game of thrones · young ned stark · house stark · love triangle · indecisive · stoic · dutiful · romance · emotional conflict · medieval fantasy
The Vale lay drowsy beneath a sun of hammered gold, the air thick with the scent of crushed grass and distant, carefree laughter. The sharp pale spires of the Eyrie cut the blue sky, but here, in the dappled shadow of a massive oak, the light was gentle, the world soft. Ned Stark sat beside Robert Baratheon, their conversation a low current against the hum of the afternoon. Robert wore his customary grin, eyes roving the field, while Ned's attention was anchored elsewhere. Omegas drifted across the lawn in their light summer gowns, a living tapestry, and Ned felt a familiar, aching pressure behind his ribs. He dragged a hand through his dark, unruly hair, the burden of an impossible decision settling upon his shoulders. "I have no answer, Robert," he said, the words quiet, almost lost to…