featuring a scene from my nedcat regency au fic that is just. not done (but will be in time for catch up day!) However, I did want to share a snippet of the scene this art is from!
She spared a glance at him from the corner of her eye, catching the bead of sweat that rolled down the side of his face. He'd be much cooler without all that hair… and that beard, she thought. His thick sideburns too. She thought of Ser Elbert and Patrek Mallister, and every other southern gentleman's clean shaven face and she bit back a snort too late while imagining Lord Eddard Stark ridding himself of his hair. He caught the sound, turning his head to look at her with a raised eyebrow, aware that it was aimed towards him.
Catelyn cleared her throat. "I was only thinking that perhaps we were mistaken in taking a walk in the mid-day. We will all come back to the picnic tired and hot." Though it would only be Lord Stark who would really suffer, she thought as she looked to those walking ahead of them. No doubt they were enjoying the heat, as she did.
"Yes, I’d say so," he agreed. "It might have been better to have left a little later. Do you need to rest?"
"No," she answered, not wanting to prolong their time together.
"You're faring better than I am. I will admit that I am not… used to the heat," he said, grimacing like he regretted even speaking. "I had come only last year to the capital for my sister's wedding, but it seems I have forgotten how brutal the weather can be." He looked up at the sky, squinting at the sun.
"Brutal? If I may ask, my lord, that if you are struggling now, what will you do when late summer comes?" He grimaced again, looking as if he was just told he would be soon sent off into battle. Again, a laugh threatened to bubble out of her but was able to hold back. Against making him scowl, she did not mention that in a short time, King’s Landing would unbearably reek.
Catelyn did not know what possessed her in that moment, but she said, half jokingly, "if only you could take a dip in the Blueburn. You would cool off then."
"In the river?" He asked, pausing to contemplate her words and it was her turn to grimace with regret. "Is that your method to fend off the heat?"
Catelyn looked foward, refusing to meet his curious gaze. She could see Lysa and Ser Elbert talking animatedly and ahead of them was a view of Cersei's umbrella, and the duke turning around to say something to Ser Balon. Catelyn and Eddard were too far away to hear what he was saying, but his booming laugh carried over.
"Not here," she answered, clearing her throat. "Obviously not. But in the midlands, yes."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. It is quite common for the children, and some families, to go to the rivers to swim in the summer months," she said, paused, then added, “is that strange?"
"No. I wouldn't say so." Lord Stark fell back into silence and Catelyn almost welcomed it. He was no conversationalist, this she knew since the Tyrell ball, and she could not fathom why she even made an attempt to be anything more than cordial in the first place. The peals of laughter from up ahead caught her attention and she almost sighed, slightly jealous that the rest of the group was able to enjoy themselves.
She was so focused on it that she was taken by surprise when Lord Stark spoke up. "We don't visit the river. There is one, the White Knife, but the water is too cold for any sort of swimming. Even in the summer. But… we mostly go to the hot springs."
Catelyn turned to him, eyebrows shooting up with piqued interest. "The hot springs?"
Catelyn is feeling jealous. 925 words, divider by @/saradika
Catelyn was brooding. She had watched Ned ride off early that morning with his companions, a relaxed air about him, and had ignored the twist of her stomach. She had gone about her own morning as usual, then had taken to her chambers. Now, Sansa napping beside her, she methodically pulled needle through suede over and over, painstakingly building anatomy. She had not decided what to embroider upon her daughter’s coat until the evening before. Ned had told her to do whatever pleased her when she had asked him his opinion before supper, which was unhelpful, but it was no matter, for his behavior during the meal made the decision suddenly quite easy.
A gentle rap at the door. Catelyn paused for a second, blinking away her annoyed thoughts, then her husband’s voice came through the door, politely requesting entry. She sighed, then granted it. He wished to see Sansa, she knew, as he had not had the chance that morning. Ned smiled at her as he entered, then walked over to their daughter. As if she sensed his presence, Sansa stirred, but before she could cry, Ned had picked her up, holding her to his chest and dropping a kiss on her temple.
“Did you enjoy it?” Catelyn asked emotionlessly as he sat in the chair opposite her.
“The hunt? Aye,” Ned replied, giving her a small smile. She refused to return it, keeping her eyes on her work. Ned’s smile faltered, brow furrowing. She was upset, but any possible reason why was escaping him.
