In which Aegon gives Robb some insight.

Part 2 in the World War II collection.

Robb's bunkmate is a young chap named Aegon, around his own age, who constantly insists on being called Griff. Robb doesn't mind that- not in the slightest, since Aegon has the best cigarettes in their troop, and he's more than willing to share. Calling him Griff is a small token of gratitude that Robb doesn't mind giving.

Stark lies in his bed one night, and sleep can't seem to find him. Aegon is probably asleep, so any chance of a cig is highly unlikely. He could sneak one out of Griff's bag, but he doesn't find that fair at all. Instead, he gets up out of bed and pours himself a glass of whiskey, which is watered down so much he can barely call it whiskey.

He shuffles around, trying to keep quiet. He doesn't want to wake his bunkmate- not after what happened last time. Aegon may be one of the nicest people Robb's ever met, but he's learned to never take sleep away from him. Griff can be real nasty when he wants to be.

Robb wanders aimlessly around the small room, glass of whiskey in one hand, the other jammed in his pocket. He feels something in there and, curious, fumbles around to get it.
He pulls out a small picture, the edges folded and creased, even a bit dirty. He smiles fondly and turns it over in his hand, seeing the note she wrote on the back of it. Eiffel Tower, 1938. Amazing time! I love you, Robb Stark. It's been such a long time since he's seen her, and he wishes he could stop time and go visit her, if only for a day.

He hears grumbling and quiet mutterings, and turns around to the source of the noise. His bunkmate is slowly swinging himself out of bed, rubbing his eyes and scowling. "Bloody hell, they couldn't afford to get us better beds?" Griff stands up and takes Robb's whiskey out of his hand, downing it in one shot. "Fuck, I'm getting sick of this watered down shit."

"That makes two of us."

Aegon squints and examines the picture in Robb's hand. "She your sweetheart? The one you always talk about?"

"Roslin, yeah. That's her."

Robb expects Griff to go off on a rant about how he shouldn't be thinking about girls at a time like this, because it's war, dammit, and war is a time of men. But his bunkmate only smiles and claps him on the shoulder. "She's a pretty thing. Don't go breaking her heart, Robb Stark."