CATELYN

Playing with her daughters' hair had always been relaxing for Catelyn. That was the reason she took on the task of washing and dying Amina's hair even now. She trusted her handmaids and servants well enough, but why pass along the job when doing it herself was just as easy and a hundred times more relaxing.

Sansa had caught them on the stairs and followed them up, eager to have Amina as a captive audience to her stories. More oft than not, Amina found excuses to escape the younger girl. While the dye set in Amina's hair, Catelyn brushed her own daughter's auburn locks till they shined. All the while, Sansa went on about the royal family. Her direwolf, Lady, lay curled up at her feet. "The Queen has two brothers. Jaime is in the Kingsguard, they say his hair shines nearly as bright as his armor."

"They also say he killed the last king," Amina muttered. Sansa pretended not to hear, and continued on.

"Queen Cersei's children are just as beautiful as she is. Joffrey is near my age, they say he might be as brave a knight as Ser Jaime one day."

Amina screwed up her nose. "Who is this they you keep referring to, and why do you believe they know anything about the royal family?"

"Jeyne Poole knows all the best stories," Sansa explained, not catching the biting sarcasm in her sister's tone. "I'm surprised you haven't heard about them. I can help you brush up of your studies if you'd like. I could even help with your needlework if you would like to make something nice for the Queen."

Even Catelyn had to laugh then. Sansa gave her mother a scalding look in the mirror. "Sansa, I'm afraid not even you could save Amina's needlework. Everyone has something they must work at." The redhead frowned, as if unsure what the appropriate response was.

"I appreciate the offer, but mother's right," Amina said from her chair. "Your hands were meant to sew, mine were meant to throw knives." She pantomimed throwing one of the silver knives on her belt. Catelyn was almost surprised Amina hadn't actually let one loose, it would have scared Sansa into tears. But, no, Amina was not Arya. She was no proper lady, at least not when it came to needlework, but Amina had grace. If only she could teach Arya how to wield courtesies, instead of weapons. On second thought, I can't imagine having two daughters who know how to kill a man with words and knives.

Catelyn twisted Amina's freshly dyed hair back from her face. She brushed it through, one last time, with a dash of rose water to hide the telltale smell off Tyroshi dye. "There you are, good as new." Amina ran her fingers through her hair, admiring the way her hair shown. Even with so many layers of dye, it still gleamed with an otherworldly quality. It was as if they'd turned the silver-gold to obsidian.

"You look like a princess," Sansa said wistfully. "Even the King will say so."

"Go on, both of you," Cat said, shooing her daughters toward the door. "You'll have new dresses waiting for you in your rooms." Sansa and Amina looked at each other with grins. Dresses were one thing the eldest girls could agree on. Despite her affinity for weapons, Amina still loved a fine gown. Too much, Catelyn thought with a shake of her head. She'd ruined more than a few while play fighting with the boys in yard.

"I can't wait to meet the prince, they say he's dashing," Sansa singsonged as they walked out the door. "Aren't you excited?"

"You mean Jeyne Poole says he's dashing," Amina said. "There isn't a boy Jeyne Poole doesn't find dashing. I'm only excited for the food, Jon said there were honeycakes."

"Those are meant for tomorrow," Sansa warned.

Amina let out one sharp laugh. "If we wait until tomorrow, Arya will have them all eaten." Sansa's resulting giggle carried down the corridor. As Catelyn put the combs and perfumes in their proper places, Catelyn smiled to herself.

No sooner had the girls departed than Eddard appeared in their place. She paused her tidying to turn toward him. "Preparations are almost complete for the King's arrival. Even with such a short time to prepare, the rooms are ready and the kitchens are overflowing."

Ned glanced toward the hall with a raised eyebrow. "Not if that one has anything to say about it. She nearly slid down the balustrade singing something about honeycakes."

Catelyn pressed two fingers to her forehead and sighed. "It's a miracle her wardrobe isn't in tatters."

"To think we believed age would make her manageable." They both laughed quietly at the idea.

"Perhaps the North could do with a bit more of her humor," Catelyn noted. The Northerners had always possessed a strange solemnity. It was present in everything from their castles to their house words.

"Perhaps your right," Ned acquiesced. He crossed to the window and looked down at the courtyard below. It was bustling as everyone hurried to make last minute preparations for the King's arrival. "It's been too long, and this day is endless."

Cat shook her head amused. It was nice to see Eddard this happy, even with the news of Jon Arryn's passing. Though the weeks of the King's visit would be chaotic, it would all be worth it if it could lift Ned's spirits. But still, there was the matter of a direwolf dead in the snow with a broken antler in its throat. A bad omen for things to come.

She touched Ned's arm lightly. "Come, I'm sure there are still preparations to be made. The day will go quicker if you have something to do."

He sighed. "I came here for a break, and you're sending me back to work." Catelyn smiled and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, willing the dread she felt to go away.