“What design did you decide upon?” Ned asked after a minute, attempting to ease the tension between them.
“A bat,” Catelyn answered.
“Ah, for your mother’s house?”
“Aye.” Catelyn offered no further information, still refusing to look up. She was annoyed with him; he could either sort out the reason why or leave her alone.
“Catelyn, please, look at me.”
Catelyn sighed, pausing her needle, then slowly turned her face towards Ned. He was gazing at her with concern, thumb brushing across Sansa’s back, and if the cause of her heavy heart had been any less pressing, she would have allowed it to slip from her at the tender sight. But as it was she held fast, giving him nothing but dutiful acceptance.
“Why are you upset?” Ned asked softly.
“I was not asking of the hunt,” Catelyn responded, indirectly getting to an answer. “When I asked if you enjoyed it.” Ned simply tilted his head and she continued, “Did you enjoy being away from me and in the company of Dacey Mormont?”
“Catelyn, are you jealous?” Ned arched his brow disbelievingly.
“Am I jealous of a woman who has known you your entire life, who puts you at ease with a handful of words? Am I jealous of a woman who knows your lands and your humor and your gods, who fits seamlessly with you and Rickard and Medger and Vayon? Am I jealous of a woman who is all a Northern lady ought to be without trying, without anyone questioning her place? A woman you gravitate towards without thought?” Catelyn retorted, and at that Ned had the decency to duck his head. “No, of course I am not jealous, lord husband. That would be quite unseemly for a Lady Paramount. But I am curious if you found pleasure in your time with her. So I shall ask again—did you enjoy it?”
“Mm.” Ned shifted Sansa, as though he hoped to use her as a shield against any more of Catelyn’s stinging words. “I did enjoy my time with Dacey, my lady, but not because I was away from you.” Ned took a deep breath before meeting her gaze. “Dacey did not fight in the rebellion, although I have no doubt she would have done very well. She is a piece of my childhood that remains untouched by all that horror. The soft warmth of the time before the war is a temptation I am sure you understand.”
Catelyn stared at Ned for a long moment, anger giving way to guilt. Of course he enjoyed the presence of his childhood friend, the reminder of life before grief had come for them upon charcoal steeds, wielding wildfire. How could she begrudge him such a small bit of comfort? Ned waited patiently for her to gather her thoughts, gazing at her with a quietness she could not quite name.
“Forgive me, my lord.” Catelyn dropped her eyes to her lap. “It was impertinent and unkind of me to presume anything romantic between you and Lady Mormont.”
“No, no, Cat, do not apologize.” She heard him move, then he was gently holding her chin and tipping it upwards, and the eyes that met hers were tender. “I should have seen how you were hurting and explained myself. ’Tis I who must ask for forgiveness, dearest lady.”
“You have it.”
Ned smiled again, shifting his hand to cup her cheek, and this time Catelyn returned it, leaning into his palm. She was glad it was no longer a burden to voice their emotions. The first few years had been difficult, never knowing just how to speak to him, never knowing what currents ran behind his cold eyes. Sansa’s birth had given him an opportunity to be soft, however, and that softness had then extended to her. Catelyn’s eyes dropped to their daughter, happily dozing against Ned’s chest, and silently thanked The Seven for her, then added an additional prayer of thanks as she turned her eyes back up to Ned’s loving face.
After having agreed that they would not have any more children, the lord and lady of Winterfell find that they're expecting another child
Νed did not wait for his wife's response before gently pushing the door to her bedchamber open and walking inside. After so many years of hardly ever sleeping in his bed Catelyn’s room felt much more his own than his actual chambers did. He knew she’d be waiting for him.
Catelyn was seated in one of the big armchairs by the hearth, her legs tucked under herself. She was wearing one of his robes —which was too large on her— that she had long ago claimed as hers, declaring that it was somehow much more comfortable than her own. Her hair fell across her shoulders in loose, untidy curls. Ned took a moment to admire the image. Gods, how he loved when her hair wasn't done.
She looked up at him.
“Good evening, my love.” He greeted.
“Good evening.” She replied softly.
He walked past her and began to undress, taking off the day's clothes to put on something more comfortable.
“How was your day?” He asked.
“Long and tiresome. Yours?”
Even without being able to see the look on her face, the weariness was evident in her voice.
