The eyes widened as his hands feel from his hair. The memories ebbing in as his name fell from her lips. Memories of her ruffling his hair, holding him in the rain and cheering for him while he rode in the Tourney all pouring back in that split moment. He felt dizzy.

Yet, the dizziness did not stop him. He shifted quickly from his knees to his feet. Kneeling he might have looked bigger, his arms certainly looked bigger, but he wasn't any taller than the boy she held in the rain. The angry broken boy solider was long gone to him. Buried along side the man who killed his father. The day his passions and desires died. An empty void had torn open inside of him, and the wise words of an old man told him to fill that void with anything. Become someone new and be reborn.

"Jo!" He called out again, and smiled widely. His heart thumping against his chest as so many things seemed to click. It wasn't a dream. Still, good things never lasted.

"Þú ert alvöru! Ég hélt þú værir draumur! Það hefur verið svo lengi!"

'The daughter was right, you do sound like your speaking in heathen curses.'