She had agreed. The betrothal had been made beforehand. Stark and Tully would be bound together no matter what.
The wedding she had been dreaming of since she was twelve never happened. She was not Brandon's bride, but his brother Eddard's.
Dutifully, she had uttered practiced words to her father. That she would uphold her duty and honor House Tully. But she cried the moment she entered her bedchambers. Cried that she only had memories of what Brandon had been like. How charming he had been. How gallantly he had acted. Of how his kisses felt.
But she would do her duty as she always had.
He was the Lord of Winterfell now. Not it's heir or the second son, but it's lord. It was a strange thought that brought a bitter taste to his mouth. Not once did he vie for it. Imagined once or twice with childish fancy, but never truly wanted it.
The one thing that he had felt himself want was back at Harrenhal. He can still imagine her raven-coloured tresses and her smooth sweet porcelain skin. The one thing he can clearly envision is her haunting purple eyes; like lilacs or violets forever blooming.
She made him feel bolder and wanted. It was strange to think that a woman like her would actually want him. Had he been more bolder, he would have married her in front of Harenhal's frightening weirwood instead of vowing to marry her in front of it. Now, he would have to break that promise and uphold the one his father made with Hoster Tully.
Petty as it had been, he had tried to get out of it. He had pointed out that Benjen was his heir and he was lord. As much as it pained him to say it, many young lords and knights perish in the heat of battle. There's no telling what could happen. But Lord Hoster felt insulted, telling her that she was a proud noble woman who would marry a lord, not a pup. Perhaps Ben would've been relieved. Last he recalled, he had declared himself half in love with Lord Whent's daughter.
For the first time in his life, he did not want to do his duty. He almost wanted to run away. But Jon Arryn reminded him of what was at stake. Robert needed an alliance to garner more men. Justice for his sister. His slain father and brother. He almost wanted to curse Brandon for his foolishness and granting him this cup to bear.
But he would do his duty. No matter what, he would always do his duty.
Catelyn spent a great deal of time looking at the man who would be her husband. Lord Eddard was not as tall as his brother was, nor as handsome or well-spoken. He practically stuttered when he introduced himself, almost as if he were a commoner rather than a proud young lord.
She did not know what to expect of the man she would come to call her lord husband. She expected a near copy of Brandon. But his brother Eddard was shorter than him yet taller than her by a head at least. His face practically plain that she could have mistaken him for a commoner if not for how he stood and his clothes. And his dark grey eyes, so somber.
He was not as tall, not as handsome; there was no mischief in his slate gray eyes, no sense of teasing in his words. Just somberness. A beard covered the line of his jaw. For a moment she dropped her eyes, afraid Eddard would see the utter disappointment in them, before raising them, offering both greetings and condolences. He accepted them with the same unreadable expression on his not-handsome-enough face.
For a moment, she almost thought that he was a Frey. His long-face looked almost as weaselly as theirs. Was that why he had a beard? To try to hide his lack of a jaw? Brandon's was like an anvil; strong and square. But that was cruel even for her, to insult him like that. What would he be thinking of her?
There was no fire to Eddard Stark, only ice. Winter may be coming, but she never liked it much.
If there was a house that looked like their sigil, he had found one.
He had been told that Catelyn Tully was a great beauty that would easily perform her duty. Of duty he had little doubt. Her beauty left him curious.
Her red hair was put into a neat braid. But it made her forehead look rather large, akin to a table at a tavern. Her lips were quite red and bright he had almost suspected that someone had beaten her.
It was the eyes that perturbed him a bit. They were a clear bright blue eyes. And rather large on a face that looked half-surprised. It made her look like a fish that had been gawking and nearly gutted.
All of it made him miss Ashara all the more. Her almond-shaped eyes. Her small bright rosy lips. How her long hair almost hid the colour of her eyes; making her all the more mysterious. Her eyes themselves; like violets or lilacs constantly blooming. Catelyn Tully's eyes were appealing; a bright blue. They almost looked icy; icier than Ben's or his father's.
He hated that she was to be his wife. Her words were clearly practiced, and her voice was like her eyes; cold as ice. Ashara's words were as practiced as Catelyn Tully's but oft laden with mischief. But, they were in different times. He hopes that their marriage won't be cold at the very least. Even though as they said their words, pledging their lives to one another, he could not help but taste coldness from her lips. Even as he asked to go to the godswood of Riverrun, to receive a blessing from the Old Gods, he still felt cold.
It was far too strange. She had thought that she would be marrying Brandon right now. It was a foolhardy thing to do and say, but somehow, she allowed herself to hope that Brandon would come back in time for their wedding. But instead, she had been given news that her brave and gallant betrothed had been killed by the Mad King, alongside his father, Lord Rickard.
And now, here she was, married to the new Lord Stark of Winterfell; Lord Eddard. She had tried to stop but she could not stop comparing the two brothers. Eddard is lean where Brandon was broad and more muscular, solemn and guarded whereas Brandon would easily find cheer and merriment. And much more long-faced that on first glance, he practically looked like a Frey. And so quiet and morose. Brandon would likely be smiling, even now.
