A/N: Hey guys. Later than usual, my apologies!

Hope you all like it. Let me know!

:)


Dead Memories


Elissa woke slowly, mumbling Robb's name, her breath coming as a sharp gasp as she finally opened her eyes properly to find herself alone in bed. The dream had been so real she had almost expected to find his weight pressed against her and his lips at her neck. She was alone though, alone in her bed with an ache between her legs that only Robb could satisfy. She was at that stage of her pregnancy now where she craved him as much as she had craved raspberries at the beginning. It had been the same with Torrhen, only Robb had been there then and all too willing to satisfy her every whim. She groaned, the ache between her legs was persistent and her body was begging for release.

Without thinking she let her hands drop and gather up the silk of her nightdress, her fingers lightly touching the desire. They didn't feel quite right, her fingers were slim and soft, not the thick roughness of Robb's that drove her so wild. It would have to do though and so she tentatively moved them, focusing on that part of her that Robb teased so perfectly, that part of her that always made the bubble of pleasure explode. She closed her eyes and imagined her husband as she continued on, her breathing becoming more laboured as she pushed herself to the release she so desperately needed. A gasp left her mouth when she finally peaked, it felt good but strange; the ache for relief satiated, the ache for Robb not dulling at all.

After a moment she moved her hand away and pulled her nightdress back down, trying her best not to think of Robb and whether he was missing her like this. He had had to go without her before – when she had had Torrhen and when she had been stabbed. This would be the longest time though and she wouldn't even be able to see him to remind him of what he was waiting for. War camps always ended up crawling with whores, she had seen that with her own eyes. Robb was honourable though, Robb would remember his vows, remember how much they loved one another and that she was waiting for him. He would wait for her too surely, just like he always had. She threw the covers off herself then and pulled herself out of bed, determined that she would not dwell on it anymore. Robb was a faithful husband and that was how he would remain.


They reached their peak together and Jon collapsed against her, breathing hard as he slid from her perfect warmth, her fingers running lightly up and down his spine as they both tried to calm themselves down. Daenerys finally shoved him away slightly so she could wriggle out of bed and pull her clothes about her. Travelling clothes again, they would be moving on today, further south towards King's Landing. They were expecting to meet Kevan Lannister on the way but no one seemed worried. Rumour had it he had hired sell-swords but even so they were certain they could have nowhere near the numbers that were with them. Jon watched as Daenerys brushed her hair through and braided it away from her face. The closer they got to King's Landing the more focused on her goal she became. Their early morning love making had been a rarity, usually she would push Jon away and tell him that she had too much to do.

"Where are you heading so early?" he asked her.

"A meeting to discuss Kevan Lannister," she told him as she pulled on her boots.

"Do you want me to come?" he questioned.

"If you wish it … you will be fighting after all," she said and he sighed and got out of bed.

"Give me two minutes," he said and began pulling on his clothes.

She watched him for a moment, fiddling with a lock of her hair. Jon was frustrated with her she knew that much – they had argued about Lord Baelish a lot which was putting strain on their relationship. She also knew she was failing him when it came to her wifely duties but she was up so early and to bed so late that she was too exhausted to think about his pleasure when she came to bed. This morning she couldn't deny him though, not when his hands moved so expertly and his lips bruised hers in such a demanding way. She tried to tell herself it would get better once they took the throne but she was deluding herself, things would be even busier, especially at the beginning. She hoped Jon wouldn't start to regret his decision now he was faced with the reality of what their future was going to consist of.

"Ready?" she asked him when he turned to face her.

"Yes," he smiled but she saw that it didn't quite meet his eyes.

"I love you Jon," she told him seriously, taking his hand.

"I love you too," he returned, squeezing her hand, his eyes lighting up properly this time.


Stannis was riding at Robb's side when they departed the packed up war camp, further south they were going and Stannis had told them where the best strategic place was to lure Kevan Lannister to. Baelish had tried to argue with him but Stark shot him down at once and put him firmly in his place –Baelish was not a military man, Stannis was and he was prepared to back him. It was the first time that the Young Wolf had spoken up for him in public and Stannis had tried not to look too pleased with himself. Frustrations with the Dragon Queen were building, it was not just Stark who was irritated with her decision regarding Littlefinger, her own husband seemed against it all. Ser Barristan he could tell was also uneasy and the Imp had little or no regard for him. That said it all to Stannis, if even a Lannister did not trust him then surely the silly girl must see he was no good.

