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fandomweekly2019-09-08 11:00 am
m_findlow) wrote in fandomweekly2019-09-08 11:00 am
Entry tags:
[#022] A CHANGE IN THE AIR (GAME OF THRONES - ASOIAF)
Theme Prompt: Theme Prompt: #22 - Changing seasons
Title: A change in the air
Fandom: Game of Thrones (A Song of Ice and Fire)
Rating/Warnings: PG
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1,000 words
Summary: Ned has a decision to make which will impact all of their futures.
The Valyrian steel blade of Ice sat heavily across Ned Stark's knees as he stared out over the still black water of the Godswood. Tiny tendrils of steam rose up off the water which was fed by vast underground springs, warm and comforting even on the coldest summer morning. The white steam drifted upwards, camouflaged by the ghostly white of the trees that formed the small woodland, until it reached their blood red leaves, disappearing into nothing as the gentle breeze carried it away. The Godswood had stood tall and proud against the years, never changing, always a place of comfort and reflection, where the old gods might hear a prayer and answer it.
Now though, everything seemed to be changing around Ned. He'd had fifteen years of relative stability and peace in Winterfell, which had not made him lazy or complacent, only living in the hope that he might enjoy another fifteen, or perhaps fifty. It was not to be, though. The letter from the King still sat in his pocket, its words seeping a chill into him. He knew of only one reason why the King would journey so far North to see him. In the wake of Jon Arryn's death, the King would need a new Hand to help him govern the realms, and who else would he turn to but his oldest friend.
In fifteen years Ned had only left Winterfell twice, both times against the wishes of his beloved wife Catelyn, and both times because duty had demanded it of him. Each time however he had brought back with him something that displeased her - in the first instance a baby boy he claimed was his son to a woman he would not speak about; the second to bring back another boy, nine years old this time, the only living son of his defeated enemy, to live with them as his ward. Catelyn found no love for either boy, and least especially for one who would shame her as the product of her husband's infidelity.
Ned wondered what trouble he might bring home this time, for there was no doubting he could refuse the King's request to become his new Hand, no matter what protestations Catelyn made. This was not a duty to fight for the realm to overthrow tyranny or to restore peace, but rather to keep holding together what had otherwise been fifteen years without bloodshed. King Robert was the willful sort, who wouldn't take kindly to any sort of refusal, but with Jon Arryn's hand firmly on the tiller, the Seven Kingdoms had held together. That task would now fall to Ned who had neither a love of politics nor a wish to be involved in them. It may well be that as Robert's new Hand, he might never return home, and that was a sobering thought.
He gripped the whetstone in his gloved hand and continued the long, slow strokes down the edge of the blade, honing the steel. Swords were still needed in the North as protection against Wildlings that slipped past the Night's Watch and survived the climb over the Wall. What dangers would he need to protect himself against in King's Landing? Thieves and cutthroats and rapists, most likely. Though the realm was at peace, the overcrowded capital would still be riddled with petty crime. How could he take his family there?
Yet he could not go alone. He'd been mulling over the decision all day. Catelyn of course would have to remain at Winterfell to rule in his name. His eldest son would eventually take that mantle, but Robb was only just come of age and still a summer lad. He would need time to learn all there was to know of ruling, and for that reason he had to remain as well. His eldest daughter was already overflowing with excitement at the forthcoming royal visit. She longed for the chance to visit the capital and would thrive there. His other daughter might finally give up her boyish tendencies once surrounded by the other girls and women at court, or so he hoped. Both girls should come with him, as should Bran, his second eldest son. He was unlikely to ever rule but could learn a great deal and might, with some luck, be a better player of politics than his father ever would.
Catelyn would hate him for it, leaving her with only Robb and their youngest son, a boy of four. Also there would be Jon, his bastard son, only a year younger than Robb, and Theon, his ward, who was already seventeen and would need to make a man of himself. They would be more than capable of keeping Catelyn safe in his absence, along with a compliment of his household guard. Winterfell was a fortress in a time of relative peace and prosperity. It could withstand his absence and that of half of his household.
Yet something else nagged at him. His repetitive motions came to a halt as a fleck of white landed on the back of his glove. Another settled on his knee and he looked up, witnessing the gentle sprinkle of snowflakes that maneuvered their way through the red leaves to come fluttering down. The words of House Stark gripped his heart with an icy foreboding. Winter is coming, and with that he recalled the rumours of strange goings on beyond the Wall. Things with eyes that glowed blue, that sent Night's Watchmen running in terror; increased numbers of Wildlings flooding southward. All just rumours of course, but unsettling nonetheless.
