Eddard ("Ned") Stark, MBE (winterishere) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-05-25 02:01:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, eddard stark |
Who: Ned Stark
What: Shenanigans in England
When: End of May
Where: York
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete
Time away from America was supposed to be good for them, and there was no denying that it was. England was home for Ned and though the estate and its 72 rooms were painfully silent, hollow and empty, this was where he belonged. If he listened closely enough, he could hear her laughter echoing off the stone walls as the winds whispered songs through the heavy curtains.
'Promise me, Ned.'
One of the first things he did was visit their graves. It was a fair walk away from the cold, desolate castle that the Starks had called home for centuries - far away enough to put out of mind every once in a while, yet close enough to remember all those who have gone before him.
There was a burial plot next to Lyanna Stark that was reserved for him, and there was a vast space beyond that were meant for his children, and his children's children. Stark was an old name and it was one that was meant to live on into eternity, but Ned had broken the tradition.
Standing there before his older brother's tombstone, he couldn't help but think back to those dreams and to Catelyn Tully who had been promised to him. It was not just the Stark legacy, then, that had been meant for Sir Brandon Stark. It was Catelyn Stark as well, and the children, and the happiness they have brought to Ned instead. It had all been meant for Brandon Stark and Eddard Stark deserved none of it - only he knew the true meaning of loneliness, one of the last surviving Starks standing there alone in the graveyard.
Cat would put him in the ground next to Lyanna Stark. He had made her promise, and though she did not put any stock into his prophetic dreams, she promised. And just as he had suffered the pains of the promise he had made to Lyanna Stark, Cat too would end up carrying this burden for him until the sword came for his neck.
'It's just a dream, Ned. It doesn't mean anything.'
She gave his shoulder a light squeeze and he turned around. She kissed away the pain and the guilt, the fear and the uncertainty in his eyes.
England was not her home but she seemed to have grown to like it. The housekeepers told her that they were noble, honourable people, the Starks - and she had no reason not to believe them. But perhaps, looking at Ned, she would wonder if the Starks all had the same sadness in their eyes.
Lady Stark had come by horse. She took Lord Stark's hand and led him back to the entrance of the cemetary, where the mare had been grazing by the gate. She never let go of Lord Stark's hand as they meandered along the stream, their castle always in view from the corners of their eyes.
By the stream she lay down in the grass, pulling him down with her. They disappeared from view but their laughter drove birds away from the nearby trees. He felt like a young boy again when she splashed the ice-cold water at him. When she unbuttoned and took his wet shirt off, combed her delicate fingers through his hair and pressed her lips against his, she rendered his dreams and his fate in them inconsequential.
Her nimble fingers made quick work of the belt buckle and the buttons, and he grinned and teased her, calling her Lady Stark like everyone else back at the estate did. In the end, it didn't matter whose life he was living as long as he lived it to the fullest.
He couldn't forget about the dreams. They haunted him at night when he failed to fight back the sleep and during the day when fatigue set in. He couldn't shake off the feeling of being drawn towards the cemetary. He couldn't change the story that had already been written for him, for Cat, for the children, for the Baratheons, the Lannisters, the Targaryens, the Arryns, the Greyjoys, and for everyone else whose lives somehow intertwined with the Starks. What he could do was kiss the back of Catelyn's hands in the morning and hold her in his arms at night, smile, and make promises that broke his heart to make them; promises he would do his best to keep until he withered to dust in English soil.