I'm sorry if it took me this long to update. Writing this wasn't easy for I suck in narrating. But I hope you like this.
This chapter is not that pivotal as with the other chapters, but still heart wrenching. I wish you all like this still. I have five or six more chapters ahead. And I'm trying to write it with the best of my ability, so please be patient with me.
As always, thank you to my readers who have put my story to their follow and fave list. And of course your reviews, it means so much to me!
Please enjoy! Ciao!
Catelyn
Luna rushed to Lady Stark's chamber. It was very odd that she was called by the lady at this late of hour. She was stunned to see Lady Catelyn, with eyes swollen from crying. The lady never cried, all these years, she didn't. She was holding little Rickon who was awake and wailing hard.
"What's the matter, my lady?" Luna asked concerned.
"It's no one's business, my dear." Catelyn suppressed her whimper. She handed Rickon over to Luna. "He's already fed. Put him to bed, I'll only be praying." Catelyn was frantic, pulling her robe from the bed.
"The night sky has been rumbling for hours, my lady… it might rain." Luna was worried for her.
"Thank you for the thought, Luna. I won't be long." She assured the maid.
Lady Stark looked at the mirror and saw her swollen eyes. She combed her hair with her fingers and went to the door.
"My lady," Luna stopped her, "if you're to look for the lord, he had left with his horse. He was heading south." She said, sad and worried for the lady.
Catelyn did not know that Ned was out of the castle once more. She was not sure if her husband was still within Winterfell.
"I'm not to follow my husband in the dead of night." She sternly expressed, masking her vulnerability and scarred pride.
"Of course, Lady Stark." Luna answered, visibly uneasy. She cradled little Rickon in her arms. His crying was subsiding out of sheer tiredness.
Lady Catelyn took a final glimpse towards the two, before taking the glass lamp on the bedside table. She walked out of the door and closed it behind her.
There were a few places in the kingdom that Catelyn considered her own. The cold surrounding and the atmosphere were always strange to her skin even if she had stayed in Winterfell for a long time. Tonight's air was particularly harsher and the night darker.
Catelyn walked towards the Godswood, and headed to the Heart Tree. Her lamp illuminated its colors, the grey trunk and branches, while the flowers scarlet. She had never got used to the eeriness the tree possessed, she grew goose bumps each time she comes near the tree trunk with a face carved onto it, the red sap seeping through its deep cuts made it even stranger.
She saw the large flat boulder where her husband sits frequently, where he prays, thinks, and mends his sword.
"…If you hurt Jon ever again, I will leave Winterfell to Robb… and I will take Jon with me."
A sudden rush of blood to her veins upturned her. Her husband was willing to leave her and her children for his bastard. Catelyn's tears raced down her face.
She then walked further, inattentive of the thunders rumbling around the meadow.
Catelyn knew her offenses. She understood very well why her husband was furious with her, angry enough to threaten her he will leave if she continued to offend his bastard.
She was not always this way. When Jon was a toddler, growing together with her first born, she was tolerable and indiscriminating. She was not kind and loving to him, but never cruel.
But as the bastard grew up, he was looking more and more like Ned, while Robb was appearing less like his father.
It upset Catelyn how numerous people mistook Jon as Robb, the future Lord of Winterfell, since Jon resembled Eddard more than his appearance. It maddened Lady Stark how Eddard and Jon walk, talk and laugh similarly.
She remembered the first time her palm landed on the boy's cheek. Robb and Jon were playing swords and she heard Jon addressed himself as Lord Jon Snow.
Robb defended his brother, her fury was unreasonable, and even she knew.
But the fear that one day Jon will claim any right as Eddard's son unexpectedly wrapped her heart. She knew it was unaccustomed to the North, but what if?
She hiked the small hill still within their castle. The hill she frequented before they were husbands and wife. She remembered the stall built for her by Ned's brother when she was still betrothed with him. She used to go there with Ned after the war, to grieve Brandon's death and to comfort each other of their losses.
The path was dark, lighted only by the lamp she was carrying and the fire from the covered candles from afar. She was supposed to be scared, if the Godswood was strange for her, the valley was more daunting.
The rain started to pour strong, blinding her path. The grasses and bushes were unkempt, making the hike more difficult.
But still she headed on, dragging her robe growing heavier of rainwater. And finally she arrived.
She did not realize how high the valley was before. While the top remained level all through these years, she saw how one part was damaged by landslides.
Lady Stark paced near its end, moving past the wooden stall.
She breathed in the cold air, felt the rain hitting her face. The rain became stronger, shutting the fire of the lamp she held. The droplets befell, sounded even angrier. And together with the downpour, she wept.
She prayed to the Gods for forgiveness, but she cannot bring it to herself to make peace with the betrayal. She had accepted everything thrown at her. When she was betrothed twice to separate men she did not know, she was silent and accepting. When her husband brought home his bastard, she was forbearing even if it broke her heart into millions.
"Forgive me…" she uttered, praying to whoever deemed to listen, for she thought she had already prayed too long and too much.
It was not her fault that she was betrayed, that she refused to be insulted moreover, that she was scared. And Ned was willing to give up their family for his bastard.
Out of mere anger, she threw the lamp to the floor. She sobbed more, letting go of the pain she kept hidden within the castle walls. She paced towards the end of the hill, where the landslide damaged it.
The earth was wet with rain as she stopped by its edge. She looked down at her feet, seeing the height she was on.
It reminded her of Eyrie, where her sister lived. The moon door had given her goose bumps the first time she saw it. She never looked onto it since.
She wondered though how it would feel, falling into abyss, having enough time to feel scared and before you know it, you've plummeted to your death.
It felt the same with Ned leaving her, she thought. But then death may have been even easier.
