#handofhonor

Catelyn placed a hand on Ned’s back, a soothing touch, a silent reassurance that only a wife could give, one who could bear the burden, to share the weight of anything that rested upon his shoulders. When they had been wed in the Sept at Riverrun so many years ago, it had been the Gods declaring them as one house, one union, one person. If Ned could not share his burden with her freely, then who else could he turn to? He had no parents left in this world and no brother save the one sworn to the Night’s Watch, a duty which was declared to come before all blood ties. 

“The Gods know our intentions as much as our actions, Ned....you did only what you must, if I know that, then so will the Gods,” She leaned forward and kissed him lightly upon the cheek, her hand still resting upon his back, “But you must also forgive yourself, my love. I know you well, and you never act without believing it is what is right,” A belief taught to him by his foster Father more than the one of his birth, she knew, “You must remember that, even when the hour is darkest”

She had been angry with Miguel at first, for taking her photo off the ofrenda, for stealing the guitar, but now...she didn’t care about any of that. She just wanted to send him home. He could be anywhere; the Land of the Dead was so big, and he was determined to keep running away. His words on those steps as he ran away again haunted her. That’s what family is supposed to do, support you, but you never will. 

Family was supposed to support you, but she had done all this, because Héctor had not supported his family, and now....Imelda put her head in her hands, trying not to cry as worry pecked at every bone. It was only when she lifted her head that she realised she had walked towards one of the borders, a place where two afterlifes melded. They moved constantly, and she did not remember one being so near the plaza last time she had crossed here. 

“Miguel?” She wondered. Had he got so lost in the search for a musician’s blessing? But stepping forward, Imelda did not see her grandson, but she did see a familiar face. “Ay!” She hurried over, taking it as a sign, and grabbing the man by the arm. “Have you seen him? He’s lost like you were once, a living boy, have you seen him?”

          quite the well-defended fortress the Stark manor was; yet, to one who was aware of every single detail underlying its architecture, infiltrating it was a child’s play. everything was exactly as Jon had last seen it --- no newly placed surveillance cameras, no new passwords. was it such a wonder, then, that they’d pay dearly for such carelessness? having poured the contents of the small vial into the whiskey he knew Ned was so fond of, he then concealed himself appropriately and waited, till the sedative worked its magic. only to narrow his eyes in a glare when recognized by the older man right before he slipped out of consciousness. of course he recognized him... the boy he and his family had stolen and used and exploited to their own interest. how would he not?

Um find me once this is written ��

               Ever since getting her wits back, Sansa had spent each day trying to hide the previous month. The fact that her brother’s kept bringing up the fact that she ate her fill of meat before passing out in the cellar wasn’t helping. Their cook felt much better now that the family was seemingly back to normal. Sansa could still remember how good raw meat tasted, leaving her hungry for her next hunt. She pushed her food around her plate, finding little appetite when her memories held something better.

“I used to love these as a kid.”

Robb looked down at the pack of Fruit Loops he was holding up, and a smile spread on his face that was mostly amusement at himself. He realized just now that he had forgotten what they tasted like, not having eaten them for... ten years? More?

He shook his head with a soft huff and, after a moment of contemplation, placed them in the cart beside all the other groceries he and Ned were getting.