sixthiterationlogs | receive the horizon dawn’s golden glow; honor is among us, honor is all we know

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receive the horizon dawn’s golden glow; honor is among us, honor is all we know

WHO: Eddard Stark
WHERE: Fountain/Around the Village
WHEN: March 10, afternoon into early evening
OPEN TO: OTA (Separate thread for Sansa (continuation from TDM))
WARNINGS: Mention of death/execution (will update as needed)
STATUS: Yes

// Arrival - The Fountain //
The last thing Ned could remember was the chilling, screaming sound of approaching death as the executioner used his own weapon against him. After that -

He'd ended up here. Clawed his way out of the fountain, felt the press of hard earth against his back as he stared at a sky bluer than any he'd seen before. He'd thought he'd died, been transported to some sort of afterlife, but it would've been too good to be true. Instead, he'd found himself in a village, of sorts. There were similarities, to his beloved home of Winterfell, but also -

Differences.

His belabored breathing is mottled with violent, hacking coughs - many of which force water up from his lungs to saturate the ground beneath him. He rolls over onto his side, presses a palm to the ground, forces himself up onto his knees. As he brings the back of his hand to his mouth, he feels the strange tug of the fabric around his body -

It isn't the leather he's used to, nor does it even vaguely resemble his usual garments - the ones he'd loved and left behind up North: the furs, the pelts, leather delicately woven and dark as the frozen earth. Even the pieces he'd had to wear in the warmer King's Landing are missing. He then feels the tightness of straps against his shoulders, realizes he's carrying a satchel of some sort on his back. He thinks to remove it, to investigate, but first, he has to figure out how to answer a very pressing question:

Where in the Old Gods' names is he?

// Later - The Village //
He's determined to explore more of the town, now that he's forced himself to scout the area, taking advantage of the cover of a number of trees to finally bend a knee, investigate the contents of the strange satchel he'd arrived with. He'd also taken the opportunity to peel away the saturated clothing for the dry set he'd found - marvelling at how much quicker it was to dress as opposed to before with layer upon layer. Perhaps there's something to the simplicity of it all.

He tries to retrace his steps back towards the fountain or what he believes to be the center of the town, pack lazily slung over one shoulder, long tendrils of hair still dripping and soaking the shoulders of his shirt.

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"I'll take you there. Hopefully he and the girls are there because I know they would all be so excited to see you."

Jon carefully did not mention Ned's death again because he did not want his father to think on that, to think on the things he'd left undone. He did not want him to know just how House Stark had suffered these last years. He would have to know eventually, yes, but not now.

"And I them," Ned replies, voice sweet and bright. He gestures with his head for Jon to lead the way, intending to follow. "While we walk," he begins, "Will you tell me of what life has been like for you?" Something happy, something joyous, if there's anything of the sort to be had. Surely it can't all have been devastation and betrayal. "Were you still a man of the Night's Watch?"

Jon shook his head. He was no longer a man of the Watch, no longer sworn to protect the Realm against all who might assail her. No, he'd taken up the banners of House Stark again and had ridden on Winterfell. He'd become a Stark. How would he tell his lord father this, though?

"No, I wasn't. In order...in order to best serve House Stark and to keep Sansa safe, I had to end my Watch and become a man serving House Stark once again."

"You weren't?" Ned asks, the surprise and shock flavoring his tone. He exhales a breath - though whether it's one of disappointment, sadness, pride, or anger is unclear. Perhaps it a strange concoction of them all, in varying degrees. He falls silent for a long while, letting the gentle thud of their boots against the earth fill the silence between them. "You know that I don't take betraying oaths lightly," he finally begins, gaze somewhere straight ahead. "You vowed to be a brother of the Night's Watch, repeated sacred words thousands of years old, that you'd been expected to uphold." He comes to a halt, turning towards Jon with a sternness in his expression, betrayed by the softness underneath. "But if there were ever a reason for you to break them, to help you sister and our family would be it. Though I do hope the decision was not one made lightly."