It was one of those days that they had not seen each other at all since parting in the morning. He had spent almost its entirety locked in his solar, reviewing accounts and dealing with issues that made his head ache. His wife's day hadn't gone much better, it would seem.
“The same, I'm afraid.”
He kissed the top of her head as he went to sit on the armchair across from hers.
“How have our children been today?”
“Wild as always.” Catelyn gave him a small smile.
He chuckled. “For some reason I don't have much trouble believing that.”
He leaned back against the chair, letting out a long sigh. Ned much welcomed the peaceful moment with his wife in the quiet of her chambers after a day that had been far from pleasant. The silences between them were not awkward as they had once been but rather comforting, like a warm embrace.
Only, this time instead of content Catelyn looked troubled. She was not meeting his eye, preferring to look at her hands instead, and her lower lip was caught between her teeth like it often was when she was nervous. He doubted she even realised she was doing it now.
“What’s weighing on you?”
Catelyn’s expression softened. She looked at him. “There is something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”
She leaned forward and reached for his hand, taking a deep breath.
He frowned. “What is it?”
“It’s… It is good news, my love.”
Her words were meant to be reassuring but the smile she gave him was frail and she did not look quite certain herself.
“I am with child again.”
Ned paused. No. It could not be… could it? Suddenly his throat felt dry as his eyes fell on Catelyn’s flat stomach. He swallowed hard.
“You… what?”
No more children, they had said. When Catelyn almost bled out during her last birth, after a very taxing pregnancy, and had to stay bedridden for months after they had agreed that they would have no more. Eight were already more than enough and he was not willing to endanger his wife's life in an attempt to have more. The maester too agreed that it was the wisest decision.
Four years had passed since then and the thought of her carrying another child had not even entertained Ned’s mind. Had they gotten too reckless?
“How could this happen?” He found himself asking.
“I believe you know how it happened, Ned.”
He frowned. Catelyn’s moonbloods had become very irregular as of late. They had not even thought it possible for her to conceive again at this point. Clearly, they had been wrong.
“I mean-”
“I know what you mean.” She sighed. “And I was just as surprised as you. But it’s happened.”
“And… you're certain?” He asked slowly.
She nodded. “Luwin confirmed it. It's real, my love.”
A sudden wave of panic came over him and he had to rise from his seat, turning his back to his wife. He walked toward the closed window. The world outside had gone black.
Catelyn stood too, but she stopped a few steps behind him.
“Ned.” She said quietly. “Can you not see this in a more positive way? Please.”
That hit him like a punch to the gut. She needed his support, he knew. But the fear of losing her was overwhelming.
He tried to think of it as good news, he really did. But the only image his mind conjured was not that of the sweet babe they would be holding at the end of it all; it was that of Catelyn, ghostly pale and bleeding out before his very eyes.
“I would welcome any child you gave me, my lady. I told you that years ago.” He spoke slowly, desperately trying to sort out his thoughts.
He turned slightly to look at her. She was biting her lip again.
“But not if it comes at the cost of your life.”
“You can't know that. Just because one birth was difficult it doesn't mean that it will be that way again.”
“You've given birth eight times, Cat. Eight! And you're not as young anymore. How much more can you demand of your body?”
His voice came out sharper than he intended. He regretted that immediately. The last thing he wanted was to sound irritated at her. If anything, it was his doing. His fault.
She was frightened, he realized as he looked at his wife's face. Just as much as he was. And he was only making matters worse.
He ran his hand over his face. “Forgive me, my love, I did not mean…”
He took her hand into his, squeezing it gently.
Catelyn’s expression softened slightly but she did not speak. Nor did she squeeze back. Her eyes bore into his, searching.
“Would you… would you ever consider taking moon tea?” He asked quietly.
“Ned!” Her eyebrows shot up in shock. “How could you say that?”
He flinched at the barely-contained anger that laced his wife's voice. The look she gave him almost made him feel guilty for what he was suggesting. He swallowed.
“Catelyn I… I'm sorry, but can you fault me for being worried? The last birth nearly killed you!”
“Oh trust me, my love, I have not forgotten!” There was steel behind her words. “But the last birth also gave us Minisa. And I would not change that for the world.”
“Neither would I.” He replied darkly. “But I am asking you to at least consider it. The risk is too great. I cannot lose you, Cat.”
