Author's Notes: Pheeeeewwww, it is over! Game of Thrones TV-show, I mean… It has really wreaked havoc in my writing, as the story and characters in it – especially in the last season - were just SOOO different to what I have in mind when thinking or writing ASOIAF characters. My poor brain simply couldn't fathom! I was also distracted by the burning urge to write a small post-finale fic about what happened with Daenerys and Drogon after they departed (you can check it in my story list as "The Night is Not Alive").
Anyway, here we are again, back on track…Big thank you for my beta, Hardlyfatal, who shared my frustrations of the show, and was similarly affected by it. Thanks for sticking with this! Many million thanks for you lovely readers and commenters too - they really inspire me to continue!
Sooooo... what does Nymeria have in mind? Or should we say emArya/em? Before we find that out, we shall however return to Sansa and to the cat-and-mouse-game she has going on with the Elder Brother…
In the previous chapter: To Arya's great surprise, she gains admirers from among the Northern troops during the time her family spends in Riverrun preparing to return to Winterfell. Due to this, Catelyn tells her about the engagement she agreed to between Arya and a Frey son, which upsets Arya greatly. She doesn't share that with Gendry, and also tells him about Sansa's greendreams and suggests Gendry might be legitimised by King Jon someday. Theon tries to befriend Gendry and invites him for a night out, which makes Arya anxious. Restless, she goes to see Gendry that night and when he lets her in, gathers her courage and kisses him – only to be interrupted by a furious Ned.
Ned
"I trusted the boy! I offered him advantages! And this is how he pays me back!"
Ned paced back and forth the Great Hall, presently occupied only by himself and Catelyn. The cold anger he had held in check all the way from the smithy churned inside him and finally he had a chance to air it.
Catelyn sat at the end of the table, her hair dishevelled, covered by a cloak she had hastily grabbed when Ned had knocked on her door and with a clipped tone asked her to accompany him, then and there.
After interrupting Arya and Gendry – Ned's stomach roiled when he thought what might have happened next, had he not been there – he had dragged Arya back amidst oppressive silence. He hadn't known what to say and had decided better to say nothing at all until his worry and anger had had a chance to subside.
Thank the gods he had seen Nymeria outside the smithy, behaving oddly. The sight of the direwolf itself hadn't been unusual, she often spending time with Gendry, but something about her behaviour had arrested Ned, who had been on his way back from meeting with his commanders.
Nymeria had been standing behind the door, whining and scratching, as if wanting to get in. Ned had approached her with a friendly word and an intention to entice her to come with him if Gendry didn't want to be disturbed, and just then had heard Gendry raising his voice inside. 'Arya', he had said, and that had been enough to make Ned push the door open – and witness his youngest daughter practically sitting in the lap of the blacksmith.
Ned's blood boiled again, remembering the shock.
"Where were their hands?" Catelyn asked, stifling a yawn. He knew she had been ready to go to bed, but the matter couldn't have waited. Ned needed to speak to someone: someone who knew more than he did about raising daughters. He needed his wife by his side.
"What?" Ned turned, confused about the question.
"Where were their hands?" Catelyn repeated, patiently. "Was he holding her or her holding him?"
Ned frowned, trying to remember. The boy had been sitting straight, his arms…
"Gendry's arms were by his side. Arya's were around his neck." Ned shook his head. His little daughter!
"Then it is likely it was Arya who initiated the whole thing," Catelyn said matter-of-factly. "This is what I've been afraid of, and why I have tried to keep them apart. Arya is too impulsive, and after what they have shared…" She shrugged.
Ned latched onto her words. "What have they shared? Has this been going on for long?"
"They have shared hardships and danger together, and it leaves its mark. Besides, he is a handsome young man, and despite how we feel, Arya is growing up, too."
"But she's just a child!"
"Not so much of a child anymore. Other young men have started to notice it too – it is just we parents who are blind to it. However, if it is any consolidation, I think they haven't done anything inappropriate – yet. I spoke with her when she first returned to us, tactfully, and I trust her when she said he never tried anything dishonourable with her."
Ned felt his anger dissipating a little with that knowledge. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind before, which might have been naïve of him – but he couldn't think of Arya as anything else but his baby daughter.
