Work Text:
Who are you now?
“Who are you now?” The tree asks. Above in the North, beyond the ruins of the Wall.
The kneeling figure doesn’t answer. His features are chiseled sharp by frosty wind, he is grim like the eternal winter. He is different. More than Jon. And less.
“Who are you now?” The crisp leaves, falling down in a whirlwind, whisper. In the south where the green and warm summer has just faded into memory.
“Sansa.” Certainty burns in her voice. Certainty and sorrow. “People call me Alayne, but I’m Sansa. Sansa Stark.”
“Who are you now?” The bare branches growl. In the rumble of raging waves, on the island of horrors and miracles.
The boy remains quiet. His glance is wild; and he is snarling, baring his tiny human-teeth, fiercely.
“Who are you now?” The monster-mouth engraved into the white trunk hums. Far-far away, beyond the Narrow Sea.
“No one,” the girl says. The girl who has thousands of faces and names.
*
In the depth of the cave – buried and forgotten – the Seer repeats the words once more: “Who are you now?”
But even his thousands of eyes are not enough to find in this world to whom the question is directed.
“And you?” Meera sits between the bone-colored roots, those that creep the farthest, in the depth of the cave – buried and forgotten - just like him. “Who are you now?” She is sad.
The Seer is looking at her – with his real eyes. They are deep Tully-blue and more of his own than the others. He is looking at her, but he doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t know. He is different. More – much more – than Brandon Stark. And less.