Aug 30, 2019
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WHO DID THIS? XD
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meta topic : what does robin thinks about lysa arryn's death ?
Perhaps if he had remained ignorant of how his mother truly treated him his love for her would have remained untainted and pure. He felt guilt for not missing her more but the bitterness in his heart was too deeply engraved for him to forgive. She had stolen a proper life from him, ensuring that everyday would be a constant fight for the young Lord of the Vale to prevail. Lysa Arryn was dead and he was okay with that.
meta on Robin finding out Sansa's role in his mother's death and what truly happened
COULD HE REALLY BLAME HER?
He used to love his mother in all the ways a son should. What he was realizing now was that the mother he loved hadn’t really existed, it was all in his head. When in truth, Lysa Arryn was mad. Perhaps mad in love but mad all the same.
IF he wanted to blame Sansa simply for existing he would have to blame himself too. She had no more a choice in her role then he did; they were both pawns. He an extension to Lysa’s power in the Vale and Sansa an extension to express her jealously upon, jealously she had harbored on the girl and her mother.
He looked back at the Lady Winterfell, unwavering in her lack of remorse as the truth fell from her lips. As if expecting for him to react the way he used to. He sort of expected that too but she was the only thing familiar he had left.
“I guess...we were both pawns.”
meta on robin's thoughts concerning his mother post recovery?
"Isn't he beautiful? And strong too.”
Sunken and pale eyes looked back at him from the washing basin with contempt. A visible flinch drew his attention away from his reflection for a moment as Maester Colemon removed one leech onto his back and replaced it for another.
His chin rested against the back of his chair which he was straddling as he dealt with the pain. The leeches he was used to, the moments to himself and his thoughts not so much. His eyes drifted back to the basin, trying desperately to find the son his mother has always described.
STRONG AND BEAUTIFUL. Clearly, Lysa Arryn had a distorted meaning to the words. Despite her departure from the world Robin was still searching for the Lord of the Vale she described. Instead he was always met by his own reflection.
Fingertips slapped the top of the water until all he could see were growing rings of discontent. “My Lord’s blood is less thin then last time,” the Maester mused with relief. “It’s more dense than I’ve ever seen it.”
That’s because no one is slipping me poisons or excessive sweetsleep, he thought. He remained quiet though, reprehending his mother’s love for him in silence. Her love which now left him vulnerable and often times self loathing, tired, and irritated.
“Will the shaking stop?” Part of him didn’t want to know the answer because he felt he already knew.
“It will be less, my lord. I can’t say if it will ever stop.”
The damage of Lysa Arryn’s love for her son was irreversible and he hated her for it because all it further proved was that his mother had loved Petyr Baelish more.