"So you think it was her more than him?"
"I believe so. Gendry is older and knows better, and he knows his position. That doesn't mean that he was right in doing what he did, letting Arya into his quarters so late at night."
"So what do we do next?" Ned stopped his pacing and stood in front of Catelyn. It was hard to be so close to her, as if it were just another late-night conversation while they both retired for night, as they had done hundreds of times before. His eyes swept over Catelyn's long, loose hair framing her face in its luxurious shine. He wanted to touch it, but he knew the gesture wouldn't have been welcomed.
It was true that Catelyn hadn't raised her voice or shown her anger since the day of his confession, and she was always polite when speaking with him – but the warmth and intimacy between them was gone. He had apologised, more than once, and she had listened to him, accepted his apologies and repeated that they were the Lord and Lady of Winterfell and they had to work together for the sake of their children and their people, but that was not what Ned wanted. He wanted his loving wife back, but he didn't know how to get her.
"We have to separate them, and more effectively this time. I thought that by keeping Arya busy with her lessons and giving Gendry all these other activities they wouldn't see each other so often, and that in time, matters would have solved themselves naturally."
"If you are sure that it wasn't Gendry's initiative, I can't punish him for something my foolish daughter did," Ned concluded. His sense of justice wouldn't allow it, not after all the good the boy had done.
"We don't have to punish him, just send him away. Isn't there any task you could assign to him that would see him leaving us for a while?"
Ned though for a moment. There was a plan to send a group of soldiers ahead to scout for supplies ahead of the main troops. Mainly food, as the long encampment had already used up much of the surplus food in the countryside near Riverrun. He could send Gendry with them. It wouldn't be a demotion or a sign of his displeasure to anyone else, but just a new task… Yes, that could work.
He suggested it to Catelyn, who agreed with it. Then, the matter having been concluded, she pushed her chair back and stood up. She was going to leave, Ned knew, and knowing he couldn't follow her twisted deep in his belly.
'Cat," Ned called out at the spur of the moment.
His wife turned to her, beautiful and regal, her face a mask of politeness but lacking warmth. "Yes?"
"Cat… will things ever be right between us?" Ned said softly. His rage had left him and all he felt was fatique and loneliness, and longing for his wife.
Catelyn stared at him for a long time, and for one fleeting moment Ned thought he saw her hesitating. There was sadness in her eyes, and tiredness that went beyond the lateness of the hour. Ned took one step closer so they were only a hand's width apart. He wanted to reach out to her, but was afraid to do so. He, afraid of her – he'd never imagined to see the day.
Finally, Catelyn drew in a shaky breath. "I don't know, Ned. I truly don't know."
Then she walked away, leaving Ned staring at her retreating back.
"You know why you're here, don't you?" Ned asked Gendry. He had called for the boy first thing the next morning, and Gendry had appeared almost immediately, likely having been waiting near the main door for the inevitable call.
Gendry stood straight, staring ahead of him. He had made eye contact when he had first walked in, but now seemed to be bracing himself to receive whatever was coming his way.
"Yes, my lord. I want to apologise. It was wrong and I shouldn't have done it."
"Why did you, then? Why did I find my daughter in your room, at that time, practically in your lap?"
"I have no excuse for my behaviour, my lord. I did wrong. I should have never presumed," Gendry repeated stubbornly, his eyes focussed on some invisible spot above Ned's head. His expression was sombre but Ned didn't detect any signs of cockiness.
It would have been a perfect opportunity for him to bring up that it had been Arya who had approached him, as Catelyn assumed. Why didn't he say that? Ned was curious – and not just a little impressed. Maybe he thought Arya would get in trouble if he blamed her? If so, that meant that Gendry cared about Arya's wellbeing more than his own – which was a worry in itself.
Ned sighed. "I have reason to believe that Arya was not entirely innocent in this matter, either. Hence I can't punish you too harshly for it. But surely you know that such behaviour with a noble maiden is unthinkable? For anyone, and for someone in your position, even moreso."
Gendry pursed his lips tight but said nothing.
