Catelyn Tully was a small girl, lithe and nimble, and was easily able to outrun her younger sister and brother. With her feet swiftly gliding across the stream, the hem of her skirts soaked through, and her unbraided hair raging behind her like fire, at the age of nine and ten Catelyn had never felt as free.

"Cat!" Her brother called after her, his breath heavy and sporadic. Catelyn turned around and placed her hands on her hips, looking at Edmure and Lysa, who had both stopped a league behind her and doubled over, careful not to fall into the river.

"Now it's not my fault you can't keep up." Catelyn japed good-heartedly. She began to walk back to her brother and splashed him, despite his protests. At the age of two and ten her father expected him to act more like a man, easing into his role as the future Lord of Riverrun, but she knew more than anyone you cannot force adulthood upon one who is not prepared, as she was when her mother died. Catelyn was born with a good mind and the sense of duty and honor, but Edmure was still a boy, and no matter how old he would be, he would forever stay a little brother.

"Let us sit by the riverbank," Lysa suggested.

Catelyn took her brother's hand and led him to the river's edge, and sat next to him as her sister did the same. It had felt like years since they all played together like this, in good spirits. In truth, she led her siblings out to the river in an attempt to hearten her sister, who had kept herself in her chambers for the past moon. Her father told her and her brother that Lysa had fallen ill, but she was not a fool, and had suspected the truth, just as well as she suspected the reason why Petyr was sent away in such a rushed manner.

"I missed this," Lysa admitted, as she kept her feet dangling in the water.

"As did I," Catelyn agreed, and closed her eyes, allowing herself to truly savor her last moments of peace.

"It's a shame Petyr is not here with us." Edmure frowned, staring at his reflection in the river. Catelyn immediately opened her eyes and glanced at Lysa. Oh, her little brother, of course he would ruin the moment and remind Lysa of his absence. It was all done unknowingly, but the act was already executed. Lysa immediately bristled and removed her feet from the river.

"Yes, it is quite a shame," Lysa agreed bitterly, her hands absentmindedly moving to her emptied womb.

"Why did he have to leave us?" Edmure asked curiously, looking at Lysa for answers. Cat shook her head and silently willed Edmure to stop his questions, but it was too late.

"Mayhaps you should ask Cat," Lysa said as she stood up, hand still unknowingly over her belly in protection. "If she was nicer to him, if she gave him her favor, if she willed her sweet beloved Brandon not to fight him, he would still be here with us."

"Lysa, wait." Catelyn stood up after her sister, but Lysa was already gone, no doubt readying herself to hide so their father would not be able to find and question her again. Edmure looked to Cat in a complete loss of words, but she shook her head.

"Let's best leave her to herself for now." Cat suggested and looked to the sky. Clouds were slowly drifting to the sun, turning the river to a darker hue. "We should return to father, he must be wondering where we've gone off to."

And so she let little Edmure lead them back to the castle, playing at being a knight bringing his fair maiden to safety. As they walked, she looked to the grass beneath her. There was some truth to Lysa's words, she knew. Mayhaps if she had willed Brandon not to duel Petyr, he would still be at Riverrun.

As they entered the Keep, Maester Kym regarded her with a frown and simply relayed to her that her father was waiting for her in the Great Hall. She nodded, and Edmure was sent on his own as she found Hoster Tully sitting in the hall, parchment in hand. His brows were furrowed, and his mouth in a thin line. Dark wings, dark words.

"Sit by me, Cat." Her father called for her, and she did justly so. Without warning, he handed her the fated letter. It was written in a nearly illegible scrawled handwriting, and she had to squint to make out each letter.

Catelyn could feel her heart drop as soon as she read the first line. She looked up, and the room was sent spinning. Surely, this was a jape. It was a cruel jape, a trick sent in malice from Petyr. But when she looked back to her father, his expression held true.

Brandon Stark was dead, unjustly murdered by the Mad King Aerys as he tried to save his father. Robert Baratheon had called his banners, as did the new Lord Stark. The rumours she had heard amongst the soldiers were true. A war was quickening, and a new tide was among them.

"You are to wed the new Lord Stark, Eddard, the second son of Lord Rickard." Her father stated clearly, with no room for arguments. It was the most sensible move, best for both of the great houses. Her father would not rest until she was the Lady of House Stark, and her intended's family was now in need of good soldiers. She was to marry a rebel, a stranger she had never met, a man in the shadow of her sweet Brandon.

It was not until her father looked at her expectantly, waiting for her reply that she realized her hands were shaking. He did not expect defiance from his eldest daughter, his Cat. And she replied just as she was expected to.

"It would grant me great honor to wed the Lord Eddard Stark." Catelyn announced to her father, who embraced her in thanks. Within a moon, she was to meet and wed her future husband, and Catelyn was sent to the Sept to pray to the Gods for their seven blessings. It was not until she knelt in front of her Gods that she let herself weep for the memory of Brandon Stark and the life she was now expected to lead.