And with that, prompt voting for NedCatWeek2027 begins! Select up to 3 prompts and suggest as many as you want. There will be 3 prompts per day. NedCat Week will be from January 17-23 2027
Fellow NedCat enthusiasts, I’m pleased to announce the fourth year of NedCat week will take place January 17-23 2027 (fake looking date) + the 24th for catch-up. Prompt voting should be open around the second week of June and close July 19th via google form. Just like last year there’s some prompts that didn’t make the cut last year that you can vote on and a space for suggestions. See you soon!
I should be organizing again in june! then prompt voting will be starting in july and the prompts should be out 2 weeks after that. to the third year of nedcatweek! 🥂
Summary: A necessary journey away from Winterfell coincides with a full moon. Usually Ned can be kept under control during his transformations, though that night his Lady Catelyn is within reach and he knows it.
”This was poorly timed” Ser Rodrik said for what had to be the thousandth time, tugging at his whiskers.
Catelyn would have agreed had it not been for that it was always poorly timed. In truth it would have been better had Ned never left Winterfell and the easy containment of its godswood. Though sometimes circumstances demanded he journey elsewhere and it could not always be done within a moon’s turn.
”It has not gone awry before” she said. ”We must trust in the chains.”
They had stopped to make camp long before sundown in order to prepare. Ned had himself seen out a place where he could be chained to a tree, riding further down the road so that he would not be too close to the camp. It was far from the first time he was on the road during a full moon. He had fought two wars in the south since becoming Lord of Winterfell.
”I have a strange feeling, my lady.”
”Jory will not let anything happen to him” Catelyn assured him. ”Nor will the rest of them.”
They would stand guard with their spears and swords all through the night and they knew almost as well as Ned did what had to be done. Catelyn had full trust in them.
The light of fire they were sitting by made shadows shift in the old knight’s face, making his grim expression even grimmer.
”I ask your forgiveness, Lady Catelyn, though I worry more for what will become of them.”
”They outnumber him six to one.”
And all of them were skilled hunters.
Something almost like a bitter smile ghosted over Ser Rodrik’s face.
”He is a fearsome beast when the moon is full. Larger and stronger than any ordinary wolf.”
And lonely at that. Lonely and chained. Catelyn had only ever seen him before and after his transformation, Ned always gave strict orders to keep her away while he was changed. She had seen the raw wounds left on his body by the chains, it must have hurt the wolf a great deal.
”I will never fault Lord Stark for that viciousness as I know he does not choose it, though I fear it all the same” Ser Rodrik finished.
He was not alone in that sentiment. All through the seven kingdoms people whispered of Lord Stark and his curse.
Catelyn shivered as a howl pierced the air. She knew he was not close and yet it felt as if though he was. The haunting sound echoed over the moors and it was hard to not take note of how everyone tensed when they heard it.
“You are not alone in that.”
When Ned was Ned he had a gentle heart, though he was not always Ned. That was the burden every Lord of Winterfell had to carry. It was only that Ned had never expected he would carry it. It should have passed to Brandon.
”No one in their right mind would meet him with no—”
Ser Rodrik interrupted himself when the sound of a horn reached them, and something squeezed at Catelyn’s heart.
There was immediate movement in the camp even as Catelyn found herself unable to move. She could merely watch as the guards all scrambled for their weapons in one movement. Tired men became alert in an instant, anything they had been holding was thrown aside without so much as a second consideration.
It could not end well. It would not end well.
Ser Rodrik had found his feet and was by her side in an instant, placing a warm hand on her shoulder.
“We must be quick, my lady.”
She could hear that he tried to remain calm, though the urgency shone through more and more with each word.
“Must we leave?” Catelyn asked.
“I swore to your lord husband I would take you away should something happen and we have no time for arguments.”
Their old knight was no oathbreaker and Catelyn would not ask it of him that he become one. Nor was she stupid. She did not wish to leave, though she knew she would be of little help. Her presence would mean a hindrance if they had to defend themselves.
Ser Rodrik held her arm as they hurried towards where their horses were tied up.
”What do you think happened?” Catelyn had to ask.
She was already out of breath.
”I dare not think about it, but I know something is not as it should be.”
Perhaps Ned had not torn free of his chains. Perhaps someone had accidentally ventured too close to him and been injured. It was not good, though it was not as bad as what it could be. They had sounded the horn for a reason and Catelyn could only hope there was no immediate danger.
They had left the horses saddled and ready, as they always did when the moon was full. It should have been easy to mount her horse and begin the ride to safer sounds, though the horses seemed well aware that something was wrong. They were nervously treading where they were standing and when Catelyn reached to untie her usually well tempered mare it began throwing with its head.
She looked towards Ser Rodrik and saw that his horse was sniffing the air. Then another howl could be heard and their horses bolted in one movement. Catelyn could only watch as her mare galloped into the night.
”It was closer this time” Ser Rodrik hissed.
Catelyn had heard that. The sound had been louder, had appeared closer to them, though she had not wished to acknowledge it. The sound moving closer meant Ned was free. His chains had broken and he was moving in their direction.
Two of the horses fleeing had sent the rest of them into hysteria. They reared and kicked and tried to free themselves so that they could follow the first two. Catelyn tried to approach one and had to duck away to keep from taking a hoof to the head.
”This is pointless!” she called as Ser Rodrik was almost knocked to the ground.
Even if they managed to untie the reins the horse would tear free from them as soon as opportunity was given. They felt the presence of a threat and so they would not be calmed.
”You are not safe here” Ser Rodrik insisted.
”No one is.”
Ser Rodrik managed to get hold of the reins of what Catelyn knew to be Harwin’s horse and must have used all his strength to force it down on all four hooves. Catelyn would have been impressed had it been possible to feel anything but fear.
Though as Catelyn moved to help Ser Rodrik untie the horse she did not watch her feet and the horse stomped on her foot. Even through her heavy boot the pain was nauseating and she cried out, forced to step back from the horse.
She closed her eyes, tried to breathe through the throbbing pain. She had not been stepped on by a horse since she had been a girl and she had forgotten the force with which a horse could step.
Catelyn had expected Ser Rodrik to ask if she was alright, though instead something else came from him. Something that forced her to open her eyes and turn around to look at what it was he had seen.
