.

She slows when she hears the yelling, frowning as she notices some boys scattering in all directions. She also spots the larger, blonde boy who is running past her and leaving her to stare after him for a few seconds while she experiences a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Turning back, she hurries forward. "Robb?"

Robb is cursing at the other boy. Waving his fists and making promises to cut off heads, hands, fingers and a variety of body parts. Thank the gods he has not fallen during the fight, it would have been unworthy of a Stark to completely lose this battle.

And...oh no, oh gods be good. His sister is there.

"I am fine, I am fine." He rubs his nose and tries to divert attention from his swollen cheek. "It was just a fight..."

For a strange moment, Sansa looks almost relieved when she finds him but it's a brief reaction until her features go carefully blank as she studies him. She doesn't rush in and fuss but merely watches before nodding, motioning for him to follow. "Let's go."

She knows that it's important to walk away with your head held high when beaten upon because one doesn't want to appear weak. Fussing over him would make him look that way too and she knows Robb isn't. She heard stories of how strong and impressive he was before...

"I imagine you don't want to go home yet." She murmurs, keeping her gaze straight away. "Where would you like to go?"

Robb nods stiffly while the words the boys shouted at him still ring in his ears. They would never do this in Winterfell. They would never insult its future lord. But here he wasn't a lord-to-be and his high birth didn't mean anything. He was just some boy born in another 'time', stranded in a ridiculous world full of lazy lackwits who sat inside their cars all day.

He picks his bag up and slings it over his shoulders.

"No, I rather not..." The frown on his face is a deep one. "Let us...walk around somewhat. Or...if there is somewhere you want to go..."

Sansa has already learned that having power means very little at times when away from home but it makes her heart ache for the fact that Robb has had to learn it too. There is a very dark part of her that wants to tell Arya to make the boys pay for but she also knows that would be taking it a bit far. That and it would undoubtedly make Robb angry if his sisters stepped in.

"We will just wander for a bit then." She doesn't have a destination in mind but she does look over at him again, assessing the injuries that she can see. "We should get something cold to press against the worst of it."

Truly, it was the shouting that caught her attention, just as she'd finished work for the day. Thank the gods that while she must promote this perfume, she need not wear it. To her mind, it smells dreadful. In any case, she arrives on the scene with her lion cub trotting beside her; larger, now, than when they'd first arrived together. Large enough to scare off some of the smaller boys gathered round to watch.

The tallest of them remains, and that is when she clucks her tongue at her companion. Tybolt eagerly bounds forward, as if to bring him down—only to stop directly before him, teeth bared. That seems to be that, as it were. As the blonde boy runs off, she extends a hand to her cub, bringing the rascal as much to heel as possible.

"Tybolt, to me." Her green eyes take in the sight of him, as she extends her free hand to him. "Please escort me to your ice cream shop, my lord. I will look after that cheek in return."

Robb's cheeks burn when he realizes what has happened. His pride was already wounded but now he found himself rescued by a beautiful blonde woman, things get even more difficult. He is a Stark and, gods, he can't even win a bloody fight.

"I rather not want to be seen there, my lady..." No, he wishes he could crawl away into some hole and never be seen ever. "I think...I can stand by myself." Robb flashes somewhat of a smile but there is nothing happy about it.

Myrcella smiles faintly and retracts her hand, stepping back to allow him to regain his footing by himself. Boys do have their pride, and she will allow him to retain his as her features soften with understanding.

"Do you wish for me to leave?" She doesn't move or turn away, indicating her willingness to remain with him if it's what he wants. His company had been all she'd wanted once, as a girl. That warmth and kindness bring shades of her true self shining through the chill left by her death. For that, there is no end to her gratitude.

"If not, I would accompany you a while, my lord. I am simply gladdened to see you in person once more. Battle scars and all. You know, many girls will find them becoming."

She would have, were she even three year younger.

Ned is rather fond of this little clump of trees himself, for similar reasons. It's certainly no godswood- not a proper wood at all, really - but in this realm of stone and glass, it's about as close as one can get.

He isn't particularly surprised to find Robb here, practicing. It's something he would have been doing back home, after all, and they all seem to cling to such things, like drowning men to driftwood, as they struggle to find their footing here. Or maybe that's just him, and Robb's only doing this because Robb is a boy and boys like to hit things.

Whatever the case, it reminds him of home, and it makes him smile. He watches quietly from a short distance for a time, and he's just about to compliment the boy on his form when something breaks and form gives way to utter fury. He goes on watching, though his smile falters, concern taking its place.

When, at last, the boy's rage seems spent, he steps forward, reaching out to rest a hand on his son's shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Robb is not aware of any spectators. He just hacks away at his makeshift dummy and ends up not being satisfied as twigs and straw starts to fly around. It takes more to repair wounded pride. Maybe it takes blood and guts flying around or something like that. Curses had not reached them, they laugh and called outdated. 'Medieval hicks just called, they want their curses back'.

When Ned places a hand on Robb's shoulder he startles immediately, eyes widening.

"I...ah..." He lowers his hands somewhat. "I just had a fight after school..., father." Robb shrugs, pretending that it doesn't matter much.

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Woods

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woods

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also woods sorry robb

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Back Home

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after school

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after school

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In the Woods

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