Author's Notes: I can't believe I never published this story on here. I wrote the first part of this over a year ago. I was planning on this being a simple Catwin one-shot, but I ended up writing about Ned and Catelyn so much that I figured this would just be a two-parter. Because I love Ned/Cat too and it felt interesting to write about what might happen after the death of your soulmate. So this first part is just Ned/Cat and the second part will be Catwin. And I finished the second part over a year later tonight.

Disclaimer: I own nothing bye.


part one: gone


The day the color slipped from her vision, Catelyn felt as if her heart stopped. She had been at home, playing with her son Rickon. It had just been an average day. Ned was away on business; the kids were at school; and she was chasing her youngest around their backyard, laughing and having fun. One second, she was surrounded by the lush greens of the grass, bushes, and trees; the sky was a clear blue, no clouds in sight; the sun shining bright yellow; red cardinal birds and bluejays fluttering around everywhere; blue roses growing off to the side…

And then she blinked and all the color was gone.

Catelyn came to a sudden halt, hand going to her heart as it skipped a bit, and looked around in confusion. Slowly, horror began to seep into her body, flowing through her veins, until it pumped through her and she could barely breathe. All she could do was stand there and gape at the vast array of black, grays, and whites.

It wasn't until she felt Rickon tugging on her sleeve and looking up at her with questioning gray eyes that she was dragged back into reality. "Mum?"

Later, she would think of how foolish she'd been, what a terrible mother she'd turned into, but all she could do was gawk blankly at her youngest child before turning on her heels and darting into the house, leaving him alone and confused. He didn't know – he couldn't possibly know anything – because he was too young to see color, to young to know what it meant to suddenly lose that ability.

Tears leaked out of her eyes, blurring her vision, as she searched for her cell phone. She muttered under her breath, tossing things around, but still unable to find the damn thing, until she was standing in the middle of her drab living room and crying hysterically. She sunk to the floor, clutching a black pillow, and stayed there for a long time. When her phone finally rang, it was Rickon that brought it to her since she'd apparently left it outside, but she couldn't answer it.

He's dead, the gray and white colors whispered, and he took all the colors in the world with him.

They say that things get a little darker in the world when the love of your life dies. If only it wasn't so true. The funeral had been the darkest day of her life, rolling black and dark gray clouds hanging over their heads, black mud under their feet. The only thing that seemed to be white was the casket they'd buried Ned in.

No one had warned her of what it would be like should her soulmate die before her. No one told her that the vibrant color he'd brought into her life would slip into the grave alongside him the moment he died, as if it had never been there in the first place. She could look at something as simple as a banana, know that it was yellow, and still not see it. She combed her daughter Sansa's beautiful red hair that matched her own and saw only gray. Her oldest son Robb's eyes were no longer the blue that he'd inherited from her. The only thing that remained consistent was the grays of her daughter Arya's eyes, though even those seemed different, off, not right.

Everything changed the moment Ned died. She had to go back to the old ways, before she knew him. Knowing that things were not right and that they would never be right again… It took a lot out of her, but she forced herself to move on, picked herself up off the ground and walked through a life of no color. It was all she could do.

"Mum, I…" Robb tugs at the collar of his shirt, his cheeks tinted gray just slightly to let her know that he's blushing and embarrassed about something. "Is this what it was like for you when Dad…? Just…bits of color here and there?"

Catelyn wants to cry. She can see the shift in her son as plain as day, just as she once recognized it in her own reflection all those years ago. He's still her boy, but he's growing up so fast. Instead, she smiles, truly happy for her son, and yet scared for him at the same time.

"Yes, that's how it was," Catelyn tells her son.

When Robb looks at her, she knows that he's seeing something she cannot, his once bright blue eyes shining with a light of recognition that will amaze him for the months to come. "I got your red hair," he says quietly, "and your eyes, and… I don't look anything like Father."

"Oh, Robb." Catelyn sighs and pulls Robb into her arms. He's not a child anymore, not by a long shot, hasn't been since the day he showed up on the doorstep from basic after hearing the news about his father's death. "You may not look like him, but you've inherited plenty from him, trust me. He'd be so excited to hear this news."

Robb gives her a smile, an almost bashful look. Catelyn thinks that should tell him then – give him some sort of warning – let him know of what could happen in the end. She wants to take him by the shoulders and tell him that one day all the color he's seeing now could vanish in the blink of an eye.

But she doesn't. She can't get the words out of her mouth, can't admit to it, and so she sits down instead and listens to him as he talks about all the colors that are opening up to him since meeting Jeyne Westerling. She never once blinks or frowns, though her soul aches at the thought of seeing those colors again. They're so far out of her grasp that she cannot even begin to fathom them anymore, only two years gone. She never tells Robb that she cannot see color anymore and she realizes that she never will, because she cannot stand the idea of her children dreading what might come.

Catelyn realizes somewhat dimly that her father never told her either when her mother passed. No one ever tells people about that. The heartache is too painful, too real, to utterly devastating to explain.

You only get one chance to see color before it's ripped from your life forever.

(Until it isn't.)