”Run!”
It was a wolf and at the same time very much not a wolf. His hind legs were too long and the body was too thin, not entirely unlike a human having bent over to move on all fours. The ears were strangely shaped and placed on the side of the head rather than at the top of it, folded backwards as he slowly stalked into the camp with bared teeth. A low growl came from his throat and a chain still attached to his right front leg rattled behind it. It was a perfect monster from a story told only to frighten children. A man that had been twisted
It was as if no one dared move. Everyone stood perfectly still, waiting for what was to come. Catelyn was no different. She was frozen to where she stood, unable to move to flee the presence of the wolf.
With surprising agility for a man of his age Ser Rodrik dashed over to Catelyn and took her by the arm, forcing her to move. Together they turned around and began running in the other direction even as it would not get them far. Catelyn put one foot in front of the other, running as well as she could while unable to hold up her skirts, and knew that there was no point in running. They would not outrun him. It was not possible to outrun him.
Catelyn did not see the wolf lunge at them, though felt as Ser Rodrik was torn away from her and thrown to the ground. With horror she saw that the wolf had his jaws around Ser Rodrik’s right arm, teeth deep enough to draw blood.
”No!” she cried, unable to do anything else.
As she did so the wolf’s attention shifted and it left Ser Rodrik bleeding on the ground. Before Catelyn could run anywhere he had again lunged forward, that time taking hold of her skirts.
”Lady Catelyn!” Ser Rodrik shouted.
He made an attempt at pushing himself up from the ground, though flinched and clutched his arm to his body.
The wolf gave a hard tug and Catelyn stumbled forward, unable to tear herself free from his grasp. As she attempted to steady herself her hands brushed against his shaggy fur and she expected the wolf to snap at her hands, though he did nothing. His teeth remained buried in the fabric of her dress.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Desmond with a spear in his hand, preparing to stab at the wolf. It would have been a distraction that could have made the wolf release his hold on her and yet the sight of the spear brought out an even greater panic in Catelyn.
”Don’t hurt him!” she exclaimed.
Desmond’s eyes went from the wolf to her, widening in surprise. It gave the wolf time to tug her even further along, his strength too great to even attempt to withstand.
Catelyn was unable to find her balance that time and she hit the ground with no way to catch herself. For a moment the world was entirely still as all air was knocked from her lungs, but then came the pain. It felt as if though the back of her skull had split open and it was not made better by that she could not breathe.
Catelyn saw only the stars that danced before her eyes and heard only the ringing in her ears, though was vaguely aware of that she was being dragged along the ground. Even through her clothing the ground was scraping against her back.
Her hair caught on something on the ground and Catelyn cried out. The sound was strange, foreign to her ears, and she realised it was because the wolf had given a low whine at the same time.
Her skirts were released and even as Catelyn could still not see clearly and was dizzy from pain she managed to crawl up in a somewhat upright position. Her chest hurt as she tried to suck in air, her body desperate for a proper breath.
Desmond must have landed a stab at the wolf because he had spun around and taken hold of the spear, tearing it from Desmond’s grasp. The wood was splintering between his teeth.
She was grabbed by the arm and brought up to her feet again, forced to lean heavily on the person that had helped her up.
“Come, my lady” Harwin said through clenched teeth.
Catelyn did her very best to keep up with his quick, long steps, but soon found her best was not good enough. She tried to run with him, though the ground was uneven and they were running into solid darkness.
“The horses are the other way” Catelyn managed to get out.
“So is Lord Stark.”
She realised he did not know where they were going, he was just trying to get her away from there. It was pointless, it was all pointless.
The wolf moved much faster than the two of them even as every man still standing lunged at him with blades and sharp points. Even as her breathing and her heartbeat were so loud they pounded in her head Catelyn heard how the wolf came closer to them.
Harwin screamed as a heavy form hit him in the back, forcing him to the ground. Catelyn stumbled forward and found herself on all fours, immediately scrambling to get up again. Pine needles were stuck in her palms, they must have been running towards the woods. It would be better to turn back, she needed to turn back.
Again the wolf abandoned her guard and instead turned his attention to her. That time it took hold of her cloak and began trying to drag her along while she clutched at her throat to unclasp it. If she did not find the clasp she would be strangled by her cloak.
With a high whine the wolf suddenly let her go and in what little light reached them from the campfire Catelyn could make out that someone must have buried a dagger in the wolf’s shoulder while a second man had taken hold of the chain still hanging from his leg, causing him to abandon her cloak to instead defend himself from his attacker.
While taking heaving gulps of air she crawled along the ground to find Harwin, hoping the wolf would be distracted for long enough to get him back up.
”Harwin? Harwin, where are you?”
”Run, my lady!” he told her from somewhere within the darkness.
She tried to do as she was told. Tried to run back to the camp to find protection there. Her attempt was fruitless as it took only a second for the wolf to notice her flight. He would not let her get away. He stubbornly refused to let her get away from him even as he could turn his back on everyone else.
When his teeth was again in her skirts she felt warm tears run down her cheeks. She had not realised she had been weeping until that moment. She grabbed at the fabric of her dress, tried to pull herself free even as her strength was not nearly great enough.
”Let me go!” she cried. ”Please, Ned, let me go!”
The ache in her body was already so great that when she again fell she barely felt it. It made no difference. She was dragged along the ground, her attempts at holding onto anything she could grasp on the ground only serving to further injure her hands.
She was released another few time, though found herself unable to gather enough strength to get herself off the ground and no one helped her. She heard them, heard how every last man was needed to distract the wolf from dragging her further into the woods. Again and again the wolf whined as they managed to stab at him, though each injury only seemed to enrage him further. At one point Hal screamed so loudly she was certain the wolf must have killed him, though she could not so much as raise her head to see if it was true. Their struggle faded to the background as all Catelyn’s attention went to forcing herself to breathe even as every breath felt like a stab in her chest.
How long it had been when her surroundings grew silent she did not know. She knew she could no longer hear the voices of their men and that she was continuously dragged along the ground with no breaks. The world was nothing but pain, she did not have it in her to be afraid anymore. Fear demanded too much strength and of that she had none anymore.
