nysalogs | ( semi-closed )

[ In the lull that follows the onset of a family conflict, there's Edmund picking up the strange device and typing letters into the screen, likened to typewriters that would have been more familiar had Edmund be granted the chance to stay a little bit longer, in England. Though he feels compelled through his very nature to help mediate between two lords with a bitter past, they are not his people, nor are they his friends just yet. Reaching out to become acquaintances is one thing; insinuating himself into the family drama is another.

But the fighting won't stop until someone bends, through wisdom or resignation, or is broken forcefully — a fact he knows through an experience he'd rather not repeat to others. He's learned, too, that during the time he's spent resenting his siblings when they were young children, the one thing he truly wished at the time for was a person to just listen, for once.

So during a peaceful interlude, Edmund reaches out. ]

the offer stands, theon greyjoy.

house #32.

[ It’s the lull in conflict that causes Theon to feel discontent. At least when he and Robb are arguing, they’re speaking to one another. There’s noise, there’s distractions, there’s something to focus on. Otherwise, it’s nothing but silence, both of them rejecting Nakatsu’s attempts to help, and the sinking emptiness in the pit of Theon’s stomach.

It’s difficult to ignore the years of friendship that have been burned to the ground in one fell swoop. It’s difficult to remember that they aren’t two boys with wooden swords any longer. It’s harder yet to accept that there’s no way to repair what’s been done.

When Edmund reaches out, Theon accepts, just to have something to ignore that feeling. He arrives without responding first, voice hoarse and eyes dark from poor sleep. ]

I hope you meant it truly.

I don't make a habit of lying, [ says a just king, ] unless you would prefer that.

[ He steps aside and lets him in, taking in the darkness in his eyes, the gloomy appearance that suggests a fitful, or even a lack of, sleep. Edmund can be familiar with the look, though not exactly the particular circumstance he's be placed in. He leads the way to the small kitchen, where a pot of freshly brewed tea is waiting for them. Just in time. He sets about pouring it into two cups, while gesturing for Theon to sit on the closest chair. ]

As luck would have it, my roommates are not around. The house is ours for the time being.

[ Just as well, because he doesn't believe it would be a good idea to subject Theon Greyjoy to the likes of Daenerys Targaryen in person, when they've already crossed paths plenty of times on the network their esteemed Orbiter friends provided for them. ]

Here. It's just tea.

[ Chamomile and lavender, with leaves he plucked from the woods, during the time they'd been outside of the city searching and hunting, a soothing combination to most. ]

[ Sometimes, Theon wonders if he wouldn’t prefer a lie. A well-constructed lie can be easier to swallow than a hard truth, and he’s lied to himself many times to soften the blow of difficult situations. His entire adult life may very well be one of those lies.

Luckily, this isn’t one of those situations. He’s pleased to be away from the silence and his own thoughts, even if it means he’ll need to return soon enough. ]

I thought I’d driven them away.

[ He smirks, a little too easily as he follows Edmund through and takes the offered seat. ]

From what I’ve heard, people seem to believe that our voices have never been below a shout.

[ Which may have been true for the past few days, but they finally seem to be quieting down now. Currently, their voices won’t even allow them to reach the volume level they were at before.

Theon has a touch of paranoia these days, and despite how well he and Edmund have gotten along, his smirk wavers slightly with hesitation when the tea is set before him. ]

What’s in it?

Was it really an exaggeration?

[ Because from what he's seeing, just through the network alone, it might not even be just that. But fights are inevitable, he supposes, in situations like that — situations that Edmund and the rest of the population would not have known anything about if they didn't feel so passionately about it.

Besides, Theon's hoarse voice might be more telling than anything. ]

Just tea leaves, steeped in hot water. A favored drink, where I'm from, though it might taste weird and bitter to you.

[ And easy answer, bellied by his own sip of the drink. ]

Clearly.

