Hello again everyone!

I know it has been a while since I last posted and I'm sorry about that. I've found that I write what I read and unfortunately, Game of Thrones fics aren't all that common and I read all the ones that interest me ages ago, so I've now moved on to reading from different fandoms. This story is still very much in progress, and I will not be abandoning it even if I occasionally lose inspiration.

Thank you for sticking with me so far.

I also have to thank you all for your follows, favourites and reviews. I have NEVER gotten so many responses and I'm in absolute awe. I never imagined anything I wrote would be so popular and I have to admit the pressure is really being felt lol.

Anyway, here is the next chapter. We take a little break from Ned and the war to see what's going on at home, but not to worry! We'll soon be getting back to the main events. Love you all! Don't forget to review!


My Dearest Catelyn,

I'm afraid I may not be as prepared for this war as I first thought. Or perhaps over-prepared. It seems in my haste to pay retribution to the Ironborn for their attacks on our people, I neglected to think of the other armies that would be part of this war. We are eight powerful kingdoms going against a single adversary - one not known for its abundant army at that - and yet we have each brought thousands of men with us to war. We stand at 215,000 men against the Iron Islands' 20,000. Perhaps a little excessive, I would say. What is worse, we have all - with the exception of the Lannisters - brought cavalry. To attack a cluster of islands made of rocks and jagged cliffs, which we can only access via ship! I look back now and curse my eagerness.

We leave Riverrun in a few hours - I write this just as the sunlight peeks over the horizon - and head for the coast. We have decided to split our forces, and I head for the Northern Fleet with King Robert and the Crownlands army, ready for a direct assault. With our overabundance of men and ships, I believe this war will be quickly over, with few casualties on our side. I hope to be with you soon, in time to see our child be born. Do you think it will be a boy or a girl? I must admit, as long as I am there with you and there are no complications, I care not one bit.

The King has ordered a tourney at Lannsiport once the Ironborn have been defeated, however. I can only hope that it will not last too long, though I believe that is a fool's wish. I fear I will not reach you in time. If this is the case, please believe that I am thinking of you and our babe every waking hour.

Winter is over in the south, and the first stirrings of summer have made themselves known (another area where I seem to have taken leave of my wits. I have packed far too many furs, forgetting that winter in the south ends before it does in the North). I expect it will reach the North by the end of the year. It cannot come too soon, as even with our increased wealth I fear for our people after years of knowing only death and starvation during these colder years. I envy the south for their short summers, but I know the North must be thriving under your and Benjen's direction, despite all the men I have deprived you of. I know that you both can handle the distribution of food as you have assisted me for these past few years. Yet I still worry.

How are you and the babe? I hope you are not overexerting yourself. How are the children? Are Jon and Robb making time for little Sansa? I have been gone not even two months and yet I feel as though I am missing so much. I want to ask how much they've grown and if Sansa still likes oranges and if Jon and Robb still sneak into each other's rooms at night, but of course I know the answer. Nothing can change that quickly, can it?

I must be going now my love. Fear not for me and our countrymen, we shall return home safely. As soon as I can manage it.

Crumpling the letter to her chest as she leant her head against the window, Catelyn replayed its words in her mind. She had read the thing so many times now that she knew it by heart. His love for her and their children (and nephew, but they had both always treated Jon like one of their own and the distinction barely mattered anymore) was warming. It still made her flush and giggle like a maiden after six years of marriage.

It was funny, Catelyn thought. Growing up as a Lady of Riverrun, she had heard countless stories of the North. Travellers told of an unwelcoming land, vast yet empty, with summers that were barely as warm as the winters she had grown used to as a child and a brusque people who preferred to fight and hunt more than singing or wearing finery. Septas told of unsophisticated people who, because of their spurning the light of the real Gods, were uncultured, unintelligent, barbaric. They mated with animals, they ate their enemies, they danced naked in the forests. It was enough to terrify little Catelyn Tully and though she had stood tall and graciously accepted her betrothal to Brandon Stark when her father had announced it, she had cried for weeks in the privacy of her rooms.

And then she had met Brandon at the Tourney of Harrenhall. He was definitely brusque, preferred to say things straight rather than mix his words with false flattery or really any type of speech that would make him come across as softer and more refined. And he surely had a wild temper, gladly getting into fights when someone inevitably took offense to his frank honesty. But he was sophisticated. He was well read, he wore fine furs and leathers and expensive boots, he was shaven and told interesting stories. Suddenly, the prospect of marrying him hadn't seemed so bad.

And then he had died and she had been passed off to his brother, a quiet and shy boy of an age with her from what she had seen at the Tourney.

