not w e a k....

    “Arya, I believe?” He knows it is. Though humors the situation       with the question, regardless. Brandon's sister. Though she looks       more like a boy than the girl he'd once seen in the hazy clutches of       his mind: Winterfell. “Or is it Arry?” He contradicts with the slightest       of grins beginning to tug beneath his skin as if it is really his skeleton       stretching like bone beneath taut elastic. “My name is Jojen Reed,”       he says simply, yet with a crisp deliverance alongside a calm tone.       “I've heard much about you, though I do think it best to keep our formal       introductions brief. At least for the moment.”

"Was it not?"  Newton wasn’t sure that he believed what his brother believed, in fact, he was absolutely certain of it. This life… This responsibility that  had been thrust upon Jojen— upon the both of them— was unfair, and unjust. Surely it was not a choice of a human, but a choice of the Gods to subject a young boy to such horrendous visions.  The first time it had happened, Newton had cried for an  age, having to be taken away from the scene of  Jojen twitching and grunting. He’d never wanted to see that again, but the fates were cruel to him as well. Protect your brother, their father had told him. Perhaps  it was unfair of him to resent Jojen a little for that. He  hadn’t asked for the visions, no more than Newton had  asked to be his companion, to be witness (and protector) to the seizure-induced visions. "The Raven could have very well left us alone.”

    Jojen was well aware of the strain he must place      on his brother. The burden he must carry for him as result,      how heavy his weight must be on his back. He was well      aware of his weakened ability to properly defend himself      with the blessing, nay, perhaps curse, that had fallen upon      his once ill and susceptible subconscious. Though he didn't      dwell on the fact. They kept moving. They were brothers.

   “You say that as if father intended it to be this way.      It wasn't his choice, you know. It wasn't anyone's choice.” 

          The boys walked in slow, leisurely strides, side by side           through wooded brush, seeming to be in the midst of a           discussion that warranted the sensibility in Jojen's tone to           be ever apparent. His stare was soft, caring, yet willing           reason as he looked on his brother with an intent gaze. He           did wonder on occasion if he resented him. Envied him for           his abilities and forced himself to stand by his side all these           years, to take care of him despite it all. Because the visions           took a toll. They were not without their price. And out of the           two of them, Newton was the elder brother, regardless of the           fact they had both shared the same womb. He was his protector.

                                         “A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies,”                                          said Jojen. “The man who never reads lives only                                          one.”                                                             selective & independent                                                             primarily G.O.T. canon