Chapter 9: Edric
March
"Do you want me to come home, though? Because I will. I don't need to go to King's Landing." Ned waited, holding his breath slightly. He had a shrewd suspicion that she wouldn't reply.
He wasn't wrong.
"All right. I'm coming home."
Allyria began to cry.
"Don't cry, Ally. Please don't cry."
"I love you, Ned," she sobbed. "You take such good care of me. And I've missed you so much."
"I've missed you too. We'll go swimming if it's warm enough."
"It'll probably be freezing, but let's go anyway." He hated the desperate tinge in her voice. He hated that he could tell she wanted to go swimming just so she could feel something.
"Fair enough. But I'll have to see if I can find a bodysuit or something."
"Wimp," she said, her voice still full of tears. But it sounded like she was at least trying to smile, which was a start.
"And proud of it."
He could tell she was smiling when she didn't reply.
He liked it when he could make her smile. It was almost like the old days. That used to make him sad, but he stopped letting it.
"I got a letter from Thoros," she said at last.
Thoros had been in the car with Beric when they had crashed. Thoros had come out of it with severe burns and without a left leg, while Beric's head had been crushed and a fragmented piece of car had shot through his eyesocket and brain.
"Oh?"
"He wanted to write because he felt that what he said at Beric's funeral wasn't quite right, and he wanted to share some of his reflections with me."
"That was good of him. What sort of things did he say?"
"They were…They were really beautiful, Ned." He could hear tears again, but they were good tears, not bad tears. "He talked about Beric's spirit, and his humor, and his caring and daring and love. He talked about how much he loved me, Ned."
"Of course Beric loved you. Even an idiot could see that."
"I know. They could see, but…Thoros just told me some of the beautiful things that Beric said."
"That's so nice."
"It made me really happy, in a kind of stunted bittersweet way. And it's been so long since I felt happy."
Ned wished he could hug her. His aunt was so brave sometimes.
"And I'll be happy when you come home," she continued. And she sounded as though it were true. "We'll have margaritas and curry and it will be just like before."
He wished he could believe her. He would try to. But he didn't know if he could.
"I look forward to it," he grinned into the phone. He had learned years ago that if you smiled into the phone, the smile reached your voice, even if you weren't actually happy. He hated that he had to use this with Allyria—not when the smiles had once come so naturally. "Look, I have to go. I have practice, and I should get there early to talk with Dacey and let her know I won't be going to King's Landing."
"All right. You're the best. I love you and can't wait to see you."
"I'll talk to you soon."
He hung up his phone, grabbed his fencing bag and made his way to the gym.
"What do you mean you can't come to King's Landing?" barked Dacey. One eyebrow was arched and Ned could tell that she was not amused.
"I can't come to King's Landing."
"Are you being deported? Do you, perhaps, have a date with the powers that be in court for some heinous crime that you have committed?"
"No."
"Are you, perhaps, going to rehabilitation for all the drugs and alcohol you do recreationally?"
"I don't do drugs, Dacey."
"Then pray tell, why aren't you going to be at the tournament? We have less than two weeks before we all head over. Your name's been down to compete since July."
"And I have to go home. I have family reasons."
Dacey glared at him, still breathing heavily, but her jaw softened. "I'll go talk to Thorne," she said at last. She turned on her heel and crossed the court to where the head coaches were meeting.
He watched Thorne's face go purple, and watched him glare across the room.
"Everything all right?"
Pod and Brienne had come over before warm ups.
"I can't go to King's Landing."
Brienne hissed as she drew in breath. "Why not?"
"Family stuff."
"I'm sorry to hear that." She clapped a hand on his shoulder. "If you need anything, let me know. Come on, Payne. Let's see what we can do today." She made her way to a lane.
"Your aunt?" asked Pod quietly.
Ned nodded. It was a jerkier nod than he had anticipated.
"Sorry, mate." Pod grimaced.
"Thanks," Ned muttered.
"It's probably best though, yeah?"
"Yes, probably." Ned suddenly felt unbelievably bitter.
He watched Pod backpedal to the lane where Brienne was waiting for him, watched the two of them take stance, then begin. He sat on the bench, waiting for Dacey, suddenly not really wanting to fence.
"You ok?" Arya was standing next to him, her mask tucked under her arm. The telltale bruises on her neck that were appearing with increasing frequency were just visible under her collar.
"Yeah, fine," he mumbled. "I can't go to the tournament."
"Oh."
She didn't ask why. She only nodded, and he was strangely grateful that he didn't have to give her an explanation.
"Want to come round after practice? Sansa's making cookies and I plan to rant to her about things. You could come and rant too."
"What things?"
"Oh, whatever I feel like. Rants and cookies go well together."
Ned chuckled.
"Thanks. I'll think about it."
She nodded again, then made her way to her lane where Syrio was waiting for her.
"Ready?" asked Dacey.
"Is he going to gut me?" Ned asked, standing up again.
"Possibly. I think he couldn't tell if he wanted to gut or decapitate you. But something's coming your way. It'll be fine though."
"Ok."
"Guard."
And Ned raised his sword.
