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Post by Leona Redwyne on Oct 10, 2012 18:51:30 GMT -5
"A year. So it's not particularly long at all. I've never seen so much land in my life," she said. "It's strange. But I suppose you'd think it odd to see the Islands."
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Post by Amelia Royce on Oct 10, 2012 18:52:31 GMT -5
"I have never been there," Benjen said, shaking his head. "From where I hear it is mostly rocks and bad farmland. The Greyjoys do not sow after all." He chuckled. "But I don't need to tell you that."
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Post by Leona Redwyne on Oct 10, 2012 18:56:09 GMT -5
"Indeed not. We do have lots of rocks. The thralls and saltwives do all the hard work. We eat a lot of fish. It's not so bad, I suppose, but other places are more comfortable. The Islands are no place to look for comfort or an easy life."
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Post by Amelia Royce on Oct 10, 2012 18:57:31 GMT -5
"I doubt anyone will have made that mistake," Benjen joked, offering Reyna a chair before looking out of a window. "And what did they make of your polite manners on the Islands?"
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Post by Leona Redwyne on Oct 10, 2012 19:15:42 GMT -5
She seated herself with a smile.
"Most of them disapprove and say it doesn't befit someone Ironborn to have good manners, but I was especially trained to be the ambassador, and the role needs courtesy. It's no good our having an ambassador who will fight at the smallest provocation, is it?"
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Post by Amelia Royce on Oct 10, 2012 21:17:58 GMT -5
"Of course not, that would be a foolish appointment," Benjen said, laughing to himself. "Wine? Or perhaps do you prefer ale?" He shrugged. "In the North we enjoy our mead and strong beers."
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Post by Leona Redwyne on Oct 11, 2012 4:43:46 GMT -5
"Ale is fine," she said. "I do enjoy wine too, but ale is much more common in the Islands."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 11, 2012 22:05:34 GMT -5
///
A hand settles on Benjen's shoulder. "Son, we must go now."
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Post by Amelia Royce on Oct 11, 2012 22:07:07 GMT -5
Benjen does not turn around, his eyes still on the spot on the ground. "I made the wrong choice." The Prince's voice was quiet, empty.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 11, 2012 22:12:07 GMT -5
"That...doesn't matter, now. A king never makes a wrong decision. He makes a decision, and he lives with it." Terrence's voice is filled with sadness as well. "You have more of the Elder Gods in you than I do, son."
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Post by Amelia Royce on Oct 11, 2012 22:16:06 GMT -5
Benjen remains quiet for a long moment, his shoulders almost sagging. Finally he turns around, revealing a face that seemed to have aged over the last hour. "They'll come for us now... for me," He said, his voice a dull tone.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 11, 2012 22:22:03 GMT -5
"No, they won't. The realm's beauty died with Meghan Lannister; not its strength. They will talk about you, some in the shadows, the boldest to your face. They will say you killed her, that you failed the realm. But what they will never do is stand in your boots, and have to make the choice that you did. The Old Gods are speaking to us, son. They are saying that they need a Stark from the days of legend to guide us through whatever comes next, not a pretender to the name, a southron like me. And winter is coming." King Terrence's eyes are themselves bright with tears. "If it hasn't come already."
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Post by Amelia Royce on Oct 11, 2012 22:26:19 GMT -5
For a moment Benjen just stands there, eyes welling up. Then he envelopes his father in a hug, quietly letting his grief out. "I will not disappoint the North," He says quietly, uncaring about prying eyes.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 11, 2012 22:42:47 GMT -5
"Never, son. Never. Come now; it is time to go to the chambers."
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Post by Amelia Royce on Oct 11, 2012 22:45:03 GMT -5
"I still need a wife, father," Benjen said, stepping back. "Princess Nina Martell perhaps."
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