"Arya is a daughter of a great house and she has been betrothed to a son of another noble house. I know you have noble blood in your veins as well, but it amounts to nothing because you were not born in wedlock. Stannis Baratheon will never pronounce you as his kin and you have no chances to be legitimised, be it King Joffrey or King Stannis on the throne."
"What about King Jon?"
As soon as the words let his mouth, Gendry grimaced as if wanting to take them back. For the first time during the meeting he showed signs of uncertainty, glancing down at the floor and shuffling his feet.
Ned was taken aback. Sansa's greendreams were supposed to be a family secret but Arya seemed have ignored it. It was important that this particular matter should stay secret until he was ready to announce it himself. Ned inhaled deeply and chose his next words carefully.
"King Jon? I see Arya has told you something she shouldn't have."
"She told me in highest secrecy, and I haven't told anyone. I swear it, my lord! She only told me because she was so excited about it," Gendry exclaimed, sweating visibly.
"You'd better keep it to yourself, then. Besides, we don't know for sure that any of that is going to happen. Greendreams don't work with certainty. So I would advise you not to get any foolish notions into your head, as they may never happen."
"Yes, my lord," Gendry muttered, lowering his gaze again.
Not wanting to keep the boy on tenterhooks any longer than necessary, Ned informed him about his new assignment, due to start the very next day. Gendry accepted it with a stoic countenance, only asking if he was supposed to take his tools with him, which Ned advised him to do.
"You first stop is the inn at the crossroads. Once you get there, you will store all the food you have collected there to wait for our arrival. Some of the men in the party will be changed then, and then you will start again towards the North. This arrangement will continue until we reach Winterfell – and after that, we'll see."
"Yes, my lord."
"I hope you don't see this is as a punishment, and it will not be portrayed as such. I just have to make sure that you and Arya have some time to adapt back to the real world. This is not your private adventure anymore, and I have to do what is best for my daughter. You can understand that, can you?"
"Yes, I can, my lord. Arya is a lady, as I have told her many times. I know my place and won't give you any more trouble on that account, I promise."
"I appreciate that, Gendry. We all have to do our duty in our respective positions."
Gendry bowed stiffly and Ned sent him on his way to talk to the man who had been appointed to lead the purveyor party. Ned sat alone for a moment, wondering how the women in his family could give him so much grief, before shaking his head and turning his attention to the next of the many tasks waiting for his attention.
Unusually for him, Ned was drinking alone. Everyone had gone to bed and he was the only one awake at that part of the keep, sitting in Hoster Tully's solar that had been assigned first to Robb and then to Ned himself as a field office. He nursed a goblet of wine in his hand, fine vintage from Dorne, but it might as well have been piss-poor ale, so little attention did he pay to its taste.
Ned knew he should be in bed, resting and gaining strength for another busy day ahead. Yet he dreaded to go to his room and the cold and lonely bed within it. For decades he had shared his bed with Catelyn, and although there had been times when they had been separated, this time it was different. She was right there and he saw her every day, saw her smile when she spoke with her brother and uncle, her gentleness when she nursed her ailing father. Showing her love for everyone else but him.
Ned knew himself to be pathetic with that kind of thinking, but he missed her so much it hurt. And so he sat there, in the near-darkness, with only a half-empty flask of wine for company.
Just as he reached to fill his goblet once more he saw movement at the periphery of his vision. He turned – and saw Catelyn hovering at the door.
"Cat?"
She didn't say anything, only looked at him oddly.
"Cat, please come in," Ned said, dropping the flask on the table as if it burned his fingers. He tried to think of something to say, anything that would see her stay for a bit. "Arya… did you speak to her?"
Catelyn nodded. "I did."
"What did she say? Did she have any excuses for her behaviour? Did she understand how wrong it was?"
Please, stay.
Catelyn wrapped the shawl around her shoulder tighter and Ned noticed she was clad only in her nightshift. Had she heard him? Their separate rooms, previously belonging to Hoster and Minisa Tully, were not far, but surely not within the earshot? Had she – could she have – come to look for him? Ned pulled out a chair and after a moment Catelyn accepted the invitation and sat. Ned gestured towards the wine flask, but she shook her head.
