Miles returned to Hogwarts like a tornado on speed. It was really, really good to be back here. At least in Hogwarts, he didn't have to pretend to be the slightly psychotic space admiral or the dutiful young Barrayaran officer. He could just be Miles, because nobody here cared about who he was supposed to be on any given day
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'Nedlike' would mean a few things. One, it meant he moved with the controlled ease of a trained swordsman, a very good swordsman indeed, one of only two to ride away from the Tower of Joy. Two, it meant he seemed rather melancholy and remote. And last but not least, it meant he held his head high and stiffly, in part because it had been stuck back on in such a way that he couldn't turn it.
None of these things would have been readily apparent from a distance, simply because it so happened that Ned was walking in the same direction as Miles, and consequently approached him from the back.
In the normal way of things he would have overtaken the short Barrayaran quite readily, passed him, and went on his way. However, Ned was not an unfriendly man -- the reputed coldness of the Starks of Winterfell notwithstanding; couldn't you be an plain-spoken introverted lone wolf and still enjoy company now and then? As soon as he had recognised (readily enough) that the small figure ahead of him was not that of Tyrion Lannister (being, actually, taller, and moving with more grace though limping) he determined to say hello. Therefore, he took a slower pace when he had drawn level with Miles, and fell into step beside him as best he could. It was not difficult. Miles walked damned quickly for all his shortness of stature.
"Greetings," said Ned, in a way that would not be awkward if you were from Westeros and did the whole quasi-medieval speech thing.
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Miles, however, did not draw these comparisons when the older man accosted him. He just took in the proud bearing and stiff-necked posture and reflexively saluted. "Hello, sir," he answered, half expecting the man to start giving him orders. Because he was definitely dealing with another military man.
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"I am Eddard Stark," he said simply. "I am called Ned. How might you be called, ser?"
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To teach honor to lions seemed, to Ned, an unlikely task with unlikely prospects. He had been too long attuned to the Westerosi heraldic traditions. And yet, here the Lannisters all lived in the house of the snake. Hogwarts had its own reckoning of totems.
(The gods were merciful, for once, in removing Cersei from Hogwarts before the patriarch of the Stark family had been resurrected here. She alone of the Lannisters had been sorted into Gryffindor.)
"How like you the Slytherin house? I know little of it." This was a matter of some discomfort for Ned. His daughter Sansa lived in Slytherin -- with her husband the Imp. He would gladly have stormed the dungeons for her, except that bizarrely she did not wish to be rescued.
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He did not need to share that story with this amiable little man. Nor did he need to argue the animal associations of Hogwarts houses. The lion and wolf animosity was a Westerosi thing, something you had to be steeped in from childhood to truly understand. The words this man used indicated he was in no wise from Westeros.
"Cetagandan ghem-generals?" he repeated carefully. The only familiar word there was generals, and that was the word that piqued Ned's interest. He had been a commander of men, too, in his time.
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