#so instead of a hc i wrote a self para...

[ravasz]

hc + fears

Fear was a bitter and merciless companion of Martyn Stark, ever lingering in the back of their mind, lying in wait, prepared to force them to relive their worst memories, to make them snap, to have them reach for temporary solutions to deal with the overwhelming wave of emotions that would swallow them whole, suck all air out of their lungs and watch them twitch and squirm and wither away into an eternal state of dread, numb to anything, or anyone else in the world. 

The air in his bedchambers was cold, even though the servants had done everything there was in their power to bring heat to the walls of the castle of Highgarden. Fists shook on each side of his with the amount of strength he squeezed, fingernails leaving crescent moon shaped dents in his palms before he stretched his fingers out, needing the tension in his body to go somewhere without making a scene. The last bucket of water was poured into the bathtub, steam rising in the air from the heat. He asked for the water to be as hot as possible. Joked about wishing he had a dragon hatchling to keep the water at its boiling point at all times, shielding himself with a couple of laughs from the insecurity rising up in his chest the longer the whole process took. 

He truly hated it. Needing someone in that way. Having to strip their carefully built up walls around her. Having to trust that she wouldn’t say a word about it to anyone. She was the only person he insisted would come along with them all the way from home. It was because she knew, and she did not judge him, at least not to his face, and she would, above all else, could keep his damn secret.

“Thank you–” The rest of the attendants bowed, and made their way towards the exit when Martyn uttered one of their names. “I’d like you to stay Holly, please.” A weak smile of his was met with a knowing look and a nod from the attendant, and a suspicious glance taken between the other two before they made to leave. Having rumors about Martyn Stark’s dalliances with staff circling around the court were a lot better than what he really needed her for. 

A sharp inhale was taken as he grabbed the goblet filled with wine from the table beside him, and with one go downed the whole thing. He cared not for its taste, only its effect, needing his mind at the least bit more quiet before he stepped closer to the tub. He concentrated on his breathing as he undressed, while Holly moved on to pour some oils and herbs into the water. She tried to make conversation, and he responded, without the usual quips and innuendos, having a smile on his face that never quite reached his eyes. 

He flexed his fingers again. 

Martyn took the last piece of clothing still on, his shirt, and pulled it over his head, tossed it to the side, not wasting any longer before getting into the tub with a silent hiss as his cold skin submerged in the steaming water. One leg. Then the other. One hand at the edge of the tub, gripping it hard as he slid down, and waited for the ripples to stop. The water was so hot that it prickled his skin underneath, and yet it was more than needed to numb any other senses inside that were screaming at him to get out as soon as he could, lest he drown right there and then. 

Washing with only one hand, pausing sometimes to catch their breath, asking Holly a question or two to keep a conversation going, it all became a routine after many years. They looked at their reflection in the water, albeit somewhat murky, trying to keep their breathing even as they mentally prepared for the worst part. They collected some water in their palm then splashed their face with it, hands remaining over his cheek as they kept staring. "...Will you help me with my hair, please?" He finally muttered, almost ashamed, as if Holly hadn't done it a hundred times before already. As she stepped behind them, they pulled their knees up, wrapping their arms around them, thumb unconsciously caressing their own skin to soothe himself. He tilted his head back when told to, eyes closed, waiting for it all to be over. They kept quiet, not focusing on the water but instead on the sensation of her fingers through their hair, letting the feeling linger, anything that would distract them from the water flowing down their head and back. A couple of minutes passed, and a frown gradually formed on their forehead, forgetting about their breathing altogether and having to open their eyes, frantically looking around the room to try and ground themself. Their gaze landed on her, eyes welled up in tears that they could not control. "That's enough." He swallowed thickly, tilting his head back down, restless to get out of the tub. "Fetch my nightshirt." He paused. And then added "Please." with an apologetic voice, hoping that she understood their need to be away from the water as soon as possible. They counted down the seconds while they waited for her, loathing the feeling of getting out of the bath and having the cool air of the chamber against his wet body. They washed their face off one last time, hoping that the tears wouldn't be too obvious, then got up and out of the tub as soon as Holly arrived with the towel and shirt. 

It wasn’t always this difficult. Sometimes it would be over before he knew it. Sometimes he would even make time go faster with a song or two. Sometimes, Holly would tell him the most outrageous story, one that would make him laugh louder than ever. And then, there were times like this one. Usually followed by an event that snapped something in him, that brought him back to that cold winter morning a little over fourteen years ago. 

He woke up early that day. Earlier than the maesters, earlier than the cooks, or the crows, or even their father. It snowed heavier than usual that night. Martyn wanted to be the first to step into the fresh snow, to make a trail no one had done before him. Mother had told him not to run so fast. To look, before he stepped, to use caution. No one knew what was hidden underneath the snow. Hills and trees all covered in white, impossible to navigate through, even for someone that had grown up among them. One step. Two cracks. Another step. And the world disappeared from his view. Cheeks once bright red with warm blood now pale as ever, touch colder than that of a ghost, hands trembling as if plagued by constant dread of the heart, mind weak and twisted from memories of unbearable cold, lungs going into a fit at the sight of water. 

It was a curse Martyn had inflicted upon himself. Winter flowing through their veins until the end of their days, unable to feel true warmth ever again. And the eternal fear residing in him, enveloping his heart in ice, feeling its cold touch with each beat, tormenting him whenever he was in the presence of water… it had to stay a secret. No one else could know. Not his siblings, nor his mother. They couldn’t know the severity of it. He wouldn’t be able to look them in the eye again.