"She understood it was wrong and she apologised. For some reason she seemed horrified at the thought what you might do to Gendry. She kept on talking about Mycah and how it was all her fault and how she should have learned her lesson." Catelyn observed him closely as she spoke. "Do you know what all that was about?"
"I think I do. Do you remember I wrote to you about that sorry incident on the Kingsroad? The poor butcher's boy entangled in Joffrey and Arya's quarrel, paying dearly for it."
Catelyn's eyes widened. "I do. He was such a nice boy, I remember him always following his father in the kitchens and the butcher's shed." She shuddered. "You wrote that the Hound rode him down and Cersei made you kill Lady. Is that what Arya believes you might do to Gendry?"
Ned sighed. "I hope not. I trust you told him of our intentions regarding him?"
"I did, and she seemed to calm down."
The silence stretched on and Ned felt he needed to fill it with something to keep her there for longer. He coughed to clear his throat.
"It was a sorry mess. I should have never agreed to it, to what I did to Lady…" He rolled the goblet between his fingers, remembering the anger and frustration he had felt at the time. "I thought I did the right thing. I thought Robert would come to his senses, if I only had some more time with him in the capital. I wanted to believe the best of him."
"You always did what you thought what was best – but you were not always right."
Ned winced. Catelyn was not talking about the incident at the Kingsroad, he knew. She was talking about the biggest mistake of his life.
"You are right. I have been so wrong and made many poor choices. And doing that, I've hurt the people I love the most." Ned set his mouth to a grim line. "However, I have learned from them and I shall make it right – or at least I'll try."
"What will you do?" Catelyn's tone conveyed mild curiosity.
"I've already sent a raven to Jon to tell him come to Winterfell as soon as he can. I hope it reaches him before he gives his vows, but in any case, I can ask him to visit, at least. I have to wait until we are safely out of the Riverlands and back in Winterfell, but then I shall send messages to all noble houses and announce in front of all my bannermen and lieges that Jon is the true son of my sister Lyanna and Rhaegar Targaryen. The time of lies is over."
Catelyn's mouth twitched slightly. "You would be willing to tell the whole world that the honourable Eddard Stark has been lying to everyone all these years?"
"Yes." Ned didn't flinch under her scrutiny. "It's the right thing to do, and an honourable act for the sake of your honour. For everyone to know that your husband never betrayed you… that way," he added, seeing Catelyn's raised eyebrow.
She contemplated on Ned's words for a while, then raised her eyes to his face, her lips slightly upturned. "If you thought it was not safe to declare Jon's true origins then, surely it's even less safe now. For now, it is possible that Tywin Lannister and Stannis Baratheon in their scruples may leave the North in peace, but if you tell them that you harbour yet another claimant to the throne under your banner, it would be like raising a red flag to a bull. No, Ned, I suggest you do no such thing."
Ned stared at her as she spoke: her lips, the curve of her collarbone showing under the shawl that had slipped from her shoulder, the ruddy glow of her hair… he wanted her more than he needed air to breathe.
He had to try one more time.
"Cat, I know I did an unforgivable thing and I will always regret it – but is there truly no way forward for us? I promise I'll do anything, anything at all you ask, to make this right if I can." His throat constricted and his voice was only a whisper. "You have forgiven me as your lord and the father of your children, as we have to work together in those roles – but can you ever forgive me as a man – and as your husband?"
He stared at the table and its grain of old wood, smoothed out and tarnished by centuries of use. Slowly, he raised his eyes and saw Catelyn looking at him. Her expression was soft, but pained.
"Why didn't you tell me, then? You still haven't told me that," she said, softly.
"I was wrong, I know. At first I didn't know you, or if I could trust you. It was foolish, but we were thrown together so unexpectedly and the loyalties at that time were still shifting and in motion. And after a while, you stopped asking about it, and I thought you might have… settled with the matter. I didn't want to wake the sleeping dogs."
"I stopped asking as you told me to, and quite rudely at that!" Cat almost hissed. "That was the first and last time I have ever been afraid of you."
