GoT Fic: So Long as the Peace is Kept
Title: So Long as the Peace is Kept
Author: corrielle
Characters: Ned Stark, Theon Greyjoy
Warnings: Major character death. I cried while I wrote this.
Word Count: 1,924
Disclaimer: GoT belongs to GRRM and HBO.
Summary: Five years after Theon comes to Winterfell, Balon Greyjoy rises in rebellion once again. Ned Stark does what he must.
In the fifth year after the Greyjoy rebellion had been put down, the men of the Iron Islands rose again, raiding savagely up and down the coast, razing villages, and pushing inland where they got a foothold.
At Winterfell, Ned Stark saw to his defenses and prepared to call his banners should his king ask it of him. When the raven came, the words on the bit of parchment were in Robert's own hand. Ned recognized his angry scrawl:
"Kill the Greyjoy lad and send his head to Pyke. Lord Balon can have the rest of his son's bones when he goes back to his gods-forsaken spit of rock."
It was a hard thing Robert asked of him, and Ned spent many hours in the godswood on the day the raven came from King's Landing. It was long past nightfall when he returned to his chambers, and the next morning, he wrote to Robert, suggested that they remind Balon Greyjoy that his heir was held at Winterfell, remind him of the consequences if he did not call his ships back.
"Kill the boy, Ned," the king replied, "or I'll send someone up to Winterfell to do it for you."
*
Ned had a guard posted outside of Theon's room in the night, and in the morning, he explained to the boy what he must do, and why.
Theon went pale when Ned told him the king's command, but then he shrugged and said, "My father lost two sons trying to be king already. So what does one more matter?" He tried to sound flippant, but his voice faltered at the end.
Every son matters, Ned almost said, but he held the words back. They would give Theon no comfort.
"Will it be today?" Theon asked.
"I had thought to do it tomorrow, to give you time. To let you prepare yourself." He had thought it would be kinder that way, but now, the thought of letting this boy who had lived under his roof these past five years sit and wait to die seemed cruel. "But if you do not wish to wait, we can leave within the hour," Ned told him.
"I think I'll take that one more day, Lord Stark," Theon said.
Ned gave orders that Theon was not to leave his rooms, but that he was to be given whatever he asked for, within reason. The guards told him later that Theon asked for a berry tart, which he got, and a willing girl to share it with, which he did not. He did not ask to see Robb, or Jon, or any of the other boys who had been his companions, but his confinement, and the reason for it, was the talk of Winterfell before the sun reached noon.
*
Ned heard Robb's footsteps pounding on the flagstones of the corridor long before his oldest son burst into his study.
"It's not fair! Theon hasn't done anything wrong!"
Given the circumstances, Ned did not correct his son for raising his voice to his father.
"I made a promise when I took him from his home," Ned told him. "I promised he would be safe as long as Balon Greyjoy kept the peace, and I promised that if he did not, his son would die."
"It was a bad promise, then!" Robb spat. "Theon can't help it if his father is rebelling!"
"No, he can't," Ned agreed. "And that is the reason children are taken hostage to assure their parents' good behavior. Because… most parents value the life of an innocent child over their own ambitions."
"Then Balon Greyjoy cares nothing for Theon, and killing him will do nothing to turn back his father's ships," Robb said.
It was a sound point, and Ned felt a burst of pride in his son, trying so valiantly to save Theon's life. He wished he could reward Robb's loyalty with mercy for his friend. And the boys were friends. Theon had been sullen when he arrived, and Robb had not been kind those first few months, but the years had made them close, and Theon smiled more broadly and acted more nobly in Robb's company than he did in any other man's.
"Perhaps," Ned said, "but Balon Greyjoy is not the only man who watches what I do here. If I let Theon live, other men will see that Ned Stark and King Robert do not keep their promises. They will believe that they can break the peace and cast aside the promises they have made, and no harm will come to the children they have given up."
"So Theon dies to cow other lords into submission," Robb said bitterly.
"This is the way it must be," Ned said. "And the King has commanded it."
The finality of that argument settled over both of them.
"Must it be you?" Robb asked.
"Who else would you have swing the sword?"
Robb, finding no answer, just shook his head, and without waiting for leave to go, turned on his heel and left Ned standing alone.
*
Theon was dressed and ready when Ned came to his room early the next morning. He wore a green doublet and a fine grey cloak with the Greyjoy kraken worked in crimson over his left breast. His cloak was just too large for his shoulders, but Theon was fourteen and growing fast, and soon he would have filled it out and looked like a man, not a boy.