Her husband was gone most of the time, but she had always known Ned would always come home. Winterfell was his home anyway. Maybe Ned was just testing her, but Ned was never a man of empty threats and promises. The north remembers. Always.
She died a little every day, with the sight of Jon Snow, with the tainted legacy of her husband's infidelity, and she was stabbed to the heart when Ned threatened to leave her for the bastard. Falling off a cliff may have been easier.
She tilted her head over its height again. She felt nauseated at how high she was.
The vast darkness covered everything below except for the orange light, flickering through the houses' windows below.
Arya would have loved the sight of this, her little girl who was never really afraid of anything.
Sansa was always a lady, she would love this view in the morning with her hot tea and a book.
Bran loved heights. She found him more often on the roof or the walls of the castle than the grounds.
And his little Rickon, she brought Robb here when he was Rickon's age. Maybe he would love it too as much as his first born did.
She couldn't be any prouder of the man her son, Robb had become. She had imagined him strong and willful, just like his father… her husband.
She thought of Jon's face, how he looked so much like Ned. The fact that she couldn't figure out what his mother might have looked like annoyed her. But then she decided that they were not worth it, Jon and his whore of a mother.
She lightly moved her feet backwards. They were not worth it.
"M-my Lady?" a voice behind her whispered.
She was startled at the man standing a few feet away from her. She did not have enough time to see who it was when she felt the earth at the bottom of her feet softened. The lady slipped, her left foot slid to the edge, followed by the other.
Her heart fell, stomach lurched at the thought of her imminent death. She forgot to breathe.
But then the man dove to her quickly as she was about to fall off. Catelyn was swift enough to hold on to the edge, but it was slippery and wet form the heavy rain. Her hands were slipping, however hard she held on.
The man immediately caught her arms. His body lounged on the border of the cliff. She looked at his face, determined to know who it was. She felt a sudden jolt of hope when he recognized who it was against the darkness and rain.
"Ned… you came back for me…" she murmured, the rain blinding her sight.
"Hold on, my lady!" The man asked with much difficulty. He tried to pull her up but he found it too grueling.
"D-don't let go of me…" Lady Stark pleaded, afraid and fearful.
"Don't be scared, my lady! Just hold on to me!" he asked through his struggle.
The man let go of one of her hands, held tighter on the other, terrifying Catelyn more. Suddenly she heard a loud crash of glass and a muffled shriek of pain.
"Try to pull yourself up, Lady Stark!" The man demanded, when he looked down to her again.
Lady Stark did as he told, walking on the wall as she was pulled up by his saver, with much exertion and agony.
He did not let go of her until her whole body was over the edge, and even then he pulled her away from danger, into safety.
She was gasping for air as she laid herself on the muddy floor, never felt more tired in her life. But it did not matter, for Ned was back. She sat up and saw the man sitting on his legs, rain pouring down on them.
"N-ned?" she called for him in the darkness. His face was covered by his wet hair, while he was clutching his hand, obviously injured.
Slowly, he felt the creeping doubt that it was her husband when he saw how slender his body was compared to Eddard. But he looked just like him, his resemblance was uncanny.
"I-it's me, my lady… It's me. Jon." He said, catching his breath. Catelyn was dumbfounded when she realized who it was. Indeed, it was Jon Snow.
Lightning kept rumbling along the surrounding, illuminating Jon's face in a split second. He was holding his hand, and she saw the bloodied piece of glass from the lamp that he stabbed on the soil to use as leverage to pull her up.
"A-are… Are you hurt, my lady?" Jon asked, moving towards Catelyn.
Lady Stark moved back when Jon attempted to come near her, stopping Jon on his way. Disappointment flashed on his face, swallowing his hope of closeness.
Catelyn could not answer. She was shocked and visibly disappointed.
"What are you doing here?" she stopped herself calling him bastard, it was already usual that her tongue felt strange without the term.
The boy was scared, she figured. Jon was also tired, petrified and gasping for air.
"I—I was out for a walk…I did not mean to startle you… I'm sorry." He said meekly, still clutching his hand.
How he could be apologizing when he had just saved her life really confused her.
"There... there is a small cave a few feet away from here, my lady... I was sitting there waiting for the rain to stop when you came." He explained. Catelyn understood that Jon had seen her cried herself out, but he stopped himself talking of it. "You can take cover while I get the guards to escort you home, Lady Stark." the boy suggested.
"You're injured." She said nonchalantly. She worked up the strength to sound the way she had always been to Jon, cold and stern.
"This is nothing, my lady..." He said looking at his hand, blood slightly streaming, being washed by the rain. He closed his hand, held it up against his chest, trying to stop the bleeding.
The boy had a point, it was nothing compared to the pain she herself inflicted him. She denied the guilt sneaking her conscience.
It was his fault.
Jon looked at his stepmother confused, "I'll take you back to the castle if do not want the guards to see -" he knelt to attend to her, genuinely concerned of her.
"I do not want anyone to see me with you, bastard!" Catelyn cut him off, holding out his hand to stop the boy. It all came natural, like it was a reflex.
She regretted her words. She saw how Jon was hoping, having the chance to save her life, he hoped. He was anticipating… expecting a change of heart. She knew of it. It was some thing she knew he wanted for a long time.
But she cannot do it. She can't. She looked away, ignoring Jon's disheartened eyes.
She stood up and tried to clear her muddy dress, and turned to the path back to the castle.
She abruptly halted, then went to Jon who was still sitting on the rained floor.
"This did not happen, Jon Snow. Am I understood?" Catelyn icily declared.
Jon's eyes were looking up at hers, yearning and appealing. He could be crying, for all she cares.
After a few seconds, he bowed down and stared at her feet.
Jon heaved a sigh of surrender. "Y-yes, my Lady… I understand."