@greyjoytm says ❝ i imagine that no matter what you tell me or tell yourself, you’ll ultimately die fighting these bastards. ❞ ( x )
" YOU IMAGINE MY DEATH ? YOU ? MY OWN SWEET SISTER ? " oh - the drama of it all . entirely exaggerated and not to be taken serious in the slightest , yet the spontaneous clutch of his chest , right above the allegedly broken heart , has a touch of comedy to it . habit carried over from the days of their childhood , when an ever protective brother shielded the little ones from life's harsh truths by coating it in light - hearted lies and fun . these days , with adulthood holding them both tight in a cruel grasp , Maron is no longer sure whether the charade is for Asha's sake still , or merely serves his own refusal to look at reality . he can afford it now . here . when it's just the two of them with no other eyes or ears around ; solitude that allows him to discard the perfectly crafted facade of the prince that knows everything . that is capable of everything . that allows him to merely be an older brother . and to ignore the very real concern etched into his sister's remark .
" plunge the knife into my heart yourself , why don't you ? " benign challenge in his eyes , while a cocky smile pulls at his lips .
he stops before her on his way to the nearest decanter , and idly taps the tip of her nose with the hilt of a dagger produced from his belt . Maron has no doubt she wouldn't let him hear the end of it ; dragging the concern back to the surface with a relentlessness she could have only inherited from their father , and mentally steadies himself against the anticipated onslaught of doubts and fears . when had Asha grown up from the gullible little girl into his biggest critic ? loving and supportive , yes , but by god : exhausting . sometime in the past ten years you've missed , whispers a cruel little voice in the back of his head , and Maron is quick to shush it .
" they're crannogmen . " funny , how much dismissal can carry in a voice . he might as well have said the word fairy and wouldn't have sounded any different . " do you know why they use poisoned arrows in battle ? " he waits a moment , brows arched , bravely withstanding the glare Asha offers him from eyes just as bright blue as his own. " so nobody notices they're stuck to their knees in mud . " and Maron pushes past her with a light cackle on his lips and every good intention to suppress the gooseflesh caused by the mere thought of Moat Cailin slowly drowning in the foggy waters of the marshes up North , ready to swallow him and his men in an everlasting , bleak darkness . . . what a lovely future his father has laid out for him.