"Were you fed this morning?" Ned asked him.
Theon laughed. It was a mean, sharp sound. "Now that's Stark hospitality… they'll cut off your head, but they'll feed you breakfast first. My guards offered, but I turned them down. I didn't see much reason to eat." He smirked. "I won't be hungry later, will I?"
Three horses were saddled and ready when Rodrik Cassel met them at the stables. Theon was quiet as Ser Rodrick bound his hands in front of him after he mounted. Ned knew that Theon posed no danger, but he did not want the boy trying to run. His heart would not be in the chase, but he would ride the boy down if he tried to escape.
No crowd had gathered to see them off. Ned had given orders that there was to be no spectacle. This was not a thing he did proudly, and he didn't want all of Winterfell gawking at them as they rode out.
There was one person, though, who was watching. Robb had climbed to the top of one of the towers by the gate, and his hand was raised in parting. His eyes were trained on Theon, and Ned knew the farewell was not meant for him. For his part, Theon nodded gravely at Robb, lifted his bound hands from the pommel of his saddle, and waved back as best he could.
Then, they were under the gate and out on the road, and Winterfell was behind them.
*
Ned has always known he would kill the boy at the stone where Lords of Winterfell had done such things for a thousand years. He might have slit Theon's throat in the wood, or smothered him in his room, but Ned would take the boy's life in the name of the king, as the Warden of the North. It was only right that they travel to the place where he dispensed the king's justice. Besides, Theon deserved better than a knife across the throat, and this way, his death would be mercifully quick.
When they reached the stone, the wind was up, and their cloaks flapped around them as they helped Theon from his horse. As he tried to walk between them, Theon's cloak tangled between his legs, and he stumbled.
"Take this thing off me, would you?" he asked. "Perhaps you can send me back to my father in it if it's not ruined."
Ned took the cloak from Theon's shoulders and slung it over his arm. "I'll see that it's done," he said.
It was not a long walk to the stone, and soon they were standing before it. It was a plain, grey piece of rock, except where it was dark with old blood. Ser Rodrik hung back while Ned approached the stone, and Theon tried to stay beside him, but Ned beckoned him over.
"Theon, come stand before me," Ned said. "When I kill a man who has broken the law, I hear his words before I do what I must. You, who have broken no law, surely deserve the same. Is there anything you wish to say? Whatever it is, I will hear you."
Theon, who was always so quick with words, did not speak for a long time. Finally, he said, "If she's still mine to give, tell Robb he can have my horse." He nodded over at his dappled grey. "He can ride her when he wants a mount with brains, not balls."
"Done," Ned promised. "Is that all?"
Theon looked down at his feet, and his dark hair fell into his eyes. "Tell Robb I'm sorry," he said.
"This is no fault of yours, Theon," Ned said gently. "You've nothing to be sorry fo-"
"He came to see me," Theon said. His head snapped up and his eyes fixed Ned in a hard stare. "Robb came to try to say goodbye." His mouth twisted into a taut smile. "And do you know what I did? I told him he could go fuck himself. So, tell him I'm sorry, if you please. And… give him my thanks. He was the only one who came."
"I will tell him." Ned said. "He tried to speak to me on your behalf, as well."
This, more than anything, seemed to nearly break the boy. Theon's jaw tightened, and he swallowed hard before proclaiming, "I've said my words. I'm done."
"Then kneel," Ned told him.
Theon got on his knees and stretched his neck out on the stone. Ned drew Ice from its sheath, its weight heavy in his hands.
Theon's chest rose and fell one last time, and Ned swung his sword.
Ice was sharp, and his aim was true. It was a clean cut.
When the grass had soaked up much of the blood, Ned called for Rodrik to help him see to the body. The head, they wrapped in linen and placed in a leather sack lined with herbs to keep down the stench as it traveled. Before laying the cloth over the face, Ned passed his fingers over Theon's eyes to close them. The boy had died with his eyes open, and Ned could see no fear in them. The mouth was twisted into a cruel, bitter smirk. The boy always did like to smile, Ned remembered. But he had not smiled like this. Never like this. He was glad to put the head away and hang the sack over the pommel of his saddle.
The body, they wrapped in a long winding sheet that they bound at the neck and ankles. Between them, they lifted the bundle onto Theon's riderless horse. She smelled the blood and shied away, but Ned's hand on her neck calmed her soon enough.
As they turned back toward Winterfell, Ned already longed for the solitude of the godswood. In the morning, he would send Theon's head to Balon Greyjoy. But tonight, he would keep vigil by the weirwood tree, not to seek council from the old gods, but to beg forgiveness for the things he did for honor.
