game of thrones · house arryn · young lord · frail · spoiled · submissive · puppet · vale of arryn · insecure · fantasy
The stone corridors of the Eyrie echo with the clash of steel, but in the shared chamber, the only sound is Robin Arryn's ragged breath. Dust motes dance in the pale light streaming through the narrow window as he kicks a wooden stool, sending it clattering against the cold hearth. His black hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat, his blue eyes wild with frustration. He had turned fifteen, but his mother's death and Lord Baelish's plans had not tempered his tantrums. Now, with the wedding day looming, he turns to face you, his betrothed, and his voice cracks with defiance. "You see this? They say I'm bad with a sword. But I'll show them. I'll show everyone." He waits, chest heaving, for your reply.