"You're leaving!" said the red-haired young woman in her grey-and-white wedding cloak, a direwolf brooch at her neck.

Brynden's hand tightened on the reins of the horse he was leading, saddlebags hastily packed with clothes and old keepsakes - a present from his mother, a blue scarf given to him by a lady at some gone-by tourney. His reddish ponytail streaked with grey fell down his armoured back. He was too angry for tears, too sad for rage.

"I've always told you not to spy on your elders, child." He could not help but smile. "Though I admit it's a useful skill."

"You're leaving," Catelyn repeated in a sob, fists clenching in fury at her weakness. "Father did not mean those things, I'm sure. You're brothers! He loves you."

"And I love him dearly. That's why I must go. I'm sorry, child. There's no mending it." Gods, the pain was awful. He had wanted to leave in silence during the wedding revelries, without looking back, but the little Cat had stalked him.

They stood under the postern gate by the main entrance of Riverrun; the bridge outside lead across the river and into the world. None of the guards dared to question the unexpected presence of the brother and the daughter of Lord Hoster Tully.

The young woman lowered her voice. "Is it because Father said you sleep with men? He can't mean that. A man cannot sleep with another man! How... how would they..." Words failed her.

Of all the times to ask such a question. "It happens," Brynden said softly. "Between women, too. And some just fall in love with what they can't have."

"Falling in love is stupid, and it hurts!" she burst out.

Brynden looked up at the evening sky. "Aye. But somewhere out there," and he gestured across the river, "it must also be good. I hope you find out."

"I do not love Ned Stark," she said bluntly. "And he loves me not."

"He's a good man, he will treat you well. He's young." Brynden checked his tongue, but he wanted Cat to understand her luck. That same day, for the sake of war alliances, Hoster had given her sister Lysa to Lord Arryn, old and cold. Brynden felt pity for both bride and groom.

"And he is leaving for the war, like Father," Cat added bitterly.

"The Targaryens murdered his family, child, and kidnapped his sister Lyanna."

"My husband is an honourable man for wanting retribution. But those who will fight over Aerys' throne are not doing it out of honour."

She was wise beyond her years. Brynden felt a stab of homesickness. "That's why I want no part of it. There shall be monsters and good men on both sides. The best I can do is stand by someone I know I care for."

Cat looked up at him, the hint of a shy smile beginning to dawn on her lips. "You mean -"

Brynden could not stand to build false hopes in her. "I mean your sister."

"Lysa?" Cat's blue eyes blazed. "Are you going with Lysa? Don't leave me alone, Uncle Brynden. They're sending me north to Winterfell, among the wolves and their strange old gods..."

He had already left her alone, letting Hoster ruin her life like he had ruined Lysa's and almost ruined Brynden's own. He let the reins go and took the young woman by the shoulders. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course, Uncle, but..."

"Lysa is sad and sickly, and Lord Arryn is leaving for the war too. You'll be safe in Winterfell. You're strong and stubborn, Catelyn. You won't let life grind you down."

Cat gulped down her tears. "They say I take more after you than after my own parents."

Brynden laughed wryly. "Alas, I've noticed. I've learned to my sorrow that promises can do more harm than good, but I'll do my best to keep an eye on you, child." He bent to kiss her white forehead tenderly, then took the reins again and prepared to climb in the saddle.

"But how will YOU do, away from home?"

Moved by her concern, Brynden shrugged. "I'll start anew. When you realize you are nothing, you can choose to be anything."

His horse was waiting. Brynden put his foot into the stirrup and vaulted in the saddle, needing to believe what he had just said. He was leaving his home, his best years gone forever, a brief future in front of him. Aye, but Lord Arryn surely needed a good swordsman.

"Be well, child." He turned his horse, death in his heart. "Be happy."

Cat nodded through tears, raised her chin, tried to answer "You too," but her pain choked it. Brynden grasped that wish like a precious gem.

Before he spurred out, he caught one last glimpse of his niece, magnificent in her new Stark colours, standing straight and proud as the lady she would become.

THE END