AUTHORS NOTE: Please accept my apologies for the delay on this chapter. Things were really hectic with finals week and I just couldn't find the time to write. Thanks for the patience, and please remember to leave a review, if you would.

CATELYN I

Even when she was only a girl, Catelyn had found solace in the Seven, some small measure of peace in even the most trying times. When her mother had died, when Father and Uncle Brynden had left to fight the War of the Ninepenny Kings, when word reached Riverrun that Brandon had been murdered by the Mad King, when Ned left to fight with Robert during the Rebellion. Every time had seen her keep her composure under stress that was enough to break many people. She liked to believe that the gods were a large part of that, they have been watching over her and her family, and that they even now continued to do so. For all of her hardship, she had been blessed in the end, with a husband she loved with all her heart and five beautiful children that made her more proud than she could ever put into words. That was what drove her to be eternally vigilant in ensuring she performed the proper incantations, the proper rites, all that which had been drilled into her by her septa since she was a little girl. Even now in the bright and cheery midday, or at least as bright and cheery as Winterfell got, she preferred to take a small respite from the day's responsibility of being the Lady Stark.

That was why she kneeled now before the small altars of her gods, in the solemnity of the small sept that Ned had built for her, when their marriage was still new and uncertain. It was a humble thing, grey stone like the rest of Winterfell. Compared to the sept of Riverrun or really any sizeable southron castle it was tiny.

It was her favorite place in Winterfell, an eternal reminder of what they had built, her and Ned.

She had her head lowered in thanks to the Seven, and now raised it, looking about at the carved likenesses of the gods. They were rough and hurried, the product of a mason who was of the North and likely had few notions of what the Seven were often depicted as in the septs of the south. There they were larger than life, the Warrior with chiseled and handsome features, the Maiden unnaturally beautiful as no mortal woman could be. Here though, they merely looked like people, like any she would see in Wintertown or one of the servants that hurried through the halls of Winterfell on one task or another.

When Catelyn had toured the sept for the first time, she could not help but laugh a bit when she saw the portrayal of the Smith. It was the spitting image, in her opinion, of Ned, all grim face and solemn features, as though the Smith was performing some grave task rather than merely beating some metal with a hammer. Ned had looked shocked, and worried, perhaps thinking that she found the whole sept amusingly pathetic. When she had hurriedly corrected his misreading of the situation, he had laughed too, that short quiet sound that she heard so little and yet had come to cherish so dearly. Catelyn liked to believe that was the start of their love, the point in which they began the transformation from awkward strangers into truly husband and wife. She could not help but smile and laugh to herself at such a happy memory, but was interrupted by the sound of a throat being cleared behind.

Perhaps a bit more quickly than was proper, she whipped her head about to regard the intruder. Septon Chayle stood there, a smile on his face. Catelyn turned a light shade of red at that. He must think me half a madwoman, laughing to myself all alone in the sept. All the same, she rose gracefully and gently dusted off the front of her skirts, her face returning to the neutral look that she often schooled it into when she acted in her official capacity as the Lady of Winterfell. Septon Chayle inclined his head towards her.

"My lady, forgive me for the intrusion. I was merely going to attend to the Seven, clean the statues, just my daily duty to the Faith."

"Certainly, Septon. I must be going about my duties as well. Good day."

She nodded to him, and moved towards the door, pushing open the door, a heavy slab of dark pine and wrought iron. Catelyn strode out into the brisk air of the North, involuntarily shivering a bit at the bite of the cold. Even after all these years, she still didn't have the same resistance to the cold that her husband or even her children did, who could frolic for hours out in the chill and seem entirely unaffected. That never stopped her from worrying after their health, though Ned assured her that in 8,000 years of Starks, not one had ever gotten a chill from playing in the cold. She had snorted at that in a most unladylike fashion, but relented, and her children had been practically living in the wilds for much of their lives.

She made her way towards Maester Luwin's tower, for now at midday was when Bran was often at his lessons, and she liked to visit and make sure he payed attention as she was given correspondence by the old maester. Or at least, that was what she let him think. More truthfully, she merely enjoyed seeing her brave and clever little boy, and Catelyn knew this was a time she could know with certainty where he was, considering he spent the rest of his day exploring some distant corner of Winterfell no one had seen in decades. That is, when he was not training with Ser Rodrik to become the greatest knight who had ever lived. Suddenly, Catelyn felt not so cold, warmed as she was by the thoughts of her family.

