Robb x Gwen Master Archive [ Part 2 / 6 ]
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anjali_organna and threemeows for their ongoing friendship and comaraderie.[x] Finally, I'm very sorry.
Robb x Gwen Archive
Part ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX
a.k.a. Robb is still in Albion but then suddenly we decided Westeros was better?
Because we're idiots.
[direct tumblr link | orig. posted July 2011]
[direct tumblr link | orig. posted August 2011 | not my gif]
theopensea: Well, Gwen thought. It's not a direwolf but it would certainly do.
The beast was an extremely active creature, and dogs were not very often thought of unless they were in the heart of a particularly frigid winter. Ofttimes, those of high nobility or lowly peasant would share their beds with a hound to achieve whatever extra heat they may provide. Her father once had one, a scrawny black thing that pranced about the forge when her father had set to do work. Gwen had no great love for the hound, and felt little grief when it had run off - never to return.
And yet this small pup, with sharp hearing and very friendly tongue, hopped to and fro around the meadow she and Robb had set themselves upon. Grey Wind gave the unseasoned dog a cursory sniff and paid no more attention to it after that. Robb did not say where he had acquired the young thing and Gwen did not ask, and eventually the hound grew and grew, as did Gwen's tolerance of the animal. It had no name, not uncommon in Camelot, however aghast Robb was to learning this fact. And so he gives it a name. "Daffy" he calls it, and Gwen raises a brow at his choice but only until she spots the dog pouncing on a bundle of daffodils on the hillside.
"It has as much love for flowers as you do," he notes and Gwen watches the hound fondly. She often goes to and fro the castle in the middle of the night - a consequence of Morgana's nightmares, and Daffy accompanies her, always alert and guarding her wherever she went. And Gwen suspects Robb is all the more grateful to the dog because of it.
And yet this small pup, with sharp hearing and very friendly tongue, hopped to and fro around the meadow she and Robb had set themselves upon. Grey Wind gave the unseasoned dog a cursory sniff and paid no more attention to it after that. Robb did not say where he had acquired the young thing and Gwen did not ask, and eventually the hound grew and grew, as did Gwen's tolerance of the animal. It had no name, not uncommon in Camelot, however aghast Robb was to learning this fact. And so he gives it a name. "Daffy" he calls it, and Gwen raises a brow at his choice but only until she spots the dog pouncing on a bundle of daffodils on the hillside.
"It has as much love for flowers as you do," he notes and Gwen watches the hound fondly. She often goes to and fro the castle in the middle of the night - a consequence of Morgana's nightmares, and Daffy accompanies her, always alert and guarding her wherever she went. And Gwen suspects Robb is all the more grateful to the dog because of it.
[direct tumblr link | orig. posted June 2011]
"I have to go back."
(five word mini-attachment by 3m)
(five word mini-attachment by 3m)
[direct tumblr link | orig. posted July 2011]
[direct tumblr link | orig. posted Oct 2011 | drabble attachment: (biathenas)]
No more calling like a crow for a boy,
For a body in the garden
No more dreaming like a girl so in love,
So in love with the wrong world
[direct tumblr link | orig. posted June 2011]For a body in the garden
No more dreaming like a girl so in love,
So in love with the wrong world
[direct tumblr link | orig. posted June 2011 | drabble attachment: (3m) (thetaoofzoe)]
[direct tumblr link | orig. posted July 2011]
She tells herself that this is all for the best. He needed to get back to his own world and Merlin has finally been able to help. Gwen enters the room as Robb and Merlin prepare for his journey back and freezes upon seeing him. Her mouth opens but she has forgotten what she had intended to say. A final farewell? A wish of luck? A plead to stay? The words are stuck in her throat and she’s grateful when Merlin quietly excuses himself.
“Gwen?” says Robb, concerned.
She allows herself to look him over, from the crease in his brow to the set of his jaw, the fur-lined cloak he had refused to shed since his initial stumble into Camelot (’It’s all I have of home,’ he’d said). Gwen thinks of the sorrow in his eyes and his growing discontent. There was no future here for Robb Stark. Gwen steels herself and repeats: This is for the best.
fin.
“Gwen?” says Robb, concerned.
She allows herself to look him over, from the crease in his brow to the set of his jaw, the fur-lined cloak he had refused to shed since his initial stumble into Camelot (’It’s all I have of home,’ he’d said). Gwen thinks of the sorrow in his eyes and his growing discontent. There was no future here for Robb Stark. Gwen steels herself and repeats: This is for the best.
fin.
