A/N: I wrote this one shot last Thursday in between studying since it just wouldn't leave my brain so I could focus and I thought I might share it with you this Sunday evening. So I hope you like it and forgive me any mistakes I've made.
Disclaimer: I own nothing all characters and background belong to George R.R. Martin. This is just for fun.
Words Never Spoken
Her hand strokes over the stone face as the babe in her belly kicks against her side. She can hear Ned's footsteps behind her, each carefully taken so that he does not startle her and yet he does not announce his presence.
"They did well." She says when he stops a few steps behind her, allowing her some space. "Though I wish he were not so serious, it looks so unlike him."
Brandon's likeness is cold under her gloved hands with none of the heat that always radiated from his flesh present.
"It was done by the same man who did the sculptures of Father and Lyanna." Ned says. "He knew Brandon for most of his life."
"I know and he did truly well. I must write him with our gratitude." Catelyn says, her mind wandering to how she is much to young to be here. A widow at thirty. After surviving two wars, her Lord Husband dies in a riding accident somewhere between Borrow Hall and Winterfell. Riding a horse not suited for such a journey, a wild horse for a wild lord.
"Maester Ludwin is worried and wishes you would come inside." Ned says, standing still behind her. "It is to cold for you to stay here so long."
"The babe keeps me warm. His Father's blood warms me, even if he will never know him." Catelyn replies. She had always been warmer when she carried her children and even more so now that summer is truly upon them.
"Please. Cat." Ned whispers, her name leaving his lips in a plea she has not heard from him in years. "Robb and Arya wish to see you. They need you."
"They need their Father, Ned. Robb is only a boy of two and ten and now he must become the Lord of Winterfell before he can even practice with a real sword." Catelyn thinks of her little brave boy who stood as still as stone as his Father was laid to rest, holding his sister's hand tightly so she did not try to climb into the tomb with her Father.
"Well they want you. Robb has been asking after you and Septa Mordane can't get Arya to leave your chambers." Ned tells her with a pleading tone.
"Just a few more minutes Ned. I will come soon enough. I only wanted to see the stone." Catelyn answers, turning around to face her goodbrother. He looks so much older than his brother, even if he is younger and the toll of loosing yet another member of his family has taken its toll on him, more lines on his face, more grey in his short beard and a few in his hair.
"I know you're sad, but staying here will not bring him back." Ned says, his hand coming to lie on her arm but she flinches back. Regretting it as soon as she does, knowing he only meant to sooth her, but she can not allow him to. Not here, not now.
"The thing is I am not as sad as I should be." Catelyn says, looking down on the ground. "I feel sadness for our children, for you, for Ben. For the man who was my Lord Husband, to be gone so soon and for the friend he was. But I feel no sorrow as a wife who has lost a husband, no anguish over a lover lost." Catelyn says thinking of the state of Lady Dustin as she grieved over her lover.
Catelyn knew well of her husbands many dalliances and affairs but she no longer resented them, at first she had but since then many years had passed. Brandon had been the father of her children and her lord husband, but mostly they had been friends, partners. No love had blossomed between them. They had grown to love each other as parents and friends, not as true lovers should. All she asked was that Brandon be as discreet as he could within the castle and for the most part he was.
They both loved their children fiercely and tried to do what they could for them, though that was not always the same thing, Catelyn thinks, remembering the day her five year old daughter had burst into her chamber speaking of the sword her Father had given her.
Catelyn looks up from her musings and a strange expression is on Ned's face. The same grieve stricken one he had worn when he rode away from Winterfell with Jon Snow to live at his holdfast.
"It is not your fault Ned, the lack of romantic love between Brandon and I was never your fault. Do not think that! None of this is your fault. Even if you had been there with him, you could not have stopped him." Catelyn says, coming closer to him, stoking a hand over his bearded chin.
His hand comes up to lay over hers. "I did once."
