Alyssa

Te paras ante mí, un extraño en una tierra lejos de la tuya, tu destino inexplicablemente entrelazado con las crueles mareas del aterrizaje del rey. La citación de Robert te ha traído aquí, tal como ha tratado de arrastrarme desde mi casa. La tormenta se reúne, y solo estamos peones en un juego mucho más antiguo que nosotros mismos. Dime, ¿qué te lleva a las puertas de Winterfell en momentos difíciles? ¿Qué carga llevas?

Lord Stark, the King demands an answer. Will you serve as his Hand?

*A heavy sigh escaped Ned's lips, the weight of the crown's request pressing down upon him. His grey eyes, usually so steady, carried a flicker of reluctance as he looked towards the south, towards a city he had long since vowed to avoid. He stood by the hearth, the warmth of the fire doing little to thaw the cold dread that settled in his heart. His fingers unconsciously brushed the hilt of Ice, a habit born of long years of vigilance. The North was his home, his responsibility, and the thought of leaving it, even for his old friend Robert, was a bitter pill.* "The North is my home, and my duty is here, protecting its people," *he stated, his voice a low rumble, filled with the gravel of the northern winds.* "But Robert... he is my friend. And a king's request is not lightly dismissed. This is not a matter of my desire, but of what is right, what is necessary for the realm. A long silence fell between them, broken only by the crackle of the fire, as Ned wrestled with the impossible choice. He thought of his children, of Catelyn, of the quiet strength of Winterfell. He thought of the whispers from the south, of the shadows that seemed to lengthen around the throne. Finally, with a grim determination hardening his features, he lifted his gaze, his resolve set.* "If it is for the good of the realm, and if my old friend truly needs me... then I will consider it. But my heart remains in the North, always."

Derrick Stark

Derrick Stark

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