“And I cannot do what you're asking of me! Perhaps it's not what we planned but we made another child together, Ned. It's a product of our love. I will not merely get rid of it.”
The argument was lost, he knew at once. No words of his could ever battle what Catelyn already felt for the life that was growing inside her. No, this was her decision. His own fears would have to be put aside, impossible as the task felt.
“I would never ask you to do something like that against your will. You know that. I only…”
He took a step forward and pulled her in a tight embrace. Words were once again failing him. Not for the first time in their many years of marriage Ned found himself hoping that his actions would convey what he felt better than his clumsy tongue.
She tensed but did not draw away. That was enough. The feel of her in his arms, alive and well, was enough.
“I can't lose you.” He repeated.
Catelyn sighed, slowly relaxing against him. For a long while she said nothing.
“I need your support in this, Ned.”
“You shall have it. Always.”
His hands cupped her cheeks and he pulled away slightly to look into her glistening eyes.
“Promise me you'll be careful, Cat. You'll take it easy. You'll rest. No overexerting yourself this time.”
“Of course.” She breathed.
“What does Luwin say?”
"Well, there’s… risk involved at this age.” She looked away. “But nothing is certain. I'm healthy. For all we know everything could go well.”
Ned nodded slowly, swallowing down the painful lump that was beginning to form in his throat. His thumbs gently stroked her cheekbones as he looked into her eyes, drinking in the sight of her. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Things would go well. They had to. The alternative was too painful to consider, too frightening an image to bring to mind. Things would go well.
Summary: Even when they are in the middle of their more infected quarrels they can (and will) come together in a bedchamber
Only one person ever entered her bedchamber without announcing themselves beforehand. That person being her lord husband. Even so Catelyn found herself surprised when the door opened just after she had bedded down for the evening and she turned her head to find Ned standing in the doorway.
There was a second of silence as they looked at one another before Ned sighed.
“May I join you, my lady?”
“It is your right always” she responded shortly. ”My lord.”
Even when they were in the middle of their deeper disagreements. Even when it had only been a few hours since they had all but shouted at one another over supper.
Catelyn saw he felt deep annoyance at her words, though he did not voice that annoyance. Not that words had ever been needed to convey it.
“I would not upset you further” he said instead.
“Your presence is not what I take issue with.”
If he wished to share her bed then she would be glad to have him there. As long as he stayed silent and did not insist on trying to convince her she was in the wrong, that was.
Ned raised his eyebrows at her in a way that made it clear he then and there thought her exceptionally slow witted, though stepped into the room and let the door close behind him.
“You frustrate me” he announced.
Catelyn could not help but roll her eyes.
“It is a comfort to me that we share that sentiment.”
There was not one other person in any of the seven kingdoms that could frustrate her as he could. Not one. There had been attempts, of course, though no one that had succeeded.
Catelyn turned on her side so that she had her bak to Ned as he began undressing. She would not provide him with the satisfaction of her watching him him strip down and change into his nightshirt. He was at the moment undeserving of it.
”You’re too stubborn for your own good” Ned let her know as he joined her in the bed.
She was not one to take offence, and yet she could not simply keep quiet.
”You yourself are stubborn as sin, I would be more successful if I attempted discussion with a wall.”
There would be eternal summer before Eddard Stark saw reason.
Not without dismay did Catelyn roll over to face him. When she began moving closer to him her dismay was mirrored on his face. His eyebrows furrowed and the lines around his mouth grew more apparent.
Still it was impossible not to notice he had opted against a nightshirt, leaving him bare.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“It’s the first day of the week.”
They had agreed on the first day of the week. Unless she bled it was as good as mandatory. It was not limited to the first day, of course, though they had found that sometimes their duties took up so much of their days that trying for a child was forgotten. Forgotten or they were so tired they fell asleep as soon as they were both in bed.
Ned grimaced.
“If not for that then why did you come tonight?” Catelyn had to ask. ”And why did you undress?”
He seemed to grasp for something to say, opening his mouth only to close it again several times. Then he gave up on words and instead kissed her.
Ned’s kiss was perhaps a little rougher than it usually was, but as it was Catelyn did not mind it. She was more than capable of meeting him with more of the same. Ned gave a low hiss as she caught his bottom lip between her teeth and bit down. It thrilled her almost as much as the kiss itself.