[ His smirk merely widens, but his eyes remain a cold and difficult read. There’s really nothing funny about the situation, and he knows it. He and Robb disturbed neighbors, forced Sansa and Jon from the room, and made their very personal issues far too public, all because they’re both too stubborn to discuss it in a private and civil manner. It can’t be helped now, though. It's out there.

Deciding he does trust Edmund enough not to poison him, he gives the tea a sip. If he finds it either odd or bitter, he makes no complaints. He’s had worse, and the hot liquid helps to soothe his throat in a way alcohol certainly wouldn’t. Politely, he nods his thanks in Edmund’s direction. Thanks for not killing him, bro. ]

I might tell you I've had worse arguments, but this one really has been the real winner. It seems we’ve gotten everyone invested.

[ Not by choice, obviously. ]

That always seems to be the case when it involves [ family, he could have said, and he can only wonder what Theon would have told him, if he said that instead of, ] old friends.

[ There's no winning or losing in their situation. There's only a deep hurt that will fester until both sides of the story are told and heard. One continues to bury his resentment through terrible, standoffish attitude and cutting remarks meant to hurt. The other continues to linger in a cesspool of bad feelings, thought of love and betrayal warring in his head, undecided when it comes to pushing for answers and pushing away.

It's an old song, and one that Edmund is familiar with, although he can't say that things have ever been this drastic between him and Peter. Peter is the older brother, high and mighty, while Edmund is the younger, green with envy. They clashed constantly until Edmund made the wrong choice, but the difference is stark between Robb and Peter: Peter forgave him, long before Edmund even thought to ask for it.

He supposes, of course, that the circumstances are vastly different. They'd been lucky, that Aslan was there to guide them all. ]

Do you wish to talk about it?

[ Like the last time they spoke, he won't push. ]

He’s angry with me, and his siblings are angry with me in turn.

[ At long last, Theon’s facade hits a stumble. Although he punctuates his words with a soft chuckle, it’s halfhearted as something sparks behind his eyes. It’s something faint and restrained behind the shades that he keeps drawn so tightly, but it’s there, and it’s visible. Perhaps it’s regret, or perhaps it’s just plain hurt. Robb won’t speak to him on the matter, not beyond their bickering. No wish of yours will I grant. Those had been his words when Theon requested to speak more privately. As far as he’s concerned, their argument is out there for the world to see and hear, and anyone can draw their own conclusions.]

What else is there to say on the matter?

[ Edmund was once told that there are many stories, and you are not told any story but your own. Robb's story, his siblings' stories, and the part that Theon plays in it: they are one and the same, and yet different people will see different things, know different parts of the story. If only they could share it with each other, and perhaps there would be room to heal.

Though, on the off-chance that it isn't meant to be, it will be a hell of a thing to keep to yourself all these years. ]

Obviously more than you want to say to me.

[ Edmund shows him a small quirk of his lips. ]

I imagine that you would have wished to express it, if King Robb would only listen, with his anger and stubbornness opposing yours.

[ In his frustration, Theon drains his cup, desperately wishing it were something stronger. It isn’t hot enough to scald his throat, but it is hot enough to make for an uncomfortable experience going down his already sore throat. Good enough, really, to keep his emotions from getting out of hand. His eyebrows knit together, and that’s the only true shift in his expression. ]

His Grace won’t listen.

[ It’s very telling, though, how easy it is for Theon to continue to call Robb by such a respectful title with no mockery in his tone. ]

There are truths he needs to know, but will not hear them. He thinks me a liar, when in truth he's offered me no opportunity to explain.

[ No, Edmund thinks, he suppose he would not. He cannot imagine that it's like to be on the other side, betrayed by a brother, left alone to deal with the aftermath of it. Whatever the aftermath had been. Edmund understands that the crime is greater than what he could ever imagine, that perhaps Robb is not in the wrong to turn away from an explanation that he does not want to hear. The judgment is not his to pass or condemn — he is an outsider looking in.