But she had not been the only one to gain a husband. Her sister Lysa, who had spent her days moping around the castle since Petyr left, had been wed to Lord Jon Arryn of the Vale. In the gleam of his blue eyes, she could tell that he had once been a handsome man. His shoulders still strong and broad but his face had not aged too gracefully as it was quite wrinkled with hard lines on his forehead and laugh lines by his mouth and cheeks.
Though, she knows that he has suffered as well. His simple nephew, Jasper Waynwood, had perished alongside Brandon and his other companions. And a gallant cousin of his had recently perished on the field of battle at the hands of the Mad King's Hand, Lord Jon Connington of Griffin's Roost. Although, it would have made more sense for his nephew and current heir, Elbert Arryn, to have set aside his Tyrell bride and marry her sister. Although, they had married before the Rebellion happened and recently as well. It would have been an insult to the Tyrells to have done so.
Nearly all of them looked so morose. Lysa sulked about while Jon Arryn looked uncomfortable around her and went off to talk to her father. And her husband, he didn't even bother talking to her. It just made her think of and miss his brother. The man who will always have my heart. How could he have such a plain and dour brother? Lysa might be right.; that he is a bore.
"May I talk to you, my lady?"
She looked up and realized just who it was. Lord Jon Arryn. She felt flustered and taken aback.
"Oh, o-of course, my lord." she said as courteously as possible. As much as she pitied Lysa, the man was her good-brother now. He did seem a good man, if not uncomfortable in marrying Lysa. He looked more uncomfortable than Eddard.
"What is it you would like to speak to me about, my lord?"
"Ned. Or rather, Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell. Your new husband."
Of course. She should have suspected such a thing. She had heard that her husband had fostered in the Vale with Jon Arryn and Robert Baratheon.
"Robert and Ned are the only real reason why I'm fighting this war. I have no children of mine own, so the two have been like mine own sons."
"I understand that sentiment, my lord. Before he had been sent away, my father had thought of Petyr like a son. I know he did."
"Up until that foolishness with Ned's brother, Brandon. Yes, I had been made aware of that. I also been made aware of his rather gallant promise to come back to wed you after he came back to the Red Keep and rescue his sister Lyanna."
How dare he mock Brandon! How dare h -
"And yet, you seemed to have forgotten that Lady Lyanna is not only Brandon's sister. She happens to be Ned's as well. He always spoke of his sister with such fondness and love. And when I saw the two arm in arm at Harrenhal, while his brother made a drunken fool of himself, along with my other boy, Robert, it was the most sweetest sight I had ever seen."
Brandon had often talked about his sister and his youngest brother Benjen on occasion. But he mentioned little of the man who came to be her husband. Other than him being " a dreadful bore, my lady. Honestly! You wouldn't like him, even if you wanted to!"
"You may not like to hear this, or want to hear it, but of all of Lord Rickard's boys, he was the most proud of Ned. I know that he was loath to part from him, so soon after the death of his lady wife, but he did so anyway. He might not be the soul of pageantry and gallantry as his brother, but he is the soul of courtesy.
Like I told you, my lady, I'm fighting this war for my boy. Frankly, if Ned had been better at negotiating, you would be having a child groom as I now have a child bride. I had told this to your father, and now, I'd like to tell you. I raised my banners for Ned and willing to go to war for him. He has been hurt far too much in such little time. Don't you dare hurt him."
She almost wants to chastise him for threatening her and her father. Yell at him for all but insulting Brandon's name in front of her. For chastising her as if she were a mere child. But the way his blue eyes pierced into her gnawed at her. And she also realized that he had been right. She likely had been distant to him as he was to her. And he has lost more than she had. I lost a betrothed, he's lost most of his family. I don't know just how I would act and be if I lost Edmure, Lysa, Uncle Brynden and Father. How alone he must be feeling. And I had promised to be a good and true wife to him mere moments ago.
"I understand, my lord. And now, I would like to tell you something. I know that the idea of marrying someone as young as my sister is strange, if not revolting. And if you do anything to hurt her, I will not hesitate to strike at you." she said with a cold fury.
But Jon Arryn did not falter. Instead, he gave a kind smile and his eyes were understanding.
"I do hope your marriage to Ned will be happy and bountiful. I know that if I survive this war, I will look forward to holding my niece's son and my grandnephew's own child, if he bears one."
"Oh, yes. I had heard that Ser Denys had a son. What had his wife, your niece, named him?"
"Martyn or Gylbert Arryn if I recall correctly. Strong name for a strong boy. I got word from the maester that he had barely survived. And remember, my lady." he said once again, giving her a cold stare with those piercing blue eyes.
"I know, my lord. I know"
It felt strange being here. In a marriage bed.
If there had been one thing that he had to admit regarding Catelyn Tully, was that she did have an ample bosom. Willam Dustin had the right to say that he may never want to be weaned. He, himself and many other lords in attendance would wholeheartedly agree.