When finally the wolf stopped and let her go Catelyn could not move. She remained on the ground and hoped her death would be swift. If he tore out her throat she would bleed out quickly and that would be a mercy.
Her prayers were not answered. Perhaps no god of hers could see her in those northern woods. Instead of a quick kill the wolf began nudging at her with his snout. She managed to raise a bloodied hand, tried to push him away, though it accounted for nothing.
He went to lie down next to her, resting his great head upon her stomach, and Catelyn knew then that he would not kill her. He had taken her away to keep her to himself and he would not kill her.
“What have you done?” she mumbled.
He did not listen. He did not understand. Though when dawn came he would. He would look at what had taken place and he would be filled with dread.
In the darkness she could barely see anything, though she could feel him. The incredible heat of his body and the roughness of his fur under her fingers as she reached up to pet his head. She heard every heavy breath he took and wondered how badly he had been hurt in the commotion.
“Why did you do this?” she asked.
Then she broke into tears again. She wept so that her body shook, unable to stop even as it sent waves of pain through her bruised and battered body. Her sobs echoed in the empty night, every agonised sound bouncing back to her. She wept until there were no more tears, until she was too exhausted to make another sound, and no one came. She was alone with her wolf, lost in the woods.
They did not move. She was still on the cold, hard ground and the wolf seemed satisfied with merely being at her side. He kept her warm in the cool night and was gentle each time he moved his head.
Even as she wanted nothing but for morning to come she found she was also afraid of it. When the sun came above the horizon Ned would have to face his actions. Catelyn could only hope she was wrong in that someone was dead because if that was so he would never forgive himself.
By the time the sky was finally turning paler Catelyn was so tired she could have wept again. She was sore, her clothes were tattered, she felt hunger and thirst and confusion over that no one had found them yet. How far into the woods had he dragged her? Though at least Ned would be allowed to come to. At least no one would have to be afraid of him anymore.
The wolf raised his head and whined, not unlike how a pup would. Then began the snapping.
Catelyn had to move her stiff and bruised body away from him as he began contorting with unsettling, cracking sounds. She could only watch with both hands over her mouth as the fur grew back into his skin and his bones broke only to heal in new ways. And all through it he cried and cried and cried, and what began as a hound’s tortured whimpers soon became a man’s agonised screams. It mingled with the sound of his bones breaking to create a sound unlike anything Catelyn had ever heard before.
In the end, when Ned was Ned again, he curled up on the ground like a child might. Still with a chain around his wrist. There was a deep wound in his shoulder that was no longer bleeding, though blood flowed from yet another gash in his lower back. Apart from that it seemed to be mostly smaller cuts and bruises. Nothing that would kill him. Though he was naked and had to be cold.
Catelyn sniffled as slowly she crawled towards him. Once she was sitting by his side she used her cloak to press against the wound on his back, wanting to stop the blood flow.
”Catelyn?” Ned asked weakly, not turning his head to look at him.
There he was again. Unknowing of what had happened, unknowing of what he had done, unknowing of how much hurt he had caused.
”I am here” she whispered, too hoarse to speak any louder.
“You should not be.”
“I know.”
With a pained groan Ned managed to look up at her with bloodshot eyes. His initially foggy gaze grew sharp as he looked at her and his eyebrows furrowed together. He looked so old. The lines on his face were more pronounced and it felt as if though he had more grey in his hair.
“Why are you here?”
“It has been… a very long night.”
Her voice broke on the last word.
Ned’s horror only grew as he looked around and realised they were alone. Slowly he managed to push himself into a sitting position.
“Don’t move” Catelyn protested feebly, attempting to keep the pressure to his bleeding wound.
Ned was in no mind to listen. His hands found the tattered remains of her skirts. In the growing light Catelyn could see how dirty she was after having been dragged along the ground. Her hair must have been a tangled mess and she was covered in pine needles. He could not even see her body. It would be weeks before she could undress in his presence.
“What have I done?”
Had she ever seen such panic in his usually cool features? His eyes were wild with it.
“I will tell you later, for now we must… we must stop your bleeding and find our way back to the camp.”
The positive thing with that she had been dragged along the ground was that it had left marks on the ground. She could easily tell from where they had come, it would not be difficult to follow the path Ned had made for them back out of the woods.
“Where are we?” Ned asked.
“It was very dark when we came here so I cannot say” Catelyn let him know. “But I know where we came from.”
Ned gave a strangled sound and Catelyn felt her heart break in two.
“I have hurt you!”
“You did not mean to.”
“My intention means nothing!”
Even as he had dragged her out there, even as he was the reason they were both hurt, Catelyn wanted nothing but to take him in her arms. If only she could have held him until all the hurt went away.
Then came a voice more blessed than anything Catelyn had ever heard. Even from a distance she knew Jory. Someone had come for them. Someone had found them.
“Lord Stark!”
“We’re here!” Catelyn called back.
It took only a moment before more voices were heard. Ned cowered as he heard them, hid his face in Catelyn’s shoulder. She had to keep herself from wincing as he did so, pain shooting out through her entire arm.
When Catelyn caught sight of Jory running towards them she smiled against herself, unable to do anything but as she was overcome by relief.
“Lady Catelyn!” Jory said, returning her smile. “I worried I would never see you again.”
“I did not know what had become of you either” Catelyn confessed. “How are the rest?”
“My group is alright, my lady” he ensured her, kneeling next to them. “Lord Stark immediately took off and paid us no mind. It seems those who stood between the two of you got the worst of it.”
Jory produced a key from one of his pockets and freed Ned from the chain still attached to him.
“What does the worst of it mean?” Ned asked quietly.
He did not look at Jory.
“No deaths, my lord, though some nasty bites and a lot of bruising. It probably would have been worse had you not busied yourself so with abducting your lady wife.”
No deaths. No deaths. No one had died in an attempt to save her.
Catelyn raised a hand to cradle the back of Ned’s head, weaving her fingers into his hair.
“I will be alright, no one needs worry for me” she said both to Jory and to Ned before they could get further into what her abduction had meant. “Though Lord Stark was stabbed and the wounds must be seen to.”
“Stabbed?” Ned asked. “Is that why I’m bleeding?”
“Your men defended me fiercely.”
“Not fiercely enough” Jory sighed.
Not without shame.
