Hear me Roar - English version

CHAPTER 67 - Do you miss the Red Keep ?

               Since I accepted this title of queen, my life has changed. Let us be honest, even before the Long Night, in addition to being the Lady of Winterfell, it was public knowledge that I possessed magical abilities. Except now, everyone, from lords to soldiers, bows in my path. It is not unpleasant, but this overflow of politeness makes me uncomfortable.

               I do not want to become Cersei, who prefers to evoke fear rather than any other slightly more positive emotion. Nor do I want to be Daenerys, who, I am certain, did not wish to appear so unsympathetic. I feel, however, as though this aura became my shadow the moment Varys called me 'queen'.

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               Jaime and I are living an artificial romance. We find each other after my meetings, spend our nights together, all while knowing our relationship is destined to end. For he can lie to himself as much as he wants; his place is by Cersei's side and with their unborn child. I imagine I must remind him of it in some way.

               I don't hold it against him; one doesn't choose whom one loves. I've understood this despite myself over the years. And do not worry, my heart is not broken... again. No, I have no feelings for Jaime. Convincing myself of this thought, I leave Winterfell with Arrow.

               On my horse, I cross the plain separating the castle from the Wolfswood. After the Long Night, we burned all the corpses, including Robin's, awakened from his death by the Night King. However, given that I felt the need to have a place to gather my thoughts, I had a stone marker erected at the edge of the woods. Right where we had reunited after the hell of my marriage to Ramsay. Robin had waited for me with Brienne for weeks without ever losing hope.

               Once there, I take the time to tie the horse to a tree before kneeling before the monument in the snow beside my wolf. It is but a stone and a few flowers that I replace frequently, but it is better than nothing.

"He was in love with you all along," a voice says behind me.

               I recognize Arya. So, even though I do not startle, I remain thoroughly impressed by her discretion.

"What are you doing here?" I ask her.

"I see you come here every week."

               I prepare to fire back, to beg her to let me gather my thoughts alone, but she immediately speaks again.

"Sansa told me you never speak of him."

"There is nothing to say," I reply. "He died a year ago now."

"And in a year, you haven't found anyone to confide in?"

               Arya is but a less loquacity version of me who, when she finds her older sister, also finds the little girl she had to suffocate to survive.

"I spent my adolescence bickering with Theon," I recount, nostalgic. "He would sleep with prostitutes and then weep in my arms, telling me he loved me and that it was in his Ironborn nature. But when I wept, there was Robin. I was too foolish and self-centred back then to understand that he loved me."

               Arya settles against the tree beside me and runs her fingers through Arrow's fur. An attentive and silent ear that, I realize now, I needed.

"Later, when Joffrey died, I joined the Brotherhood Without Banners. And he was there, when I had thought him dead for years. It's foolish, I know, but I've never felt as safe as I did with him. I felt like I was back home."

               While speaking, I clear the snow from the gravestone.

"He was gentle with me, always ready to make me laugh. We didn't always have the same point of view, but compromises were easy. Whatever happened, he always took care of me."