She doesn't get to meet up with Edmure as often as she feels she should. It's understandable, they both have busy lives, and he tells her he's all grown up and doesn't need his big sister looking after him anymore, but historically whenever he's said that it's turned out to be an utter lie, so Cat tries to keep an eye out just in case. She doesn't see Lysa as often as she should either, but well, as much as she hates to admit it, there's a reason for that.

They're sat in one of those trendy coffeeshops Cat's never really cared for, but Edmure seems to spend half his life in, and she flinches a little at the bitterness of her long black as she tries not to give too many judgemental looks to the strange caramel and whipped cream monstrosity her brother ordered. "By the way," he says, grinning, "I wanted to invite you over to dinner next week. To meet my new girlfriend?"

"Oh?" Oh god, another one? she is too tactful to say aloud. Edmure's habit of acquiring a new partner every month or so is basically harmless, she supposes, but she does think he's getting too old for it – he's pushing forty by now. "Is the whole family invited, or just me?"

"Er... Just you, I think. At least at first."

Edmure rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, like he always did when he was trying to keep a secret from her, and Cat narrows her eyes suspiciously. "So, what's her name then?"

"Roslin."

She's not sure why she bothers to ask; she's long since given up on keeping track of all their names. "Does she have a last name?"

Edmure suddenly looks very embarrassed, averting his eyes and grabbing his coffee to hide behind it. "Frey," he mutters into the whipped cream.

It takes Cat a second to remember. When she does, however, her eyes go from narrowed to flat-out glaring.

"Robb's Roslin Frey?"

"Don't say it like that!" Edmure flails slightly at her. "They dated for a month, a decade ago. They went on a grand total of three dates. It hardly counts."

She supposes Edmure had a point. Still, Roslin was Robb's first girlfriend, and that tends to be memorable – especially after the nightmare with her family and Jeyne after they broke up.

"She's Robb's age," Cat points out.

"He's an adult! So so's she!"

"Yes, but she's still young enough to be your niece, Edmure."

He rolls his eyes. "Only because you had kids stupidly young."

Cat makes an affronted noise. "I'm sorry, is this my fault?"

"Well, if someone didn't get knocked up at seventeen by her ex-boyfriend's brother–"

Cat's glare flames with anger, and Edmure, as ever, cowers before it. "Sorry," he mutters, before going back to hiding behind his cup. Once her temper's abated, however, Cat sighs. She supposes Edmure has a point. Between Ned and Brandon, she really has no right to judge.

"Did you just want me to talk to Robb first to try and make this situation a little less awkward?"

"Yes. Yes, absolutely, that would be great.

Edmure grins and Cat sighs again. "Fine," she mutters, conceding defeat.

"Oh, that reminds me," Edmure blurts out, seemingly forgetting the whole conversation now it's finished. "Sansa facebooked me the other day. She hoped I could have a word to you when we met up."

Cat blinked. She didn't know her children stayed in contact with her brother when she wasn't looking. And she and Sansa still live in the same house; why exactly did her daughter need to ask Edmure to speak for her? "About what?"

Edmure chuckles uncomfortably and starts rubbing the back of his neck again. "It's... a bit delicate. She was a little shy to bring it up herself." Cat's eyes narrow again. What is going on here? "Look, Cat, all of us are glad you and Ned are still so happy together. Especially your kids; you know, I think they're pretty glad they exist, but... could you try being so happy together a little more, um, privately? According to Sansa, they've all been exposed to some things they'd understandably rather not see."

Cat's left gaping for a second, struggling for a response. When it finally emerges, it turns out to be: "She can talk!"

Edmure blinks in surprise and confusing, and Cat can't help herself, the words all come spilling out: "Oh, Sansa saw us in a compromising position alright, but I'm guessing she left out what we saw her doing with her friend Margaery in our bed? And that was after we caught Robb with Theon in a public toilet, but before we caught Bran with both the Reed siblings, at once, and I don't even want to know what Rickon gets up to behind my back, so frankly none of them have any right to judge me whatsoever."

It's not until Cat's finished her rant that she realises how ridiculous she sounds, and that she has just given Edmure a lot of information she really didn't need him to know. He stares at her for a moment, and then bursts out laughing.

"What? What is so funny?"

"I'm sorry, I just–" Edmure tries to smother his giggles in his coffee, which mostly has the effect of sending little specks of cream flying all over the table. "–just, look at us, you know? You can't keep it in your pants long enough to stop your children learning things they really don't need to, but neither can they, and then to top it all off I've gone and added Robb's ex-girlfriend to my never-ending list of conquests! Must go with the hair, eh? God, can you imagine the look on Dad's face?"

Cat can imagine the look on Dad's face, and in her head it's the same one he had when she was seventeen and with Ned she had to go break the news about little Robb growing in her belly. Even though Ned had already agreed to do the right thing and make an honest woman of her (something she highly doubts his brother would have done in the same situation), she still remembers just how disappointed her intensely conservative, intensely Catholic father who'd always thought the world of her looked. She doesn't really see the humour in it.

"Oh Cat, don't look like that," Edmure says, making her eyes snap back to her face. "I was just kidding. Everything worked out alright for you in the end, didn't it? There's nothing wrong with liking sex. Dad, don't get me wrong I loved him, but he could be a bit of a repressed dickhead sometimes. You don't wanna inherit too much of that. Else you'll end up like Lysa."

"Don't say that like–" but she can't really bring herself to finish that sentence, because no, she doesn't want to end up like Lysa, who preaches about honour and virtue and providing a good example for her son constantly, and who everyone knows is cheating on her husband with their former foster brother, which Cat has always found deeply uncomfortable but has been willing to ignore so long as it keeps Petyr's attentions away from her.

She sighs, reaching for a second sugar packet for her coffee. Maybe Edmure has a point.