[ He recalls the way he had reacted when Jon told him of Robb’s death. He had laughed, long and loud and hysterical until it felt as though he might collapse with grief and guilt. He should have been there, he should have died alongside him, but instead he had foolishly been elsewhere, betraying the one person who had ever thought of him as a bother. He can see himself nearly cutting someone’s throat in such a fit, but— ]
Months.
[ Again, he lets out a short bark of laughter. More time lost to him, more places he’s supposedly been, more things he can’t recall. He thought he had finally accepted their uneven timelines, but he just can’t, not when so little else lines up for him.
Making eye contact nearly starts another wave of rage in him, but he merely narrows his eyes suspiciously and does as he’s told, holding out shaking hands to show all ten fingers. It’s a strange request, and he doesn’t know why he obeys, but his muddled thoughts find their way back to Asha’s words: You know their sigil. He does, and he saw Ramsay flay those boys—hadn’t he? How much of it was real, and how much of it was just a night terror? He’s been plagued by them for months, ever since killing those boys. They never seem to stop. ]
I never tried to cut your throat.
[ A pitiful attempt at an argument, and one he doesn’t seem to believe himself. His contradictions don’t bring him comfort. They’re merely an attempt (and a failure) to gain some control of the situation. ]
I MEAN I CAN IMAGINE IT BUT WE BOTH KNOW WHAT HAPPENED
Months.
[ Again, he lets out a short bark of laughter. More time lost to him, more places he’s supposedly been, more things he can’t recall. He thought he had finally accepted their uneven timelines, but he just can’t, not when so little else lines up for him.
Making eye contact nearly starts another wave of rage in him, but he merely narrows his eyes suspiciously and does as he’s told, holding out shaking hands to show all ten fingers. It’s a strange request, and he doesn’t know why he obeys, but his muddled thoughts find their way back to Asha’s words: You know their sigil. He does, and he saw Ramsay flay those boys—hadn’t he? How much of it was real, and how much of it was just a night terror? He’s been plagued by them for months, ever since killing those boys. They never seem to stop. ]
I never tried to cut your throat.
[ A pitiful attempt at an argument, and one he doesn’t seem to believe himself. His contradictions don’t bring him comfort. They’re merely an attempt (and a failure) to gain some control of the situation. ]
I didn't know Robb had died until I arrived here.