Ned flinched, remembering his other huge mistake of speaking to his wife so harshly. He hadn't intended to, but her innocent question about Ashara Dayne – a woman who couldn't have been further away from his mind – and knowing that people still gossiped about such old things had seen him losing his patience. He had regretted his outburst as soon as it was over, but by that time, wide-eyed Catelyn had already fled and he hadn't known what to do or how to apologise to her.
"When Jon started talking about the Night's Watch, I thought that would ease your mind of any worries in regards to inheritance…" he tried to continue his excuses for the inexcusable.
"You stupid man!" Catelyn huffed and paused, seemingly at a loss for words. She found them soon enough, though. "It was never only about the inheritance. Yes, I was worried about it, Jon looking so much more like you than our children and at an age with Robb – but it was not the only thing."
All of a sudden, Catelyn appeared to be on the verge of tears.
"How do you think it made me feel to see you looking at him with such love and longing, imagining that it was not he you saw, but his mother, whom you still loved? Who was so dear to you that you refused to send her son away from you, even if it was for his own good, as if you wanted to be reminded of your lover through him?"
Ned was taken aback. That Catelyn could have ever envisioned there to be room in his heart for any other woman but her, was unbelievable to him. Then again, maybe he had given such an impression, even without intention. He groaned.
"Cat, how could I have loved any other but you? You are the light of my life!"
"How was I supposed to know that? I thought there was someone else. What was even worse is that Jon, who was innocent to any of it, suffered from it. I tried not to let my emotions influence my thoughts of him, but I was weak, and it did. I was awful to him, and I regret it but I can't take it back. It is too late, now!"
Catelyn had started sobbing, silently, and Ned was torn between wanting to wrap his arms around her and respecting her wishes of not to be touched by him. In the end, his overwhelming urge to comfort her won, and he got up and knelt in front of Catelyn. He took her hands into his own, pressing them between his calloused palms.
"Cat, Cat, please… I am sorrier than I can ever say. It was all my fault. I have never loved anyone but you, and I never will. Even if you banish me from your heart forever, I will never stop loving you."
Ned turned Catelyn's hands in his own, admiring how soft they were, how delicate. He continued, opening his heart and revealing all there was, in the faint hope of being able to convey to her how much she meant to him.
"It is not too late for you and Jon, either. Jon will understand. I will tell him myself, I will take the blame that rightly belongs to me. It is just that –" Ned swallowed. "– I never imagined you could love me that much. I know I was not like Brandon and that I must have been a disappointment to you when we first married. When you did tell me you loved me, I thought – I am not sure what I thought. That you had settled with the inevitable and adjusted the best you could. I was so happy, and grateful."
Ned raised his eyes to meet hers – they were still wet and red-rimmed, but she had stopped crying.
"Oh, Ned," Catelyn whispered. He recognised the tone – the tone of intimacy. Catelyn turned her hands that Ned was still holding and took hold of his fingers, stroking her thumbs over them. Her touch was gentle and soothing and it was Ned's turn to want to cry – but he held himself back.
Eventually, Catelyn shifted. "Thank you for telling me this. I will never understand why you did it, but you're right, we have to move forward."
Ned peered under his brows, trying to ascertain whether Catelyn was falling back to her Lady of Winterfell stance, inspired by the words of her house 'Family, Duty, Honour' – with no mention of 'Love'. However, it didn't seem so: her expression was soft and her smile the most beautiful thing he had seen for a long time.
"Will you forgive me, your husband and a man who loves you?" He had to make sure.
Catelyn sighed. "I don't see that I have any other choice. I have missed you, too. Missed you dearly."
Her words made Ned's heart soar. He jumped up to his feet and raised his wife from her shoulders, gently, into a fierce embrace. For a while, nothing mattered but that he was holding her, she was holding him, and the kiss they shared – still tentative and fragile.
"Can I ask you to do one thing?" Catelyn pulled back from his clasp and Ned let her go.
"What? Anything!"
"Will you promise to always tell me the truth and keep no secrets from me?" Catelyn studied Ned and her eyes saw straight through to his core. He had nothing to hide and he swore he never would.
They embraced once again, and once again Catelyn pulled way.
"Is there anything you need to tell me since we last talked to each other properly, before you were arrested?"