The North itself was very much like the travellers had told her. Cold, unwelcoming and empty, and yet its people were warm. Over time, she came to appreciate the ladies that laughed loudly and openly, rather than hiding their small giggles behind their hands like she had been taught to do at home; the cheery welcomes she got with Lords grabbing her shoulders and kissing her cheeks to say hello (the first time Lord Umber had done that, she had slapped him across the face. She had almost burst into tears at the realisation of what she had done and was about to fall to her knees to ask for her Lord Stark's forgiveness for disrespecting his bannerman when Umber had laughed. And laughed and laughed; harder and longer than she had ever seen anyone. When he finally stopped, he had clapped her on the back and said they'd make a Northerner of her yet).

Yes, she thought. They were definitely a people accustomed to a harsh life. No time for pleasantries, no need for fineries. Needs came before pleasure, everyone knew that. It was so different from her life in Riverrun that she felt almost like an alien. But she was a Lady of the south and she had been raised her whole life to mould herself into what her Lord husband desired, and so she did. It was bizarre. Ned had wanted her, despite them being a marriage of convenience. He had not wanted her to be pretty, or quiet, or obedient like she had been prepared to make herself be, he had just wanted a wife. And so she had had to learn to mould herself into... herself. The only thing he did ask was for her to learn the Northern way and for her to become a part of their culture, if she could stomach it.

As much as she had been infatuated with Brandon when they had met, she loved Ned with all her heart. She was right in a way, at first. Ned was everything his brother was not, but unlike her first thoughts, that was not a bad thing. Ned was loving, caring, a good father, a good husband, a responsible Lord, an honourable man; he was calm and thoughtful and pleasant to be around, whereas Jon's existence attested to how happy she would have been, married to Brandon. To her best guess, her nephew would have been conceived during the Tourney at Harrenhall, once their betrothal had already been agreed and while he spent his days flattering her and showering her with flowers and chaste kisses. All flirtatious lies, and as much as she wished he was still alive, she was glad that she had married his brother instead.

The only thing she could fault her husband for was his complete disregard and disdain for any part of southern culture. The Seven were unforgiving and cruel gods who spurned anyone that wasn't a male highborn, tourneys were a waste of money and resources and a game for boys rather than men, politics was an invitation to be stabbed in the back... it went on. Catelyn knew he loved her and respected her, but he hated how she had been raised to be quiet and obedient first to her father and then her husband, and how she had been sold off to a stranger in exchange for an army. Truth be told, she could not find it in herself to resent any of what Ned spoke of. How could she, when it is her upbringing and her father's transaction with the Starks that had led to her being married to perhaps the best man in the Seven Kingdoms and their three children?

All the same, she agreed with her husband's desire to only put forward marriage recommendations once the children were old enough to make their own decisions and let them have the last say.

That said, Catelyn thought it was high time to introduce more entertainment to the North. Ned wanted her to be more involved in the affairs of the North? So be it. It had taken her a few years to come up with anything with the potential for success, considering nothing could have southern origins she had had to come up with new entertainment ideas from scratch, but she finally had a few things to put forward to lighten life up in the North.

Placing the letter in one of her desks drawers, the redhead delicately withdrew a small binder of papers, careful not to crumple or damage her plans in any way, before making her way out of her rooms and striding confidently towards Benjen's solar, wanting the opinion and perhaps blessing of a Northerner before she made her plans a reality.


Dear brother,

It seems I will not be gone as long as last time, as the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms has gathered their forces to go against the Iron Islands. I expect this whole affair to be over within a month or two, however the King has demanded a tourney at Lannisport to celebrate our future victory, so I will likely return in five months' time. Half a year at most, I would say.

And the King. Isn't that a delicate subject? I feel like a hypocrite here, sparring and laughing with him, trusting him beside me on the battlefield as if I am not plotting to kill him and depose his family of the throne. The worst part, Benjen, is that I do not even have to pretend sometimes. It is so easy to go back to those days in the Eyrie, where he was like a third brother to me and I to him. He still laughs, drinks and beds women enough to kill me with annoyance, but it is so easy to remember those days where it was fond exasperation that I felt. When I would roll my eyes at him and sigh while hiding my smile.

Now, I look at him and I see two different men. I see the strong leader, passionate in all he does, charismatic and lovable despite his flaws; a man who still seeks to find joy in the simple things. And I see the fat slob who drinks until he passes out, who eats until he retches, who has dishonoured his wife with a different woman each night (sometimes more than one at a time!) I have been here and I see the man that looked upon the slaughter of children and condoned it. Our King is both of these men at once, brother, and it confuses me. It makes me ill. It has been so easy these past years, plotting against this man while his back was turned, but now he is here before me, it is all I can do not to flee to the nearest godswood and weep.