[direct tumblr link | orig. posted June 2011 | drabble attachments: (theopensea)]
[direct tumblr link | orig. posted July 2011]
Inside my head,
Your voice is still resounding but what can I do?
The empty rooms feel cold when I am so used to being with you
Count the stars, watch the waves, absorb the summer sun,
And think of me
[direct tumblr link | orig. posted July 2011]Your voice is still resounding but what can I do?
The empty rooms feel cold when I am so used to being with you
Count the stars, watch the waves, absorb the summer sun,
And think of me
The journey is long and hard and vastly uncertain. The waves of the narrow sea makes Gwen's stomach coil in her gut and she has never felt more homesick for Camelot, for the tiny cottage she calls home and the forge her father had long since abandoned.
Gwen makes her way up the deck of the mighty Wind Chaser, a ship Uther had managed to commission with quite a bit of money from his coffers to secure his ward's safe passage across the Narrow Sea. The wood up above was had much more wear and tear, evidence that she has braved the waters for many years. Gwen feels a certain calmness up above, with the ringing of waves in her ears and the smell of salt through her senses. The motion of the sea doesn't quite churn her insides as it does down below. Every night after setting Lady Morgana to rest, she takes a moment to herself up here -- a moment to collect her thoughts and turn over her worries.
The waves crash loudly against the stern and she notes that she is not alone tonight. A lone figure stands to the side, buried in pelts, their attention focused on the darkening abyss of the ocean.
Robb Stark of Westeros. He, the catalyst that sent them on this journey westward to a land unknown and frightening. A month ago, the stranger arrives at court in Camelot, seeking audience with the king. The man claimed that a storm had taken him astray, leaving him swept ashore with one other comrade who's life was taken by the waves and the wind. Uther, learning of the stranger's Westeros roots, welcomed him with open arms. And after a few days of negotiations and dealings, the King of Camelot had not only given Robb Stark a good number of men but a ship to see him home. Gwen heard from Merlin that the king was hoping to win Westeros's friendship by graciously returning them their lord. ("Lord Stark's only from some part called Winterfell, and from what I hear, Westeros is a huge place - maybe even bigger than Albion, but Uther is certainly doing all he can," explained Merlin.)
Now, upon the deck, Gwen watched the man and saw little of the stony lord in council hall of the castle and more of a lost soul yearning for home. For a short time, she empathized with him - but only until she realized that the closer he was to home, the farther she was from hers. Of course, this was no real fault of his - it was not him in which her fate was tied, after all. It was her own Lady Morgana, who's curiosity piqued at the smallest whispers that Westeros still had some remnants of free magic. Gwen doubts the truth in these rumors, but she knows very little of what is outside her home city. Morgana, under the guise of wanting to establish good relations with those in Westeros in the name of Camelot, persuaded the usually stern Uther to allow her this small trip. And wherever the Lady Morgana pleases to go, Gwen was always made to come along. Perhaps, it was just as well. Morgana has been locked up inside her cabin for most of the trip and Gwen worries that her mistress's plans are more devious than ever before. But even then, what could she do? Merlin was by her side, at least - offering her a familiar comfort and a friendly smile. She had at least that.
"You look lost," a voice cuts through her thoughts. The man, Lord Stark, had spoken to her. What he said she doesn't know. But the look on her face must have proven him right. "It's easy to get lost out here.";
She doesn't know what to say, wondering at all if he realizes that she's a serving girl. "You must be anxious to get back home," she says. A safe and innocent presumption.
"Yes, for the most part," is his response. "And sometimes, I wish I could forget it all." Gwen is curious about what he means and it must have shown, because he continues on. "I have... quite a bit to do, back home. I'm ... anxious," he weighs the word on his tongue, "that I should I fail."
"It sounds like you believe you already have," she notes, unfortunately aloud. He looks to her then, truly seeing her for the first time. She gives a brief apologetic look before turning away.
"What's your name?"
"Gwen, my lord," she answers, dipping her head. "I am the Lady Morgana's maidservant."
"Maidservant?" his surprise is evident in his tone. "You speak rather plainly for a servant."
She flushed, "I'm sorry, my lord. My years of serving the lady has allowed me some freedom of familiarity that I mistakenly extend to others. Forgive me."
"Don't be," says Lord Stark. "Out here, it's questionable whether I am a lord - being so far from home. I have never felt less like a lord."
"Still a lord, just a bit more lost," she says as a way of comfort. It seemed to do some justice, because he smiles then - wide and unhesitating - and nods.