Author: corrielle
Characters: Ned Stark, Theon Greyjoy
Warnings: Major character death. I cried while I wrote this.
Word Count: 1,924
Disclaimer: GoT belongs to GRRM and HBO.
Summary: Five years after Theon comes to Winterfell, Balon Greyjoy rises in rebellion once again. Ned Stark does what he must.
In the fifth year after the Greyjoy rebellion had been put down, the men of the Iron Islands rose again, raiding savagely up and down the coast, razing villages, and pushing inland where they got a foothold.
At Winterfell, Ned Stark saw to his defenses and prepared to call his banners should his king ask it of him. When the raven came, the words on the bit of parchment were in Robert's own hand. Ned recognized his angry scrawl:
"Kill the Greyjoy lad and send his head to Pyke. Lord Balon can have the rest of his son's bones when he goes back to his gods-forsaken spit of rock."
It was a hard thing Robert asked of him, and Ned spent many hours in the godswood on the day the raven came from King's Landing. It was long past nightfall when he returned to his chambers, and the next morning, he wrote to Robert, suggested that they remind Balon Greyjoy that his heir was held at Winterfell, remind him of the consequences if he did not call his ships back.
"Kill the boy, Ned," the king replied, "or I'll send someone up to Winterfell to do it for you."
*
Ned had a guard posted outside of Theon's room in the night, and in the morning, he explained to the boy what he must do, and why.
Theon went pale when Ned told him the king's command, but then he shrugged and said, "My father lost two sons trying to be king already. So what does one more matter?" He tried to sound flippant, but his voice faltered at the end.
Every son matters, Ned almost said, but he held the words back. They would give Theon no comfort.
"Will it be today?" Theon asked.
"I had thought to do it tomorrow, to give you time. To let you prepare yourself." He had thought it would be kinder that way, but now, the thought of letting this boy who had lived under his roof these past five years sit and wait to die seemed cruel. "But if you do not wish to wait, we can leave within the hour," Ned told him.
"I think I'll take that one more day, Lord Stark," Theon said.
Ned gave orders that Theon was not to leave his rooms, but that he was to be given whatever he asked for, within reason. The guards told him later that Theon asked for a berry tart, which he got, and a willing girl to share it with, which he did not. He did not ask to see Robb, or Jon, or any of the other boys who had been his companions, but his confinement, and the reason for it, was the talk of Winterfell before the sun reached noon.
*
Ned heard Robb's footsteps pounding on the flagstones of the corridor long before his oldest son burst into his study.
"It's not fair! Theon hasn't done anything wrong!"
Given the circumstances, Ned did not correct his son for raising his voice to his father.
"I made a promise when I took him from his home," Ned told him. "I promised he would be safe as long as Balon Greyjoy kept the peace, and I promised that if he did not, his son would die."
"It was a bad promise, then!" Robb spat. "Theon can't help it if his father is rebelling!"
"No, he can't," Ned agreed. "And that is the reason children are taken hostage to assure their parents' good behavior. Because… most parents value the life of an innocent child over their own ambitions."
"Then Balon Greyjoy cares nothing for Theon, and killing him will do nothing to turn back his father's ships," Robb said.
It was a sound point, and Ned felt a burst of pride in his son, trying so valiantly to save Theon's life. He wished he could reward Robb's loyalty with mercy for his friend. And the boys were friends. Theon had been sullen when he arrived, and Robb had not been kind those first few months, but the years had made them close, and Theon smiled more broadly and acted more nobly in Robb's company than he did in any other man's.
"Perhaps," Ned said, "but Balon Greyjoy is not the only man who watches what I do here. If I let Theon live, other men will see that Ned Stark and King Robert do not keep their promises. They will believe that they can break the peace and cast aside the promises they have made, and no harm will come to the children they have given up."
"So Theon dies to cow other lords into submission," Robb said bitterly.
"This is the way it must be," Ned said. "And the King has commanded it."
The finality of that argument settled over both of them.
"Must it be you?" Robb asked.
"Who else would you have swing the sword?"
Robb, finding no answer, just shook his head, and without waiting for leave to go, turned on his heel and left Ned standing alone.
*
Theon was dressed and ready when Ned came to his room early the next morning. He wore a green doublet and a fine grey cloak with the Greyjoy kraken worked in crimson over his left breast. His cloak was just too large for his shoulders, but Theon was fourteen and growing fast, and soon he would have filled it out and looked like a man, not a boy.
"Were you fed this morning?" Ned asked him.