Looking at Theon, Edmund can see a traitor, attempting to mend and not being given a chance to, if he has any right to it. ]

Perhaps it isn't as though he has given you no opportunity, simply that he needs time and space to heal.

So do you, I think. [ He finishes his own cup, and pours another for them both without asking. ] Forgiving is not so easy to do, especially to yourself.

[ They're neighbors, but Tina keeps to herself. Even within her own own small flat she at best only returns to sleep and even then doesn't seem too comfortable. Having another wizard in the house helps, marginally, but there's an awkward space even there. Especially knowing that he may have an understanding of her future that hasn't come to pass.

She spends most of her time out investigating the city they're now in-- Never quite settling and not really saying much to anyone. She should try more, she thinks, to be out there but she's always kept to her work, her sister, her home. And she's anxious and lost without it.

Of course, there is one person out there that she does trust and worry for.

Though they seem to have regular messages on the devices now it's not the same (well more like he's now messaging her about the creatures he finds). Especially knowing that he lives with one of the people apparently in the earlier argument on the network. She worries and it's that which leads her to dragging her feat over to the next door--

She knows Newt is not usually home, much the same way as herself, so he's probably not now and perhaps in some ways it's better that way. So when she knocks she ignores anything else and concentrates on the fact she's a friend coming up to check on someone.]

[ There has been an uptick in visitors lately, of their own design it seems, inviting people they know left and right, opening their home to all sorts of strangers and friends. Not that any of them would mind in the least — except perhaps Daenerys, on the subject of other magic users in their presence when she can barely stand to be in the same room as Newt.

But besides that, everything seems to be just fine.

Neither of his roommates are there today, so Edmund has the house all to himself. He didn't necessarily invite anyone to join him, which is why the knock on the door makes him curious. He goes and greets the person outside with a friendly smile. ]

Good morning.

[ She's certainly not one to make housecalls and it shows in the way she stiffens slightly when the door opens. Not Newt that answers the door, a circumstance that remains unsurprising, and she lets out a breath and a nod in response. ]

Good morning. [ The response sounds strange even to her as she tucks an unruly strand of hair away before plundering on:] Don't suppose Mr. Scamander is actually in, is he?

[At least she tries for some lightness there.]

He is not, unfortunately.

[ Edmund's response is appropriately apologetic, but he brightens a little more — recognition, in a sense. Remember a conversation he's had with Newt, just a few days ago. ]

You're the friend he's talked about.

[For a second she nods, it's an answer she anticipates. Newt Scamander and staying put for any marginal length of time doesn't really go together. It's the second part she doesn't expect and makes her stop:]

What?

[If she colors slightly, well, it's to be expected-- She hardly expects him to bring her up to others, even housemates. Especially not in light of expectations of any visits and she tucks the surprise away before answering:] I'm Tina Goldstein. Newt and I met a short while before awaking on the station.

[She? Might be somewhat proud he actually called her a friend, hm, but she is offering her hand at least.]

Yes, he's mentioned you.

[ Not by name, but. He figures, seeing as Newt has only mentioned the one friend — that while there are others from his world, those relationships are far more complex than this one, apparently. Anyway, he shakes the offered hand. ]

Edmund Pevensie. Would you like to come inside in the meantime We have tea. [ After a beat, as an afterthought, lips quirking, ] Or coffee.

[ He doesn't remember much about Americans in general, but he knows that they don't like tea as much as the English do. He and Newt did made sure to stock up on tea in the house, but there's coffee in there somewhere, in case of visitors. ]

[Hopefully not about her arresting him once. Maybe. She glances at the man in surprise, before shaking her head fingers going to tuck her hair away as she answers.]

I wouldn't want to intrude; I wasn't much expecting him to be in as it were. [She responds quickly, a breath of a laugh.] Hasn't been causing much trouble, has he?