"Yes, Gwen," he agrees. Her name on his tongue sends a chill through her that she does not understand and blames on the wind. "My name is Robb Stark. Perhaps, we are to be lost together."
Gwen makes her way up the deck of the mighty Wind Chaser, a ship Uther had managed to commission with quite a bit of money from his coffers to secure his ward's safe passage across the Narrow Sea. The wood up above was had much more wear and tear, evidence that she has braved the waters for many years. Gwen feels a certain calmness up above, with the ringing of waves in her ears and the smell of salt through her senses. The motion of the sea doesn't quite churn her insides as it does down below. Every night after setting Lady Morgana to rest, she takes a moment to herself up here -- a moment to collect her thoughts and turn over her worries.
The waves crash loudly against the stern and she notes that she is not alone tonight. A lone figure stands to the side, buried in pelts, their attention focused on the darkening abyss of the ocean.
Robb Stark of Westeros. He, the catalyst that sent them on this journey westward to a land unknown and frightening. A month ago, the stranger arrives at court in Camelot, seeking audience with the king. The man claimed that a storm had taken him astray, leaving him swept ashore with one other comrade who's life was taken by the waves and the wind. Uther, learning of the stranger's Westeros roots, welcomed him with open arms. And after a few days of negotiations and dealings, the King of Camelot had not only given Robb Stark a good number of men but a ship to see him home. Gwen heard from Merlin that the king was hoping to win Westeros's friendship by graciously returning them their lord. ("Lord Stark's only from some part called Winterfell, and from what I hear, Westeros is a huge place - maybe even bigger than Albion, but Uther is certainly doing all he can," explained Merlin.)
Now, upon the deck, Gwen watched the man and saw little of the stony lord in council hall of the castle and more of a lost soul yearning for home. For a short time, she empathized with him - but only until she realized that the closer he was to home, the farther she was from hers. Of course, this was no real fault of his - it was not him in which her fate was tied, after all. It was her own Lady Morgana, who's curiosity piqued at the smallest whispers that Westeros still had some remnants of free magic. Gwen doubts the truth in these rumors, but she knows very little of what is outside her home city. Morgana, under the guise of wanting to establish good relations with those in Westeros in the name of Camelot, persuaded the usually stern Uther to allow her this small trip. And wherever the Lady Morgana pleases to go, Gwen was always made to come along. Perhaps, it was just as well. Morgana has been locked up inside her cabin for most of the trip and Gwen worries that her mistress's plans are more devious than ever before. But even then, what could she do? Merlin was by her side, at least - offering her a familiar comfort and a friendly smile. She had at least that.
"You look lost," a voice cuts through her thoughts. The man, Lord Stark, had spoken to her. What he said she doesn't know. But the look on her face must have proven him right. "It's easy to get lost out here.";
She doesn't know what to say, wondering at all if he realizes that she's a serving girl. "You must be anxious to get back home," she says. A safe and innocent presumption.
"Yes, for the most part," is his response. "And sometimes, I wish I could forget it all." Gwen is curious about what he means and it must have shown, because he continues on. "I have... quite a bit to do, back home. I'm ... anxious," he weighs the word on his tongue, "that I should I fail."
"It sounds like you believe you already have," she notes, unfortunately aloud. He looks to her then, truly seeing her for the first time. She gives a brief apologetic look before turning away.
"What's your name?"
"Gwen, my lord," she answers, dipping her head. "I am the Lady Morgana's maidservant."
"Maidservant?" his surprise is evident in his tone. "You speak rather plainly for a servant."
She flushed, "I'm sorry, my lord. My years of serving the lady has allowed me some freedom of familiarity that I mistakenly extend to others. Forgive me."
"Don't be," says Lord Stark. "Out here, it's questionable whether I am a lord - being so far from home. I have never felt less like a lord."
"Still a lord, just a bit more lost," she says as a way of comfort. It seemed to do some justice, because he smiles then - wide and unhesitating - and nods.
"Yes, Gwen," he agrees. Her name on his tongue sends a chill through her that she does not understand and blames on the wind. "My name is Robb Stark. Perhaps, we are to be lost together."
[direct tumblr link | orig. posted August 2011]
[direct tumblr link | orig. posted Oct 2011 | drabble attachment: (theopensea)]
That's one memory that I choose to carry
Weary memory I can always see
Weary memory I can always see
[direct tumblr link | orig. posted August 2011]
On to part 3.