"That was different." Catelyn says, thinking on the first war where Ned had managed to stop Brandon from riding to King's Landing and getting himself killed,
"Perhaps." Ned concedes, putting her hand to his lips, kissing it before letting it go.
"He wanted to please Barbrey by riding the stallion she gave him, even after she told him not to ride him far before the horse was properly trained. Of course he paid her no mind and did as he wanted." Catelyn says.
Ned looks at her with wide eyes when she says Barbrey's name as if it is a secret in the North that Brandon frequently visits the widow of his fallen friend.
"I have known far to long about Brandon's visits to Barrowton to be shocked by it. The only thing I thank for is that he did not get a child on the woman, for her Father might try to use the child now to fight for Robb's title." Catelyn says.
"He could never. No matter his ambitions. The child would be a bastard and Robb is not only older but Brandon's trueborn child, Ryswell would have the entire North against him." Ned replies.
"Robb does not look like a Stark." Catelyn says, stoking a hand over her belly.
"Neither do Sansa and Bran, yet they are both my children and it matters not at all what Robb looks like. Even if something were to happen to Robb, Arya and the babe would take precedence over a bastard, even my own trueborn children would come before it." Ned says, his voice full of righteousness only a Northernman could truly express, and Catelyn knows her fears are unfounded because the North is as rigid as a frozen corpse when it comes to their old ways, and would rather give their allegiance to a babe in arms than a man without a rightful claim.
Ned mentioning his children brings back memories of his late wife and Catelyn's dislike of the perfectly nice woman. Lena had been a bit rough around the edges for she born of the Northern Mountain clans but Catelyn later realised she had a lot in common with the blond haired woman.
Catelyn's dislike of her didn't stem from the woman herself, but the role she got when she wed Ned. Having Ned leave Winterfell had been difficult enough but then Brandon told Ned he was to marry one of the Norrey clan daughters. Lena had been a pretty young woman, about a year younger than Catelyn with long blonde hair, soft green-brown eyes and a nice smile. None of that mattered though; Catelyn had hated her before she had even laid eyes on her.
After meeting Lena and spending time with her while their husbands were away at war, Catelyn had come to like the woman and had been saddened when she and little Sansa had left once more with Ned. Unfortunately Lena had passed away eighteen moons later while birthing Bran; after four days the babe had finally arrived but Lena had lost too much blood and died. Afterwards Ned had closed himself and the children away at Lakewood, not even coming for his brother's thirtieth nameday celebration six moons later. Not bringing Bran to Winterfell until two years later, for Robb's tenth nameday.
"What are you thinking, my lady?" Ned asks.
"I was thinking of your lady wife." Catelyn answers honestly.
"Lena was a good woman." Ned says, his eyes the colour of a cloudy rain day.
"I know and she cared for you a great deal." Catelyn says, her nails digging into her palms.
"and I for her." Ned answers. "We were not in love and sometimes her actions worried me a great deal, but we had Sansa and not much time together."
"I know." Catelyn says, forcing a smile on her face that she knows does not fool him.
His hand comes up to cup her face and she stiffens up, never before has Ned touched her so intimately. For all the love they bear one another they have never crossed any line, no inappropriate touching, no stolen kisses, no hiding in dark corners. As soon as they realized the extent of their feelings they had agreed that it was best for Ned to leave and take up his holdfast near the Long Lake. Both confident that distance would squash whatever feelings they might think they had. Unfortunately the distance did no such thing.
"Cat." He whispers.
"We can't." She whispers pulling back from him. "We should go."
"Yes. Hopefully the children haven't burned down the keep." Ned says smiling a little, lighting up his usually solemn face and forcing Catelyn to fight harder against the temptation.
"Don't worry Ned, Sansa will make sure no such thing happens." Catelyn tells him, picturing the quiet eight-year-old girl, who was lady before she was three, disciplining her brothers and cousins.
Catelyn turns around to bid Brandon farewell before following Ned to find their little herd of children.
The End.