She didn't though and that was playing right into Stannis' hands. If she continued pushing Stark and he continued saying just the right things then the Young Wolf may soon be questioning his allegiance, and when that day came Stannis would be waiting with open arms. He had been expecting to have to work harder to gain Stark's trust and fix the damage that Melisandre had done. He truly hadn't known she was meaning to eliminate him, he had told her mere hours before that he intended to try and strike some kind of deal with him. Stannis might be on the Iron Throne already without her meddling with the might of the North behind him. At the beginning of the war Stannis, like many others, had dismissed Robb Stark as a green boy who was not worth troubling himself over. He had been impressed though at the manner of his victories, he had secured many holds in the south to protect the North that he took when he struck of Tywin Lannister's head.

Not only that but his family is strong as well, unlike Stannis' own. Something would have to be done about that if he did manage to convince Stark to come over to his side. Perhaps something could be done about it before hand. He looked to the young man riding next to him then and wondered how he would feel about his youngest brother marrying his daughter. Shireen was not an attractive prospect he knew that well enough but perhaps keeping some hold over Casterly Rock would convince Stark that a match would be in their best interests. He glanced at him again and saw his eyes fixed on Littlefinger who was in deep conversation with Daenerys. Perhaps it would be best to save that particular suggestion for another day.


"And you're certain this will work?" Daenerys asked as the tents were pitched for the night.

"Of course," Petyr nodded, "Olena Tyrell is no fool, even if her son is"

"They would want something in return no doubt," she said knowingly.

"Of course," he said again, "a pardon and a good match for Wilas and Margaery"

"Is she still imprisoned?" Daenerys asked him.

"I believe so," he told her.

"Wed to three false King's, her family should be grateful I don't leave her there," she spat.

"Indeed," Petyr agreed lightly, "but your mercy will show you in a forgiving light"

"So long as it does not show me as weak – I am not weak," she said determinedly.

"No one would think it for a second my Queen," he bowed shortly.

"Where is my husband?" she asked him sharply then.

"I believe he is drinking with Robb Stark and the Imp," he told her and she frowned.

"If that's all you can leave me now," she said, making to turn away from him.

"Actually your Grace there was one other thing," he said smoothly and she turned back.

"Go on …" she said, raising her eyebrow.

"I had thought I would consider marrying again," he told her.

"So soon?!" she said incredulously, Lysa's body was barely cold in the ground.

"Although I cared deeply for Lysa she was a substitute for my true love," he confessed and she stared.

"And who is your true love?" she asked him suspiciously.

"Catelyn Stark," he replied, meeting her stunned violet gaze.


Robb stumbled slightly when he entered his tent, he had drank far more strong ale than he had intended. He had almost supped down as much as the Greatjon and it was severely testing his balance and his vision as he staggered slightly against his desk. He tugged on the buttons of his jacket then, his hands fumbling as he tried to undo them, eventually managing to shrug out of it and pull his shirt up and over his head. He turned then as he heard movement behind him, his bleary eyes unfocused as he tried to see who had come in. His heart almost stopped as he caught sight of them, in his drunk mind he didn't even question what she was doing here.

"Elissa?" he slurred, trying to take a step towards her but failing, staggering back against his desk.

The woman came further in then and smiled at him. He blinked at her. She was too tall to be Elissa and her stomach was not rounded with child. Her hair was almost the same, although Elissa's was a paler gold, this woman's was almost yellow – straw like even. It didn't have the curl at the end either he noted as he continued blinking at her, his vision swimming as she took another step towards him.

"I thought your Grace would like some company," she purred at him then and he had no answer for her as her hands came and pulled at the ties of her dress. Robb couldn't find the words to tell her no and in the next instant she was stood bare before him and he couldn't help but stare. He was aware of his hardness straining against his trousers, desire flooded him as he stared at this naked woman in the half light of his tent. Her figure was young and taut, her breasts small but firm and her legs long and smooth. He gripped the desk hard, it would be so easy to step towards her, to push her down on that bed and relieve the tension that he had been left with since he had left his wife.

