homeless forever and endless adwd spoilers

[withpain]

N - no. No, you can't. You can't, I promised. I promised I wouldn't run away and I don't mean to, not ever. I swore on my honor as a... the honor of my House.

I love him. I do, I swear it. And - [ this incoherant babbling gives way to high pitched whimpering, pleading, begging ] - and, I - I'll give him sons. Lots of sons. Strong and trueb - born sons, too. I promise. I swear. I won't make him angry, I won't cry anymore. [ which she can't really say with tears brimming in her eyes. oh those eyes. ]

I want to go back. Just... Just leave me be. Please. Please. I am a good wife.

Comments

[turncloak]

Shhh, Arya, shh now, it'll all be well.

[withpain]

It won't. It won't be, he'll find out, it'll make him angry.

[turncloak]

Stop sniveling. It's not running away if you're taken, is it? He can't make them give us back.

[motherofwinter]

How can this be? Who's wife are you?

[withpain]

Lord Ramsay Bolton's. The rightful lord of Winterfell.

[ she knows you. she knows you're dead. that doesn't stopper the words in her mouth though; they are habitual now. ]

[motherofwinter]

Ramsay Bolton is not the rightful lord of Winterfell. My son is.

[excoriation]

Is it really necessary to make quite such a fuss, my lady wife? I'm sure whatever happens, I will find you.

[withpain]

[ No. ]

Of course you will. [ No. ] I had no doubt of that, my lord. [ No. No, and she doesn't know what he wants to hear here. ] I will...wait for you.

[ Nonononono. ]

[excoriation]

Yes, you will. Because you love me so.

[handofwinter]

Has someone taken you against your wishes?

[withpain]

[ she knows you too. she knows you're dead. you should be dead at least. why aren't you dead you're going to ruin everything. ]

[ when she speaks it's breathless and quiet, more whisper than anything else. ]

Yes.

[handofwinter]

Then it cannot be said that you ran away. You should not blame yourself for something you could not control.

Whose wife have you become, Jeyne? [Even though the girl is older now, and changed from the carefree child she was once, she is still someone Ned recognizes. Jeyne Poole was Sansa's best friend, from Winterfell to King's Landing.]

If need be, I will have words with him on your behalf.

[fearcutsdeeper]

A wife to who?

[withpain]

[ Wow did the bottom just drop out of her stomach or do you look remarkably like a dead girl? ]

Lord Ramsay. The rightful lord of Winterfell.

[fearcutsdeeper]

[And you... you look remarkably like a girl that Arya has not thought about in a very long time. It takes her a moment to dredge up the name from a time that seems so long ago, but she is sure of it when she she speaks.]

Jeyne.

[wont]

[ Alayne has never been a good wife, for she has never been married. Sansa had been, of course, though against her wishes. (It is not a thought she cares to revisit.)

After a long pause— ]

I know your face.

[withpain]

[ She's a better wife than the real Arya would have been. She had felt more like a sister to Sansa than the real Arya, too - they'd played dolls together while the other girl had rolled in dirt and ruined fine dresses. But then to what does it speak when she looks at the dark haired girls face with fear in the place of familiarity, hesitance in the place of happiness and terror instead of recognition. ]

Yes... [ She ventures after a pause of her own. This girl hadn't been in Winterfell last she remembered - only washerwoman and handmaids and none quiet so pretty. That leads her to think of King's Landing and the brothel - there were pretty girls there...some of them - but that had been where Jeyne Poole had died and highborn ladies didn't know associate with whores. She was a highborn lady now. ] It has changed since I was younger.

[fotlenke]

Hush. Hush.

Why do you cry, young bride?

[And...why are you so bruised and battered?]

[withpain]

For...for want of my lord husband. I do not want to be here already miss him greatly.

[fotlenke]

Truly?

[Reaches out a hand.]

Why do you shake and cry?

[seem]

Pulled from your marriage bed so soon?

[ The question is more idle than not (he's had his fair share of fickle fortune around these parts), but there's not a word he speaks that isn't cloying, falsely sweet and not truly kind. His song isn't one he bothers to conceal too well, for she already knows some of its worst notes. ]

[withpain]

[ Idle questions laced from idle tongues leaves more young girls blanching than none. ]

Yes. [ And idle questions are greeted with hollow answers and empty eyes, face downturned and shoulders hunched as if she hopes that - maybe, if she makes herself small enough, people will forget about that stupid stammering outburst up there. ]

I am...hopeful to return.

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

It's not your House.

[withpain]

No, it is. It is.

[fearcutsdeeperthanswords]

You're no wolf.