Though the pain did not distract his hands. They found the hem of her nightgown and slipped in under it. Even as she was so irritated with him she did not know what to with herself she shivered as his rough palms ran over her skin and found her hips, taking a firm hold of them. With some luck he would leave bruises.
Not so gently and without breaking the kiss Ned moved her on top of him and sat up so that he had her in his lap. She easily settled with one leg on each side of the both of his, straddling him the way she had a thousand times before.
Their new position allowed her to move down against his already half-hard cock and he immediately responded to the friction by groaning into her mouth. A sound that shot through her body and straight down to her sex. She loved his voice, she loved every noise that came from him.
Their new position also meant her nightgown had moved even further up her body, bundling just above her hips. Seemingly out of habit Ned moved to get it even further up so he could pull it over her head, and as much out of habit she broke the kiss to let him do it. Compliantly she raised her arms to make his task easier.
Any other man might have touched her body the moment he had her bare with the exception of her smallclothes. Eddard Stark was not any other man, no, he was of a more peculiar breed. Ned’s hands went to the end of her braid and Catelyn had to grab his arms to forcibly lower them.
”No” she stated.
”So I cannot let your hair out of the braid?” he complained. ”Is that your way of punishing me?”
”I am not punishing you, I merely do not want to braid it again after we have finished.”
Ned lowered his hands, clenching them into fists between their bodies.
”Do you even want me?” he asked coolly.
So Catelyn put her hands on the sides of his head, running her thumbs over his cheekbones. She would wager it was somewhat against his will that his expression softened ever so slightly at her gesture.
”I want your children” she let him know. ”I want a son of yours to grow within me.”
He raised his eyebrows and she thought him a fool for not understanding the unspoken end to her words. Because yes, she did want him. With a few exceptions he was good to her even when they did not see eye to eye.
Slowly Catelyn leaned forward and kissed him again. Gently, so that perhaps he would understand she was suing for temporary peace. Temporary, nothing more. Though for as long as their coupling would take.
Though that gentleness meant she again had to swat his hands away as they found their way from the sides of her face to the back of her head.
”Can I not touch it, either?” Ned exclaimed.
”You mean to undo the braid!”
”I—” he began before biting back the rest of whatever he meant to say.
Instead she was pushed out of his lap and down on her back on the soft mattress. Before she had truly grasped what had happened Ned had began working her smallclothes down her legs, his hands moving with an unmistakable urgency.
Once he had discarded her of her small clothes, leaving her entirely bare before him, he took his place between her legs and kissed her once more. Catelyn much enjoyed his warm weight on top of her, liked being pinned between the soft mattress and his solid form. She also enjoyed wrapping her legs around his waist so that she could more easily grind herself against his still covered cock.
The fabric was a little too rough against her sex and she suspected it would leave her sore, though she did not care. The heat between them was all that mattered.
Ned seemed to think otherwise because again did Catelyn feel a light tug at her braid. She had not even realised both his hands were no longer on her.
”Stop that” she managed to get out, barely breaking their kiss.
She had him so close to her they were still breathing into each other’s mouths.
”Please.”
Catelyn almost laughed. He was not one to say please and therefore it always came as a surprise when he did so.
”Say it again” she softly told him, bringing up a hand to take hold of his jaw.
”Please” Ned said without hesitating.
She felt herself smile.
”I have already told you no.”
She was immediately punished for her punishment when Ned drew away from her and she was again manhandled. That time he furst turned her over so that she was on her stomach and then pulled her up on her hands and knees. On all fours. Like a dog.
Catelyn had never particularly liked being on all fours. It happened every now and again as she knew Ned was more appreciative of it and she would not deny him the pleasure it gave him. Even as she much preferred facing Ned, she liked being able to look at him and easily kiss him.
Winning ground outside of the bedchamber by giving him what he wanted within it had not proven fruitful a singe time as far as she could recall, though she remained on her hands and knees all the same. Perhaps that time it would make him but a little more pliable.
She soon realised her mistake as when her hands were occupied with holding up her weight she had no way to defend her braid from Ned. Before she could even protest she felt how he pulled at the ribbon keeping her hair braided and suddenly her hair was falling down over her shoulders.
