006. Fanmix (Game of Thrones: Ned/Cersei - Dead, Dead Leaves)
dead, dead leaves
(a fanmix)
This is the story of Ned's relationship with Cersei.
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When he looks back now, now that winter truly has come and the frigid air on the Wall sears his lungs and tears at his throat, all he feels is a cold, dead weight. A tangled knot of bitterness and spite, as frozen and hollow as everything else in this damn wasted place.
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This story is warped and biased. It is at times too caring and at others too scathing.
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He can see it in the corner of his eye, his own sword, his father's sword, creeping ever closer. In the bright, glaring light, the blade gleams and glitters, a million suns and a hundred moons reflected in its ancient surface.
It's coming for him now.
But even as it does, he can still remember, still see, through the haze of fever and over the darkening face of his daughter, fractured memories, scattered and torn.
Did he think he was doing the right thing?
Did he stop to think at all?
He doesn't suppose he'll ever truly know.
Ice is coming for him now and sweat is burning his eyes.
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This is a story that has been stretched by time and cracked by emotion.
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He still remembers her sometimes, and his recollections are not always unkind. There's a certain scent that brings it on, he thinks, the strange nostalgia. Just before a summer snowstorm, when the air is thick with energy and the wind bites hard, dragging dead leaves through its chilly throes. It's the cracking of the woods and the clear, crisp sky.
Something about the way all that chaos stands next to such serenity, the way the warmth stretches into a fathomless, icy depth. It reminds him of her, but most days, he could scarce say why.
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This is the story of Ned's relationship with Cersei as told by Eddard Stark, the lord of somewhere very far away.
mediafire ; 83mb (.rar)
ten tracks (mp3) and album art (png)
some songs may contain swearing and/or mature themes.
lyrics
silver moons | sunset rubdown
gone are the days bonfires make me think of you
looks like the prophecy came true
you are a fallen tree, he is a fallen tree
how old are you? no, how old are you?
overture | patrick wolf
it's wonderful what a smile can hide
if the teeth shine bright and it's nice and wide
it's so magical all you can keep inside
and if you bury it deep no one can find a thing, no
spell | nick cave & the bad seeds
i have no abiding memory
no awakening, no flaming dart
no word of consolation
no arrow through my heart
only a feeble notion
a glimmer from afar
that i cling to with my fingers
pony boy | matthew good band
it's giving me a bad name
rocking like an earthquake
and my head's on fire
my head's just fine
games for days | julian plenti
babe you played my heart
but the way that you played it was art
escape the nest | editors
i'm drained and i'm empty
i've still got love in me
there's eyes in the sky tonight
watching us lose the fight
we really are ants now
escape the nest somehow
the landlord is dead | do make say think
[instrumental]
love will tear us apart | hawksley workman
why is the bedroom so cold, turned away on your side?
is my timing that flawed, our respect run so dry?
yet there's still this appeal that we've kept through our lives
i feel you | sam roberts
all or nothing, love is war
remember who you're fighting for
never get what you came for
what did my lover say? (it always had to end this way) | wolf parade
i don't think i should say sorry
for things i do in dreams
some people live like they're falling
some people die in their sleep
it always had to go this way
notes
I haven't a lot to say that isn't covered in the, uh, I don't know what that is up top there. That sort of, um, awkward word vomit that's been spewed up and forced upon unwitting down-loaders--prologue, perhaps?
So anyway.
I haven't anything to add particularly. The idea, basically, is that this is a sort of fragmented, half-remembered story. It's told by Ned, and he isn't a reliable narrator; his memories are embittered and embellished and faded in that way that memories are. Which is to say that, while this is meant to capture what I'd imagine an accurate picture of Ned's reminiscence might be, it's not at all an accurate portrayal of Cersei. Her point of view has been omitted entirely, and with it, her ability to defend herself from a staggeringly biased perception.
Although it follows an arc somewhat, it's meant to be choppy and irrigable. It opens with the idea of remembering and closes with a disquiet, like what was found in the dredged-up past cannot quite be reconciled in any way. The middle oscillates between gentility and hostility, down-beat and manic, as the memories themselves shift and churn.
Her hand touched his face, his hair. "If friends can turn to enemies, enemies can become friends. Your wife is a thousand leagues away, and my brother has fled. Be kind to me, Ned. I swear to you, you shall never regret it."
"Did you make the same offer to Jon Arryn?"
She slapped him.
George R. R. Martin, A Game of Thrones