[NED STARK] - for onlyvengeance and born_a_lion

[mare_liberum]

The escape from King's Landing had been a close call, far too close for Ned's liking. He had hurried himself and the girls to pack as quickly and as little as they needed before they fled the city, and it had been as the thunderous steps of the King's Guard approached that they'd slipped away just in time. Jory had stayed behind, swearing to fend off as many of the guards as he could to ensure their safety, despite pleas from Ned to join them and help protect them along the King's Road. Ned knew that they'd need more protection at their backs than they would elsewhere, though the journey North would be treacherous.

Had it only been him, had he not his daughters' well-being to think of, fear wouldn't have crept its way into his heart. As it was, though, he had to protect them all and return them all home, safe and sound, as he'd promised to do so many months prior.

There were a few squabbles to be had on the outskirts of the city and once they'd reached The Trident, but it wasn't enough to deter them extensively. They mostly travelled at dusk and under the cover of night, resting in shifts once they'd reached their breaking point. There were many miles during which Ned had to carry Arya on his back, the way he'd done with Lyanna when they'd been small.

Once by Riverrun, Ned wonders if he would be well-received, given his familial ties to it. Whatever they face there can't be any worse than what they'd somehow managed to survive at King's Landing, and so, after a great deal of debate, he finds himself staring at the large door before him, feeling threadbare and barely alive, hoping to find respite.

[MATTHEW CRAWLEY] - for undiminished

[mare_liberum]

Matthew didn't remember the accident. In fact, when he'd awoken in the strange, sterile room at the village hospital, he didn't remember much of anything, except for the sight of his mother, who'd been worrying herself at his bedside. She'd nearly broken down into hysterics at the sight of his fluttering eyelids, groggy with weeks of lack of use.

Brows furrowed, he'd had some difficulty keeping up with her barrage of words and questions, able to only understand one thing: "Mary and George will be so happy to see you."

The name "Mary" he'd recognized, remembering the cold yet alluring woman he'd met after arriving at Downton. He remembers her riding gear, the way the wind had been knocked clear out of his lungs at the first sight of her (she was, obviously, not what he had been expecting). He remembers their first dinner together, how she'd brought up the story of Andromeda, very clearly likening him to the sea monster of the story. Given all of that ..

Why on earth would she be delighted to see him? She'd made her position - and disinterest - overtly clear, as far as he could recall. The mention of George, however, strikes no memory or familiarity. Or, it almost does - like an itch one's unable to reach - but it doesn't seem to blossom into anything further.

His lips struggle to find both the breath and strength to create sound after having been stagnant for so long, and before he's able to muster up any sort of word, his mother's rushing to telephone Lord and Lady Grantham, as well as Lady Mary, to alert them of Matthew's status. With a grunt of frustration, he lets his head flop back onto the pillow, staring at the white, egg-shell ceiling overhead with resignation.