eachdraidh | Honour & Duty - Voice

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Honour & Duty - Voice - Backdated July 26

Hail, folk of the shard. I am Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, a member of the company of Lancelot du Lac.

I mean to raise the alarm against an enemy of the Seelie in Caer Glaem, as Reynard the Fox, the Lord of Maupertius, has turned against us, and but a day ago sought to kill the members of this company. Avoid his lands and his banners, a red fox upon a black field! The Lord himself is deathless they say, and despite small stature possessed of great and terrible strength.

But also I call out to you now for another reason. We were given aide by another, Lord El-Melloi II, who may have been slain by the selfsame lord. I beg the help of any, whatever their banner, who might safely determine this for true: if finding it so, to inform this company, that I may parley for his body. If he lives still and is held prisoner, we will parley instead for his ransom.

Go with care.

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[ despair and relief dance a dizzying step on her nerves. an ear gone; her brother blooded; ser gendry hurt.

her voice is weak and little when she asks -- childishly, because in this she is still like a child. fearful for her father's wellbeing: ] But you will be fine, yes? You will heal. [ a piece of a head lost is better than to lose the whole head again.

her stomach twists. ]

We will heal, and be well, in time. Reynard's instruction served us better than he could guess.

But the others, Sansa, might benefit as much from hearing your voice as I. It is a balm, truly.

I will speak with them. I promise. [ ... ] And yet...

If what you suggest is true, Father -- I may never again speak with Lord El-Melloi.

[ that figuration of his name is odd on her tongue; she never uses it with waver himself. ]

You have spoken with him before?

[ The world never seems to stay solid, reliable, and predictable underfoot. His shock and surprise are both well-evident and genuine. ]

...Many times. [ confessions are harrowing things. they lift weight off her shoulders, but they make her feel vulnerable. at least it is no sin to be vulnerable before one's own father. ] He does some small favours for me.

I am most fervent in my hope that he isn't -- [ dead. ]

[ One more reason to redouble his efforts to rescue this man if he can. ]

He has been good to you, as well. [ The breath trickles out of him. ]

Keep hope, Sansa.

He...talks to me. He promises to warn me if it's likely Joffrey will ever ride from Caer Scima to -- [ to take painful vengeance on me. ] And he tells me things: whether certain people come or go.

I need him...[ she already grieves, but she is also still a young woman. still selfish. still eager to protect herself above all else. and she does not like to think of how uncertain the world will be without waver there to tell her of caer scima's workings. ]

[ And he'd unwittingly kept the company of such a man, and known him not. Shame adds itself to the various hurts which pang him still. ]

At what price, comes all this from him? And he tells you truly?

I intend to do the same for him, should someone of his acquaintance grace Caer Glaem's halls. But ultimately, I believe he seeks ties between the two courts.

[ and if he has survived! well, sansa fears such an announcement as this might out the lord for his sympathies. ] I cannot promise that I trust him. [ she trusts so few. ] But he deals fairly. Fairer than most.

I see.

[ Important to note. And then, slowly, the realization dawning upon him, her father muttered a low oath. ]

Ah! In haste, I thought...! [ Quickly, he adds, ] Ah, I'm a fool to name him so!

How best to salvage it for him, Sansa?

Edited 2014-07-27 16:35 (UTC)

[ he calls himself a fool; she aches to hear him speak to optimistically -- to talk as though the confidant and lord will doubtless reappear to reap the consequences of her father's honesty.

sansa sets her mouth into a line. she wraps her thoughts around the matter. she thinks on baelish's lessons. ] Even the Unseelie cannot fault one of their own for aiding a child. Lean on Arya's presence, Father. Stress it, if you must.

[ His tone goes faintly nasally; as it does when he's rubbing the bridge of his hawkish nose while he speaks. ]

Already done, to the one Unseelie who inquired after him. It seemed to turn the inquiry neatly enough.

...Good. I'm glad. [ sweet relief. and -- dare she think it! -- a hint of pride. ] You are a good man, Father. And I love you dearly. But for all our sakes, distance yourself from the Lord should he have survived.

If you must talk with him, talk in private. As you and I do. As he and I do.

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Honour & Duty - Voice - Backdated July 26

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