Ned wracked his brain. There hadn't been much he wouldn't have already revealed about the events of that time, except…
"Well, Cersei Lannister might have tried to seduce me, one time," he offered, recalling the time when he had warned Cersei to save her children, and her suggestive touch on his thigh, his face, his hair.
To Ned's surprise, Catelyn smiled. "Might have? What did she do, climb into your bed naked as on her nameday in the middle of the night? As I think it would take as much for you to notice."
Affronted, Ned told her about the incident before realising that Catelyn had only teased him. In the end he joined her, smiling as he pulled her on her feet. "I think it's time we retire for the night…" leaving it open and up to Catelyn where she wanted to retire: in her own room, alone, or in his – or take him to her room with her.
"Yes, it is. My mother's bed is cold and lonely and I would rather not sleep a single night in it on my own." Catelyn took his hand and led him away from the solar, towards her room – and didn't let go.
The next day Ned saw to the departure of his purveying party, Gendry among them. He had let out the word that he had asked Gendry to join the group as a special task, giving no more reasons for it, letting people think of it what they would. It was a feeble explanation, perhaps, but one that was accepted without question. Catelyn had taken great care to ensure that nobody knew the real reason, as she didn't want the incident to cast any shadows on Arya's reputation.
Arya moped, but didn't challenge the decision. Maybe Catelyn was right, maybe Arya was indeed growing up and leaving behind her childish ways. She stood beside her parents now, flanked by Nymeria. Ned glanced at her worriedly, hoping she wouldn't make a scene seeing her friend truly leaving. Yet he shouldn't have worried. Arya bade Gendry farewell with a few words and a small nod, and Gendry bowed at her, throwing a sideways look at Ned while doing so.
Ned exchanged some last words with their leader, Ronn from Barrowton, and the group of ten men mounted their horses and started towards the gate in a single file. Gendry rode in the rear of the line, after the horse and cart intended for the goods.
Arya knelt on the ground and ruffled Nymeria's thick fur, saying something to the direwolf. The animal looked up at her mistress, got onto her feet and galloped towards the riders, almost lazily. Ned followed her progress, wondering if she was going to say her own goodbyes to the man whose company she seemed to like almost as well as Arya's.
Nymeria reached the last riders and when Gendry noticed her, he leant down in his saddle – he didn't even have to crouch very low as Nymeria's head was level with the horse's flank. The horse didn't like the experience, whites of its eyes showing, but like other horses in the Stark camp, it too had gotten more-or-less used to the direwolves presence and didn't shy away too much.
Ned expected Nymeria to return after the goodbyes, but instead, she settled a bit further back and trotted alongside the carts, all the way until the group passed the gate and the wall hid the riders from the view. Still Ned expected her to bounce back at any moment, but time went by and she didn't return. The small crowd of well-wishers started to disperse and Catelyn turned to go, flashing a brilliant smile towards Ned.
The previous night had been all he could have wished, Catelyn as loving as before, with an added fire and hunger that had matched his own, after having been separated for so long. Afterwards, they had lain in each other's arms, just listening to each other's heartbeats and letting the world settle into its familiar shape once again. He had kissed her eyelids and ears and lips and the pulse of her neck, never happier.
Ned's heart swelled at the sight of Catelyn's smile and he could hardly wait until he was back again where he belonged: in his wife's arms. It had to wait, though, as first he wanted to make sure Arya was fine before he left her.
"Will you stay here to wait for Nymeria?" he asked Arya, who had stayed where she stood, still looking towards the gate. Ned hoped Nymeria would come back soon, for her sake.
"She's not coming back – for now," Arya informed him calmly.
Ned raised his eyebrow. How could she know? And if true, how would she cope with being deprived of the company of her friend and her direwolf on the very same day? Ned eyed Arya worriedly, expecting tears or a tantrum or both, but neither were forthcoming. He would have expected Arya to be devastated, but all he could see was a faint smile curving her lips.
"Why do you think that? Why would she leave you?"
"I just know." Arya smiled. "That is fine, it truly is." Then she turned to follow her mother.
Ned swiped his hand across his face and sighed.
Women. I will never understand them, not in my lifetime.
