[ Liar! She wants to shriek, while pounding on his chest. He's not dead, he can't be!
...But why would Jon lie about this? What use does he gain for telling her such a tale in these lands? If he looked to fell her, he could just as easily snap her neck without her guards nearby... and he'd had far too many opportunities back home, back at Dragonstone, for him to do the same.
Though his touch is sudden, it's not unwelcome. His hand curls over hers, and it's only in that moment she feels a fraction less likely to shatter as her thumb loops around his fingers. And what his touch cannot soothe, time provides the rest--given not long enough a moment to reflect over this, to begin fathoming the loss of Viserion. ]
We left you. [ Her voice wobbles, betraying her, and she thinks she hates him for it. For all of this. Yet hating him would be impossible now, when she so vividly recalls the acute sense of loss as he'd turned his back to her, striding away to fulfill his task up north. ] I'm sorry. I don't know how I could have.
[ Not unless the Night King truly was trying to take another of her sons. He'd lost family as well, and no matter the mystery of whether an uncle survived or not, to be reunited and torn apart so quickly is still a loss, still difficult to face.
Equally as difficult is to meet his gaze, but she forces herself to. It's difficult to hide all she feels about what she's been told, and she tries, oh she tries... but sometimes, it cannot be enough. He would find what he wished to, as she suspects he always would. ]
I'm glad he found you. That you were able to come back.
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...But why would Jon lie about this? What use does he gain for telling her such a tale in these lands? If he looked to fell her, he could just as easily snap her neck without her guards nearby... and he'd had far too many opportunities back home, back at Dragonstone, for him to do the same.
Though his touch is sudden, it's not unwelcome. His hand curls over hers, and it's only in that moment she feels a fraction less likely to shatter as her thumb loops around his fingers. And what his touch cannot soothe, time provides the rest--given not long enough a moment to reflect over this, to begin fathoming the loss of Viserion. ]
We left you. [ Her voice wobbles, betraying her, and she thinks she hates him for it. For all of this. Yet hating him would be impossible now, when she so vividly recalls the acute sense of loss as he'd turned his back to her, striding away to fulfill his task up north. ] I'm sorry. I don't know how I could have.
[ Not unless the Night King truly was trying to take another of her sons. He'd lost family as well, and no matter the mystery of whether an uncle survived or not, to be reunited and torn apart so quickly is still a loss, still difficult to face.
Equally as difficult is to meet his gaze, but she forces herself to. It's difficult to hide all she feels about what she's been told, and she tries, oh she tries... but sometimes, it cannot be enough. He would find what he wished to, as she suspects he always would. ]
I'm glad he found you. That you were able to come back.