CATELYN
Catelyn Stark could barely believe her eyes. She and Ned were breaking their fast on eggs and sausages in the small dining hall off of the kitchens when she saw Arya and Gendry walk past the window outside.
"Did you see that?" Ned asked his wife.
"I did. Is that new?"
"I think so. They went on a ride a few days ago. The guards told me. Since then, they've been talking here and there," he explained.
"Do you think our wild daughter is falling in love with the handsome prince?" she asked, smiling.
"No. I think she's realized that she'll marry him regardless and she might as well get to know him first. But it's better than her total refusal to acknowledge his existence. Though, I am worried it might mean she's trying to remove suspicion from herself so she get a better shot at running away."
"She wouldn't!" Catelyn exclaimed.
Ned chuckled, "She might."
Lady Stark huffed, "Well, if she were my daughter, she would never dream of running away."
Ned eyed furrowed his brow, "Last I checked she's as much your daughter as she is mine."
Catelyn shook her head, "No, Sansa is my daughter. She loves sewing, dancing, and stories of princes and princesses. Arya is your daughter. You've encouraged her wild spirit, not me."
Ned laughed, "I know I do. She's just so bright and full of life when she's happy. I've never been able to deny her what makes her that way. And it just so happens that what makes her happy is rarely what is proper."
Catelyn sighed. He sees Lyanna in her, not just her look, but her soul, too. He can't force her to grow into a proper lady, because when he sees her riding or fighting with her brothers, he sees his sister.
"Well, since she managed to stop ignoring him and started talking to him, maybe she'll fall in love with him, too," Catelyn said with a hopeful smile.
"Better not let her hear you say that. You might scare her off."
Later that day, she was in the kitchens, checking on dinner. The cook, Marta, went to go fetch some milk from the barn. Catelyn was in one of the closets, looking to see if they had any of the Dornish wine left from King Robert's visit. The Northern wine really was so poor in comparison to that of the South.
As she rustled through the endless bottles of ale and dull, musty Northern wine, she heard the doors to the kitchen open and her daughter's voice approaching.
"You are an entire foot taller than I am. What are you talking about unfair advantage?" Arya said, laughing.
"When we're facing each other, you're down there, closer to my knees, swinging the tourney sword. I'm totally bruised all over my legs."
"Oh please," she replied. Catelyn could practically hear her daughter's eye-roll. I've got to make her stop doing that. Rolling one's eyes is not something a Princess would ever do.
Catelyn didn't intend to spy, but she didn't want to disrupt the moment. She quietly pulled the door closed, enclosing herself in the dark closet.
"I still beat you, though. Swiped your sword from your hand," he said proudly.
"But I don't have any bruises, Gendry. How does that make you the winner?"
"Because I took your sword from you! If it had been real, you would have been dead."
"And all the bruises you have would be gashes on your legs. You would have collapsed before you could manage to take my sword!"
"If it had been real, taking your sword wouldn't be the only move I could make."
She laughed, "I told you that you could hit me with the tourney sword! I can handle a few bruises."
"And have rumors started that I enjoy beating my betrothed with a wooden sword? I don't think so," Prince Gendry replied. "What are we doing in here anyway?"
"Wanted to see if we could swipe any lemon cakes. I'm starving."
Catelyn smiled to herself in the closet. They were falling for each other, in their own way.
At that moment, Marta came back from the barn, "Lady Arya, no lemon cakes until after dinner! You eat them all and I have none to serve Prince-"
Marta must have noticed that the Prince was standing in the kitchens, as well. She heard her apologize profusely and Arya and Prince Gendry laughing as they ran from the kitchens.
Marta came to the closet where Catelyn was hiding and screamed when she saw her, "Lady Catelyn! You scared me. Do you need something?"
"No, no. I was looking for a bottle of wine. I'm fine. Thank you, Marta," she replied, brushing dust off her skirts.
Catelyn left the kitchen and the cook with her mouth agape. She had a feeling that in all old Marta's years of working in the kitchens of Winterfell that she had never found the Lady of the castle hiding in the pantry before.
