A/N: I wrote this piece a while ago, when I watched the first season of this amazing series. I remember I felt truly heartbroken when Ned died, and even more when I saw Catelyn's reaction to the news. She reminded me of my English teacher and how I thought she would react to news like this (I know, I'm a really weird person). Almost immediately after I saw the episode, I wrote a oneshot about how I thought Catelyn felt and what she thought, just a little more elaborated then the scene. I saved but never published it. And then, about a week ago, I came across it when I was searching for an other document. I rewrote it, because it was terrible (maybe it still is...) and here it is!
Now, before you start reading, I must tell you I'm not a native speaker/writer, so there may be some mistakes in spelling/word order/word choice. Also, this is my first attempt to (GOT)fanfiction, so be nice when you review (please review!)
Happy reading,
MaJo1999
Lost
Catelyn Stark felt lost, for the very first time in her life. She always thought she had felt lost when she left Riverrun for Winterfell, but now she laughed at that. That feeling – home sickness, she spat - had been nothing compared to what she felt like now. Lost? That was how she felt now. She felt like her heart had been ripped out. The raven she had just received had almost made her pass out.
She wanted to go to home, to the North, to Winterfell. She wanted to be surrounded by her children, even that bastard, and hug them tightly. She wanted to go to the place where she'd been with her Eddard Stark, her Lord of Winterfell, her husband, her Ned. Suddenly, she couldn't bear being in this tent any longer, she felt locked up. She walked out of the tent, in the direction of the forest.
As she made her way to the forest, the men, the soldiers, bowed and said 'My lady,' when she walked past them. She didn't hear them, she didn't see them. She walked, no she strode past the men, her head held up high, nothing but a stern, emotionless expression on her face. She strode through the long grass and the mud, into the forest.
The moment she was sure she wasn't in sight of the camp any longer, she clinched to the nearest tree. She gasped, as if she had been running for hours, she was completely out of breath. Every little bit of air she felt burning in her throat, as if the Seven had decided she had to be punished for still being able to breath now that her husband was dead. Her heart tightened at the thought. 'Ned…' she whispered. Crystal tears trickled down her cheeks. She started to sob, losing control of her breathing at the same time. 'I should be dead,' she thought, trying to catch her breath. It was no use. It hurt. Short, shallow breaths. Deep breaths, full of oxygen. There was no rhythm, her breathing was completely out of control. The trickling had turned into a constant stream of the salty beads of grief and powerlessness.
She, Catelyn Stark, née Tully, Lady of Winterfell, was now a widow. Her knees could no longer held up her shaking body. Her grip on the tree loosened, and she fell to the ground. She cried, she screamed, she screeched. Never before in her life she had wished to die so sincerely as she did now. She could not live without Ned! She just couldn't! "Please," she begged the Old Gods, "Let me die."
It was then when she heard the sound of a sword that was being swung through the air, followed by the sound of steel colliding with wood.
She gathered herself, wiped away her tears and stood up. Slowly and careful not to fall, she walked further into the woods, only to see her oldest son ruining his sword, crying. "Robb…" she mouthed, and then, realizing she hadn't actually said something, she whispered her son's name. "Robb, you've ruined your sword," she said, and she heard how her voice broke. Only seconds later, her little boy felt crying into her arms, and he promised her he would kill them. "I'll kill them all," he said, as he cried onto her shoulder. And she begged the gods, the Old Gods and the Seven, to help her son destroying the murderers of her Ned.