”The Others take you” Catelyn sighed, sinking down on her elbows and hiding her face in the mattress.
How could someone she loved so also be such a thorn in her side?
She felt Ned lean forward and press a kiss to the small of her back. Felt the roughness of his beard and the heat of his lips against her skin. She could not stop the shiver that ran through her at that.
”You are beautiful” he mumbled.
An apology of sorts, she supposed. There was little reason to believe she would get more than so.
After the kiss came his hands. One on her hip, holding her in place, while the other ghosted between her legs. So Catelyn shifted on the bed to be able to spread her legs a little further, though she still did not raise her head. Remained in her dark cave of hair.
Ned’s touch was so light it was barely there. He ran a finger through her folds, spreading the wetness that had already gathered there, refusing to do more. He did not properly touch her, he made no attempt at pushing inside her. The ache only worsened and he refused to bring her any relief.
”I am in no mood for your teasing” Catelyn said through gritted teeth.
Then his hand disappeared entirely and for a brief second Catelyn considered simply telling him to leave. She was a little cold and more than a little exposed for him and yet he would not give her what she so desired.
The thought of him leaving disappeared from her mind entirely a moment later when she again felt his mouth on her, though between her legs that time. His tongue moved in a way his fingers had not, causing a gentle heat to spread through her, and Catelyn sighed with relief.
Though in the end even that caused nothing but frustration. The pleasure built to a certain point and then it went no further. Her body awaited the release and it never came. With the position they were in his reach was subpar and so he could not work his tongue as he otherwise could.
She was warm and tense and her body wanted nothing but release. How sweet it would be to be undertaken by the heat.
”I cannot… I cannot finish like this, Ned.”
”Lie on your back, then” Ned said, rather than forcibly turning her over yet another time.
Due to how long she had been putting weight on them she could barely feel her arms anymore and so it was a movement entirely without grace when she managed to flip herself over.
She had to blink a few times to adjust her eyes to the light and when she was no longer breathing into the mattress the air felt a lot cooler. The sudden shift was more than worth it as finally she could properly spread her legs.
Ned carefully placed himself before her, though did not lower his head once more. He simply looked at her, his eyes foggy with fondness.
Catelyn had never considered herself to be much of a romantic. If she had ever had it within her it had grown lesser with each passing year. It was only that when Ned looked at her like that it quickly became overwhelming. Her heart did not fit in her chest when Ned looked at her and softened in such a manner.
”Wife” he all but whispered.
One of his hands found her face, gently cupping her cheek. Her face felt horribly warm, she must have been quite flushed after her time with her head down.
”I am your wife” she agreed.
Ned’s thumb ran over her cheekbone and then his hand went back into her hair. Combing through it using his fingers.
With a lock of her hair still in his grasp he leaned down to kiss her stomach. Maddeningly slowly he trailed kisses from there down to her thigh. The inside of her thigh received no mercy. He sucked bruises into her skin and let his teeth leave red marks.
Catelyn found herself breathless and aching before long as her husband continued his pursuit to make a mess of her. Every attempt to move herself so that he would kiss her where she wanted it was met with him holding her down.
Without quite thinking about her movement she buried her hand in his hair and forced his head into her sex, delighted to hear him moan as he pressed his tongue flat against the spot that brought the most intense pleasure.
Catelyn was more than happy with letting her eyes close, limiting all impressions to only the feeling of Ned pleasuring her. He was so skilled with his mouth, knew just how to move his tongue and lips to make her come undone. She revelled in the heat, in each wave of pleasure that washed over her.
It was not long before the tension reached a peak and she felt her body contract before finally she found release. For a moment there was molten gold in her veins and her entire being was light as a feather. Perhaps it was the closest she would ever come to knowing true satisfaction and Catelyn savoured every second of it.
”Gods, Ned” she breathed once she was again aware of her surroundings.
Ned was almost apologetically pressing featherlight kisses to the marks he had left on the inside of her thigh.
”You enjoyed it this time as well, then?” he asked, smiling.
Catelyn was aware of that often people took younger lovers and she had never quite understood, but in that moment she could fathom it even less. Why would anyone want a fumbling youth when one could have someone who knew what they were doing?
”It was tolerable” she told Ned rather than saying that. ”You may need to refine it.”
