Placing her hand on Catelyn's stomach, Arya's eyes gleam with mingled curiosity and awe as she feels the babe kick. A restless little thing, Catelyn mused. This pregnancy has left her more tired than the others.
"What his name?" Arya asks, looking up at her lady mother. Her voice is eager as if it is the most important question in the world. Catelyn supposed that a person's name was indeed an important question; as it was a sign of one's identity.
"Him?" Catelyn laughs gently, twirling one of Arya's unkempt braids through her fingers. Arya's hair always manages to look unkempt, despite Catelyn's best efforts in reminding her to keep it tidy. But no matter how well-brushed Arya's hair was in the morning, it was soon sure to be a tangle to accompany her bruises. "I could be giving you another sister."
Arya glances down, and a sulky look darkens her features. "I'd rather another brother."
Catelyn bit back a sigh. She is able to read between the lines in her daughter's wish. She knows Arya is thinking of Sansa, who is off somewhere with Jeyne Poole. At 8 and 6, her girls share little of the closeness she and their aunt Lysa enjoyed in their own childhood. Lysa had been her companion, someone she created a secret language with and whom she'd shared her secrets. It makes her sad to think that it is not the same for Arya and Sansa, but still- they are only young. Perhaps in time, they will grow a little closer when they are women grown. But not for a while yet, Catelyn thinks, offering a silent prayer to the Mother. Let them be children for as long as they can be, and let me keep safe.
Catelyn puts her arm around the little girl and pulls her close. "Do you want to know a secret?"
This captures Arya's interest. "What?" She whispers, her face losing its petulant look. Perhaps she is excited at the thought of sharing something with her mother that she doesn't have to share with her siblings. "Well, I can't decide what the gods will give me. But I wouldn't mind a brother for you, as well."
Of course, Catelyn's main concern is that the babe is healthy. Although she has given birth to four healthy children, she is acutely aware of the sad fate that awaits many children. Her poor sister is a testament to that fact, although the gods had finally granted her a boy and a much-needed heir for Jon Arryn three years past. But like Arya, a part of Catelyn also wished for a boy- but for a different reason. Another son for her lord husband, along with Robb and Bran. Another son would diminish any need for him to ever legitimise his bastard boy. Jon Snow, who looked more a Stark than his trueborn brothers. Robb and Bran take after her- with their auburn hair and deep blue eyes. The same is true for Sansa. It is different for Arya, however. Arya possesses the brown hair, grey eyes and long face of the Starks. She looks like Ned and once in one of the few moments he able to speak of her, Ned had told her there is traces of Lyanna in her as well.
Catelyn did not mean Jon Snow ill-will. But although she had been wedded to the North, Catelyn still remembered the words of House Tully. Family, Duty, Honor. She knew the role expected of her, and part of it was protecting her children's rights. Catelyn vowed that Winterfell would one day go to one of her blood.
Arya's lips part in surprise and Catelyn continues. "Yes, a boy. Because I've already got my two sweet girls." Arya beams and Catelyn kisses her cheek. Yes, another boy would be good Catelyn thinks. A boy with the Stark look, like his elder sister.