[ Ah, what a question. ]

Not causing it, no, though I'd believe it if you say that he's the kind of person trouble follows wherever he goes. [ Edmund glances off to the side in a quick second, thinking. It's best not to mention Daenerys. ] He's been plenty nice to us, his housemates. The more we speak, the more similar we find ourselves to be. There's common ground in our love of creatures.

[Well, it's one thing she has in common at least, so she doesn't look too surprised. More, resigned, given the circumstances and nods her head just slightly.]

You'll certainly be his favorite person if you wanna talk about that, believe me there. [She answers it quickly, voice softening some as she continues on:] He's a bit like that. Getting into trouble, made plenty for us in New York, but-- Well.

He's really not so bad, good intentions. Mostly.

[That's... Maybe she should stop saying things that make her a little sheepish given she shakes her head.] Though I won't be surprised if he tries to bring a creature back soon.

[ His lips quirk upwards. ]

What's life without a little trouble? I daresay we'd get along swimmingly. I might just race him, when it comes to bringing home creatures.

[ It's not a threat or anything, or even a joke — just a statement of the fact. It will happen. And if they're twice as lucky, Daenerys will find a way to get her dragons out and they'll have those for company. ]

How long have you known him, if I may ask?

Not you too. [She huffs a breath, the lines around her lips forming a firmer line as she glances the male over. Seemingly unassuming, probably a no-maj all the same-- Not that she knows, but she certainly knows looks can be deceiving.]

Listen here. [She points a finger at the next house before adding in:] I live there and if I find any creatures breaking through the walls or something I'm not above apprehending you myself. Just ask Newt.

[Because goodness does she not look forward to creatures barging into her home unannounced or, worse, terrorizing the city. But it's his next question that makes her stumble slightly before heaving a sigh.]

Bit difficult an answer, honestly. Newt said he remembers up to the point he left in New York, so a week. I got a couple more months of work on him, but seeing as he was in England it was really only letters. You can say circumstances made us have to get along pretty fast.

[That's an understatement.]

Edited 2017-08-16 04:03 (UTC)

[ Does Edmund look sufficiently scolded? Not really, but he tries to reign in the smile on his face because that would just be so rude. Her reactions make it seem as though Newt has been to all sorts of trouble in his attempt to take in as many creatures as possible, and it makes Edmund all the more interested in hearing all of his adventures.

He holds up both hands — not a surrender, more like an attempt to placate her. ]

There's two sets of hands here to make sure everything is in order, and I'm sure Daenerys would not mind helping. [ She strikes him as the kind of woman who has a soft spot for innocent creatures, not only because she declares herself mother of dragons. Perhaps she will never completely trust Newt, but creatures have instincts, and they do not ever lie. Seeing that side of him might soften her. ] Nevertheless, your walls should be safe. We have yet to bring anything to the house. It will be a difficult feat for now, while we're still finding our footing in this new place.

[ "For now" being the keywords here. ]

You speak as though he's brought you plenty of trouble, Ms Goldstein, but you seem to like him well enough to inquire about his well-being. [ Just saying! ] I hope he appreciates your thoughtfulness.

You really don't know Newt. [The answer is immediate, mumbled almost. If there's any ounce of affection there-- and there is-- it's masked behind her disgruntlement. As much as she adores the man's passion for creatures and has come to appreciate them, she's all too aware he's already found a creature. More to the point if he could he'd take it back.

And there aren't a lot of ifs when it comes to treatments with them and the magizoologist.

She doesn't exactly have long to sound very put out, though, given Edmund's quick continuation and that disgruntlement turns into something else Shy or embarrassed? It's in between as she ducks her head for a brief moment, tucking a strand of hair away, before rolling her shoulder.] He has brought us a lot of trouble.

[She's insistent on it, but softens somewhat as she continues, voice cracking just a bit:] But he's a friend, all the same. Of course I'm going to look in on him.

