A/N: To Guest: Lyanna cannot be healed. For more details, I will refer you to the last chapter of the prequel. We'll see about the rest. :)
"He is so handsome," Lysa spoke softly, her slight frame twisting beneath the covers. "Oh, Cat, those blue, blue eyes and the raven hair. Isn't he just the handsomest?" her younger sister asked. "I daresay there is not man handsomer than he.
Catelyn could not answer. Aye, he was certainly handsome, but she had liked Brandon Stark much better. She wisely kept her counsel upon that matter. Her sister, however, could not be deterred by her silence. Lysa giggled, her mind filled with nothing but Robert Baratheon. "Brandon is as nothing next to him. Cat, did you see how he took those squires down."
Those squires had been half his size. Catelyn had failed to be impressed. Lysa, however, seemed to have been charmed. "I saw," she answered nonetheless. "Lysa, pray speak of him no longer."
"Of Brandon? Sister, it was boorish of him to abandon you, certainly, but I daresay he merits mentioning if only to be remembered in the proper light. Fear not, I shan't forgive him, though." Her sister could be such a child at times that even Catelyn lost her patience.
Brandon had not abandoned her. It was all father's fault. He has accused Lord Stark of trying to fleece him of money when they negotiated her dowry. Understandably, Lord Stark had been insulted. He had insinuated something about her father being a greedy creature. Her own father had retaliated by threatening to end the wedding negotiations. Lord Stark allowed that, given the circumstances, he too might look elsewhere. Incensed her father assured him that if he did, Catelyn would not be waiting for his son. So it had come, from a very ridiculous argument, that she had lost her betrothed.
And Robert Baratheon was a poor replacement. He was handsome and strong, but at the same time, he lacked something that Brandon hadn't. He lacked a very distinctive feature which Catelyn would never overlook the absence of. She just wanted Brandon back. Catelyn was so wretched she might have wept bitter tears of frustration then and there, but with Lysa so close by, her sister would not miss it. And Lysa did not understand. The poor child could not see beyond Robert and his charming smile. It was the saddest situation yet.
Why couldn't her father just reconcile with Rickard Stark and allow her to wed Brandon as they had discussed? She had been so very pleased when he had come to Riverrun with his pale blue eyes and a daring and shy smile by turns. He had held her hand and walked with her through the gardens, telling her about Winterfell. Catelyn wanted that. She wanted Winterfell and Brandon and little children running around, calling her mother and crawling into their father's lap.
"You mustn't be cross with Brandon," she told her sister in the end. "He could not help his father's decision." More the pity to that. "He is a good man and I wish him well, Lysa, and so should you."
"Once you're the Lady of Storm's End you'll forget all about Brandon Stark and his measly Winterfell," Lysa assured her, giggling into her pillow.
"That is quite some time you'll have me waiting," she replied dryly. Lord Baratheon was well and alive, not likely to go to the Stranger anytime soon. Not that Catelyn actually thought for even one moment that Storm's End would compensate for the sort of husband Robert Baratheon would be.
"Do you think father might allow me to visit Storm's End after you have move d there? I should like to see it myself." A dubious sentiment at best. Certain that her sister did not mean it, Catelyn shrugged which Lysa took for an assent. "Juts think, Cat, you shall have a beautiful wedding to a handsome lord. I am filled with such joy for you."
If only she could exchange places with Lysa. Catelyn instantly regretted that thought. Someone like Robert would crush her poor sister's heart to dust. She would not allow Lysa to be hurt, not knowingly anyway. "You too shall have such a husband, Lysa. Father is thinking of Jaime Lannister."
It should have been a surprise, but as the words had already left her mouth, Catelyn could not regret having said them. Her sister made a high pitched sound that expressed her happiness with such a notion. At least Lysa would be pleased with her match.
"Truly, Cat, you mean it? Jaime Lannister?" Her hand searched for her sister's beneath the covering. They entwined fingers. "I have heard he is handsome, beautiful as the rising sun. Do you reckon it is true?"
