eastbound | [un: whitewolf] video (backdated to before current event)

[He is stalking, unable to sit still, his boots landing heavily in the soil, but when he arrives, he takes a moment to steady himself.]

I asked the Merchant for guidance when I had that box. He offered none. That was before he knew anyone had been killed — now, he loves us even less.

[Still, he glances at the offered hand, gives her a questioning look, then takes it between both of his own, patting it.]

Your concern is kind.

It does not surprise me. There are number of actions we have taken that likely do not sit well with him. I do not say this as a means to excuse his behavior, but there may be a difference between asking about the box and asking about Sansa.

[She gathered that he was confused by the gesture, but his formality after breaking his stoicism before was a disappointment.]

Do you think my concern is simple kindness?

[A momentary look of surprise, and a flicker of a frown.]

Is kindness simple?

I know that it isn’t easy for you to see me. You have my thanks.

The chances are good that she is simply gone. But if she isn’t…

[He shakes his head.]

I promised I would look after her. I owe it.

In this instance, kindness is simple. The curse is outweighed, I believe, by your pain.

I truly believe that she has returned home. Did she tell you where she is? Is she safe in Westeros?

[She noted he was still holding her hand and did not bother to let it go.]

[He is gently reeling. His grip on her hand tightens.]

Yes. No. There is a man looking after her who she thinks she can trust. She is wrong.

Back at home, before all this, she told me that only a fool would trust him. He will sell her into a marriage with a family that conspired to kill our brother Robb so that they might hold the North for the Lannisters. She doesn’t know any of that, and she wouldn’t listen when I tried to tell her to be wary - not to accept any marriages Lord Baelish tries to make for her. She thinks he has only her best interests at heart.

How can a young girl see so far? After how your father died, she must be eager to trust someone and believe she is safe. Perhaps in knowing or hearing the future here, some part of her might hold that information?

It is a weak answer to say hold hope, but it is better for your sanity. No matter what, she still lives.

I know why she looks to him. [His hands loosen on hers again. He still holds her hand, but he has grown momentarily cooler.]

But knowing that she does, knowing what will become of her — it isn’t easy. It is no comfort to think that she might go back to him.

We killed her husband, in the end. Not before he had killed our brother Rickon.

[Her hand aches a little from his earlier grip, but she makes no move to indicate this might be so. She is content to let her hold her hand.]

I am sorry. [She could understand why he was angry and miserable at his sister's disappearance. There was nothing she could say to ease his pain.

Only listen and hold his hand.]

You will see her again, though it is no comfort.

I will see her again unless I die here. Then she will be there, alone, never knowing why I haven’t returned.

She will think the Dragon Queen has done me some kind of harm.

[He sounds tired at all these prospects.]

She has Winterfell, men at arms. She has the support of the Vale. That’s something, but —

I promised that I would look after her. I failed.

You will not die.

[She was adamant about that. While she had failed him with the mirror, she would make amends for her mistakes. Whatever the curse was doing for her, it wouldn't stop her from keeping Jon safe.

She's silent, looking away at the mention of presumptions about her reputation.]

Do you think the Dragon Queen is capable of such a thing?

[She knew that being a Targaryen, she had a stigma naturally against her. It shouldn't sting, but it does a little. Westeros was her home and its people were her children.]

You have not failed. How can you stop magic?

[He shakes his head.]

No, but you must understand — no one wanted me to go. She feared for me. She fears for many things. It’s her nature, now.

[Holding her hand between his, he adds,]

Failure to stop magic is still failure. But you’re right — might be that I always would have. Might be that there is no other way.

This place makes me feel —

[Small. Inadequate. What little he can do in his own lands, he cannot do here. They only keep running east, and coming to these places where things are terribly wrong, even by the standards of their world.]

[It's a far cry from Quentyn Martell, sent by his father to attempt to win her hand or Cleon the Butcher, offering to set his wives for her. The situation isn't comparable, but knowing two who were desperate for an alliance and held no fear of her to another where his family feared for his life. It was a cold shock of what would come.

How far away was she truly from that dream of having her people smile as she rode by?

She pushed aside the personal sting and squeezed his hand.]

Small. [Almost as though she could read his thoughts.] I feel inadequate here often. The only constant is our journey, but only because that is all I have known. Moving from one place to another, having no control or means to help. I feel like I did when I was a child.

[A nod — agreement, but also, acknowledgement that she understands.]

Aye. Small.

I traveled with my father when I was a boy — around the North, this keep and that, sometimes places he would not take his trueborn son. I rode with the Free Folk, for a time. I rode all about the North when Sansa and I had no home. But it was never like this. Just a taste of it with the Free Folk, but not like this.

The ship we took to this place… that’s the closest I’ve seen to peace in this whole world.