I suppose I don't. [ They've only known each other for less than a month, after all, and among other things, Edmund has deeply ingrained wariness that he tries not to let take over his life. He carries a much different perspective than Daenerys, who is less than fond of magic for reasons that he can understands. Edmund has no qualms over magic, as Narnia is made entirely of magic, but the people that use it is a different matter altogether. ] But he seems to be a good man. His heart is in the right place. I've seen creatures treated differently and terribly, and more often than not it's because other people do not care to understand them.

[ So, with that said, he is willing to withhold any negative judgment altogether. ]

I'm glad that there is someone looking after him.

[She would retort to the first part, but the reasoning as why she does not is two fold. There's no reason to give the man before any more of an impression of her relationship with Newt. While he's certainly the closest person to her here, she's under no misunderstandings their own friendship is still new enough and that she has to be careful of what she says--

Instead she huffs something of a breath before scrunching her nose up just so.] I'm not doing much of looking after him, though he dos seem to be adjusting to your residence.

[Which is more than she can say.]

I would hope so. [ He smiles, not unkindly. ] I enjoy his company.

[ And it would be a shame to make him feel awkward in a place that he should call his own — even temporarily. Sadly, he is well aware of the difficulties in this particular household — though he's uncertain on whether or not he should bring it up to Tina, who for the moment is an unknown to him regardless of her friendship with Newt. ]

Are you certain that you don't wish to come in and wait for him?

[She seems ill at ease all the same, but she's far from adjusted or cares for misjudgements of magic. And unfortunately bringing it up at all brings two different extremes of response, so too often she stays at pleasantries and moves on-- As seen in that moment.]

No, I'd rather not impose. [The remark is quick and simple before she continues on.] I'll reach out to him later.

If that is your wish.

[ Far be it for him to try and change the mind of a woman who already knows what she wishes to do. He has two sisters, it's easy to figure out another course of action. ]

I hope you have a good day, Ms Goldstein.

for dany;

[ eventually, she responds to the invitation — it is polite, after all, and though she had hoped that Robb and Theon might lose their voices, it has yet to happen, and their house is loud as ever. Jon is tired, their neighbours are complaining, and Sansa... Sansa just wants some peace and quiet.

it is nearly sunset when she knocks on the door — smiling slightly when the door opens to reveal the person she is here to visit. ]

Your Grace. I was hoping your invitation still stands.

for edmund;

[ she may be here to rest, but it is not late enough for that yet, nor does she feel tired. the silence that reigns in the house is a blessed reprieve from her own temporary home, and it gives her time to sit quietly, a shirt on her lap as the needle she holds between her fingers moves deftly, embroidering neat flowers on the blue fabric.

when the silence is broken by footsteps, she looks up — she well knows that Daenerys shares the house with others, men to be exact, but the identity of said men had been a mystery to her... until this very moment. she blinks, before a hesitant smile blooms on her lips. ]

Edmund, wasn't it? [ she remembers, still, the fire, the singing. the talk of siblings. ]

for newt;

[ the morning comes, and Sansa, after deciding to have a good night's sleep for once, leaves the room she had been borrowing for the night. it is early, barely past sunrise, when she finds a chair to sit in, to brush her hair — in King's Landing, it would have been Shae's job, to brush her hair for her. how strange, how quickly one gets used to doing things for herself, in the absence of handmaidens.

she is so lost in thought that she barely notices when she is no longer alone in the room; she had not seen him the night before, so his appearance now fills her with surprise, though she is quick to smile at him, warm and genuine. ]

Newt! I didn't know you live here, too. [ too, as she hadn't thought to know anyone aside from the dragon queen, yet had realized she knew Edmund from before. ]

... oh — you must be the wizard Her Grace spoke of. She never spoke your name, so I didn't realize.

[ Edmund is prone to leave the house every now and again (though he stays there far more than Newt has ever had, for obvious reasons), but it has been talked about between all of his housemates that guests are always welcome, as long as they can be sure that they are friends. Edmund, seeing as he knows no one from his world, is inclined to place faith in Daenerys and Newt, as they have in him.

And so, having a guest around the house doesn't surprise him.