Theon laughed. It was a mean, sharp sound. "Now that's Stark hospitality… they'll cut off your head, but they'll feed you breakfast first. My guards offered, but I turned them down. I didn't see much reason to eat." He smirked. "I won't be hungry later, will I?"
Three horses were saddled and ready when Rodrik Cassel met them at the stables. Theon was quiet as Ser Rodrick bound his hands in front of him after he mounted. Ned knew that Theon posed no danger, but he did not want the boy trying to run. His heart would not be in the chase, but he would ride the boy down if he tried to escape.
No crowd had gathered to see them off. Ned had given orders that there was to be no spectacle. This was not a thing he did proudly, and he didn't want all of Winterfell gawking at them as they rode out.
There was one person, though, who was watching. Robb had climbed to the top of one of the towers by the gate, and his hand was raised in parting. His eyes were trained on Theon, and Ned knew the farewell was not meant for him. For his part, Theon nodded gravely at Robb, lifted his bound hands from the pommel of his saddle, and waved back as best he could.
Then, they were under the gate and out on the road, and Winterfell was behind them.
*
Ned has always known he would kill the boy at the stone where Lords of Winterfell had done such things for a thousand years. He might have slit Theon's throat in the wood, or smothered him in his room, but Ned would take the boy's life in the name of the king, as the Warden of the North. It was only right that they travel to the place where he dispensed the king's justice. Besides, Theon deserved better than a knife across the throat, and this way, his death would be mercifully quick.
When they reached the stone, the wind was up, and their cloaks flapped around them as they helped Theon from his horse. As he tried to walk between them, Theon's cloak tangled between his legs, and he stumbled.
"Take this thing off me, would you?" he asked. "Perhaps you can send me back to my father in it if it's not ruined."
Ned took the cloak from Theon's shoulders and slung it over his arm. "I'll see that it's done," he said.
It was not a long walk to the stone, and soon they were standing before it. It was a plain, grey piece of rock, except where it was dark with old blood. Ser Rodrik hung back while Ned approached the stone, and Theon tried to stay beside him, but Ned beckoned him over.
"Theon, come stand before me," Ned said. "When I kill a man who has broken the law, I hear his words before I do what I must. You, who have broken no law, surely deserve the same. Is there anything you wish to say? Whatever it is, I will hear you."
Theon, who was always so quick with words, did not speak for a long time. Finally, he said, "If she's still mine to give, tell Robb he can have my horse." He nodded over at his dappled grey. "He can ride her when he wants a mount with brains, not balls."
"Done," Ned promised. "Is that all?"
Theon looked down at his feet, and his dark hair fell into his eyes. "Tell Robb I'm sorry," he said.
"This is no fault of yours, Theon," Ned said gently. "You've nothing to be sorry fo-"
"He came to see me," Theon said. His head snapped up and his eyes fixed Ned in a hard stare. "Robb came to try to say goodbye." His mouth twisted into a taut smile. "And do you know what I did? I told him he could go fuck himself. So, tell him I'm sorry, if you please. And… give him my thanks. He was the only one who came."
"I will tell him." Ned said. "He tried to speak to me on your behalf, as well."
This, more than anything, seemed to nearly break the boy. Theon's jaw tightened, and he swallowed hard before proclaiming, "I've said my words. I'm done."
"Then kneel," Ned told him.
Theon got on his knees and stretched his neck out on the stone. Ned drew Ice from its sheath, its weight heavy in his hands.
Theon's chest rose and fell one last time, and Ned swung his sword.
Ice was sharp, and his aim was true. It was a clean cut.
When the grass had soaked up much of the blood, Ned called for Rodrik to help him see to the body. The head, they wrapped in linen and placed in a leather sack lined with herbs to keep down the stench as it traveled. Before laying the cloth over the face, Ned passed his fingers over Theon's eyes to close them. The boy had died with his eyes open, and Ned could see no fear in them. The mouth was twisted into a cruel, bitter smirk. The boy always did like to smile, Ned remembered. But he had not smiled like this. Never like this. He was glad to put the head away and hang the sack over the pommel of his saddle.
The body, they wrapped in a long winding sheet that they bound at the neck and ankles. Between them, they lifted the bundle onto Theon's riderless horse. She smelled the blood and shied away, but Ned's hand on her neck calmed her soon enough.
As they turned back toward Winterfell, Ned already longed for the solitude of the godswood. In the morning, he would send Theon's head to Balon Greyjoy. But tonight, he would keep vigil by the weirwood tree, not to seek council from the old gods, but to beg forgiveness for the things he did for honor.