AN: This chapter takes place a few months later, still in Winterfell. From now on, the fic will be more fast-paced and action-packed, and many important events from the books will happen off-page. The most important changes will be explained in the author notes.

Catelyn

Catelyn's chamber was warm, even without any fire lit. The heavy blankets that covered her up to her breasts made her feel a little too hot for her comfort, even more so after her lovemaking session with her lord husband. He seemed to feel the same as her, because he got out of the bed and walked to the window.

"I will refuse him," said Ned as he opened the window to let some air in. His eyes were haunted and his voice thick with doubt.

Catelyn sat up in the bed to look at him. "You cannot. You must not."

"My duties are here in the North. I have no wish to be Robert's Hand."

"He will not understand that. If you refuse to serve him, he will wonder why, and sooner or later he will begin to suspect that you oppose him. Can't you see the danger that would put us in?"

Ned shook his head. "Robert would never harm me or any of mine. We were closer than brothers. If I refuse him, he will curse, roar and rage for a while, and in a week we will laugh about it together. I know the man!"

"You knew the man," she agreed. "Yet the king is a stranger to you. Pride is everything to a king, my lord. Robert has come a very long way to see you and bring you these great honors. You cannot throw them back in his face."

"Honors?" Ned laughed bitterly.

"Yes, Ned," she said, getting impatient now. "He offers his own son in marriage to our daughter, what else would you call that? Sansa might one day be queen of all the lands between Dorne and the Wall. What is so wrong with that?"

"Sansa is only eleven, Cat," he complained, climbing back to the bed. "And we don't even know Joffrey."

"He is Crown Prince and heir to the Iron Throne. And I was only twelve when my father promised me to your brother Brandon."

"Brandon," Ned said bitterly. "Yes, Brandon would know what to do. He was the one meant to have you and Winterfell, and be father to queens. I never asked for this cup to pass to me."

"Perhaps not," Catelyn agreed. "Yet Brandon is now dead and the cup has passed, and you must drink from it, like it or not."

"You would have me take Robert's 'honors' so as not to risk his wrath, yet for that I would have to turn King Balon down," her husband noted.

The king of the Iron Islands had sent them a letter some days before in which he expressed his wish to betroth his son to their eldest daughter. And Catelyn could not deny that the Greyjoy was more likely than Robert Baratheon to take offense from a refusal, even though Robb had told her that the match had been Theon's notion and not the king's.

"That is not true. You could try to please them both," Catelyn suggested, looking up at him.

Ned glanced at her, puzzled. "I can hardly betroth Sansa to both Prince Joffrey and Prince Theon."

"That you certainly cannot do," she agreed. "But we have two daughters. We could promise Sansa to Theon and Arya to Joffrey."

"Gods, Cat! Arya is still a child," Lord Eddard objected, climbing back into the bed, next to her. "She is too young, and far from ready for this."

"They are not going to get married tomorrow, my love," she reminded him. "It's just a betrothal."

"Still, I don't think Arya will like it."

Catelyn didn't think so either: Arya was not the kind of girl who dreamed of marrying a handsome prince and becoming his princess. She liked to play with boys and make friends, but nothing more than that. Yet Catelyn knew that it would have to change one day, and Arya would have to marry some time, and wedding her to a young prince was probably the best they could do for her. She was about to say so to her lord husband when Desmond interrupted them, reporting that the maester was without and insisted to be shown in.

"Very well. Send him in," he accepted. He went to the wardrobe and slipped on a heavy robe. Catelyn suddenly felt cold and pulled the furs up to her chin. The maester came in.

He waited for the door to close behind him, and only after did he speak. "My lord, pardon me for disturbing your rest," he said to Ned. "But I have been sent a message."

Luwin told them about a mysterious wooden box he had found in his observatory, with a lens inside, and the message he had found concealed in the box. He had not read its content, for it was not for his eyes, but hers. So he came to her and left the paper on the table beside the bed and started to retreat, but Ned commanded him to stay.

Her hands trembled as she reached out to pick the letter. The furs dropped out, exposing her skin. The letter was sealed with a blue wax, and she recognized the moon-and-falcon of House Arryn. "It's from Lysa," she informed her husband.

He frowned and his face darkened, yet he told her to open it. She did, but it took her some time to make some sense out of the lines she read. Then she remembered the private language they had made up when they were girls, and the message started to reveal.

She got up from the bed and went across the room. Maester Luwin averted his eyes and Ned looked shocked. She approached the hearth and quickly lit a fire, then tossed the letter into the flames. Eddard stood up and walked to her. He helped her to her feet and then held her tight. "My lady, tell me! What was in that message?" He demanded.

"A warning," she said softly.

Lysa claimed his husband had been murdered by the Lannisters, she proceeded to explain. And that left them no choice: Ned had to go south and be Robert's Hand, so that he could find the truth. He still refused, though, so it fell on maester Luwin to convince him. After that, they kept quiet and let him bid his silent farewell to the home he loved.

When he was ready, he sat on a chair by the fire and told her that she should stay in Winterfell when he went south. She felt his icy words as an arrow piercing her heart.

"No," she said, suddenly afraid. If he left, she might not see him ever again.

