eachdraidh | CALLING A MEETING | LOCKED TO SEELIE

Lords, ladies, knights, and other honoured guests of the castle... I am Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, who joined your company as of the feast day which passed only days prior.

[ He looks a little haggard, dark circles grown under his clear eyes; but much improved from the worry-pinched figure who had spent much of the feast hunting for his family. ]

We have been brought from many disparate worlds for the purpose of this war, the War of the Shards; expected to cast our lots in the fighting at the behest of generous but poorly-evidenced monarchs. And the castle staff itself, while similarly generous and no doubt goodhearted, can offer us only so much information or direction. I have requisitioned the library and some of the attached study-rooms to hold a great conference of us, beginning at midday tomorrow. At this conference, I mean to make an accurate and detailed accounting of:

Our names, talents, and intentions regarding residence at the castle and regarding the war. It's my aim that all of this be made public knowledge, so that those of like mind can easier meet and plan with each other. Some of the study-rooms in the library will be marked for this purpose; for those wanting to remain in the castle but abstain in the war, those willing to make war all together, and also a room for those wanting to depart the castle.

[ He exhales a breath, frowning a little. ]

I've commissioned a clerk who I will be posted with at the door, who will record the information of those willing to give it as they enter. By no means is anyone obligated to breathe a word about themselves, or to attend. Those who desire a copy of the final manuscript may request one at their leisure.

For myself, I distrust this place and its people; what manner of monarchs call upon untested children, even girls, to battle in a war they have no stake in? Pulls them sleeping from their beds?

[ His jaw clenches, but he'll tamp back on the tirade in the interest of efficiency. ]

Having been brought to the castle in the manner as I have, am for a short while reliant upon its goodwill. Given our shared circumstance, I believe that there are none we can afford to trust as much as each other. So, if you're willing, I beg you attend, if only to add your name and intentions to the lists, that others who intend likewise may reach out to you-- and you to them. There are few men or beasts that live long or successfully relying only upon themselves.

Good day to you.

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[ Before she opens her locket to reply, she sneers, years of resentment bubbling over. Eddard Stark, speaking as a voice of reason and dispensing courtesy — how hollow it sounds to girl who has only associated him with callousness and cruelty for so long. In her eyes, he is not a wolf, but a dog. A vicious hound of Robert's.

Still, she suppresses her anger, her instinct to shout and threaten and burn. She must be guarded — cool as a queen ought to be. If she could stay her rage over Stannis and Renly, she could do the same for Ned Stark.

At least, until she returned to Essos. ]

[ After a deep breath, she opens the locket, regarding Ned coolly, though her tone possesses a disdainful undercurrent. Surely, her violet eyes and silver hair will be enough to give her away. ]

One must wonder if all would truly be welcome.

[ will he try to kill me, too? ]

[ His sight is poor enough that he cannot make out the finer details of her features in the locket; and the insinuation is clear enough that he starts a little to hear it.

His features pull into a vague suggestion of a frown. ]

All Seelie shardholders, yes. I would prefer if native loyalists to the castle defer against attending.

Why do you ask, Lady?

[ Oh, dear, must she spell it out? At least he isn't as bad as Jaime.

Well, there goes her flimsy attempt at diplomacy. ]

As I recall, you rode against my father, Aerys Targaryen — rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, did you not? And you abided the slaughter of his descendants, women and children alike. As I am the last of his line, it is only natural that I would worry for my safety in your presence, don't you think?

[ He freezes like a wolf in the wood, glimpsing another treading across the invisible lines dividing territories.

His eyes went hard and cold, but behind them rose a rush of guilt, and red memory... ]

I rode against the slayer of my father and my brother. Against a king who had broken his oaths to his bannermen.

I will not deny that great crimes were committed in that war. But war is an ugly thing. Which spreads and breeds yet more ugliness; where cruelty and malice are encouraged like weeds to flower in every nook and cranny in the hearts and deeds of men. I dealt with honour where I could, but I was only one man... and barely that, it seems, in hindsight.

And it is to war here that we have all been drawn. For a cause we know not, for a people we know not, in a land we know not. This council I mean to be held in utter peace, regardless of House or history. If you would come into it well-guarded, that is certainly your right, though if you would broker other reasonable terms, I would meet them.

[ His words suck the wind from her lungs, and she hates it — irrationally hates him all the more for it.

To hear whispers of her father's misdeeds is as destabilizing as ever. It fits, logically, but she refuses it all the same. My father must have been good. If she allows herself to think otherwise, her foundation crumbles, and she cannot look back. If she looks back, reevaluating her knowledge and choices, she will truly be lost. Worse still, is the guilt and regret playing on Eddard Stark's face, as though he is a weary man instead of a rabid dog. No, he must be a dog. To hate a man with no face (and no child) is so different than to face him now. She wishes she could dismiss him.

But she can't.

She must be strong and wise and just. Swallowing, she steels herself, blinking back frustrated tears before they expose her disquietude. ]

I will come with one of my dragons. [ one instead of three. That is a compromise. ] He'll not harm anyone unless unprovoked. And while it might frighten some, I cannot meet with a known traitor unprotected.

I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, and Breaker of Shackles in Slaver's Bay. In my war, I have protected all but those who would stand against me, and it is the same here. You need not worry that I bring with me the wars of Westeros.

I have no other terms. [ There is nothing he can offer me. ]

[ The cogs of his mind all stop at dragons.

Or very nearly so; he stares, and it takes a while for him to seem to catch up to to her terms, his already-lined brow furrowing further. ]

I'll honour the peace, Lady. I swear it on my name.

But... beg your pardon, dragon?

[ this is perhaps her favorite part of it all. the surprise she faces when she mentions her children. it softens her distress for the time being. ]

One of three. [ then, offhandedly. ] I am a Targaryen, after all.

CALLING A MEETING | LOCKED TO SEELIE | FORWARD TO 6/02

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