What surprises him is the face he sees, though it's not a terrible one — in fact, a smile is brought upon his face, even after an exciting day outside. ]

And you are Sansa, a lovely name I wouldn't forget. How lucky it is to have you as a guest.

If I may ask, by whose invitation—? [ Although he has a feeling. Things are suddenly dawning to him. ]

[ she smiles, as she knows she is supposed to, at the remark about her name — briefly, she wonders if Jon still remembers the advice she gave him, back when they were still children, to always compliment a girl's name. perhaps she will have to ask him. ]

You're too kind. It is I who is lucky, to have been invited. [ and then, to answer his question, ]

It was queen Daenerys. Her Grace was generous enough to offer me a quieter space to rest. My living quarters are rather... loud, right now. [ her smile turns into a grimace, and maybe more things are dawning to Edmund, as there is only one very loud house that has been prominently featured over the network in the past days... ]

Ah, [ a thoughtful sound, one that indicates many things.

Puzzles coming into place at a click. Where it hasn't been as obvious before, the shape of her face, her hair, her demeanor — most of which reminds him of Robb Stark, and perhaps some of it reminds him of Jon Snow as well. Her soft kindness, that which is reminiscent to him of his sister Susan, gentle but firm, and endlessly polite. And, of course, calling Daenerys a queen, as it is her rightful title. As wise as Edmund is, he does have a habit of missing the obvious sometimes.

He makes it a point not to mention the house, and those who live in it. Nor does he mention that Theon has been invited here as well during the quiet moments, by Edmund himself. ]

Then, forgive me, as I have been remiss, by not calling you by your proper title, Lady Sansa — or is it 'Princess'?

[ He still unsure about the customs, even after speaking to Daenerys herself — never mind the other argument where Daenerys calls herself queen of the seven kingdoms, even if one of them already has a King in the North. ]

Lady, [ she responds, her lips tilting in the slightest of smiles, realizing he has put together the puzzle pieces to make a coherent image — and still, she appreciates him not asking about her house, her brothers and Theon. ]

My brothers are kings, but our father was the Warden of the North, the Lord of Winterfell. [ so not a king... and the story behind why her brothers (and isn't that strange to say,still, to speak of both Jon and Robb at once, knowing both of them are here and alive and well) were crowned king too long and too painful to recount. ]

But you don't need to apologize to me, ser. I made no mention of the status given to me by my birth, as it has little relevance here. All our worlds are gone, after all.

[ Oddly enough, Edmund will not ask the question about how two brothers are both kings, simply because that particular circumstance at face value isn't weird to him at all. He and Peter shared a kingdom for ten years, with their sisters, and while everyone thought it was unnatural, they simply took their (literally) god-given crowns in stride. ]

Then let me ask for forgiveness for something else, one that I neglected to mention for the exact same reason you did not inform me of your title. [ He kneels in front of her, one knee to the ground. ] I am King Edmund Pevensie, of the kingdom of Narnia.

Well met, [ he says, a little wry ] my lady.

[ before she has the chance to say anything, he is kneeling and she is confused, even more so as he keeps speaking, the words that follow making her eyes widen; and despite his confession being dressed as an apology, despite his kind manner, she feels her heart freeze. ]

Forgive me, Your Grace, I did not mean to give offense by not using your title.

[ she bows her head, gaze lowered. ] The honour is mine, King Edmund. Please, rise. A king does not need my forgiveness. [ nor would any king she has known ask it like this, not even her brothers. ]

Perhaps, but a king should always know when to ask for it.

[ A hard lesson he's learned, and carried with him all these years. A lesson that he hopes others of equal status would know how to do, and what to do with, no matter if the circumstance seems small or not. He's met rulers with no regard for the company they keep, and the crowd they rule over, the rise and fall of monarchs that gave way for their egos to take root. ]

It was no offense to me, my lady. If I were to insist on wearing my title all the time, I imagine it would be exhausting, and frivolous like you said. I rule no land here. But I regard you with respect, and therefore my wish is for you to know me as I am, for I suppose I will always be a king regardless.

