no subject

[ He flinches. There’s another memory, somewhere in the back of his mind. It’s not of his father, but of someone else, dressed in fine red armor, striking him so hard that his cheekbone had shattered from the strength of the blow. He hadn’t ever forgotten; he had merely repressed it in a desperate attempt to make his memories fit what Ramsay told him was true, but these things are growing increasingly more difficult to ignore.

Paired with the moment he’s just relived, it feels as though the weight of the world is crashing down upon him. ]

Then what will be?