It was the first day of her moon blood, the first since Sansa's birth, and Catelyn was sitting by the fire, sipping a concoction Maester Luwin had given her to avoid her pains, when the door opened quietly. She looked up, rather uninterested, expecting to see only her maids come to undress her for the night, but she gasped, standing somewhat ungracefully, suddenly startled by the sight of her lord husband in the doorway.
"My lord, you shouldn't be here!" She reminded him, and his confusion, though very endearing indeed, sent her into a slight panic. Catelyn was supposed to be confined to her rooms for the following seven days, hidden from view, and no man except for the good Maester Luwin was supposed to come near her. She was impure when her moon blood was upon her, the gods only knew what might happen if her lord husband came too close to her.
"You were not at supper," Ned objected, his brow furrowed. "I was concerned." He stepped closer, and Catelyn instinctively took a step back, to keep the distance between them, but that only seemed to confuse him more. "Have I done something to displease you, my lady?"
"No, I-" She bit her lip, softening her stance at the hurt and confusion she could read on his face. "I should not be in public, Ned," she tried to explain, her voice taking on a mellow, sweet note when she said his name; she loved the way it felt on her tongue, the single syllable that she had been afraid to utter for so long. "You've done nothing to displease me." She smiled, but she stepped back once again as he stepped forward, backing up against a chair.
"Why would you have to be hidden in-" But Ned's voice faltered, his eyes going wide, as he caught sight of something on the skirt of her dress, and before she knew it he was upon her, holding her face with trembling hands. "You're bleeding!" He almost shouted, looking back down at the bloodstain on her dress before he swept her up into his arms, reaching the door in two quick strides. "I'll take you to the Maester, Cat, you must be hurt…"
The soft laughter falling from her lips made him stop dead in his tracks, and for a moment Catelyn forgot she was in his arms, she forgot that he was not supposed to touch her, that her touch might make him unable to father more children, and she just kissed him, bringing his head down to hers, touched and amused by his concern.
"It is my moon blood, my love," she whispered as she broke the kiss. "I am not hurt." Still, he did not let go of her, and she was glad of it.
"But you are bleeding," he objected, leaning his forehead against hers, and Catelyn smiled, touching his bearded cheeks, reveling in the fact that she could indeed touch him without causing him to drop down dead or to turn into some horrible creature, out of any of those terrible stories she had heard all her life.
"Yes, I am," she explained patiently. "But as you can see, I am not in pain, and I am certainly not dead." She grinned, kissing him softly again. "And I am indeed happy to find that my touch has not killed you yet," she pressed her fingers gently to his lips, to silence him when he began to question her words, "therefore you are allowed to sleep in my bed, after all."
They did not keep separate chambers, not since Sansa's birth one year ago, but Catelyn had thought she would have to send him away, to protect him from the vile moods oozing from her body. Gods forbid he accidentally touched the blood: it would have driven him mad, and he would have lost his vital strength at once.
Or that was what she had believed for years.
"And where was I supposed to sleep, pray tell?" Asked her husband, an amused frown on his face.
Catelyn smiled, blue eyes soft as she gazed at him. "Never you mind. It was a foolish notion anyways."
She knew better now; holding her in his arms all through the night would certainly not kill him.
THE END