Harwin and Alyn came into sight and the relief was obvious on both of their faces when they saw both Ned and Catelyn. Had they truly thought her dead? Maybe it was not so strange considering what had happened.
Jory unclasped his cloak and pulled it around Ned’s naked form to shield him from the cool morning air. Then Harwin and Alyn pulled him up from the ground, both of them needed to keep him on his feet as they slowly began making their way back to the camp.
Catelyn limped behind them, glad for that Ned could not see how pained she was. He was already aware of approximately what had happened, though Catelyn dreaded what would he would do once he was rested enough to truly grasp it. What would become of him when he saw the damage?
And that’s the week! However we just so happen to have a catch up day tomorrow in case anyone had anything the wanted to post a little late.
I want to thank all the wonderful writers & artists who took part this year and I will be posting a masterlist on Monday of all the submissions. And if you didn’t, thank you for following along and supporting everyone! 🫶
Ned's soul is present when his wife receives his bones but he can neither touch nor speak to her
“Now leave me, all of you. I would be alone with Ned tonight.”
This is what she had told them. And so they had all gone and they were left alone. Or rather, Catelyn was left alone with what remained of him.
His wife had been so strong. For their family’s sake, she had left their two youngest at Winterfell and travelled through Westeros on her own. Always doing her duty and looking perfectly composed, even as he knew just how much being apart from her children cost her. And when news of his death reached her, she did not break down. Even now, being presented with his bones, she did not cry. She would not shed a tear in front of the others, he knew. Though the silent sisters and Utherydes Wayn were gone now, and the tremble in her hands was becoming increasingly more noticeable.
She took a tentative step forward.
“Oh Ned…” She whispered.
“I’m here, my love.”
But of course, she did not reply. She never did. The words could not reach her ears yet he spoke them all the same. And every time he received no reply –every time he was cruelly reminded of the fact that he truly had left her behind– something inside him died a little more.
She stopped right in front of the table, her shaky hand slowly reaching for him but hesitating. She took a deep breath before finding the strength to press it against the skeleton’s chest, beside this sword they had placed there that was not his. There was nothing but bones beneath the surcoat. There was no warm flesh, no heartbeat for her to feel.
It struck him suddenly that he would not experience his wife’s touch again. He would never again know the warm brush of her lips against his or feel her breath on his neck or caress her soft body in the ways that drove her mad. Nor would he run his fingers through her beautiful hair like he had spent countless hours doing. When was the last time he had held her? Ned cursed himself. Why did he not hold her tighter? Why did he ever let go? And, gods, he thought to himself with panic, what of the nights when she grew cold and he was not there to keep her warm anymore? He had failed her in that as well.
Catelyn took a shuddering breath and quickly drew her hand away, as though she had been burned. The beautiful blue eyes that he so adored, the same eyes that she had given to their children, were filling up with tears. Tears that had been suppressed for too long.
“How could you, my love?” Her voice came out hoarse. “How could you leave me like this?”
“Cat…”
“I can't do this alone Ned, I really can't. I am trying but it is not enough. I can't make this right.”
“I’ve been a fool, Cat. The biggest damned fool in the realm. I never should have left Winterfell. I never should have left you and our children. Forgive me, my lady. I beg of you.”
When in life, Ned had left Catelyn to suffer on her own more times that he could bear to admit to himself. He had brought home a bastard and had let her suffer the indignity alone, not daring to go to her, not daring to offer comfort when she was all alone and doubting herself. Because no words could be good enough to undo the dishonour he had brought upon her. So he had kept his distance. Yet in time, they had found their way to each other’s hearts and Catelyn had become one of the most precious things in his life. How she had managed to forgive him he could not say but he would spend eternity being grateful for it.
But when Catelyn needed him the most… when their precious son had been pushed off a window and whether he would live or not was uncertain, he had left her again. He let her go through all of it on her own. Was this to be his punishment? He was here now. Gods, he was here and would give everything for a chance to comfort her, to let her know that she was not alone. But he no longer could comfort her. He could only watch as the love of his life shook under the weight of her grief. Grief that he had caused.
“Robb… our sweet boy… a king now. He needs you, Ned. He’s too young to be shouldering a burden so heavy. Too young…” Her voice shook more when she spoke of Robb.
Hearing of his eldest son pained him more than any physical blow ever could. He was only a boy still. Only a boy, forced to be king. All because of him.
“And he tries so hard to be like you. I try to counsel him but I cannot fill the hole you left behind.”
“I’m so proud of him. Gods, he… he must know that. He has done so well.”
“And the girls… I've started doubting whether I will ever see our daughters again.”
Her voice broke at that. A heartbreaking sound that made his very soul ache. His wife was falling apart before him and there was absolutely nothing he could do.
“What type of mother does that make me? I dare not say it aloud out of fear of making it come true. I miss our little girls, my love. I want no more of this war, I- I only want them back. How can I make it all end?” She covered her mouth with her hand.
“The girls…” He whispered.
Ned had failed his daughters more than anyone. He had taken them to the capital with him, he was supposed to protect them. Instead… instead he had left them alone among the lions. And now his son had to fight a war if there was even some fragile hope of getting them back. How had he failed them so completely? How had he condemned his entire family? His girls… His sweet girls…
The last thing he had heard before the sword fell was Sansa's screams. It was a sound that he could never forget, much as he tried to erase it from his memory. He heard those screams now. They echoed, again and again.
Perhaps his heart did not beat in his chest anymore but he felt it aching all the same. An all-consuming ache. It was as if someone had pierced it with a dagger and twisted it.
“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I never meant… Sansa… Arya… I failed them. I failed you all. I’m sorry, Cat. I can't…”
But what good could apologies ever do when his family was broken apart? His wife could not even hear him, let alone forgive him.
Catelyn was gasping for breath now, her voice barely above a whisper. “Bran and Rickon must think we have abandoned them by now. They have been alone for so long… Does young Rickon understand death? I wonder. Does he understand that you are gone forever? Our wild baby boy... I fear they will not remember you when they grow older. I fear they will not remember your face, and your voice, and your gentle hands that used to hold them.”
“No more Catelyn. No more. I beg you. I cannot take it.”
“But I loved your face and your voice and your hands. Gods, I don't want them to forget you, Ned.”