Most kings I know would not admit that so freely, [ she says with a smile that speaks of her approval — something he doesn't need either, but she can't help but express it nonetheless. she had liked him before; now, she finds she has respect for him, too, as she wonders what kind of a king he had made, what kind of land he had ruled over... whether his rule had been one of peace. ]

Then I am honoured even more. But you're right... the loss of your home doesn't make you any less of a king. [ her smile softens a touch. ] I would know... my brothers are both still kings, even though the land they ruled was the same. That Robb was our king before doesn't change the fact that Jon is king, now, too. Once you are named... you cannot be unnamed.

I have learned many lessons in my life, my lady.

[ Starting from a young age, when he'd been spoiled and bratty, just overall unpleasant. He had never been terribly evil, but he could only have gotten worse, if he hadn't been shown the error of his ways. He is no less conscious of his actions than he was back then, when he'd been pretty certain that he ruined everything for himself, his family, and an entire kingdom.

It's certainly interesting to note, that now she has two brothers for kings, but he picks up the past tense that she uses when she calls Robb king. Not that he would pry. ]

'Once a king and queen of Narnia, always a king and queen of Narnia.' Someone I know has told us that once. [ And there is never a time, when Edmund does not think of Aslan, and Narnia, and the kingdom Edmund no longer has.

In any case, ] Narnia is a kingdom with four thrones. My siblings and I sit on them, by the grace of Aslan — two kings and two queens, all of us unmarried, none of us interested in marrying each other at all. [ he tacks on, with a small smile of his own, because he already knows what might go through people's heads. ]

[ it speaks highly of him, the humility that mingles with respect in his voice — she knows too many rulers who would not listen to criticism, who would do only what they wished and heed no advice... nor learn from their mistakes. ]

That your world may no longer exist... it doesn't make who you are now any less real.

[ even though Winterfell is gone... she is still Lady Stark, the Lady of Winterfell. she is still a wolf. she falls silent to listen to Edmund's explanation, wondering briefly who this Aslan is that he speaks of, for who could be spoken of with such respect by someone who is already a king?

but the last remark gets a small laugh from her. ] Do people really think that? [ she sighs, even as a smile lingers on her lips. ] It used to be a practice for some great houses, back in Westeros, to marry close kin... but never in the North.

[ she pauses. ] Was it a requirement? For all of you to remain unmarried? Would you not have children to carry on your name and legacy?

We could marry, if we wished. Narnia can survive with one ruler, at the least.

[ But their circumstances were special, in a sense. Edmund has no way of explaining it, other than that they were tasked to rule together. ]

Though I'm more than certain that only one of us has real wish to. [ His smile is full of good-natured humor, sheepish. ] My elder sister, Susan, had suitors lined up at her feet from lands even beyond the Eastern Ocean, though she'd been keen on a prince from the southern lands. The two of us traveled south in order to meet him, and see if marriage would be suitable for them.

Really?

[ it seems like an interesting tale, and it's the first time Edmund has spoken of his siblings by name, something that catches her attention even more. ]

What happened once you reached the south?

I had a feeling, and not a very good one.

[ Edmund has learned to trust his gut, when it comes to people, and it often pays off. ]

You know, suitors — when they step into your territory, they are respectful and kind, they show the very best of themselves in order to win another's affection. It's typical, of course, to want something so terribly that you would do anything to get it, including pretending to be something you are not.

Though I find that you see a man as he truly is, once you are in his home, playing by his rules. As much as the prince wanted my sister, [ And Edmund has real doubts that he wanted her that badly to begin with; perhaps he'd been blinded by her beauty, but nothing more ] he wanted our kingdom even more.

( semi-closed )

for: theon greyjoy.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

for: any of you

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

starters for the whole trio uvu forgive the lateness!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject