maskormenacelogs | Just a Normal Family Dinner - Closed to Family but Interruptable!

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Just a Normal Family Dinner - Closed to Family but Interruptable!

WHO: Ned Stark, Catelyn Stark, Jon Snow, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, and the plus one direwolves
WHERE: Jon's Tardis of a Farmhouse
WHEN: Now
WHAT: Just a family get together....with a twist!
WARNINGS: none that I know of, but it's Game of Thrones, so who knows what might happen

It had been longer than any of them likely wished to think of since they had all been gathered together. And though the children had no way of knowing, the parents had been plotting, and it was not only just a dinner. It was nothing like dining at Winterfell had been, and some of the food was a little strange to them. Still, Sansa's lemon cakes had made an appearance, and it all smelled good. All that remained was for everyone to crowd around the table, and dig in. Except...

Catelyn turned to Ned. "Isn't there something you wished to say first?"

~~Posting order as in the who above, unless ya'll would like changes? And anyone who'd like to swing by, current CR or just passing through, is welcome, but it might get crowded!~~

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"There is," he says, making his way to his feet. "Something that should have been said a long time ago."

For a moment, he just looks at them all gathered there, together again. The picture is not as complete as he would like. The smile he wears falters at the thought of Arya - here and then gone - and Bran and Rickon, and he prays that wherever they may be, they are safe and not alone.

Then he looks to Jon, and there his gaze lingers. "Jon... The last time we spoke before you left..." He has to pause for a moment to gather himself. Until now, until this strange place, the last time had truly been the last time. "The last time we spoke, I told you that you may not have my name, but you have my blood. Well..." He glances at Cat and his smile widens. "We've decided that it's time you had my name as well. You're not a Snow, Jon. You're a Stark."

And to think, this had all been Catelyn's idea. He's so full of pride - for her, for Jon, for all of them - that he could burst.

It was surreal for him to be seated at the table alongside Lady Stark and her children. Most of his life, he had been placed elsewhere, in the back of the dining hall where none would notice him. It was only in the Night's Watch that he had been surrounded by others that he called his "brothers" that he had that sense of belonging, though it didn't last long and was replaced with something darker. At Winterfell, so recently reclaimed, he had sat at the head of his father's table, sharing the sight that Lord Stark and Robb had known before him, staring across the expanse of bannermen swearing fealty.

To return from that to this world, where he felt out of place among the family, it was a strange contrast that left him uncertain of his welcome. Lady Stark didn't seem to begrudge his presence and his siblings made room for him, so he thought nothing of it. Not until his name was spoken aloud.

He could feel his stomach lurch at the mention of their conversation shortly before he went to the Wall. He promised to tell me about my mother. And for a moment, he thought that was what his father was going to say. Then all the rest toppled free, rushing about him in a blur, as rapid as his heartbeat.

He could feel his mouth go dry. The words he always wanted to hear before him, but...not earned or deserved. He had kept too many secrets, accepted something that wasn't his right. He'd concealed it all from them and the guilt weighted him down.

I don't care if he's a bastard, Ned Stark's blood runs through his veins. He's my king from this day until his last day...

"I can't." The words come before he can think better of them. "I wouldn't bring honor to your name, Lord Stark." He shouldn't have an oathbreaker and a liar in his family, no matter their blood. He wouldn't be Ramsay Bolton.

There is a smile on Robb's face when he hears his father's announcement, yet he notices that his mind tends to wander off to more worrisome things. Something has been off around him and he could not blame his family. They were back together and overly happy. Gods be good, he has been overly happy. Happy with Jon, happy with Sansa and his mother and father. And Theon as well.

But something feels off. And when Jon declines their father's offer the smile disappears and the look on his face changes into a frown.

"You cannot just decline such a thing, Jon." Robb knows he should not speak in his lord father's stead but the words leave his mouth even before he can properly overthink them.

It was easy enough to discern that there was something behind her parents gathering the children together for supper but Sansa couldn't put her finger on what it was. Sitting in her place, she waited until her mother turned to her father and asked if there was something he wanted to say at first.

Tilting her head to the side, Sansa's eyes flickered around the different faces at the table, gauging the different reactions to Ned's words until she heard Jon's protest. There was no hiding the surprise that caused her lashes to flicker as she turned to look at Jon while only half hearing Robb's reaction.

Frowning softly, she arched a brow with a far calmer expression. "Jon, what are you doing?"

This particular happy scene was incredibly short-lived, even by their standards. Of all the possible outcomes, Catelyn had not considered this one. For a moment, she is breathless with indignation, and in that moment, she is certain this has all been a huge mistake. Another moment, and she is angry enough to melt steel with a look. She clasps her hands together in her lap and digs her nails into her palms hard enough to draw blood, and fights for calm. When she looks up and around the table again, the flames of her anger are banked,still visible there in her eyes, but she is trying, so very much. "Jon, I had thought you would appreciate this chance." At odds with the fire in her veins, her tone is colder than than a winter's night. "We did not offer it so lightly." How dare he throw it back in their faces? How dare he say no to his father?

While the others speak, Ned stares at the boy and frowns. This was not, to say the least, the reaction he had been expecting. He is, like the rest, surprised, a bit indignant, perhaps even a touch insulted. After all, as Cat said, this decision had not been made lightly.

But beyond all that, he is curious. His greatest concern is not the fact that he has refused by why he has done so. For surely, there must be a reason.

"Jon..." he says gently. "What do you mean?"

I wouldn't bring honor to your name, Lord Stark. Why did he think that?

He hears the protests of his family around him, which only served to deepen his guilt and shame. This was what he wanted, more than anything he had wanted this all his life. All of my life I wanted to be 'Jon Stark'. When Stannis had offered it to him, he had refused the honor, not wanting to walk away from his vows. Now...he was turning it down because of those same vows he had broken.

He can hardly look at his father, keeping his gaze lowered as all the rest stared at him pointedly. He had always wondered what his father would make of his actions at the Wall and whether he would disapprove. At their last meeting, he had spoken about what a great honor it was to join the Nights Watch and how the Starks had guarded the Wall for generations. Whatever honor they had, it was tarnished by Jon's stay. The only comfort they might have was that his decisions were repaid by those that viewed him as a threat.

His hands tightened around his armrest, summoning what little courage he had. "I broke my vows." He admitted, forcing the words out. "-and I left the Night's Watch." He couldn't say the rest. He couldn't say why and how he survived. It was only when he felt Sansa's hand on his arm that he felt himself calm. He covered her hand with his, drawing strength from her.

Robb remains distant when Sansa puts her hand on Jon's arm.

"But you told me that the lords of the North gave their consent. Your vow ended, was it not?"

There is an obvious tone of anger in Robb's voice because all of this isn't adding up at all. It is something like patching a large hole with a piece of fabric that does not fit. And no, he does not want to be the one to stop supporting his brother.

Sansa swore that she could actually feel the chill coming from her mother when Jon finally spoke. Daring to glance sideways at Catelyn, the younger Stark bit the inside of her cheek while fighting back a familiar flare of panic that sometimes blossomed in the face of someone being angry. She calmly reminded herself that her parents, or anyone at the table, wasn't like Cersei or Joffrey. While they might disagree, no one was going to be beaten or humiliated. Still, she was curling her hands into fists under the table, her nails biting into the palms of her hand before she reached out to touch Jon's arm.

It was easy enough to guess why he was hesitating and she gave an inner sigh as she waited for a break in the conversation while her father and brother reacted as well.

"You didn't break your vows, Jon." Her voice was calm and even as she gave his arm a squeeze, hoping to draw his attention to her. "You told me yourself that they killed you. It makes sense that you were allowed to leave and to return home after you were brought back."

[ Cat listened as each spoke in turn, and though she was still furious, she was doing her best to keep the emotion in check. She began to feel mostly bewildered. Jon had not spoken of this to her, not unsurprisingly, and she had not thought to ask. She felt as though she was treading unknown waters, and it did not settle her frayed nerves. When she spoke again, her tone was measured, if a bit remote. ]

Perhaps you should tell all the story, Jon, and tell it true, and then let your father judge whether you still deserve the name you have been offered.

[ A trifle harsh, perhaps, yet she feels it the better option. ]

Ned is quiet in the wake of those words. I broke my vows. Still and quiet and calm. He isn't angry - not yet. He knows Jon well enough to know that there must have been some reason.

His expression remains neutral, if somewhat pensive, as he sits and listens while the other children speak. And then Sansa speaks those words - they killed you - and his blood runs cold.

He turns his gaze back to Jon, frowning deeply, nodding in response to Cat's suggestion. "Yes, I think that would be for the best," he says grimly. "Why don't you start at the beginning?"

He didn't know if he could fully explain, even at their insistence. Sansa's encouragement at least gave him the subtle push that he needed and managed to summon some of his courage. It wasn't something he ever wanted to discuss or think about, but always found his mind drawn back to. The feeling of those blades, the words 'for the Watch' jolting him from his sleep, the last image of the night's sky above him. They were things he would never forget, but the words made so much more present.

Without realizing it, his hand linked with Sansa's, holding fiercely to him as he stared across the table at nothing. "When I said the words, they placed me among the stewards. Lord Commander Mormont chose me so that he could groom me for command." Something that still brought him a measure of pride, even in knowing what the result would be. "He was killed beyond the Wall in a mutiny at Craster's Keep. I wasn't there, I was being held by the Wildlings, earning their trust so I could learn about their coming attack to Castle Black."

He swallowed. "I knew a woman then...Ygritte. I broke my vows with her." He pushed away the image of her that threatened to linger in his mind. "But I left and returned to the Wall. We fought the Wildlings and defeated them. After, the men voted me to become their Lord Commander. But I didn't focus our forces on the Wildlings. They weren't the real threat to Westeros. It's what walks beyond the Wall, the Coming Storm." He saw them, he knew. They might not believe him, but he knew the truth.

"Thousands of Wildlings were going to die and be raised again by...I don't know what he was. The Night King, he's called. I couldn't leave those men, women and children to die. I made an agreement with them. We'd let them pass through the Wall and settle in Westeros, but they would lend us aid against the dead. My men, my brothers, they thought I was betraying what we stood for."

His hold on Sansa tightened. "One night they told me that someone arrived in the courtyard with news of Benjen. When I went out to meet him, I was surrounded with six of my brothers. They-" another look to Sansa, "-they killed me. Six daggers, each of them saying 'for the Watch.' They left me in the snow." How fitting.

"After, I don't know what happened. I woke on my desk, I was brought back." Gods but it sounded like madness, but he lived it, experienced it. That madness was real. He had the proof of it scarred on his chest. "There was a Red Priestess. I don't know how she did it, but she raised me."

He couldn't tell them about dispensing justice or killing a boy no older than Bran. That was something he'd carry himself and keep weighted on his conscience. "After, I left. My Watch ended and I left for Winterfell." That was all. He couldn't manage the rest or what followed afterwards. His father would pass judgement and Jon would accept it. He failed both as a commander and as Ned Stark's son. He had no excuses or protests to offer, only the truth.

Jon tells a long story and Robb listens with great concentration. Jon’s refusal has been downright insulting and he wonders what has gotten into his brother. This is a big thing. Despite whatever happens in the future, it is big. And he tries to look at this the way his father would do. And he asks himself if he would’ve done the same. To parley with the Wildlings. To believe in White Walkers and their wights. And, to be fair, isn’t that what that deserted brother said? That the dead walked again?

But then Jon starts about how he died. And how some priestess got him back from the dead. And it sends chills down his spine. Not those comfortable ones.

“Are you one of them too? A wight?”

Jon really does not look dead. Jon also does not smell like the dead. Jon is just...Jon...with a more fantastic beard, that is...

Sansa wasn't sure that she understood how Jon could have been brought back either but she would rather see him returned to the world than someone who was cruel. It was definitely better him than Joffrey.

Tilting her head, she listened quietly as he told his story and tried to imagine how she would have handled herself in his position. She already knew too well how one could find themselves doing things that they might not have normally done. Also, could she really sentence a whole group of people to die? Whatever she would have done, she couldn't imagine how he had felt after being betrayed by those he served with. She knew it had to pain him more than he let on.

"Yes, and you reclaimed Winterfell for the Starks once more." Sansa's voice cut through the silence after Jon trailed off. She looked towards her parents, mostly to gauge their reactions to everything they were being told but also because she couldn't quite look at Jon in that moment.

Cat is struggling so much with all of this. On the one hand, she has put aside, with a lot of effort, years of bad feelings when it comes to Jon, and it is easy to be insulted and affronted. On the other hand, she is trying to be fair, and there is a lot to take in. She glances at each of the children in turn, and she includes Jon in that, and then, finally, turns her attention to Ned. She will take her cues from him.

"It is not such an easy decision to make, perhaps. But Jon....you should know, we have all made mistakes. And some of those cost us dearly. Even when made with the best of intentions."

She was speaking from experience, after all.

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Just a Normal Family Dinner - Closed to Family but Interruptable!

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