That night
It is a long night. An awful, endless night.
Catelyn spends it by the sickbed of her lord husband. This place is her whole world now, anything beyond that does not matter.
She is listening to Ned's gasp, his desperate, whispered words.
It is the same, over and over again. The same feverish, nonsense mumbling, without coherence.
"He is… he must be… Stay. In safe. He is a Stark… Hearth and heart… Home. He must stay… Here. Always. Grant mercy… My blood… Help… never fail… He is… my blood. Stark. He must… Home."
The bastard. Again and always, yes.
Catelyn holds his hand and she is listening. She can listen to him, this is the only thing that she cares about.
"Hearth and heart… Home. In safe. Here. Always. He is… he must be… Stay. He is a Stark… Grant mercy… My blood… Help… never fail… He must… Home."
He repeats it so many times that she should not even pay attention to it – she still does.
"Promise me, Cat. Promise me."
That one. That one is important. Because Ned knows she is here. Or he expects her to be which is almost as good.
Catelyn does not want him to think that he is alone – that he will die alone.
"Promise me, Cat. Promise me."
And she does.
Morning comes.
There is no gasp. There are no words.
There is only Catelyn.
Ned is gone.
His last words were about the bastard. His last thoughts were about the bastard. Not about his trueborn children. Not about his wife.
Catelyn has never been as angry with that boy – and Ned, with both of them – as she is now. She has never hated him – both of them – as much as now.
But…
Promise me, Cat. Promise me.
And she did.