“Gods be good, please… don't let our children forget me. Cat please… please tell them that I love them. They must know that. They must know...”
For a while she couldn't speak anymore. She took one more look at the skeleton in front of her, shook her head and lowered it, allowing her tears to fall on his remains; so many tears that he feared she would dry out. Her entire body was shaking.
It was not the lady Stark that their men knew and respected standing in front of him nor the strong mother that Robb so much needed. It was just Cat. His Cat. And beneath it all she was a grieving, tired and frightened woman. But only now that she was alone did she let her guard down and let show just how much her heart was aching. Only she wasn't alone. She didn't know that though did she? She did not know that after his death her husband was still the only person she shared her vulnerable moments with.
He tried to reach out, to grab her shoulders, to steady her, to let her know that she wasn't truly alone. But his translucent hand went right through her body, like it had a hundred times before, and Catelyn felt nothing.
She leaned closer to the skeleton, like she wanted to whisper something only he could hear.
“Our children need me to be strong. To find a way to get our family back together. But I... I need you, my love. More than I ever have. How can I keep being strong when you're not here? How can I keep going? I just want you to hold me. I just…”
Part of him was glad that she broke down, and felt that she needed to have this outburst because had she held her grief in for much longer it would have destroyed her from the inside. But another part wanted to shake her, to tell her that she shouldn't be saying these things. Because she needed to keep going. She needed to remain strong for longer yet. With or without him, she had to be there for their family. Such was the burden that he had left her.
“You are strong. The strongest woman I know. Catelyn…” Her name felt like a prayer on his lips. He could find no words to finish his sentence.
And as she cried there, over his bones, whispering things to what was left to her of the husband she had once loved, she bent down and pressed her wet lips against the skull’s forehead. If he tried he could almost feel her lips and her warm breath on his brow. He wondered painfully if she could almost feel his skin there as well rather than a cold, lifeless skeleton as she closed her eyes, red from crying.
“How could you leave me?” She repeated the question weakly as her legs gave out and she slowly sank to her knees.
Ned Stark was not a man that often wept in life. But he did weep now, beside his grieving wife. Perhaps tears weren't coming out of his eyes but the sensation was the same. The knot in his throat was the same. The pain was real. And there was no escaping it.
“I never did.” He replied softly. “I never will. I'm always with you, Cat. How I wish you could know that…”
She pressed her forehead against the side of the table, her breathing heavy and unsteady.
“I wasn’t even with you when you died. You were all alone in a black cell before they took your head off. I should have been with you in your final moments.”
“You were with our son, where you were supposed to be.”
He knelt beside her, wishing to keep her company. That she did not know he was there made no difference. He would stay with her all the same. This night he would spend with his wife, separated from her only by touch.
For a long time she said no more. She cried and cried, until her tears ran dry and her breathing calmed. He would have thought she had fallen asleep had she not spoken again.
“I hope you are happier where you are now. I hope your gods have offered you peace, for it seems we will not find it soon down here.” Her head remained bowed as she spoke, exhaustion taking its toll. “I shall see you again, my love. One day. Wait for me.”
The words felt impossible to get out, but he forced himself to say them. “I will be waiting. However long it takes. I will wait for you, Cat.”
She remained there for the rest of the night, kneeling on the hard ground before his bones. He stayed beside her the whole time. Whether or not she had any sleep, he could not say, but for many hours she did not move. And as the night slowly wore off there was only one thing Ned Stark was certain of. Ηe would be waiting for his wife for as long as he had to. Hopefully he would be waiting for a long time still. Catelyn would outlive this horrid war and perhaps even manage to find some happiness afterwards, safe from all harm with their children. He wished for that more than anything. He wished she would come to him an old woman, having lived a full life. Even if the thought of not being there to spend it with her was agonizing. But until the time came for them to be together again, he would be waiting.
Ned wants to grieve. Catelyn refuses to. 1.5k words, divider by @/saradika
“Forgive me, I do not know why I am so upset over a calf.”
Ned had thought his heart was as broken as it could be over their loss, stinging with every breath he took. But then he had found Catelyn sitting in the straw with one of the cows, stroking her head and weeping, and then she said that, and his chest somehow burned and froze simultaneously. Perhaps, with this, he could finally speak to her about it, about the screaming, wretched wound between them. He entered the stall, carefully stepping around the cow (it’s Plum; of course it is Plum, Robb’s favorite), and knelt beside the dark, wet little lump in front of her. He placed a hand on the small head and closed his eyes for a moment.
“I am sorry, sweet girl,” Ned murmured, opening his eyes again and looking at Plum. “Sweet little Plum, oh, I am so sorry.”
“She keeps trying to get it to stand up,” Catelyn told him. “She refuses to believe that it cannot. Every few minutes she gets up and tries again. She wants to nurse it.”
Just as you did. Ned’s head throbbed with the image of Catelyn clutching a cold bundle to her breast, distraught at the lack of latch, vehemently refusing to allow him to take it from her. Her. Not it. Her. Alarra. She’s been gone twice as long as she lived, but she was ours. Ned hated how he had distanced himself, but Catelyn’s rejection of reality made it impossible for him to address his pain. She had gone from dismissing death to eliminating existence entirely. Ned understood the initial refusal, the hope that demanding it not be true would make it so; but his darling wife had stubbornly sat in denial for four moons now, and it was wearing on them both.
“How long have you been out here?” Ned asked as he sat beside Catelyn.
“Since just after supper,” Catelyn replied. “Torren informed me she had begun her labors before we sat down to eat, and I came straight here to see how she was.”
That had been three hours ago. As had become routine since the burial, Ned had taken the children to the godswood after supper, then put them to bed before going in search of Catelyn. Every evening, the grief she refused to acknowledge would take her wandering through their home, followed by the guard Ned had ordered be within ten feet of his wife any time he was not with her. (He had seen the way she had eyed his dagger, standing beside him in the crypts; he could not risk her gaining hold of some other tool due to a lack of supervision. He had personally removed everything sharp from her chambers, and her windows had been locked closed, so that she might still have some privacy. That she had not commented on these changes pushed the ache in his soul even deeper.)
“We ought to do something,” Catelyn said quietly.