Catelyn would have been more worried for the man's nature. "Aye, I think it's true enough." Lysa would know better. Catelyn rarely cared to listen to gossip. She was forever concerning herself with the problems of the keep. "Father will see to inviting him here and then, of course, he'll be charmed by you. I doubt any man could look at you and not fall in love."
"Oh, Cat, how good you are to me. But, of course, you can afford to, as you have already found your own husband. I do hope Jaime will like me as you say, though. I should enjoy being Lady of Casterly Rock." Catelyn refrained from commenting. "Do you think we might wed our oldest son and daughter between the two of us? Wouldn't that be a splendid match?"
Struggling to mask her shudder at the thought of birthing Robert children, knowing all too well what it implied besides, Catelyn managed a weak agreement, for the sake of her sister's dreams. "It would please me like nothing else."
"I shan't tell Jaime Lannister a word of it, though. He'll learn only after out children are born. You must swear to do the same with your husband." Lysa's fingers nearly crushed her, so hard had her grip become. It seemed that she had planned most of her life.
"I promise you, Lysa," Catelyn found herself saying. "None shall know, but you and I, until the right time comes."
Mayhap if she spoke to father once more he might change his mind. Surely he would listen to her words. Father knew she had a good head on her shoulders. He had merely been too cross with Lord Stark to listen before. Catelyn did not sound convincing even in her own head. She allowed a soft sigh past her lips. She would not despair, she told herself. All was not yet lost. She just needed to catch father in a suitable mood and tell him what she thought of Robert Baratheon.
"I don't like him, Cat," Pertyr told her, his slight form so very close to her. "He is handsome enough, I'll give him that. But have you seen what he did to poor Rosa?"
At least someone could understand her dislike for Robert Baratheon. Comforted in that, Catelyn looked up from her sewing. No matter how much she agreed, Robert was a guest. "Hush, Petyr. Do not speak so of my father's guest."
Father was cross at Petyr as it was. Catelyn had not managed to understand why yet, but she knew it by the way he looked at the boy. Had he perhaps caught him kissing Lysa? That happened sometimes, a child's game. They had done it since they were no more than little children, running wild together. Lysa had taken more of a fancy to the game than Catelyn ever did and Petyr was forever indulging her. They were like siblings
"Cat, you have to listen to me. Convince your father he is not the right match for you." Petyr placed a hand upon hers, squeezing lightly. "I know you, you would be unhappy with such a man. Pray listen to your old friend. I only want what is best for you."
"I know," she replied, giving him a small smile. "And I am grateful for that, more than you know. But for the moment, I am powerless in this matter."
She had tried speaking to father. Hoster Tully had given her a long, cold look and informed her that Robert Baratheon was of a good family, an old name and full coffers, and she would do well not to look a gift horse in the mouth. That was his way of saying that she should just be pleased with the great care he had put in finding her a mate. Well, Catelyn was not pleased. She had been sorely tempted to point out that the Stark name was older, that their coffers were just as large and that she wanted Brandon and not Robert. But she had held her tongue. Family and duty were pushing her towards Robert; honour would follow soon.
"Then run away with me, Cat," Petyr said suddenly, breaking through the haze that had fallen over her. "I could take you away. To the Fingers. We would be safe there." He looked at her pleadingly. Catelyn felt a blush rising to her cheeks. "Say you will, Cat."
"Oh, Petyr," she sighed. "You are a very goof friend, but I could never." She sensed his infatuation. But father had told her she was not to encourage him. Besides, what would Lysa think, fond as she was of Petyr, if Catelyn ran away with him? "Father would find us and he would punish you."
"He could do nothing to us if you were to wed me," the boy pointed out. "Would that not please you? You would not have to wed Robert Baratheon then."
"Leave off, Petyr," she murmured gently. Family, duty, honour, she reminded herself. "I am to do my duty, and will not hear anything more on the subject." She stood to her feet, drawing her work to her chest.
