I need to draw all my favorite characters having a good CRY. Just a moment to fucking CRY. Ugly cry. Let it all OUT. Cause GOD FUCKING DAMN do a lot of them NEED THAT SHIT.
"He's sleeping." The ten year old hissed back, snuggling down into the blankets.
"Steff, I found cave in the forest!" Ned said loudly. Steff sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. His brother sat on the bed in front of him, grinning and fully dressed in what was probably the plainest clothing he had. He had a backpack sitting next to him, and was already chattering about the cave and their "supplies".
"So, I got some water, you know, in case we get thirsty. And some bread and cheese, in case we get hungry. Some dried meat, in case we run into something big. We can appease it. And an onion, so that Davos will be with us in spirit. A knife, in case we need to preform surgery. One of Mother's pillows, in case we need a hug. I wanted to bring one of Father's things, but I didn't know what." He looked at Steffon. "What do you think?"
"I think," the elder brother said through a jaw-cracking yawn. "That you should put all that stuff back and go to bed." Ned looked hopelessly disappointed.
"But Steeeeeeeeff!" He moaned. "It's a cave! A big cave! I went in a bit! It's not one of those lame caves that the grown-ups let us go in! It's a big one, the kind that you go in when you want to go on an adventure!" He was practically jumping on the bed with excitement.
Steffon had to admit. To his ten year old mind, it was very enticing. There were some caves that Mother and Father and Jon and Davos let them go into without much fuss, but they were, as his brother had so eloquently put it, lame. They'd always run in only to come back out utterly disappointed. Ned saw his brother begin to waver.
"There could be a bear in it!" He said quickly. "Or something." Steff frowned.
"That sounds dangerous, Ned." He said awkwardly. The nine year old looked at his brother almost pityingly.
"Of course it's dangerous, Steff," he said. "That's why it's called an adventure!"
2. Cloak
None of his family was there. That hurt, but it couldn't be helped.
She was different from the noblewomen that his father would have paired him with, with their jewels and fine dresses and fake smiles and fans. She didn't have any of the marks of a noble house of Westeros: no Florent ears or Tully cheekbones or Stark eyes or Lannister hair.
And that probably wasn't going over too well with everyone, but after thinking about it a bit, Ned realized he didn't much care. He wanted this woman and no other. With her thick dark mass of curls and simple dresses. That crook of her elbow that smelled faintly of cinnamon and the hands that weren't soft. The skin that was several shades darker than anything north of Dorne and softly accented voice that pronounced the vowels just a touch too broadly.
The laugh that dissolved into little hiccupy snorts and the absolutely shameless smile. The one that was bright and real, not simpering and coy. He wanted her to be with him in Storm's End, humming faintly as she walked through the halls, weaving just slightly. He wanted her simple honesty and cheerful outlook, her plain ways and her strength.
She was worth more than all the women in Westeros and all their jewels and any alliance that would have been brokered.
So he didn't feel a bit of regret when he placed the cloak about her shoulders and kissed her.
3. Crown
Eddard, despite fears from his father and elder brother, never felt particularly jealous of the crown on their heads. He was content with a sword and their family's ancestral home. They could keep King's Landing and the Iron Throne and everything that came with it. He didn't need to be a genius to see the crown was heavier than any lordship.
Once, when he was younger and stupider and curious, Eddard managed to be alone with the crown long enough to try it on. In hindsight, he should have probably thanked the gods that his father hadn't caught him, or the man's paranoia about a Robert-Renly repeat would have hit exponential levels. But it worked out that he simply put it on, and then took it back off.
It was uncomfortable, hard, and heavy. It hurt his neck, and he felt an incredible urge to push it back, off his head and onto the floor. In his young mind, he'd figured that this was why his father rarely smiled and seemed to be so irritable all the time. Who wouldn't be with that thing on his head?
Thinking back, he understood more than he knew. That crown represented everything their father would eventually push to Steffon. All the stress and fear, all the hard judgements and pragmatic decisions, with the added weight of every noble watching like a hawk for the moment where you stumble even slightly, so that they can yank the rug out from under your feet and send you and your family and everything you worked for crashing down around your years.
Ned would never want that. And he wondered why anyone would.
4. Happenstance
Steffon felt mildly horrified at how this tournament had gone. About halfway through, he'd decided that the gods hated him and wanted him to suffer.
He'd seen it coming from a mile away. One by one, the knights had fallen to his brother, which was great. And to Morrigan, which would have been just as great. But now...
Morrigan's horse pawed at the ground and across the way, Ned rolled his shoulder and readied his lance. Steff tried to keep the anxiety off his face. Around him, people cheered for one or the other, but mainly for his brother. His mother and siblings clapped enthusiastically, occasionally calling out encouragement. His father was as stoic and vaguely disapproving as ever.
Steffon didn't know who to cheer for and it was killing him.
Technically, he couldn't go wrong. No matter how it ended, unless one of them died in a freak accident, he'd be fine with the results. Eddard was his brother and Morrigan was... well. Morrigan. Maybe he was just predisposed towards stress.
The two rode towards each other, and Steffon found himself hissing over and over, too quietly for anyone but himself to hear, "notthefacenotthefacenotthefacenottheface..."
When Eddard went crashing to the ground, he couldn't decide whether to be sad or not. He had to fight to keep an absurdly large grin off his face and still didn't completely succeed.
