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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ The place is Ned's quarters, which are a Lord's efficient double-roomed suite; a small office and sitting area doored away from the bedroom proper. The chair is pulled out from the desk, but Ned was pacing when he heard the voice beyond the door.

He opened the heavy door without hesitation, eyes red-rimmed, his features creased into deep runnels of pain.

He doesn't need to ask. He sees it writ across their faces. Instead, he casts his arms open for a wordless embrace. ]

[ Its strange, how Arya wants to be around no one at all and yet, she needs the comfort of family upon hearing that her mother and brother are dead (she has yet to hear about her younger brothers). So it's with minimal dragging of her feet that she lets Jon take her to their lord father, mostly because she cannot be angry with him, there was no lie from him.

And when the door opens, her father opening his arms for an embrace, Arya feels her feet moving before her mind can catch up, her body moving to press into Ned's. No matter how much she's changed, how strong and stubborn she can be, she is suddenly a little, lost girl who just needs her daddy.]

[Jon hangs back, watching the floor while they embrace. He had thought that Lord Renly had spared him bringing the news of House Stark's ruin to his father, but he had not dared to ask how much that Ned had actually heard, their first night. He had been too disbelieving, too overjoyed to see his lord father living, breathing, with a head. Now, he thinks, he pays the price for that. Lord Renly had indeed spared him that fate, but it had cost him Arya's tears and his father's reddened eyes. The swell of guilt rolling around his gut like a storm cloud.]

Forgive me, [is all he manages, hoarsely. Because he had known, and he had said nothing.]

[ Eddard bent at the waist and pulled her to him, hugging perhaps harder than he meant to, a bone-creaking, bearlike embrace. He exhales a shuddering breath against her tawny hair; eyes shut tight against his pain.

Their pain.

It's Jon's voice that has him straightening, releasing his daughter a little, motioning for Jon to shut the door. ]

Did you know? Either of you?

[ Arya lets her father practically crush her into his arms, although a soft sound of agony leaves her lips that has nothing to do with his embrace. It is a surprise to her that Jon does not join the embrace but at the same time, she hadn't wanted the embrace herself until she was in it.

When he releases her a bit, she pulls back, quickly wiping away the tears that are not in her eyes. No, she isn't crying because only babies cry. At her father's question, she shakes her head, answering quickly and truthfully, barely glancing at Jon as if she'd just tattled on him and she was half-expecting him to get scolded for it.] No.

[Jon does shut the door, hand lingering on the handle even as his shoulders hunch slightly beneath the weight of the things he hadn't told either of them.] Aye, I did. [All of that, and more. What had happened to Winterfell, what had happened to the North, what had happened to all of Westeros...

He shakes his head and makes no more eye contact with either of them than Arya had, like he's expecting a scolding, himself. He's the Lord Commander of the Night's watch, he goes toe-to-toe with kings and men twice his age and thrice his intellect without shame, but standing in the entrance of his father's bedroom he feels like half a boy again.]

I had hoped... that Robb would show up, as you did. Or Bran, or Rickon. [Or the Lady Catelyn, though to Jon that was more a dread than a dream.] That it might make no matter. [But instead all they have are some Tyrells and the Baratheon who had left Ned alone to die in King's Landing.]

[ A very few thin, hot tears sluice over the grief-stricken runnels of his hard-carven face; but not unlike Arya he pays them no heed, but to dash at them with the knuckles of his worn hands. ]

It was my hope, too, Jon. And is still, even knowing...

If we can all be brought as we have been- plucked from strange times, even past death- then there is hope for that.

[ Uncertain to say if he's trying to convince himself or his children; but with them here, together, the dread inspired by that knowledge is heavier in him than even the grief. ]

It was treachery, that brought us so low. Treachery of the sort I mean to guard us from, henceforth. I... was a fool. A blind fool, and it is on me that responsibility for these many failures rests.

[ Arya doesn't pull back from her father's embrace, for once she lets the two men speak over her head, listening but unable to voice her words. She feels the heat of anger rise up inside of her, like bile, hatred and a need for revenge. And yet there is comfort in her father's words. She is almost too tired to keep fighting at the moment as she thinks of her brother and mother.]

No, it was them, [ Arya said bitterly.] The Lannisters--[ she spit the name, pulling back.] They did this. I saw them do it.

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

beautiful!!

:3

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sorry this was so long in coming, team! I had a super-busy... month.

<333 i forgot to track this thread