But do not worry, brother. It makes me ill but I do not turn my back on the memory of Lyanna Stark. Of Elia Martell and Rheanys and Aegon Targaryen. I do not turn my back on our little Jon. I know what Robert would do to our nephew should he find out his parentage and as much as the thought of lying to the King leaves a sour taste in my mouth, lying to Jon would leave me on my knees gasping for breath.

I'm sorry for rambling. So few people know about our plans and understand my old connection to Robert that I feel as though I am alone. Thank you for allowing me to confide in you, Benjen.

I leave for the Cape of Eagles as soon as I have finished this letter. This will be the last you receive from me until those Ironborn scum are brought to their knees. Take care of Catelyn, make sure she does not over-extend herself in her state. In my absence, you are Lord Stark.

Benjen placed the letter on the desk before him, silently regarding it. Ned's words were reassuring, it was good to know that he would be home soon. As a third son, Benjen had received even less training than Ned had and he felt less than prepared whenever he had to take over as Lord of Winterfell, despite his experience with the role during Robert's Rebellion. Still, it was winter and though his brother had ensured no Northerner would want for food or warmth, it still left him with a much more daunting task than during the Rebellion as it had been summer at the time. At least he wasn't alone this time, and Catelyn had taken to Winterfell like a duck to water, handling the household with the grace that he knew came from years of practice in Riverrun after her mother died.

Even the parts about King Robert soothed an internal worry that he had had for years. He had always known that this venture of Ned's would be conflicting for him, the two having been as close as brothers before the Rebellion. So much so that in his youth, he had sometimes been jealous of the affection between Ned and Robert, thinking the latter was trying to steal his brother from him. It was good to know that despite the inner turmoil, Ned was still just as convinced of his cause than he had been on the first day.

Truthfully, Benjen didn't care if the North became independent. It would have little effect on him after all; he was not the Lord and he would not be the King. The only thing that had made him put all his effort behind this mad plan was the thought of Lyanna's boy being brutally murdered as his half-siblings had been. Ned was right in that. Putting Jon in a position of power was the only way they could save him. Every secret had a way of coming out one day and he was sure that if they had insisted on keeping the boy's parentage a secret, it would end badly for them all. That said, they had put so much effort into the venture, so much coin and sweat had gone into making the North the best possible version of itself that it could be in such a short amount of time that it would be a shame to abandon the plan.

A knock on the door to his solar had him hurriedly hiding the letter and pulling out some random books before calling for the visitor to enter.

"Benjen." Catelyn greeted, a small smile on her face as she held her growing belly with one hand and a stack of papers in the other. "Are you busy?"

"No, of course not, I was just..." looking down at the books he had opened to see exactly what he had pulled forward, he quickly snapped them shut as he realized that they were the copper pipe plans he had drawn up six years ago. "No, I'm not busy. Please, have a seat. How is it I can help?"

"Well," she began as she took a seat on the opposite side of the desk, perched just on the edge of the chair with her back straight as a rod as any good lady with manners should sit. At least that was what he had heard her tell Sansa. "As you know, any good lady must have a project." Benjen blinked. No he did not know that. "Watching you and Ned change the North these past few years has been inspiring, and I decided that my project would also help invigorate the kingdom. So, over the past year or so, I have created new venues of entertainment and business that could be very profitable and enjoyable."

"Entertainment?"

"Yes." The redhead placed her papers on the desk and Benjen saw that there were several stacks, each bound together by a different colour ribbon piercing the corner. "The south has tourneys and hunting parties, whereas in the North I know you look down on showcasing your battle techniques and hunting is for meat, not just a social gathering and sport. So I have created new kinds of entertainment that would be Northern only. I would like your opinion, as a Northerner, on them and if you think they would be successful."

Frankly, Benjen was quite dumbfounded. Firstly, what was this about 'proper ladies need a project'? Secondly, he honestly had expect Catelyn to just care for the household and the children, not come up with plans and inventions that could yield a financial profit as well as become a cultural activity. He nodded once, trying to keep his confusion and bafflement from his face as his sister in law's smile widened and she excitedly scooted her chair close to the desk.

"This first one, I had the inspiration when seeing a servant try and cross an ice covered courtyard. Instead of going around and sticking close to the walls as I expected, she simply took a slight running start and slid across the entire space! As casually as walking!" Yes, Benjen had seen the servants do that as well, and in his childhood, he and Lyanna had often had great fun trying to emulate them. "So, I was thinking we could make this into some sort of fun activity."

