[ He lowers his eyes, not wishing to stare into this man’s terrifying gaze. Somewhere in his addled mind, a fragment of a faraway thought: he knows this man, but how can that be, when he doesn’t even know himself?
He shakes is head wildly, pushes his remaining fingers into his hair as though he hopes to block out the memories and the sight of a face that looks far too much like his own once did. ]
Please—I’m not meant to remember the wolves. He’ll be angry with me.
[ It was never the Starks anyway, he dares to think. This was never their way. ]
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He shakes is head wildly, pushes his remaining fingers into his hair as though he hopes to block out the memories and the sight of a face that looks far too much like his own once did. ]
Please—I’m not meant to remember the wolves. He’ll be angry with me.
[ It was never the Starks anyway, he dares to think. This was never their way. ]
That was never me. That was someone else.