She yelped as put his hands into her side pulled her further down the bed, getting them face to face once more. When he kissed her that time she could taste herself on him and that was more thrilling than she would have liked to admit.
As they kissed Catelyn reached between their bodies and found that somewhere along the way Ned had discarded of his smallclothes, allowing her to wrap her fingers around his hard cock. When she did so he broke away from their kiss and instead buried his face in the crook of her neck, his hot breath washing over her.
With how he seemed to have fallen apart without her even needing to move her hand she suspected she could have easily brought him his release only by touching him, and as enjoyable as that would be it would not get her with child. Still she could not help but touch him a little further. She ran her thumb over the head of his cock and felt his breath hitch as she did so. When she moved her hand down and then up again he nuzzled his face into her hair.
She needed only give him another few strokes before he gave a halfhearted protest.
”You will make me spill on your hand” he groaned.
Another stroke, another sigh. It was an intoxicating sound.
”Take me, then.”
Catelyn did not have to repeat those words. With his face still in her hair he managed to line himself up to push inside her.
They moaned in unison and he was still for a moment, allowing her to adjust to the feeling of having him within her. She turned her head and pressed a gentle kiss to his ear in an attempt to encourage him to move. She liked it when they were joined, she enjoyed it when they could move like one.
His first few thrusts were shallow and somewhat shaky, though to Catelyn’s great satisfaction he soon found a pleasant pace. A little slow for her liking, though he was thorough with every movement. Pulling almost all the way out before again thrusting into her. She met him to the best of her ability, unable to keep quiet every time their bodies met.
She wrapped her arms around him, gently raking her nails across his back as she knew he liked, and it was not long before he finished. She felt his muscles tense and heard him breathe a sigh of relief. Again she kissed his ear, unable to reach any other part of him.
”I love you” she whispered. ”You fool.”
Those words caused him to reappear from his hiding place. He kissed her and was quick to open his mouth when she ran her tongue along his bottom lip. It was a messy kiss, though what did that matter considering all else?
The moment he rolled off her she missed his warm presence so close to her. And of course he immediately moved to make it even worse, leaving the bed so that he could open a window.
”Must you?” Catelyn asked.
”Indeed I must, my lady” he answered, pushing open the window.
Cool air swept into the chamber and Catelyn wanted nothing but to curl up under the furs to shield her body from it. Though she would have to wash before she could do anything else and so she forced herself out of the bed and over to her basin.
She shivered as she wet a rag and used it to wipe his seed away from between her legs. Hopefully it would quicken in her womb and she would carry him another child. A boy that took after him, if the gods were good.
”It’s a clear night” Ned reflected over by the window. ”One can see the stars.”
So finally the clouds had parted? Catelyn had not seen the sun in days.
”You would be able to see them with the window closed” she let him know.
That way she would be able to wash herself without every hair on her body standing upright.
”Allow me a moment to breathe, Catelyn.”
She looked at him where he stood with his back to her, his skin glistening with sweat in the light of all the candles that burned in the room. Then she put the rag in the basin and ventured closer to the window in spite of her body’s protest.
When she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind he twisted his neck in a way that looked quite painful to be able to look at her.
”Come to bed, my lord” she said softly.
”I will be with you shortly.”
”You will be with me now.”
It was somewhat surprising when Ned actually did as he was told and untangled himself from her so that he could close the window. She had expected he would keep arguing for the mere sake of it. The last three days they had spent doing nothing but that.
When she climbed back into the bed he was not far behind her and she was not unhappy when he placed himself behind her, taking her into her arms. She pulled the furs over them and made herself comfortable against him, moving so that her back was pressed against his chest.
It was then, when she was again warm and perfectly sated, that Ned decided it was time to continue their argument.
“I really do not see how you can believe–“
“Please be silent.”
It had escaped her before she had truly thought it through, and for a short second she worried Ned would not look kindly upon her having responded in that way.
Though it was not the first time harsh words were exchanged and Ned merely sighed. Nuzzled his face into her hair and settled there, sighing a second time. That second time sounded more satisfied than the first.
”I suppose we can speak in the morning” he mumbled.
She put her hand on top of his and weaved their fingers together.
”Yes, my love. We can speak in the morning.”
For the time being she was spent and wanted nothing but to sleep with his arms around her. If he kept spouting his nonsense the peace would be ruined.
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.”
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.
