I’ve always thought- like, being huge and muscular, isn’t it uncomfortable? Look at that dude in Thor. Every time he crosses his arms, his biceps must get in the way. Not to mention hugging- must be like loving a trash compactor.
“Where would you go?”
It’s a simple enough question but he hasn’t the answer. Where had never been something that mattered. He simply went, wherever he ended. The places and the people always blended into one another, ever since Sara — well, ever since Sara.
Finally he settled for the roundabout approach. “Court is no life for me.”
“No, it isn’t,” she agrees earning her a look. Then the smile turns into herself, thoughtful, while she finds her hands very interesting. “It was no life for me either - a blacksmith’s daughter, a daughter of man condemned for the magic he neither used nor had. But here I stand.”
She looks up, eyes meeting his. Kind and resolute.
“Won’t you stand with me?”
“They don’t care about you here,” he says, without preamble or finesse. He was always ever blunt, but that was his way. It did her good these past few weeks. “Leave this godforsaken city.”
“You know I can’t,” she shakes her head, and even then the words seem hollow - much more than his.
“Can’t?” He echoes, “Or won’t?” Her thoughts turn to years ago, when the court physician was forced out to make way for that wicked Muirden. In life you always have a choice. Sometimes it’s easier to think that you don’t.
The Huntsman was giving her a choice. All she had to do was make it.