Was now the time to leave Winterfell just when summer seemed to be coming to an end? Was now the time to split his family in two, five hundred leagues apart? He knew the answer, much as he loathed it. He had a duty to the realm and his King. All of the Starks had a duty to their King. It was as inevitable as summer was to surrender to winter.
Title: A change in the air
Fandom: Game of Thrones (A Song of Ice and Fire)
Rating/Warnings: PG
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1,000 words
Summary: Ned has a decision to make which will impact all of their futures.
The Valyrian steel blade of Ice sat heavily across Ned Stark's knees as he stared out over the still black water of the Godswood. Tiny tendrils of steam rose up off the water which was fed by vast underground springs, warm and comforting even on the coldest summer morning. The white steam drifted upwards, camouflaged by the ghostly white of the trees that formed the small woodland, until it reached their blood red leaves, disappearing into nothing as the gentle breeze carried it away. The Godswood had stood tall and proud against the years, never changing, always a place of comfort and reflection, where the old gods might hear a prayer and answer it.
Now though, everything seemed to be changing around Ned. He'd had fifteen years of relative stability and peace in Winterfell, which had not made him lazy or complacent, only living in the hope that he might enjoy another fifteen, or perhaps fifty. It was not to be, though. The letter from the King still sat in his pocket, its words seeping a chill into him. He knew of only one reason why the King would journey so far North to see him. In the wake of Jon Arryn's death, the King would need a new Hand to help him govern the realms, and who else would he turn to but his oldest friend.
In fifteen years Ned had only left Winterfell twice, both times against the wishes of his beloved wife Catelyn, and both times because duty had demanded it of him. Each time however he had brought back with him something that displeased her - in the first instance a baby boy he claimed was his son to a woman he would not speak about; the second to bring back another boy, nine years old this time, the only living son of his defeated enemy, to live with them as his ward. Catelyn found no love for either boy, and least especially for one who would shame her as the product of her husband's infidelity.
Ned wondered what trouble he might bring home this time, for there was no doubting he could refuse the King's request to become his new Hand, no matter what protestations Catelyn made. This was not a duty to fight for the realm to overthrow tyranny or to restore peace, but rather to keep holding together what had otherwise been fifteen years without bloodshed. King Robert was the willful sort, who wouldn't take kindly to any sort of refusal, but with Jon Arryn's hand firmly on the tiller, the Seven Kingdoms had held together. That task would now fall to Ned who had neither a love of politics nor a wish to be involved in them. It may well be that as Robert's new Hand, he might never return home, and that was a sobering thought.
He gripped the whetstone in his gloved hand and continued the long, slow strokes down the edge of the blade, honing the steel. Swords were still needed in the North as protection against Wildlings that slipped past the Night's Watch and survived the climb over the Wall. What dangers would he need to protect himself against in King's Landing? Thieves and cutthroats and rapists, most likely. Though the realm was at peace, the overcrowded capital would still be riddled with petty crime. How could he take his family there?
Yet he could not go alone. He'd been mulling over the decision all day. Catelyn of course would have to remain at Winterfell to rule in his name. His eldest son would eventually take that mantle, but Robb was only just come of age and still a summer lad. He would need time to learn all there was to know of ruling, and for that reason he had to remain as well. His eldest daughter was already overflowing with excitement at the forthcoming royal visit. She longed for the chance to visit the capital and would thrive there. His other daughter might finally give up her boyish tendencies once surrounded by the other girls and women at court, or so he hoped. Both girls should come with him, as should Bran, his second eldest son. He was unlikely to ever rule but could learn a great deal and might, with some luck, be a better player of politics than his father ever would.
Catelyn would hate him for it, leaving her with only Robb and their youngest son, a boy of four. Also there would be Jon, his bastard son, only a year younger than Robb, and Theon, his ward, who was already seventeen and would need to make a man of himself. They would be more than capable of keeping Catelyn safe in his absence, along with a compliment of his household guard. Winterfell was a fortress in a time of relative peace and prosperity. It could withstand his absence and that of half of his household.
Yet something else nagged at him. His repetitive motions came to a halt as a fleck of white landed on the back of his glove. Another settled on his knee and he looked up, witnessing the gentle sprinkle of snowflakes that maneuvered their way through the red leaves to come fluttering down. The words of House Stark gripped his heart with an icy foreboding. Winter is coming, and with that he recalled the rumours of strange goings on beyond the Wall. Things with eyes that glowed blue, that sent Night's Watchmen running in terror; increased numbers of Wildlings flooding southward. All just rumours of course, but unsettling nonetheless.
Was now the time to leave Winterfell just when summer seemed to be coming to an end? Was now the time to split his family in two, five hundred leagues apart? He knew the answer, much as he loathed it. He had a duty to the realm and his King. All of the Starks had a duty to their King. It was as inevitable as summer was to surrender to winter.
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