It was at that point that her nightmare came striding in the gardens. "Fair Catelyn, so this is where you've hidden," Robert's voice boomed, startling her with its intensity. He conveniently ignored Petyr and came closer to her. "You cruel, cruel woman, I have been searching for you."
"And not you have found me, my lord," Catelyn said in a voice she could not even recognise as her own, so cold it was.
Baratheon must have taken it for shyness, and her stiff fingers as well, for he pried away her sewing and threw it to a stunned Petyr. "Carry this for the lady, will you, lad? Walk with me, beautiful Cat."
She was forced into step with him. Catelyn threw a look to Petyr over her shoulder, asking him for forgiveness. "Pray take those to my bedchamber, Petyr." Her friend gave a short nod, his face darkening. She prayed he would not cause trouble for himself.
"It is such a lovely day, is it not?" Robert asked, by way of stimulating the somewhat lacking conversation between them.
"Aye, it is." And it would have been much nicer if he were not around. She kept that thought to herself. "Is the weather at Storm's End so, as well?" Aye, next she'd be asking him about what breed of horses were to be found there. Catelyn did not feel at all comfortable in his presence. There was something about the way he stared at her which made her stomach clench.
"Nay, 'tis much stormier," he laughed. "The sea is close by and it sparkles much like your eyes when the sun is upon it. You do have lovely eyes." Said he who was looking somewhere lower. "I am glad father chose you, Catelyn Tully."
To that she could but offer a shaky smile. She was not glad. They should have searched elsewhere for a bride for their son. "Are you planning to keep us company for a long time to come?" she found herself asking him.
He did not answer at once and, frightened, Catelyn looked at his face, thinking she might have upset him. But Robert had just stopped to admire Rose and Tala cutting flowers. "Riverrun has its charms, my lady," he replied after his attention was back upon her, "alas, old Arryn will not appreciate a prolonged absence. I shall be returning within a fortnight to his keep."
"I see," she allowed her relief to be exteriorised. She could not wait until he was on his way. His departure would give her more happiness than his coming had. She would take care to wave him off as cheerfully as possible, consoled in the knowledge that for some time at least she would be free of him.
"You shall miss me, won't you, Cat? For I know I shall miss you." He leaned in to steal a kiss from her. Catelyn turned her head so his lips might land on her cheek. "Shy Cat," he chuckled, turned her face towards him and pressing his lips to hers.
Aye she would truly miss scrambling for a hiding spot whenever she felt him near. Catelyn kept her lips firmly shut, trying to ignore his insistence. Robert finally pulled back after what seemed an interminable moment.
"Tell me you shall miss me," he coaxed.
"I shall miss you," Catelyn forced herself to say so she might please him.
"How sweet you are." He went once more for her lips. Catelyn prayed he would stop his mauling and take her back to the keep soon.
"My lady," Rose whispered softly, trying to discreetly get her attention. Catelyn looked over her shoulder at the servant girl, for a moment stopping midbrush. "I have something for you."
"Why are you whispering?" Catelyn questioned, her own voice barely above a whisper.
Rose eyed the sleeping sister, who had sprawled herself on the bed. "'Tis only for you that the message that I have brought." She came closer and pressed a small piece of paper into Catelyn's hand. "Here, my lady, for you."
Catelyn held the paper in her hand, half a heartbeat not very sure what to do. In the end curiosity won over her and she unfolded the slip of paper, looking at the neat writing taking form before her eyes. A gasp left her mouth. Catelyn brought a hand to cover her mouth, hoping to catch the sound. It escaped. That did not in the least make her surprise wane.
"Brandon Stark is here?" she asked, glancing up at the trembling servant girl.
Nodding her head, the girl spoke again, "He said that if you agreed, I should take you to him."
She could not. Catelyn looked at Rose. To run away with him was unthinkable. She would upset father. Hadn't she had the same consideration when Petyr asked her? And yet her heart tugged at her, pushing the voice of her conscience gently away. "I shall see him," she said, before she could think any better on it, "only to tell him we cannot possibly do as he wishes."
Rose shrugged. "Put a sturdy cloak on, my lady," she advised, "he is not as close as you would imagine."