That feeling did not last, for as she passed below the Broken Tower, she nearly jumped back when she heard a hiss like a snake. Her head snapped upwards, and surely enough there was settled among the cracked ruin that monster of talons and feathers. It lazily gazed down at her, like some great cat, one paw sprawled out in front of it, slowly scoring its wicked talons against the grey stone so loudly she could hear the scratching from the ground. It tilted its beaked face, clicking with what she thought might be inquisitorial noises. The great beast shifted, the downy head coming to rest on the outstretched paw looking now perversely like a wily old tom that had taken up residence on a particularly high shelf, rather than an enormous griffon.

Gods, a griffon!

Catelyn had never thought it possible. Like any in Westeros, she had heard tale after tale of the dragons of old, but never a griffon! Those existed only in legend and in heraldry, and yet here she was being sized up by one, like a lion to a deer. That comparison made her shiver even more violently, and she speeded her haste, nearly running to escape the gaze of the creature.

She had been livid, to be entirely honest, when Ned had conceded to the strangers request to use the Broken Tower like a rookery. In fact, Catelyn liked the strangers with their strange names not very much at all. That knight Heinrich seemed polite enough, but his two companions unsettled her. For the tall one with the ludicrous hat named Klutzer the reason was simple enough, for his eyes were cold and hateful in a way that made her skin crawl. For the other one, the well-dressed Johann, she could not place so easily. He merely unnerved her, with his eyes of unnaturally deep blue that shined like the stars. More than once, she had caught him staring at Bran, a look of alternating disbelief and deep contemplation on his weathered features, but had always managed to avert his gaze in time to avoid suspicion. That made Catelyn all the more suspicious.

On the night of his return with the strangers, she had lain next to him in her bedchambers, and allowed him to explain to her what he knew of them. Unfortunately, that had turned out to be not much at all. She loved Ned with all her heart, but he was simply not made for sniffing out other people's hidden agenda. He had turned to her then, and she could see the uncertainty in his grey eyes. That had made her heart quicken, for there were few things that could visibly shake Eddard Stark.

Catelyn supposed that a griffon would be one of those things.

Finally, she came upon the turreted tower, the home of every maester of Winterfell. She took her skirts in hand and ascended the steps, only a bit out of breath when she reached the top. Catelyn knew she was no longer a young woman, but it was good to know she was not going hunched and grey just yet. She pushed open the door to reveal, sure enough, her darling son and the wizened maester, both leaned over a map of Westeros. Both looked up at her arrival.

"Good day, my lady."

"Hello, mother."

She smiled warmly at them both.

"Good day to you, maester. And to you too, sweetling! I trust you are paying close attention to your lessons?

Bran scrunched his face up a bit at that. Catelyn knew he considered himself too old to be referred to as "sweetling". That was part of why she said it, in fact.

Maester Luwin spoke up for him then.

"He is doing admirably as always, my lady. In fact, I think we can end his lessons for the day. You are dismissed, my little lord of Stark."

Bran rose then, and scurried towards the door, no doubt eager to watch his older brother spar with Theon. And the bastard. She frowned at that thought, only nodding when Bran said his goodbyes. She turned to Maester Luwin then, whose face now showed apprehension. Catelyn raised an eyebrow.

"Is something amiss, maester?"

Luwin slowly shook his head.

"No, my lady. Merely strange tidings from the Wall"

He handed her a small slip of paper, no doubt one he had just received by raven that day.

Catelyn sat as she read the contents. It was indeed strange tidings, reports of strange green lights being spotted by patrols of black brothers, of the wildlings gathering in greater and greater numbers, of the King-beyond-the-Wall raising a great army. Also mentioned was that a deserter had recently been spotted fleeing south, named Gared, and that they should be on the lookout for him. At the bottom was signed Benjen.

For her husband's own brother to write them was unusual indeed. She looked up to Luwin.

"Why does the Night's Watch write us of this? And why Benjen?

Luwin only gave a sad shake of his head.

"I fear I do not know, my lady. Perhaps Lord Stark would know better?"

"Gods, I certainly hope so. I shall take the letter to him. Thank you, maester."

"I am glad to be of service, my lady."