“Aye,” Ned sighed. “But taking it from her won’t be pretty. I imagine she’ll put up quite a fight.”
“It is still her baby, Ned.”
“I know that. But it can’t stay here.” Ned paused for a moment. “Cat, do you truly not know why this has upset you so?”
Catelyn blinked at him, frowning. Ned swallowed, searching for the right words. He shifted closer to Catelyn, taking one of her hands, thumb slowly rubbing across her knuckles. Plum stood.
She pressed her nose to her calf, gently nudging.
Catelyn lightly stroking their daughter’s wisps of hair, slowly rocking.
Plum softly mooed.
Catelyn murmuring encouragingly.
A more insistent moo.
His name said with a tremble, tears forming.
Nose wiggled under the little body, trying to lift it to its feet.
Dirt. Dirt on her feet, dirt on her nightgown. Dirt under her nails.
A frustrated tail flick, before moving to stand over the calf, getting her udder as close to its mouth as possible.
Shoving him away, angrily telling him that she needed to nurse. Why didn’t he want her to feed their child? Why had he put her down here, away from everyone? Their little girl was hungry, she needed her mother.
More nudging, followed by another moo, more forlorn.
Her babe, he was taking her from her babe! He was a horrible husband, a horrible father! She hated him! Screams echoing in the courtyard as she clawed at the arms wrapped around her. She hated him, she hated him, she hated him.
Plum sighed heavily, circling back around the calf to lay down again. She stared off into the darkness, ignoring Ned and Catelyn.
Silence. A fortnight of silence, the door to her chambers remaining closed. Then suddenly it was as if none of it had happened, as if they had only ever had four pups. Catelyn went about her duties as she had before the birth. The only difference was the restraint in her affections towards him and the children. They didn’t ask about that night, although he knew they had all heard her screaming.
“Ned?” Catelyn’s voice cut through his thoughts. Ned blinked and shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the Catelyn of the present. She was looking at him with concern, her hand hovering between them.
“What troubles you?” Her palm against his cheek was warm and familiar, and he could not help leaning into it.
“Please, Cat,” Ned softly beseeched, squeezing the hand in his lap, “you must know. You must know why you feel so for Plum.”
“Ned,” Catelyn shook her head, “I do not—”
“Please, Cat, please.” A tear escaped his eye, running down to her thumb. “You do not have to join me in mourning, but I am begging you to acknowledge our loss. I cannot continue to pretend. I need to mourn, Cat. Please.”
For a long moment, Catelyn stared at him. Ned could see the pages flicking in her mind. Then her eyes dropped from his and her hand slipped from his cheek to his chest and her breath caught.
“Oh. Alarra.” Catelyn took a shuddering inhale. “Our babe died.” She looked up at Ned again, eyes glistening. “Oh, gods be good, Ned; I dug her up, didn’t I?”
“It’s alright, Cat, it’s alright,” Ned attempted to soothe her, but Catelyn was already turning away from him and heaving, horror and grief crashing into her with such force that a bodily reaction was unavoidable. Ned quickly gathered her hair, gently shushing in a manner he hoped was comforting. After a few minutes, Catelyn sat up again, breathing heavily. She turned back towards Ned, looking absolutely pitiful, and immediately he pulled her into his lap, arms wrapped tight around her.
“Ned, oh gods, Ned,” Catelyn sobbed into his chest. “I’m so sorry.”
“Cat, Cat, it’s alright, my love.” Ned kissed her temple, then rested his cheek against her head. “I never held any of it against you.”
“I said I hated you!” Catelyn wailed. “Our babe was freshly dead and I told you I hated you!”
“I knew you did not mean it, darling. I knew it was only your grief.”
Ned did not know how long they sat there, Catelyn sobbing against him, soaking his shirt. When her tears finally slowed enough that she could breathe normally, he carefully shifted to his knees, slid an arm under her legs, then, with a small grunt, lifted her up and carried her from the stall.
“Ned, I can walk,” Catelyn murmured.
“Nonsense,” Ned replied. “You just lost all of your supper and have likely cried out every drop of water in your body. You are not walking.”
He carried her to his chambers. Alarra had lived in Catelyn’s, for her two short moons; there was no reason to add to the distress they both already felt, and it was summer, she would not be cold. Catelyn allowed him to undress her and help her into a nightgown (left amongst his own clothing for the occasional nights she came to him instead of the other way around) and braid her hair, then she silently climbed into his bed. Ned rushed through getting himself ready to sleep, then slid in behind her. Catelyn shifted back, pressing against him, lacing her fingers with his when he draped an arm over her.
“You’re a good man, Eddard Stark,” Catelyn whispered.
“Not as good as you deserve,” Ned replied, leaning over to kiss her cheek.
“Can we visit her in the morning?” Catelyn asked hesitantly.
“Of course.” Ned pressed a kiss to the crook of her neck. “Now sleep, my love.”
Catelyn did not need to be told twice. She was asleep within minutes, and for the first time in four moons, Ned felt his body relax. The road ahead was not easy, but at least he had his wife again. A prayer of thanks fluttered through his mind, then the quiet blackness of a dreamless night took him.
Even when she was tired and her dance partner none too graceful, Catelyn flew about the room in one set of arms after another during a feast, loathe to potentially offend. It had been thus for years, every offer accepted, scrupulously attentive to each lord, learning them as well as her husband knew this land of his, doing her duty as his wife, only tonight, from his seat amongst the men who thought themselves too old for dancing, Ned’s eyes lingered on her as she spun, watched every turn, noted the placement of every hand on her waist or hip. He would occasionally lose himself in watching the curtain of her hair wave and fall, then turn his attention, his eyes dark and glittering, back to her partner, his fingers drumming an impatient rhythm on the table.
Catelyn understood quite clearly that it was her duty to charm the Northern Lords. They respected Ned, of course. He was a Stark, had them let them in a victorious rebellion, but his heir was part Tully, Southern, so it was not sufficient to be a good wife or mother, to manage Winterfell as well as she has Riverrun, no. She must earn the respect and affection of this fierce Northmen. After all, Lord Stark he may be, but Ned was an unintended heir, and although her son would be Lord Stark after him, commanding the fealty that was owed him, she would have him loved as well.