"Yes," he said firmly. "You must govern the North in my stead, while I run Robert's errands. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. Robb is fourteen. He will soon be a man grown. He must learn how to rule, and I won't be here for him. Make him part of your councils. He must be ready when the time comes." Then he turned to the maester. "Maester Luwin, I trust you as I would my own blood. Give my wife your voice in all things, and teach my son what he needs to know."

Luwin nodded and then there was silence, until Cat found the courage to ask the question whose answer she most dreaded. "What of the other children?"

"Rickon is too young," he said gently. "And, if we mean to agree to King Balon's offer, Sansa should stay here as well. But Arya and Bran I would take with me."

"I could not bear it," Catelyn said, trembling.

"You must," he said. "Joffrey won't be in King's Landing now, but it won't hurt Arya to meet her future home and learn the ways of the southern court."

Catelyn knew he was right. Arya was in desperate need for refinement if she was to become a princess, and spending some time at court would help her with that. Reluctantly, she let go of her in her heart. But not Bran.

"Yes, my love, I can see that," she said. "But please, for the love you bear me, let Bran remain in Winterfell. He is only seven."

"I was eight when my father sent me to foster at the Eyrie," he told her. "Bran will be fine at court, I think. He would love it: he longs for adventure and new places to explore. And he is of an age with Prince Tommen. Let them grow together and become friends, as Robert and I did. Our House will be safer for it."

She knew it was true, but it didn't make it easier to bear. She took a deep breath and bravely said "Keep him off the walls, then. You know how he loves to climb." Ned kissed her tears from her eyes before they could fall.

The matter was settled, yet there was another thing to discuss. Maester Luwin asked Lord Eddard what he should do about his bastard son, Jon Snow. Catelyn tensed when she heard that name. Ned felt her anger and pulled away. She would not have him with her, yet he didn't dare take him to court.

The maester was the one to find a solution to the problem he had posed: Jon could join the Night's Watch. He had already expressed his wishes to do so, and it was as good a choice as any, for him. But Catelyn knew that her voice would not be welcome, so she let Ned and maester Luwin figure all that out alone. In the end, Ned said he would talk to Jon when the time came, and Catelyn promised to tell the girls about their betrothals.

She never knew when her lord husband talked to his bastard, but she informed their daughters of their plans for them the following morning. She asked them to join her for a walk after breakfast, and they were very happy to do so. They decided to take their direwolves with them. Catelyn was amazed to notice how they had grown in mere weeks: they were now as big as adult hunting dogs.

"Sansa, Arya, there is something I need to tell you," she began when they got out. The girls looked up at her, startled by her sudden formality. "Your father has been named Hand of the King. This means he will be traveling to King's Landing soon. He might not be coming back for many years."

"But, why?" Arya complained.

"Can't we go with him?" Sansa wanted to know.

"He cannot refuse the king, Arya," she explained her younger daughter. "Your father must do as king Robert bids him. He says you should go with him." Then she turned to Sansa. "As for you, my dear, I'm afraid you must stay. Your father has other plans for you."

"And what plans are these?" Sansa asked, both angry and disappointed.

"Your lord father means to betroth you to Prince Theon Greyjoy. He thinks it would be better for you to remain in Winterfell for as long as he does." Lady Catelyn looked back at her daughter. She was quiet now and staring down at her feet. "Sansa, do you not like Prince Theon?" She asked her, concerned. She would not force her child into a marriage she didn't want.

"I do like him," Sansa replied, blushing. "He is a handsome, good humored young man. But he is much older than me… I don't know how… how I can make him love me."

"You don't need to," Arya said scornfully, as if Sansa's insecurity was stupid. "You are already betrothed."

"They are," Catelyn told Arya, giving her a stern look. "Yet love does not always come with marriage. But don't worry," she told her eldest daughter now. "Prince Theon already likes you."

"And how do you know that?" Sansa's eyes gleamed with surprise, excitement and hope.

"Because the betrothal was his own notion."

"So, the prince said he wishes to marry me? Am I going to be a princess then?" Sansa was thrilled and delighted with the idea. "When shall we wed?"

"Not for many years," she cut her, though she was careful to say it kindly. "You must have your flowering first. And then you should wait at least one more year, to be certain you are ready."

"Why does father want me to go with him?" Arya asked, not very interested in her sister's betrothal.

"Well, Arya, your father and I have been talking about this for a while. We decided that it would be good for you to see the court and know the customs of the south. Living in King's Landing might achieve what the septa Mordane couldn't do here: to teach you to behave like a proper lady." Catelyn didn't want to tell her of her betrothal to Prince Joffrey yet; she knew that nothing good would come of it. It would have to wait until she was older, and more willing to accept it.

"But I don't want to be a lady!" Arya shouted, suddenly annoyed. "And King's Landing won't change that!"

"Well, you are a lady, whether you want it or not," she told her, calmly yet firmly.

"I am not!" Arya yelled. She did not give Catelyn time to scold her. She just turned away and ran into the godswood, with Nymeria running after her.

"I will never understand her," Sansa said lightly as she walked with her mother back to the castle.

Catelyn sighed. She would have to tell Ned of this and send him after Arya. If the gods were good, he would change her mind about going to King's Landing. However, she knew that her daughter was likelier to remain reluctant and see it as a punishment. She prayed silently for her husband to find a way to make their daughter understand.