The Rise of the Quiet Wolf

by YTheFountainHeadK

The war peels Ned's naivete off, layer by layer. A determined political novice returns as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North; the Game of Thrones has a new player. Let the Games begin!

2. The Lady of Winterfell

Author Notes:

Thanks a lot for the reviews, favorites, and follows. In case anyone missed it, this is obviously an AU from the moment the Mad King asked for Ned and Robert's heads. The changes will cascade slowly until there is an appropriate domino effect. Wish me luck and good writing!

Chapter 2

Catelyn

She barely stops herself from sneering, holding her composure by a thread, literally. Eddard Stark is undoubtedly the lesser brother. Her Bran was more handsome, more cheerful, taller, broader of the chest, and he set her heart aflutter. Eddard Stark is stockier, quieter, and in her eyes, plain. She chants her house's words to try and stop or divert her thoughts, tries to sympathize with the fact that he has lost a lot of family members and hence is somber, barely succeeds in doing so, and then she is at the ceremony.

The ceremony in front of the heart tree is quick; the one in the sept takes a bit longer, but she is finally the Lady of Winterfell. Once, when she had been betrothed to Bran, had interacted with him, she had dreamt of being his wife, had dreamt him carrying her to his home, had dreamt lustful dreams, and had dreamt of a host of babies; she had dreamt of happiness. Now, she thinks of duty and she thinks of heirs and spares, but there is no passion, her heart does not beat faster, and her ears and cheeks do not flush. She is polite, for courtesies are a woman's armor, and she makes all the right inquiries of her Lord Husband and his lands, but there is no happiness, for her happiness died with the death of her Bran. There is fear, however; her septa does not have good things to say about the Northmen, never did, things she ignored because she loved Bran, but seeing Eddard Stark has reignited those fears in her. Will she get to pray in a sept, whether Winterfell even has a sept, will she be required to worship the trees; what about her children, can they be bathed in the light of the seven or forever be denied; she wonders. And she wonders worse, hiding her fears and insecurities beneath a veneer of courtesy, hiding them from a husband she does not know, a stranger in truth; hiding them from her father who does not care; hiding them from the world.

They have talked a couple of sentences, husband and wife, she is bedded that night and at dawn the next day, her husband is off to war.