If she is gone, if she is safe, I would be grateful. Grateful to see you safe, too, but —

[She envied that childhood he knew. The stigma of being a bastard was different in Westeros, she recognized that, but he knew his father and had a family. A home. It was a different thing to be so used to danger and threat that this world felt not so different than Essos.

She wished she could reassure him that Sansa was safe wherever she was. There was no real way to know, but faith was sometimes the best and only option. What else was there but panic and paranoia? She could offer thoughts as potential comfort. That Sansa might return? That he might follow soon?

There was no real way to know. She was powerless to truly comfort him, even as he expressed hope in her safety.]

Do the Old Gods hear prayers this far away from Westeros, do you think?

[He had almost said, “But I would miss you.”

And it is true: to be exiled from their world in this one all alone would be worse. To be nothing and no one; to never be able to speak of a place that anyone else he encountered had ever heard of. Even the Free Folks knew well who the Starks were. Even men in Essos must know of the Wall. For there to be someone here other than his sister who knows those things sometimes feels like a gift.

It’s better that he stopped himself.]

The Old Gods are in every tree and rock and river. But I don’t know if the gods here are the same gods. They are other trees, other rivers. Foul water.

Your blood though is of the First Men, those men that worshiped those gods. If you carry their blood, wouldn't the Old Gods follow you, even to this place?

[It was something she told herself deep down. Wherever she went, she had the blood of the dragon, the blood of her ancestors. There was some piece that would always be in her heart, no matter the distance and no matter how alone she felt, which was often.

She didn't know whether or not he had meant anything else in his earlier comment to her. There were times it seemed like he felt something for her and others that she thought she was mistaken. This time, it slipped her notice.]

If I thought that the Old Gods could see me here… sometimes I do, or I hope they do. Only hope. But if they can, I would have to wonder… have they found me wanting? Am I —

[He glances down, then makes a dismissive little gesture with his head.]

Well, of course I’m bloody cursed. In some other way, I mean.

This whole world seems cursed. But not everyone here can have offended their gods, whatever those gods are.

How could you be cursed? [She knows why he might believe that, but her experience with magic, life and death had given her a different perspective.] Not all that happens is a curse. Tragedy in this world does not mean the people have offended their gods, as I imagine the Others are not a sign of the gods of Westeros turning their back on us.

I was told that only death could pay for life. It is possible that all this death, all that is happening, might lead to something better. Life still comes out of this.

[They had a life, didn't they? Some sort of life here?]

You are no different than my dragons, my children. Born again by fire. There is some beauty in this magic, different from the Others.

[He gives her a tired look.]

Have you seen any reason to think that life is coming out of this? Or if it is, that it is life for the people of this world.

The lighthouse doesn’t have it anymore.

Did life come out of the first Long Night?

[She's well aware it's back, but wasn't that the first great threat to man?]

Living men did not fail in the first Long Night. Not in the end. Not if the stories are true.

[He hesitates.]

It’s hard to say what is and isn’t true. Do you know that story, the Last Hero?

We have not failed here yet. Jon Snow, that we are here means that the Merchant hasn't lost complete hope.

[She pokes his arm with her free hand.]

No, I cannot say I have heard it.

[He makes a gruff little noise: acknowledgement, not agreement. It remains to be seen whether the Merchant will aid them any further, and if he does, with what cheer.

The rest is easier to speak of, but still, he presses his lips together before starting, then licks them, unsure of where to begin.

At the beginning, he supposes.]

My old Nan, old nurse, she used to tell a tale of the first Long Night. It lasted a generation. An endless winter. Babies born and grew who lived their whole lives and never saw the sun. Snow as high as a castle tower. The only men in Westeros then were the First Men, and the White Walkers hunted them without pity or remorse. They do not stop — they do not ever stop, not even for a moment’s rest.

[He pauses, to be sure she’s kept up.]

[She had preferred the romantic stories and songs, all of chivalry and love, but this was fascinating as well. It brought to mind her dream long ago, but she listened patiently.]

I believe I saw or heard something of this part.

[It was the rest that she was a bit unsure of.]

[He nods.]

The First Men, you know it’s said they took the land, all the land, from the Children of the Forest. But the Children were still there, out in the woods. And after many years of this, one man sought their aid, their magic.

He set out with twelve companions, and his sword, his horse, his dog. Together, they searched for long years in all the forests, finding nothing. Not more death — the Others do not leave dead behind them. The man: his companions died, killed by giants and by wights. Then his horse, his dog… then his sword snapped in the cold — they do that, the Others, they shatter steel. Finally there was nothing but the man and the White Walkers on his trail.

He found the Children, or they found him. It must be. Otherwise the story wouldn’t be worth telling, and there might not be anyone left to tell it.

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