Although, he did not like the rest of the bedding ceremony. It wasn't enough that they tore at Catelyn's dress, but nearly ripped him of his own clothes. Especially when the ladies had touched him to confirm whether he had a greatsword, longsword or a dagger. Several had commented that he clearly inherited the Stark family sword, Ice. And how he would warm up his lady wife rather than have her cold with a prick made of snow. He screamed and nearly threatened everyone
He then found himself face to face with her. Catelyn Tully. Or rather, Catelyn Stark, his lady wife and Lady of Winterfell. She did not look prideful or cold, instead she looked scared. But perhaps, he had fault in that as well. He was not overtly warm to her. Kind and fairly courteous to say the least. But not warm as Brandon would be; acting as gleeful as can be, japing and smiling. What woman wouldn't want his brother? All the more surprise that Ashara found interest in him and continued to talk to him. Truth be told, he hated Brandon for how he acted and what he nearly did to her at Harrenhal. He was worse than Robert. And then he had the nerve to act as if they were a united family when he did nothing but hurt them all. Did all this happen because of Rhaegar truly ran off with Lyanna, or because he had once asked for it in anger? That his brother be gone. He never wanted this.
But he must do his duty. Great or small, he would do his duty.
He made his way to Catelyn, coming closer and closer. He felt more like a frightened boy when Robert and him snuck into a tavern. Yet, he did not feel like the man that Ashara saw in him. He felt more stiff and awkward as he shuffled closer to Catelyn's body. He knew what to do, but it still felt strange for him to bed a stranger who seemed as if she was close to flinching, expecting to be beaten by him.
He had gently kissed her brow. He then took a closer look at her eyes. They didn't look as cold as before, and looked quite kind. He then kissed her nose, and then gave a small peck on her lips. He then made his way down, placing a small gentle kiss on her neck and following to her breasts. He then gently kissed one and then the other one. He felt her beginning to sweat and quiver beneath him. Let her know some pleasure at least, he thought.
As he made his way to her legs, he took note on how long and pale they were. By then, he had made his way towards her womanhood and began to kiss it. He heard her exclaim and then sigh. He quickly looked up at her, believing he may have frightened her.
"Have I displeased you, my lady?"
She looked taken aback. She no longer looked scared but shy at least. "I am alright, my lord. P-P-Please proceed," she gasped out.
He decided to continue. Catelyn proceeded to moan as he made his way. He had little experience like Robert, Brandon and others. But he knew this much by some strange instinct. Ashara called it the lord's proper kiss when he had first done it. He then heard her giggle and then moan again. He quickly peeked and she looked a bit shamed. But he pressed on, feeling her buck under him as she moaned.
"M-M-M-My lo-lord, p-p-p-please ..."
By some strange instinct, he knew what she meant. He then carefully placed himself inside of her, gaging her look. She then gave a small nod before he completely sheathed himself within her. It felt tight but good. He felt perverse and shame for thinking that. She then urged him to keep going which he had done so. He could feel her hips moving and bucking, and her hands grasping tightly on his back.
They both groaned and moaned as he greatly spilled into her. The both of them panting like two crazed animals. He hoped that it was good for her. And that she would have him as can be.
It was ... good. She had expected to give her maidenhead to Brandon; anticipated it. She didn't know the man that she had given her greatest gift to was. She had expected it to hurt, for him to simply place himself inside of her and press on until they did their duty. Who knew that their duty could be rather ... fun? Yet, it made her think of her betrothed, no, her lord husband.
She did not know his favorite food or color. What his likes or dislikes were. But perhaps she did not truly try to ask. She hasn't been a wife long and she's been making a mockery of it and him. While she did not say it to his face, all she had been thinking about was his brother Brandon. Perhaps Lysa was right with how annoying she could be with the way she had first started to talk about him, when she first heard that she would be betrothed.
What would she even say to him now? Thank you for taking my maidenhead? Thank you for pleasuring me? What do I say to a man I've spoken nothing but false courtesies to? The more she thought about it and looked at him, she realized one thing. He was not plain. Rough-hewn in his face, but fairly comely to say the least. His eyes were not hard as stone, but dark and soft as fog or morning mist.
"Are you alright, my lady?" he asked gently.
She still did not know what to say. C'mon, speak. Say something other than stupid courtesies, she cursed herself.
"I am fine, my lord. That was certainly ... unexpected."
Unexpected. Unexpected? Is that all I can say to him? He's my husband now, by every right. I sound stupid.
He then turned to her. Rather than savage as she thought he looked before, he looked gentle.
"My lady, I know I am not my brother. I know that you expected and wanted him. I am not my brother; I do not have the same air as him or his charm. But I promise you, you will be under my protection. You will be safe and want for nothing."
Before she could say anything, she saw that he had taken a small strand of her hair betwixt his fingers.
"Your hair is really quite lovely. I like this color. The wildlings north of the Wall call red hair kissed by fire and consider it to be lucky," he said.
In all the time she and Brandon ever talked, not once did she mention that about her hair. Just that it looked pretty and lovely. She may not love this man but she could certainly grow to love him at least.
"I thank you, my lord."
"Ned. Please, Lady Catelyn. Call me Ned. All of my friends and family call me Ned."
"Well then, Lord Ned. I must insist that you call me Cat. All of my family and friends call me Cat."
"Cat"
"Ned"