Catelyn hurried out of the tower, through the door and into the courtyard. She was not sure where she might find her husband, and so stopped to look about and perhaps chance spotting him. She saw Hullen over at the stables, brushing some pretty mare. There was Mikken, driving a cart full of ore towards the forge. But no Ned.

Catelyn frowned, but then she heard faintly the clamor of blades clashing. That would be Robb and the bastard, then. Thinking of no better place, she made her way over to the training yard.

Sure enough, there on the walkways above the training yard stood Ned, yet he was not watching his sons. No, those three stood at the side of the yard, red and dark brown hair similarly mussed and damp with sweat, and all three had blue and grey eyes fixed on the center of the yard, for there stood the two strangers, Klutzer and Heinrich. Those two circled each other, swords drawn, apparently in a the midst of a spar. Their choice of weapons were very different, with the tall Klutzer wielding a beautifully engraved thin sword, and she was reminded of the tales she had heard of the bravos of Braavos, who were armed similarly. Heinrich for his part was armed like many a knight, sword and shield in hand. All the same, his armor was magnificent, adorned with glimmering gold and handsome steel, embossed all about with symbols of skulls and crosses and comets. It all seemed rather grim to her reckoning, and she could think of no house that took a skull like that as its sigil, much less a twin-tailed comet. A twin-tailed comet… just like what they say about the Sign.

Catelyn moved to her husband's side, taking hold of his arm as it leaned against the wooden railing. He looked to her and smiled, before turning back to the spectacle before them.

A spectacle it was, for both fighters quickly leapt into action, Heinrich with the first moves, striding forward for a simple swipe that would all the same have taken off an arm had Klutzer not deftly sidestepped the blow. Taking advantage of the miss, Klutzer rushed forward, aiming his blade directly for the weak point at Heinrich's neck, which was only narrowly blocked by the quickly raised shield of Heinrich. Klutzer did not relent however, and continued a series of precise strikes that Heinrich struggled to parry and block. Finally, Heinrich took advantage of a slightly awkward jab by Klutzer and redoubled his attacks, now being only narrowly dodged by Klutzer.

Catelyn would be the first to admit that she was not extremely proficient in matters of war, but all the same she thought that both men seemed extraordinarily skilled. A quick glance at Ned's reaction confirmed her suspicions, for even his solemn features clearly had an impressed look on them. And if Ned was impressed… she gazed down at the other spectators. Yes, the lads were in awe, looking far younger than their years with their mouths hanging open like that.

Faster and faster came the strikes and the parries, until finally Heinrich had his sword at the neck of Klutzer. That seemed to not be the end, however, for Klutzer similarly had some strange tube of wood and steel pointed at the knights head, that he apparently had pulled from some jacket pocket. They stood in silence, until at once both men put down their weapons. Heinrich pulled off his helm and shook the hand of his grim partner.

"Well, sir, it seems the tales regarding the skill of Sigmar's Templars are well placed indeed."

Heinrich for his part seemed not very upset that he had not pulled through entirely victorious.

Klutzer snorted at that.

"I would have hoped I had proved that beyond a doubt at the tower. All the same, I must also congratulate you on your performance, Sir Alweis."

He extended a hand in salute, which Heinrich accepted with a winning grin. Together they strode off the yard, leaving the Stark boys gaping after them.

Catelyn turned to her husband then.

"Luwin just received a letter from the Wall sent for you, from your brother"

A brown eyebrow shot up at that.

"From Benjen? What did he say?"

She merely handed him the parchment, and stood silently as he read it.

"Aye, the parts about Mance Rayder and the wildlings I can understand. But what's this about green lights? And a deserter escaped? I shall have to send out some patrols to search for him"

She smiled at that.

"Perhaps you can put the strangers to work, have them rouse that monstrosity that has made its lair in the Broken Tower and use it to search for the man."

She had meant it as a jest, but Ned looked somber at her words.

"Aye, mayhaps. I know it has been merely a day, but I must truly speak with them. And this time get something concrete out of them"

Now Ned looked pained, and Catelyn knew it was because he felt more than a bit ashamed at being so deftly outfoxed by this Klutzer.

"Ned, don't take it too hard. I do not love you because you are a snake. You are a wolf, my wolf". She leaned forwards and kissed him, knowing that nobody was there to see.

Ned smiled after and leaned against the railing.

"I hope so. Though I doubt a wolf would be much good against that creature of theirs"

Now it was Catelyn's turn to look somber at a poor jest.