So she danced. She laughed. She managed their supplies meticulously so they might present their lords with fine food and drink. She learned every lord’s likes, their longstanding, never forgotten quarrels between the Northern Houses, the names of their daughters, their plans for their sons. Every kindness was security for her children, and so kindness she extended unfailingly even she did not care about that incident years ago involving a stream that was damned, a son that disappointed his father, the hunt for a particularly large elk, she listened, she remembered, and she made her children secure.
That he should be jealous of her, dancing attendance on his lords, for his son’s benefit, under his watchful gaze when he was the one who—But all the same, her heart beat that much faster, her cheeks glowed that much more warmly; she flushed from head to toe.
Family. Duty. Honor.
She lived by her words, the mantra threaded through her every decision, mostly. But there were times when her marriage was not duty, when honor fled her mind entirely, when all that else was forgotten, ceased to exist, but him, Ned.
He was a calm man, her husband. Unreadable, slow to speak, often stoic, but he knew how to move her, stir her blood, make her scream.
She forced herself to look away from his eyes, they brought indecent things to her mind, reminiscences unfit for company, but it was too late. She, not her partner, stumbled through the last steps of their dance. She, not her partner, breathed heavily, grew red-faced. She, not her partner, stood mutely rather than delivering the expected compliments.
Then she felt it, his strong hand on her back, settling just so along her spine, sliding down, sliding low. His fingers pressing into her gown, until the heat of them, of him, penetrated the thick, wool dress. It was a mere touch, she had yet to turn and acknowledge him, all the same, everything within her thrilled at his presence. A married woman she may be, a mother for many years, her husband however still made her feel a maid. Not still, perhaps for the first time, she had truly lost her head. It was enough to make her wonder if all had gone according to plan, if she had married as originally intended, what would have happened on nights like this, Brandon drunk and boisterous with his friends, the quiet wolf with his storm-grey eyes watching her, his stoic face alight.
If this is what they felt, this temporary madness, it was no small wonder men fathered bastards, no matter what it meant for their wives.
Ned replied to her partner without Cat knowing what was said, a dismissal of some kind that undid her flattery and sent the poor man quickly away. A slight pressure on her hip brought her closer to Ned, until her dress caught on a buckle and snagged, three threads pulled free to disrupt her determined tidiness.
“It was only a dance,” she finally managed to say, lips dry, painfully breathless. “If you wanted to dance, you need only to have asked.” She refused to look at him, stood stiffly, just so, afraid if she turned she would melt entirely way.
“I acted without thought.”
She wanted to act without thought. The strange willfulness, a mixture of sharp anger, a painful memory, desire so fierce she wanted to cry out. She choked down any response she might have given, no jest coming to mind.
“You’re right. It’s only a dance. It is only, I have never once danced with you,” Ned said.
She struggled to calm the wild-fury of her heart, “You have never asked.”
“I’ve never asked any lady for a dance.”
How could she ever come to understand her husband, this stranger. Too shy to ask for a dance, yet somehow managing to father a bastard. Unlike and yet so like all other men. A man so unmoved by passion being alike all the others and unlike, seeing fit to bring that child to his ancestral home.
“Forgive me?” His fingers traced her back lightly where they lay.
The musicians played on, with loud stomping accompany it, the drunken lords roared along in voices none-to-pleasant. Winterfell almost seemed lost to time, these ancient walls, these old songs, these rough Northmen ill-suited to the modern ways, living in a past far more simple than the present. Forgive me. The giant hearth was filled with logs so round she’d not be able to fit her arms around it. And above it, the direwolf summoned them back, back to the time of creatures that long since had faded away like snow on a sunny day.
Perhaps she too could be transported there, to this fevered dream, perhaps she could live there, not in daylight, not when her children needed her, for only this moment. Where her husband wrongs her and asks for forgiveness, when he looks at her as if she is the only woman he wants. Perhaps it was already the hour of the wolf, for she would let him have her, take her in the dark corridor with the sound of the revelry still in her ear, take her beneath the face of the strange gods in the godswood. She’d let him ravage her in the Sept, in defiance or in hope of a blessing, she could not say.
The thoughts made her tremble, Catelyn Tully would never, it’s obscene. But Catelyn Stark has been placed under some strange spell, mesmerized by a man who wasted no words who nonetheless beguiled her, wooed her with his clumsy ways, his stupid jealousy. His kind heart that tried to mark her presence here by welcoming her gods, by his love for their children. His shameful inability to play along when it came to men standing a little too close to his wife.
Forgiven. She nearly said it, but he read her thoughts, more firmly took hold of her waist, his other hand joining the first. Better than forgiven. He would ask her to dance. She may not know his every secret, but she knew him well enough. He would determinedly, awkwardly move with her through the wild steps unaware of how she longed to scandalize him by dragging him from the hall to have her way with him. Instead, she allowed her head to fall back upon his shoulder, to allow his familiar scent to fully engulf her, “Take me to my chambers, Ned. I am weary of dancing.”
Summary: Catelyn wishes the summer will be long and as Ned looks at her, naked and at peace, he hopes her wish will be granted.
King’s Landing was abhorrent in every way. Others would insist there were certain charms to the city, Robert especially, but Ned could never find it in him to agree. The heat was suffocating, the food was too sweet, the men and women were all snakes.
There was one notable exception to the misery. One thing that could push all else to a small corner of Ned’s mind and keep it there for a few blessed moments.
As Ned pushed himself off the bed and went to open the doors leading out to the balcony to let some air into the chamber Catelyn did not hide away under furs. Instead she stretched out over the bed and welcomed the very light breeze that swept through the room once the doors were open. Her pale skin had taken on a rosy hue and her hair was loose and free around her head. Their children had left lines on her stomach and on her breasts, they had also made her shape softer. Ned loved that.
The sight before him grew even lovelier when she saw how Ned looked at her and her lips curled into a smile.
”It is rude to stare, my lord” she said softly. ”Have you no shame?”
Darkness had descended upon the city, but the warm light from the candles lit in every corner of the room gifted a gentle glow to her skin and brought out the copper in her hair. She grew more beautiful with each passing year.
”All I can do is ask for your forgiveness” Ned told her.
”It shall all be forgotten if you bring me that bowl of fruit.”