How did he explain that he'd been murdered and brought back to life? That sort of sorcery was only ever described in crib tales and not thought to be real. Jon shrugged a bit and gave his father an apologetic look.

"I had to win Winterfell back and I had to ensure Sansa's safety. I know it's not right to be an oathbreaker but I was Sansa's brother before I was a brother of the Watch. I couldn't let her go back there."

"Take Winterfell back -- ?" His mind fogs for a moment, still lurking somewhere in the dungeons of King's Landing, before he remembers, eyes icing over. "The Boltons." There's no cloaking the disgust in his voice and tone as he practically spits out their name. He hesitates a moment before continues to walk.

"I need you to tell me everything about what happened." He recognized the hesitation in Jon's eyes when the subject had first been breached, but there's a sternness in his own when he looks at the man now from over his shoulder. "Especially if your sister was involved."

"The Boltons and Freys betrayed Robb," Jon explained, voice thick as he recounted the things that had happened during the War of Five Kings. "Robb declared for Northern independence after you were...executed and he was to marry a Frey girl. He didn't. He married someone else, so the Freys and Boltons threw their lots in with the Lannisters and had him murdered along with his wife and your lady wife."

Jon paused for a moment. He had no love for the Lady Catelyn but he knew that she'd been a good mother to her children and a good wife for his father. He could respect a great lady even if he hadn't liked her personally.

"Sansa was held captive in King's Landing. They married her to Tyrion Lannister. From what she's told me, the Imp never consummated that marriage so when he was accused of murdering Joffrey, Baelish took her away to the Eyrie and eventually took her north to marry Roose Bolton's bastard, Ramsay. Ramsay...Father, he did things to her that I can't even speak of. I don't know how she survived it. She doesn't know about it, so you can't speak to her of it. I don't know how this place works but people come from different eras, different times. Sansa is from before. She doesn't know. I've told her not to go to Winterfell, not to consent to marry. I've tried to protect her without telling her. I've kept it from her."

He paused again, this time trying to push through his own sorrow and anger to continue explaining why he'd done what he'd done.

"Sansa escaped Ramsay and came to me at Castle Black. He'd set dogs after her, had been hunting her down. I promised her that I would keep her safe, that I would do whatever I had to do to keep her safe. It was Sansa's idea to march on Winterfell, not mine. She wanted it back. She rallied the Northern lords. Ramsay sent a letter, said he'd...well, I can't say what it said. But Sansa could. She read it out loud for all of us to hear. She wasn't afraid. She said she'd die before she went back to him. She rode with me to treat with him and looked him in the eyes and told him that he'd die. She has a spine of steel, Father. She carried out the sentence herself. We took the castle back and they made me King in the North. That's all that happened before I came here and that's why I forsook my vows. I forsook them to protect Sansa. I would do it again and again if it meant she was safe. I know I'm not your trueborn son and that Lady Catelyn wouldn't want me to use the words of her house but Family, Duty and Honor mean something to Sansa and they mean something to me, too. It was my honor and my duty to take care of my family. She's all I have left."

He wants to latch onto something .. safe. Talk of Robb being betrothed to a Frey girl and betraying that promise to marry another, perhaps. Something clean, and clear-cut, and measurable in terms of promise, honor, and obligation. He wants to talk of the fact that he hadn't wanted to marry Catelyn Tully after the death of his brother, that he barely knew a thing about her when he'd seen her at their wedding. He wants to talk about how he'd gone through with it anyway, because it was expected of him, because it was tradition, because it had been the right thing to do. He wants to talk about how they'd grown to know each other, care for each other, respect each other, love each other despite being strangers at the start, that Robb could've experienced the same had he gone through with the marriage arranged for him. He wants to cling to talk of their family with stories that make the belly ache from too much laughter, make the heart burst from too much joy and adoration.

Anything, anything other than what Jon tells him about Sansa.

