It's exactly what it sounds like. The day he arrived, my Hand found him standing atop the cliffs, brooding because I refused to listen to his stories about the dead.
I don't know if he'd had much exposure to the sea. From what I've heard of Winterfell and the Wall, both were rather dreary places. Keep in mind, of course, that my Hand is also extremely biased toward southern climes.
[ A longer pause. Clear hesitance, and for good reason when she asks: ]
Winterfell just sounds cold, and I've done Maine in the winter.
I mean trusting other members of the guard, and what happened with Ramsay. It's not something I can blame him for, I've done it myself. I just wish I could make things a little simpler for him.
He carries the weight of a few worlds on his shoulders, and I know how heavy that burden is.
He told me briefly what occurred with Ramsay here. We'd gotten into an argument over his friendship with Stannis Baratheon.
[ Not the sort of thing she would willingly tell just anyone, even long after the fact. All the same, she refrains from mentioning the scars on his chest--not knowing how he received them to begin with. ]
Did he ever tell you of the threat we'd faced in our world?
He felt responsible for not stopping him, when that's not really how it works here. I suspect there would have been consequences for him if he'd tried.
[ she's a little protective of him, given how prone both of them are to rush headfirst into danger without thinking of anything but taking out the problem.]
[ As if Emma needs the reminder. She huffs in annoyance. ]
The dead killed my son. The dead would have tried slaughtering us all, and we'll never know if they'd have succeeded, because the Storm accomplished what the Night King failed to. He carried that weight because most believed him to be mad without proof of it.
[ She's no doubt he continues to carry said weight. ]
I know. It doesn't negate that he should hear it. Often.
[ Stannis was not his responsibility. Nor was Theon. Not even she was, and she had no doubt he grappled with guilt over her wounds. ]
Eventually. It took time, we lost
He ventured beyond the Wall to capture one of those creatures. The queen who sat upon the Iron Throne at the time took some convincing, but agreed to proffer her aid in that war.
I don't know about that, I've seen enough people crazy with power to think otherwise.
I uh, I had a friend back home. He showed up in town and embraced the title of mysterious stranger, and he helped me through a lot of the things I was working on. Henry had told me our town was cursed, but I thought he was just a kid with an active imagination. August, on the other hand, was a grown man who told me that part of his curse was that he was turning into wood. He tried to show me, and I... I couldn't see it. I didn't want to.
So no, not always when I see it in front of me. Not until my son needed me to see it.
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Made worse when he couldn't get the details out of me.
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[ Oh Jon... ]
I've not seen him worry about much. Brood, yes. He'd given Tyrion some vicious competition when it came to cliff brooding.
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Cliff brooding? Is that what it sounds like - brooding near a cliff?
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It's exactly what it sounds like. The day he arrived, my Hand found him standing atop the cliffs, brooding because I refused to listen to his stories about the dead.
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I've been trying to remind him that not everything is his fault. Not that he believes me.
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[ A longer pause. Clear hesitance, and for good reason when she asks: ]
You mean my kidnapping?
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I mean trusting other members of the guard, and what happened with Ramsay. It's not something I can blame him for, I've done it myself. I just wish I could make things a little simpler for him.
He carries the weight of a few worlds on his shoulders, and I know how heavy that burden is.
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[ Not the sort of thing she would willingly tell just anyone, even long after the fact. All the same, she refrains from mentioning the scars on his chest--not knowing how he received them to begin with. ]
Did he ever tell you of the threat we'd faced in our world?
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[ she's a little protective of him, given how prone both of them are to rush headfirst into danger without thinking of anything but taking out the problem.]
He said the dead were going to fight the living.
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[ As if Emma needs the reminder. She huffs in annoyance. ]
The dead killed my son. The dead would have tried slaughtering us all, and we'll never know if they'd have succeeded, because the Storm accomplished what the Night King failed to. He carried that weight because most believed him to be mad without proof of it.
[ She's no doubt he continues to carry said weight. ]
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[ says, you know, the savior of Storybrooke.]
Was he able to prove it?
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[ Stannis was not his responsibility. Nor was Theon. Not even she was, and she had no doubt he grappled with guilt over her wounds. ]
Eventually. It took time, we lost
He ventured beyond the Wall to capture one of those creatures. The queen who sat upon the Iron Throne at the time took some convincing, but agreed to proffer her aid in that war.
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[ then again - ]
I was never good at believing.
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[ They've that in common. ]
Even with proof?
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Depends on the proof.
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[ Seems a moot point, now. ]
What of seeing it before you?
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I uh, I had a friend back home. He showed up in town and embraced the title of mysterious stranger, and he helped me through a lot of the things I was working on. Henry had told me our town was cursed, but I thought he was just a kid with an active imagination. August, on the other hand, was a grown man who told me that part of his curse was that he was turning into wood. He tried to show me, and I... I couldn't see it. I didn't want to.
So no, not always when I see it in front of me. Not until my son needed me to see it.
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[ The Storm defeated the Night King. Not any of them. ]
So you needed to believe in order to see. Would you say love was what finally allowed you to see?
We'd all be dead in my world if that's what it took. Belief, not love.
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I think so, yeah.
Belief has power, my mom always said it did.
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Mn, your mother is a wise woman, then.
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She is, I miss her.
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[ She wishes she could say the same of her own mother. ]
I suppose you're right. Too prideful for their own good.
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[but it's probably better not to think of the time she missed when she's still missing them.]
She was practically someone different to everyone she met; a teacher, a queen, a heroine. Before I knew her as anything else, she was my best friend.