So of course Ned did as he was told. He retrieved the silver bowl with purple grapes, pears and peaches from the small table and brought it over to his waiting wife.
”Have you worked up an appetite?” he asked as he held the fruit towards her.
”All due to you.”
Catelyn sat up and carefully chose a handful of grapes. She then hummed with satisfaction as she put one in her mouth.
There was not much fresh fruit to be grown up north and having it shipped was no option as it spoiled before it arrived. Ned had not much considered it until he’d taken his southron bride, used to delicacies that only grew in warmer weather.
Ned walked around the bed, got back in it on his side, and placed the bowl between them on the mattress.
”May this summer be a long one” Catelyn sighed as she ate another grape.
As he looked at Catelyn, naked and at peace, Ned hoped her wish would be granted.
”Summer is best enjoyed up north” he said.
Gentle snows that melted away quickly and sun that was not punishing.
”Hm? I quite enjoy this” Catelyn said, ever his opponent. ”The warmth is pleasant.”
”I am melting away, my lady."
When the sun stood high in the middle of the day he could barely think. He was reduced to a puddle vaguely resembling what was usually Lord Eddard of House Stark.
Catelyn only smiled, having heard his complaint many times before, and held out a grape towards him. She clearly meant for Ned to take it from her so he could eat it himself.
So instead he leaned forward and ate it straight from her hand, bringing a laugh from her.
“These are very sweet” he noted.
“It’s good for you to taste something sweet every now and then.”
“Is it, now?”
“It cannot all be according to your northern ways.”
Kissing her was sweeter still, the softness of her lips unlike anything else he had ever felt. He would have liked to keep kissing her, though she quickly pulled away.
Still smiling she fed him another grape. There was something playful to her expression as she did it. It had been long since Ned had last seen her enjoy herself so.
“Do you often miss these things when we are in Winterfell?” he had to ask.
Catelyn raised her eyebrows.
“Fruit?”
“And warmth. A southern summer.”
She considered for a moment before answering.
“At times, though it is of no great importance to me. I am glad to call Winterfell my home as that is where I have my family.”
When Ned had been wed to Catelyn many had remarked she would not be strong enough to live through the winter. The heirs she could give him would not have what was necessary to survive. Though again and again she had proved them wrong.
Once she had finished speaking she reached for one of the peaches. They were so ripe they seemed ready to burst at any moment.
“With that said I am also glad to enjoy a peach while on a southern visit” she added before biting into it.
It was difficult to eat a ripe peach with dignity and not even Catelyn could manage such a feat. Juice glistened on her lips and threatened to run down her chin.
Ned reached out and cupped her face, gently running the pad of his thumb over her mouth.
“You should taste it for yourself” Catelyn told him, offering him the peach. “It is a good peach.”
Ned had never been fond of peaches, both the taste and the texture was not to his liking, but he took a bite all the same because who was he to refuse his wife? The sweetness exploded over his tongue and the juice ran down his chin.
There was scarcely a second before Catelyn’s mouth was on his. Kissing and licking to gather up every trace of the peach.
“You are making a mess” she mumbled.
“Am I the one making a mess?” Ned had to question.
Catelyn hummed as if it was not her fault he was sticky and then made them both even stickier as she lost hold of the half eaten peach and it fell between their bodies. Ned did not immediately realise why something cold and wet suddenly hit his chest, but as they broke apart he realised what had happened.
“Seven hells” Catelyn sighed.
Ned found himself distracted by that before hitting the mattress it had landed between her breasts. In the light of the candles he saw the traces of it shining on her skin.
Before Catelyn had time to reach for it Ned had taken the peach and tossed it aside. He heard it hit the floor with a splatter and saw the confusion on Catelyn’s face, though she would soon understand.
“I was not finished” she protested halfheartedly as he moved aside the bowl of fruit so that he could get properly close to her.
“Then have more” Ned told her.
It was only he that had to busy his mouth with other things.
Catelyn gave a surprised noise as he lowered his head and ran his tongue between her breasts, but did not push him away. No, a moment later she shifted so that she could wrap her arms around his shoulders to allow him even closer.
He tasted the fruity sweetness of the peach and the salt of her sweat, and she sighed so sweetly as he did so. And once every trace of the fruit had been removed from her skin Ned pressed a trail of kisses up her chest and throat. He nuzzled his face into her neck, pressing himself as close to her as he could get. He wished to breathe only her.
One of her hands had found its way into his hair and she ran her nails across his scalp, sending shivers through Ned even as he was warmer than he had ever been before.
”Have you bruised my neck?” she asked softly.
”No.”
In the heat she had taken to wearing gowns with lower cuts and so Ned had instead chosen to direct his attention towards her thighs. He would spare her from having to endure pointed glances at marks left uncovered by her clothes.
Catelyn kept running her fingers through his hair.
”You took my grapes” she said, though she did not move.
Her arms remained around Ned, holding him close to her.
”Must you have them?”
He had found he was very comfortable as he was.
”Would you deny me grapes?”
Even as he could not see her Ned heard the smile in her voice.
With a sigh Ned pressed one final kiss to her neck and then moved away from her so that she could properly sit up and herself reach for the bowl of fruit. Because he would not deny her grapes if she so wanted them.
He would also not deny himself sweeping aside her hair to kiss her shoulder, though he was quickly forced to raise his head again as she reached up and fed him yet another grape.
”What would they say if they could see you now?” she mused, not entirely without satisfaction.
It was not hard to imagine they would find a lot of humour in Lord Stark eating grapes from his wife’s hand.
”I am but human.”
”With how you are one can easily forget.”
”You wound me, my lady” Ned said dryly.
He then promptly had to receive another grape.
”I believe you will live” Catelyn let him know.
So he would. Especially as he could again let his lips run over her shoulder until he found her hairline, burying his nose in her still slightly damp hair.
“Oh gods, I am in need of a bath” Catelyn said as he did so.
”As am I.”
They were equally sweaty and sticky with peach juice.
Catelyn turned her head to look at him and their faces were so close Ned was allowed to share her breaths.
When they kissed that time Catelyn was eager to push her tongue into his mouth, taking hold of his jaw to hold him in place. The heat of her mouth was the most delicious thing Ned had ever known.
”Let us have that bath” she whispered as they parted.
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