#catxned

[sansaissteel]

If he doesn't mourn me as hard as cat did Ned I don't want him.

[strexp]

                                  cat & ned matching icons

                                               part two 

please like/reblog if you save

[strexp]

                                   cat & ned matching icons

                                                part one 

please like/reblog if you save

[xgliix]

[cleromancy]

i was thinking abt ned stark being a Certified Loser TM and that the first time he met cat it was when she was still engaged 2 his brother and she and her septa were lost @ winterfell and she saw him and was like "how do u get 2 the east wing" and his mind like. goes blank. bc holy shit???? shes so pretty?????????? and shes talking?????????? to him?????????? and hes just like "um. east."

i love this thank you so much. thank you

[dknc3]

Welp, my one possible chance at contributing to CatXNed week can’t happen now. :(

I realized that the 5th installment in my “Would That You Were Mine” series would work for the “Betrayal” theme, and it was partially written already so I set out to complete it when I got off work at 3:30pm EDT today. BUT, I had to spend one hour at a basketball game, and then suffered through a high school scheduling assembly for Son Number 3 that lasted TWO HOURS!!! Yikes!

So, I can finish it by midnight MY time, but no way can I finish it by by 8pm here (which is in about a half hour and is midnight GMT.)

I guess I’ll go ahead and finish it up and post it on AO3. My apologies to catxned as I LOVE the theme ideas and think you are awesome for hosting this event. I work past midnight GMT tomorrow and then leave for Washington, D.C. to chaperone a school trip the next day and don’t come home until well after midnight GMT on fill day. But when I post on AO3 tonight, know that you’re the reason this story got written and posted tonight! :D :D

[starkmatriarch]

Breaking || Catelyn (and Ned) War of Five Kings Drabble

She remembered the Sept at Riverrun so well, from her childhood, from her girlhood, from days in the sun and days in the rain. She walked through the sun-dappled seven-walled room, seeing how the light shone through the windows, lighting the face of each of the seven Gods. She was alone and had left everyone in the heart of the castle, saying she preferred to make her prayers in solitude though now she walked upon this silent place, there were no prayers upon her lips.

This was where she had married Ned, where she had wed a solemn stranger and they had spoken their vows to one another,acting of duty, neither knowing the love that would come to grow between them. He had bedded her that that night in an expression of both awkward innocence and honourable duty and they had made Robb, the King that now lay waiting in the castle that had been her home as long as Winterfell. Neither she or Ned could have known the years they would have together, the happiness,  the love they would share, love enough for any couple and far more. And nor could they have known how abruptly that happiness would be ended, how cruelly they would be torn apart when their children were still young.

She had not broke in front of any of the men, not in front of her son nor her uncle nor her brother. She had grieved, but she had remained strong, as hard and resilient as the North. She had not broken. But here, in the privacy of the Sept with none to see her,  she felt the weight of the emotions pushing her down to the ground beneath her feet, and with no Ned to hold her steady, she fell to her knees, her dress and cloak spreading around her like water, kneeling before the stone visage of the Stranger as though to ask of him why he saw fit to take her husband.

Why did the Mother not protect him? Why did the warrior not guard him? The Crone guide him? Why did they not save him? She prayed always for the safety of her family, of their protection, so why had the Gods not answered in keeping Ned safe. Why?

As she lay on her knees before the seven faces she seemed to demand an answer of them all, demanding that the silent stone speak words to her, answer the questions which plagued her mind so. Why did you not save him? Why did you see fit to leave me alone in this world? I am strong, but I cannot bear this, to know I shall live the rest of my days without ever looking upon him again, to live years while his face fades from my mind, a memory lost to the past. I cannot go on without him. By the Gods, it hurts too much for even my heart to beat. Surely it has broken, surely no person can live with pain, surely it has killed me too. I am but a shell, a mimicry of a flame of life long since gone out and left in darkness.

The tears streamed down her face, running down her cheeks like rivers and waterfalls, and she could hear a loud noise screaming in her ears like the cry of an animal in pain and she realised the noise was her. Her hands reached over the stone feet of the Stranger, and it seemed as though she was pleading they return her husband. Return him to me living, not as a box of bones. There is no warmth in bones, no comfort, no safety, no love. Return him to me. Give me my husband, give my children their Father.

The thought of his head upon a spike outside the gates of King's Landing was enough to make her choke and as she bent over, her head into her knees, her hair spreading over her splayed skirts, she felt as though she might be sick, that she might die and perish here herself, a woman lost to a broken heart. How can I guide my children? There is much I can give Robb, but he needs a Father. I need his Father. I need him by my side.

She closed her eyes and the imagined image of his beheading plagued her. She remembered so well running her hands over that face, his lips against hers, burying himself into her hair as they lay together, she remember the eyes crinkling when she was gifted with a smile, she remembered every line, every expression and now that same face would be lifeless, placed alongside traitors, adorning the wall of the Red Keep.

It was more than she could bear. It was too much. She could not be strong. She must be. But she could not. She cried long, loud sobs in the privacy of the Sept, begging answers of them all, begging why of them all, hating them and pleading with them with each passing second. Why bless us so only to take it all away? My husband is gone and I have left my sons to lead another to war and my daughters lie trapped by their Father's murderers. Why? But the Gods gave no answer.

Ned, please.

Why did you leave me alone in this world?

[starkmatriarch]

(ʃƪ ˘ ³˘) - firstmen-blood (or whatever my new url is)

Fingertip: Praise/AdmirationBack of Hand: Respect/LoveWrist: Desire/LustArm: Affection/AdorationNape: Deep AttachmentEar: TemptationThe Bridge of Nose: TreasuringCheek: Dear/Kindness/SatisfactionLips: LoveThroat: Desire

The castle seemed almost deathly quiet to Catelyn’s ears for she could hear nothing but the beating of Ned’s heart. With so many children, so many servants, it was rare that a moment before nightfall was ever theirs entirely, theirs to own. But a rare blessing of the Gods had found them a private moment, and as she sat in his lap, his arms holding her close, she took his hand in hers and raised it to her lips, kissing the fingertips lightly, one by one. slowly tracing her lips along the back of his hand. She held his hand against her cheek, closing her eyes against the comforting warmth of his touch. She turned her head, eyes still closed and placed kisses upon his wrist, before tracing them up his arm as she turned from where she sat in his lap, their hands interlaced, her dress draped over them both as them came face to face, almost nose to nose.

"I love you," She whispered softly, before kissing him upon the lips. Softly, gently, longingly; when she pulled away it was as though her lips did not want to part from his and so they kissed his cheek as she leaned into him. Her lips danced along his ear, her touch feather light as she moved down to his throat, and to the nape of his neck, her hands now letting go of his so that they could run through his hair, holding him close as she continued to kiss his neck. She paused for a moment, looking into his eyes, those eyes which had once seemed so distant to her, as cold as Winterfell, but now seemed as warm as the castle’s hot springs and held one of the kindest, most loving souls she had ever known. She smiled at him, before playing placing a kiss on his nose, resting her forehead against his.