Ned is unable to force his feet forward another step, a sharp pain in his side echoed in the depth of his heart, as his breath hitches in his throat. Sansa married to a Lannister? To Tyrion, at that? (There's perhaps something selfishly grateful to hear of the death of Joffrey somewhere in the mix, but it's quickly quieted by the rest). Sansa married to Ramsay Snow? His hand goes to his stomach the more Jon continues retelling the tale; he knows he's brought this upon himself, that he'd asked for the complete story - but how could he have known?

How could he have known it would have been like this?

His other hand presses to his mouth, willing the bile and fury that keep bubbling up in his throat to stay inside, to stay sealed behind the tightness of his mouth and the pressure of his teeth. He feels like he might collapse under the weight of what befell his beloved Sansa, his daughter, his child.

He'll wrestle with the rage softly burning at the core of him later, reserve it for the Boltons, and the Lannisters, and even Robert for having dragged them all into the game they'd never wanted to play. For now, he seeks out the darkness of Jon's eyes, fumbles forward, and wraps the man up in a very tight embrace.

"You are as much a Stark as the rest of us. You remember what I told you? You may not have my name, but you have my blood. You are as much a Stark as the rest of us," he repeats, voice breaking with a rare burst of emotion. "Thank you, for protecting your sister. For fighting for our family." His arms tighten for a moment before he adds, "I'm very proud of you, Jon."

You may not have my name but you have my blood.

It was something that Jon had always wanted to hear as a boy, had always wanted to hold close to his heart and never let go. He wanted to be a Stark more than anything and hearing it now, hearing that his father considered him a Stark and not a Snow felt like a weight being lifted from him and replaced, instead, with a crown. It was a big thing, to be a Stark and to carry the honor and responsibility of that name.

"I will do the name honor, Father. I swear it. I'll never let anything happen to Sansa so long as I draw breath."

"You already have, Jon; do not doubt for a second that you already have," Eddard replies quietly, giving Jon's back another affectionate pat before releasing him. He holds his gaze for a few moments, wheels and cogs slowly turning behind the light of his own eyes. He exhales a sigh - heavy, long, crushed under the burden of a weight too great for one man to bear. "There is much for me to tell you," he adds. "Perhaps it is time for me to let the truth unravel at your feet. Your mother, do you still wish to know of her?"

"Aye, I want to know about her. I've always wanted to know who she was, where I came from," Jon said. He wanted to know what woman Ned Stark cared enough about to betray his lady wife for, cared enough about to keep secret for all these years.

"Please, Father?"

Ned's eyes flinch ever so slightly, his head nodding with severity and weight. He reaches out, places a hand on Jon's upper arm as he motions for them to continue walking.

"Allow me to settle, warm my bones," he says softly, glancing ahead, "And then - you and I, we will discuss your mother, as I promised to do that day on the King's Road." It felt like a dream, those memories - Jon, just a boy, determined and pining to take up the black with his uncle; Ned, unaware and naively following Robert to the pit of snakes. "This house of yours, where is it in relation to your siblings?"

"Far down the road, Father. I live quite a distance away from them," Jon admitted. It seemed wrong, somehow, to admit that to him now but there was nothing for it. That was where he lived and there was no changing it at the moment.

Perhaps at some later juncture he could live with Robb and his sisters again but until that point, he kept a separate residence.

"Your distance is not due to something they have done, is it? To make you settle so far from them?" Ned knows that the children all grew together, saw no difference between the lot of them regardless of whether their name ended with a Stark or a Snow. He knows Robb and the others considered Jon as much a brother as they had Bran, though they had also been painfully aware of the differences of the lives they would lead based on their name.

"Well, yes and no. I just sought to have my own residence since I had a woman I was fond of," Jon said, giving his father a tight smile. "And it wasn't proper to have her in the house with Sansa and Arya, so we have our own house a bit away."

How was he going to explain Ygritte to his father?