The thought of Elissa sobered him though. This woman wasn't Elissa. This woman was a tavern whore not his beautiful wife and Queen. His loyal wife who was no doubt at this moment laid in bed alone, perhaps thinking of him. Perhaps dreaming of him. Perhaps comforting Torrhen again in his absence. Guilt flooded him then as his hardness continued to press uncomfortably against his laces. Only Elissa, that's what he had promised. He took a step closer to the naked girl then and she licked her lips in anticipation, her eyes lingering slightly on the bulge in his trousers. He grasped her shoulders in his hands then and she shivered slightly at the contact, her eyes raising to meet his.

Brown eyes. Dull. Boring. Not the captivating honey of his wife's. She was a mere imitation of Elissa and a poor one at that he saw now he was really looking at her.

"Get dressed, and get out," he said quietly but firmly to her, his voice no longer slurred.

The girl flushed and he released her, turning away and hearing her scramble back into her dress. He didn't turn back until he felt a cool rush of hair across his bare back and he looked back to see that she had gone. He pulled off his boots then, trying to ignore the longing in his trousers before getting into bed and hauling the furs around him. He had been tempted. Drunk and tempted to take a woman that wasn't his wife, the fact of that still throbbing uncomfortably between his legs. He dropped his hands to his laces then and unthread them, groaning with relief when he freed himself. He closed his eyes and thought of Elissa splayed out beneath him and gasping in pleasure as he took himself into his hand, keeping his thoughts on her as he managed to bring himself some relief.


I was tempted Lissy. He wrote in the morning, the ache pounding his head as he wrote the words to his wife. I told her to go but I was tempted. Gods I'm aching for you, for a fleeting second I actually thought she was you, that you had somehow come for me. Dreaming of you is now torture because I can't have you in my arms. I can relieve my tension well enough but I can't rid myself of longing for you. I will stay faithful to you my Queen I swear it. I only want you. Your warmth, your touch, I ache for everything about you. Please forgive me my second of madness. I love you Lissy. You are the only woman I want.

He signed off then, begging her forgiveness once more and begging her to give Torrhen his love as he would no doubt be heading into battle again soon. The shouts that had been an unwelcome wake up this morning had brought news that Lannister soldiers were camped less than a day's ride from them. Their second battle would soon be upon them and Robb knew that it would not be their last. He closed his eyes and prayed then that it would not be his last, that he would live to fight another day and return home once more to his wife and family.


Catelyn was numb as she read the letter, it had been delayed, the raven distinctly ruffled and in rather ill health when it had finally arrived. The Maester had brought her it at once and she knew from the look on his face that the contents would not bring welcome news. Dark wings, dark words. Her initial thought was that something had befallen Robb but she pushed the foolish thought away, knowing that if it had been Robb then Maester Luwin would have sought out Elissa. It was news for her, news of Lysa – her little sister she had once shared such a close bond with.

They had run together, skipped through the gardens and soaked themselves in the fountains, running screaming from their scolding Septa as she threatened to tell their father. They had held one another as the sobs came up in their throats when their father stood before them and told them that their mother was dead. They had helped the nursemaids with Edmure, both fussing over him as though they were little substitute mothers. They doted on their little brother, taking it in turns to pick out his clothes for the day, arguing over who would hold him when they took him out into the gardens. They had grown up so close, all three of them. Until that day. Until that horrible day.

When the confession had left Lysa's lips Catelyn couldn't help but gasp in horror as their father gripped the edge of his desk so hard his knuckles turned white. She hadn't been able to believe that her sister hadn't told her. She had told her everything about Brandon – the way that his eyes captured hers and held them fast, the way that her heart beat faster when he smiled at her. The first time he had captured her lips with his she had flown up to her sister's room and told her at once. And yet Lysa had kept this from her, something so huge and life changing. That day changed everything.

She could still hear her sister's desperate pleas and sobs as their father all but forced the moon tea down her throat. Her sister shut herself away then and Catelyn had to cry alone when the news came about Brandon. Edmure in his clumsy child-like way had tried to comfort her but she had ached for Lysa to come and hold her and promise everything would be alright. They had married side by side not weeks later but Catelyn had never felt further from her sister. The distance only grew then as Catelyn's stomach grew steadily rounder with child whilst Lysa's remained flat and empty. It was finally over the day she had given birth to Robb. She had been propped up against the pillows, wondering at her tiny, perfect son when Lysa had come in. Her voice was laced with spite as she had stared Catelyn down; you don't deserve him.