Catelyn pushed forward her first stack, upon which Benjen saw a circular enclosure with wooden walls that would reach to chest height, with connotations all around the paper. It would be called an 'ice skating rink' and people would go in to play and glide over the ice. Turning to the next page, there was a drawing of an odd kind of shoe. It was identical to the winter boots the Northerners wore, except that attached to the sole was a blade that ran the entire length of the foot. It seemed all the details had been thought of: how long it would take to create this rink, how much a pair of shoes would cost to make, how to make the ice sturdy and smooth with no perilous tripping hazards...

Overall, a fairly cheap venture that the older woman had clearly thought through, even if she asked him to check over the business side of the plans. Even they were solid, a realistic price that would be affordable to the smallfolk and still see their spending on the shoes returned quickly. Benjen thought that it was indeed a splendid idea, it would be a great his at least with the children.

The second idea, marked with a green ribbon, was not as great. A sort of game house where the adults could go to play their card and dice games with anyone else who was willing. Benjen quickly told her to discard that one. Who would pay to go somewhere specific to gamble when they could just do it in their houses or the street?

"This one," Catelyn began, holding the third and final stack tied with a red ribbon to her chest, a hesitant expression on her face. "is the most ambitious by far, and would be quite expensive to put in place."

She slowly placed the stack - which was far thicker than the previous two - on the desk in front of Benjen, showcasing an intricate design of some sort of circular arena similar to where southern tournaments were held on the front page. Raising an eyebrow at the woman, he held his tongue, knowing that if she of all people knew of the northern - and more importantly Ned's - disdain of tournaments and trusting that she would know better than to present it as an idea for entertainment in the North.

Indeed, as Benjen turned each page and read their contents carefully, he realized that as similar as Catelyn's proposal was to a tournament, she had removed the main point of contention for the northerners. Southern tournaments showcased a man's prowess in battle, his ability to wield a sword and shoot a bow and his overall ability to defeat his enemies. In the North, when a man fights, he prefers his enemies to be unaware of his capabilities.

In these 'Northern Games', there was no joust, no archery and no melee. Instead, it was racing (whether on horseback, on foot, or in rowboats, and even a dog race), weight lifting, rock climbing, tug of war and other innocuous sports that had nothing to do with fighting. In fact, Catelyn had specified that even women were able to compete in the race sports. Benjen's chest tightened with affection at that as he sent his sister in law a small smile.

She had come so far from the prim lady that had arrived six years ago. She was still graceful, she was still elegant and poised, but she had come to learn and accept so many northern customs and Benjen was proud of her. It had taken her a while to come around to the idea of women being allowed to fight or ride horses or hunt. It certainly wasn't common practice, but it was not frowned upon like it was in the south, and you could usually find a female archer or rider in a hunting group of 20-30 men.

Benjen cleared his throat as he remembered Catelyn waiting for his response in front of him.

"Well, you are certainly right that this is more ambitious and costly than the ice skating rink." He remarked, looking over the financial information on the final page. "However, I see you have proposed we build one permanent arena on the outskirts of Winterfell, rather than rebuilding a temporary one every time we wish to hold these games like they do with southern tournaments. That removes any time frame we would have imposed to remake the costs."

"That was my thought." Catelyn nodded, leaning forward slightly when he didn't outright reject her idea. "I've of course been speaking with a few traders to get the figures and timeframes, and one of the men was from Meereen, where they hold gladiator fights. Their arenas are permanent as their... performances are fairly frequent."

Nodding, Benjen continued looking through the last page of the dossier. "And how often are you thinking of holding these games?"

"Perhaps once per year? The event would last for a week. The influx of people around Winterfell during that period would also bolster the profit of any businesses in Wintertown."

Inns and whorehouses would profit the most, Benjen thought, but others such as bakeries or fabric shops would definitely benefit as well.

"I think it's a great idea." Benjen finally decided, placing the papers on the desk and looking back at his sister in law who had smiled wide at his words. "It will take a while to set up of course, and I think perhaps this should be saved as a summer event the same as the ice skating is really only viable during winter, but I think it has the potential to be great."

"Thank you, Benjen." Catelyn responded, standing and leaning over the desk to press a kiss to his cheek before she gathered her papers back into a neat pile. "I shall visit the carpenters and shoemakers and get started on the setup of the ice rink right away. I received a letter from Ned saying the ravens of summer have been sent south of the Neck, so winter will be over for us within the year at most."

With that, the eager woman rushed from the room, leaving a still slightly bemused Benjen in her wake. Clearly, she didn't need any of his help, so he was free to return to the joys of lordship until his brother returned.