"A woman you were fond of?" Ned echoes, neck craning to look over at Jon. A part of him wonders whether oaths taken in previous lives would carry over to this new world, whether the tethers that bound one existence to another would be severed upon arrival. He thinks to remind Jon of the Night's Watch, the oath he swore to uphold - but then wrestles his tongue into submission, decides against it. "A woman you met here?"

"A woman I'd met back in Westeros," Jon said quietly. It was something that he wasn't exactly ashamed of, no, but he was afraid his father might be disappointed in him for breaking his vows. Then again, what he'd had with Ygritte had been special. Anyone could have seen that.

"She died but somehow this place brought her back to me. We were happy here for a time."

"You - You met her back home? Before you'd arrived here?" He presses the tip of his tongue to the back of his teeth, the familiar gurgling in his gut at the thought of the importance of vows, the weight of words sworn in oaths, and the promises made to his fellow man. But - at hearing the latter statement - Ned flattens his lips and furrows his brows. "For a time? Has happiness eluded you now?"

"She isn't here any longer," Jon said quietly. "She disappeared. That is something that can happen in this place. Just as you can suddenly appear and come through that fountain you can disappear too."

It was not something he'd wanted to explain this early on but it was an unfortunate part of living here.

Ned reaches a hand up, rests it firmly - but affectionately - on Jon's shoulder. He exhales a heavy breath, one that carries the weight of sympathy, understanding, and grief. Though he's yet to lose anyone here in this new life (Old Gods be good, he won't lose a soul), he is certainly no stranger to grief, to loss, to death, to abandonment. If he could have, he would have spared Jon and the others the painful lesson of the snuffing of life.

"I am sorry," he replies quietly, "Though I hope that, in time, you are able to remember her fondly and with less pain your heart."

"I do too, Father. It's hard to lose people over and over again," Jon admitted. "I feel like that is all we do now. We love and we lose. Sometimes I wonder if it is worth it to still love and to feel if we're just going to lose and feel that pain all over again."

"Such is the way of the life of a mortal, Jon," Ned replies softly. Hearing him speak with such darkness in his words, his heart, pains Ned to his core. Matters of emotion were never quite Ned's strong suit, always forced to hide behind the stoicism of the Stark name, but - given recent events, and the freshness of this wound, he decides to break his silence. "How else could we know to cherish and thank the Old Gods for what we have if we did not have the threat of losing them? If we were given people to have in our lives for eternity, we would never know how precious they are for we'd never have to fear the pain of their absence. Yet the mind cannot remember pain in its entirety, and so, we continue to care and love - because it is what drives us forward. It is what helps gives us purpose. You, your siblings, Cat - you all kept me alive, even in those final hours."

"You are alive here and now," Jon said, his voice breaking slightly. "In this place, the death and pain of Westeros cannot touch us. We are here together, we are a family again. I cling to that and I try not to think about the world as it was before. It's too painful to remember what it was like without you."

He'd lost so much - Robb, Bran and Rickon, Arya, his Father. All he had now was Sansa, in Westeros.

Jon's words do not surprise Ned per se, but there is a certain shock in hearing him so freely admit the pain he endured in Ned's absence. When he'd known the end was drawing near at the edge of his sword, he'd thought of his children; he'd thought of them all in a fraction of a breath - their births, the first time he'd held them in his arms, first steps, first words, the great events of their lives he'd never be able to share with them. But he'd known, or perhaps had needed to convince himself, that they would adapt in his absence. He worried for them only as much as a father or mother might, but - he trusted them to the Old Gods' protection, had hoped it would be enough.

"You need not remember that suffering, Jon," he replies quietly, "For as long as I can manage, I will not leave you again. I will endeavor to never inflict such a pain upon you - or your brothers and sisters - ever again."

"I cling to this place as much as I can and I am glad you're here, Father. I am glad you're here for me, for Robb, for Sansa and Arya. I hope that we can be a family in this place even though it is vastly different than anything we've ever known."

He had tried to be the strong one here, tried to help head the family along with Robb, but now that his father was here it felt like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

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receive the horizon dawn’s golden glow; honor is among us, honor is all we know

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