After that she didn't see her sister. She kept herself away until Ned and Jon Arryn returned from the war. When she had woken the next morning with her eyes swollen and red over her husband's apparent betrayal she had sought out her sister. Only she wasn't there. Her father heavily informed her that she and her husband had already left for King's Landing. Catelyn was shaken. Her sister hadn't even said goodbye. It hadn't been until years later when she went to the Eyrie with Tyrion that she had finally seen her again. It wasn't her sister she saw though but a woman almost completely consumed by madness shut up in a tower with her sickly boy.

She had barely recognised her.

And now …

Well now she was dead and Catelyn couldn't even find it in her to cry. Lysa had been dead to her for many years now. She hoped she would find peace with the Gods as she closed her eyes and said a simple prayer for her poor sister's soul. When Elissa's hand came down on her shoulder she knew that Maester Luwin must have been to fetch her, obviously worried about her reaction. He needed have bothered. She reached her hand up to lay across her daughter in laws then and turned her head up to smile at her. Elissa looked back at her sceptically but she merely squeezed her hand.

"Don't worry for me, Lysa and I … we were not the closest," she told her honestly.

"She was still your sister," Elissa said softly.

"She was," Catelyn agreed, "for many years she was my sister and my dearest friend"

"Lady Stark …" Elissa breathed, unsure what else to say.

"But she was no longer Lysa from the day she drank that foul tea," she said bitterly.

"I am sorry Lady Stark … I truly am," Elissa told her meaningfully and Catelyn stood up and embraced her tightly, her eyes finally stinging with tears.


Edmure hadn't moved for so long Roslin was starting to wonder if she should call for the Maester. She had broken the news to him as gently as possible and he had nodded his head, reaching out for the letter in her hands. She had watched him as he read it, his expression remaining smooth as he took in every single word. He had tossed the letter into the fire then and hung his head in his hands. Somehow she knew he didn't want to talk. He barely ever mentioned Lysa, only telling her vaguely that they had been close once and then she had changed. She had been curious about it but he didn't have the answers, he said something had happened with their father and that Lysa had gone away when her husband returned from war and never come back. Roslin had thought about asking Lady Stark but had thought better of it; the woman was kind enough but she had a hardness about her and Roslin was afraid of the rebuke she would get for prying into her business.

"Edmure …" she said softly, unable to stand it any longer, coming to kneel before him.

"Over twenty years Ros," he said after a moment and she reached up to pull his hands from his face.

"I'm sorry my love," she breathed and he stared at her eyes so full of concern.

"I was nine," he told her, "I didn't understand it … I thought she would come back"

"Oh Edmure …" she sighed, kissing at the backs of his hands.

"Cat said goodbye, Cat wrote to me every week," he said, shaking his head.

"She didn't even write?" she asked despite herself, stunned at the woman's coldness.

"Never," he said, "I never saw her again after I watched her from the window riding into the distance"

"I'm sorry," Roslin told him again, not knowing what else she could say.

"And now she's dead, what am I supposed to feel?" he questioned her.

"I don't know," she told him honestly, "I am not an expert on grief"

"I'm not even sure if I want to grieve," he told her honestly, feeling awful for admitting it.

"Then you don't have to," she told him and he saw no hint of judgement in her eyes.

"I don't know what I'd ever do without you," he said meaningfully and she smiled.

"You don't ever have to worry about me ever leaving you," she promised.

He tugged on her hands then so she stood, pulling her forwards so she came to sit is his lap, cradling her against him, his hand tangling in her hair as the other pressed her firmly to him. His lips skimmed the top of her hairline then as her arms wound tightly around his shoulders. He breathed in her sweet scent as she lay in his arms and prayed to the Gods that she would never leave him. His mother had gone, gone minutes after she had brought him into the world. He didn't even remember a face to miss. Then Lysa had gone. Gone far before she had actually ridden away. He hadn't understood, had somehow thought himself to blame for her sudden coldness. Then Cat had gone. She had gone after smothering him with kisses and holding him so tightly that he thought his bones would break. She had gone with promises to write and assuring him over and over that she would always love him and miss him terribly. But she had still gone. He clutched Roslin even tighter then. She would never go. He would never let her.


A/N: The Catelyn and Edmure reactions kind of ran away with me. Hope you liked them.

More tomorrow.

:)