Of course he was not. Impetuous he might be, but her Brandon was a smart man. Catelyn moved towards one of her trunks, extracting from it a travelling cloak, wrapping it around her shoulders. Rose was making sure Lysa truly slept. Her sister would not be waking soon, Catelyn thought. Glad for it, the older of the Tully siblings motioned for Rose that she was ready.
The servant led her to the stables where Catelyn prepared her horse for the road. The mare snorted, not at all pleased to have been woken up in the middle of the night. Rose would at first not accept to be pulled on the best, but Catelyn insisted and insisted until the girl could but give in. Together they rode for one of the gates where Rose knew her sweetheart was guarding. He was easily convinced to allow them out for a ride, if they promised to return before the first light of day.
Sure that it would be so, Catelyn had no hesitation in giving her word. Rose, she could feel, was hiding a smile. "You never know, my lady, your Northernman might yet sweep you off your feet. Don't they steal their brides there, after all?"
If only. Catelyn shook her head and urged her horse into a gallop. Rose guided them to a spot where, indeed, a few men were waiting. Brandon was easy to recognise, towering over the others. The low light of their torches revealed the others to be close in looks to him.
"Cat," he called to her upon noticing her. Brandon hurried to her, catching the reins of her palfrey. Her heart nearly jumped from her chest when their eyes met. "You came." He tugged gently at her hand. "Come down," he pleaded.
And she could not resist. Catelyn gave him her hand, allowing Brandon to help her down. Only she never quite reached the ground, for he wrapped her in his arms and clutched her to his chest. "Brandon," she protested, "put me down."
He laughed and allowed her back on her feet. "Forgive me. I did not mean to frighten you." She felt his hands at her waist. "I am so pleased to see you here that I forgot myself for a moment. You cannot know how happy you have made me."
"Oh," she nearly cried, "oh, Brandon, I cannot go with you. You must know it." Her own arms wrapped around him. "Father will have me wedded to Robert Baratheon. It has been decided." And how she wished it hadn't been.
"Nay, that cannot be. Cat," he cupped her face in his hands, "Cat, listen to me. It doesn't matter what your father and Baratheon agreed upon. I want to know what you want. Do you wish to wed Baratheon?"
"Of course not," she breathed out, feeling tears choking her. "I want you." She hid her face away in his chest, hoping to mask her sadness thusly.
She felt his hand smoothing over her hair. "Then come with me. I will take you to Winterfell and you will be my wife. I want you as well, Cat, and I shan't be pried away with such ease."
"We cannot. My father would go to the King," she told him, a dreadful fright gripping her heart. "He would order me back to Riverrun." And then they would drag her by the hair to the altar where she would be made to swear vows to Robert Baratheon.
"He won't. The King would never part us. Do you forget my sister is wife to the Prince. Lyanna will help us. Won't she, Ned?" he yelled back to one of the other men.
Catelyn looked up to see him nod. Her attention snapped back to Brandon, hope shining in her eyes. He continued, "I have written to her before coming here. Everything will be well so long as you accept. I cannot bear to think of you forced into a match you do not desire."
With a short sob of relief she rose on her toes and pressed her lips to Brandon's. He pulled her further into his, kissing her with matching passion. "I will. I will. Take me with you," she said against his mouth.
"Gods, how I love you," he whispered back. He pressed his forehead to hers. She could hear him breathing. "Did you truly think could just abandon you?" Had she know, in her heart, that he would never? Catelyn could not answer that.
"Brandon, we must leave," another voice called. "Take you lady if she will have you and let us depart."
"See, my lady?" Rose asked once Catelyn was back on her horse, "I told you they bear their wives away."
Laughter bubbled on her lips, joyful and unbound. "So you have. I can never repay you, Rose."
The servant smiled. "Be happy, my lady, and it shall be payment enough for me. Well, I must return now."
She nodded her head and rode next to Brandon.
A/N: Well, did you expect that?
How I love cheating Robert of brides. I have no shame.