The last time Catelyn was wed, her sister Lysa was standing next to her, clad in the same trout-embroidered maiden cloak as Catelyn herself had been. Hoster Tully had removed the maiden cloaks from his two daughters - Catelyn first and then Lysa - with a satisfied smile on his face.

This time, Catelyn was alone. There was no maiden cloak for her father to remove; she was no longer a maiden. And the husband Lysa had wed at that double wedding was still alive, unlike Catelyn's husband.

Ned had looked somber and solemn at their wedding, but he had not looked irritated, the way Stannis was looking today. Catelyn had promised herself that she would not compare the two men. Certainly not out loud, and not even in her heart, where no one could hear her. That would be a surefire way of making a bad start of her marriage to Stannis, she knew. But Stannis Baratheon was not making it easy for her to keep that promise.

He was frowning as he waited for her to make her way to the altar. He scowled as the High Septon recited the vows, as if impatient for the wedding to be over. He was looking not at Catelyn, but at a point somewhere behind her head when he draped the bridal cloak embroidered with crowned stags over her.

"With this kiss I pledge my love." He said 'kiss' in a tone so disgusted and 'love' in a tone so skeptical that even the ever-so-dutiful Catelyn felt like rebelling. Deep down she was shouting - I am worth something! You will be Lord Protector of the North because you married me. There are plenty of men who would be glad and grateful for that opportunity. But Catelyn was Hoster Tully's oldest daughter and she was always mindful of her duty, so she smiled and pretended that she had not noticed anything amiss with Stannis' conduct.

His breath smelled of lemon, and his lips tasted salty; those were the only things Catelyn remembered about their kiss. It was over so quickly some of the guests gasped, and some even snickered. Catelyn recalled one of the stories Lysa had passed on to her – Lysa was making it her mission to collect any tidbits about Stannis Baratheon. "They say he doesn't drink at all, not wine, not beer, not any kind of spirit. He drinks only water. Water with a pinch of salt added, and sometimes lemon water," Lysa had told Catelyn.

Most of the guests at the wedding feast were unknown to Catelyn. Her father had not brought a large party with them from Riverrun, expecting the wedding to be only a small affair. She noticed quite a few Lannisters, clad in crimson and gold and their lion sigil. The queen's family. The queen's twin brother, splendid in his Kingsguard attire, was also present, his eyes almost never straying from his sister. Her father had had designs on him for Lysa, Catelyn recalled. But Jaime Lannister had chosen the Kingsguard instead.

The king seemed to be having a good time, laughing, trading jokes and clapping everyone's back. Perhaps too good a time, Catelyn thought later, as he grew progressively more and more drunk, his speech slurring, his laughter growing louder and louder, his jokes getting meaner and more obnoxious. Stannis was at the receiving end of most of the king's "jokes", some of them so lewd and bawdy Catelyn almost blushed. She glanced at her new husband to see how he was reacting. He was grinding his teeth so loudly Catelyn thought the entire hall must have heard him. But he bit his lower lip when he noticed Catelyn looking at him, and the teeth grinding ceased almost at once.

Not for the first time, she wondered how it was that Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark had been the best of friends. They seemed so different, so completely opposite in so many ways. Yet Robert's grief for Ned's death, as she saw it when Ned's son was presented to him, had seemed sincere and deep-seated. Even deeper than her own grief, Catelyn thought, feeling shameful.

They grew up together, Robert and Ned. I never even met Ned until the day we were wed.

As the king's voice grew louder and louder and more out of control, and Stannis' face grew redder and redder and more furious, Jon Arryn quickly stepped in before anything unfortunate could happen. "Perhaps it is time for you and Lady Baratheon to retire to your bedchamber, Stannis?"

Lady Baratheon. She would have to get used to that name now.

There was to be no bedding ceremony, no ritual stripping of the bride and the groom for them to be carried naked to their bedchamber. "Lady Stark is a mother, she deserves to be accorded more respect and dignity," Jon Arryn had told the king. Stannis had agreed readily, and with more enthusiasm than Catelyn had ever seen from him; more for his own sake than for hers, Catelyn suspected. He did not seem like a man who would enjoy being stripped naked by various women and paraded without a stitch on while people shouted lewd and bawdy words around him.

The king had balked, at first. "Cersei and I had to go through it at our wedding, and we are the king and queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Why should Stannis be exempted? Merely because he's the biggest prude in the realm?"

"It is for Lady Stark's sake," Jon Arryn insisted. "She is the mother of Eddard's only son, his heir."

The mention of Ned Stark had decided the matter for the king, who agreed without further protest.

But Catelyn was Lady Stark no longer. She was Lady Baratheon now, and her husband was calling for her.

"My lady," Stannis said stiffly, holding out his hand to his wife. To Catelyn's surprise, he was actually looking her in the eyes this time. She took his hand and stood up, and they walked out of the hall together, hand-in-hand. She was conscious of every pair of eyes in the hall watching them, her ears attuned to every whisper, every titter, every snicker. Stannis, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to everything, striding purposely like he was on an unstoppable mission.

It was only when they finally reached the door to the room that had been assigned as their bedchamber for the wedding night that he suddenly seemed to falter. He hesitated before opening the door, and his hand fumbled trying to turn the doorknob. Catelyn waited patiently, saying nothing. She was used to waiting.

Her mind was hard at work, however. Wondering, speculating. Could it be that he was actually … nervous? That first glimmer of human emotion other than anger and irritation from Stannis reassured Catelyn, in some small way. And it distracted Catelyn from her own anxiety and unease, at least for a little while.

Stop it! You are not a blushing maiden. You have done this before, she scolded her fretting self.

But that was with another man, an altogether gentler man, in a room that had been her own bedchamber since the day she had her first moon blood and the septa had told her father it was time for Catelyn to sleep in her own room, instead of sharing with Lysa. This room, the room she and Stannis were in now, was as strange to her as the man standing in front of her was. The bed was heavily scattered with rose petals, crimson red and pure white. Scented candles were burning on all four corners of the room. She could smell lavender, as well as a strong citrusy scent. It was sensory overload, too much to take in all at once.

Stannis was looking around the room with horror. He moved quickly to the bed, his hands picking up the rose petals one by one, crushing them in his palm before putting them inside a basket that he had emptied of its previous content – grapes, peaches, and a jar of honey. Catelyn stared at the fruits and the honey jar, now lying precariously on the side table, with complete amazement. Who had been responsible for decorating the room? Did they envision the bride and the groom spending their time eating, tonight of all night?

Stannis was still patiently gathering up the rose petals, to Catelyn's surprise. She had half-expected him to sweep the petals off the bed in an impatient gesture to be rid of the offending items.

No, that is not his way. He is careful and meticulous, even in his anger. She was learning his way, bit by bit.

She walked to the other side of bed, opposite from where he was standing, and started picking up the rose petals too. The petals felt soft and very fragile in her hand, and she could not bear to crush them as Stannis was doing. Soon they had gathered every single petal. Wordlessly, he handed her the basket now filled to the brim with rose petals, as if he expected her to know what to do with it.

She was setting the basket down on the side table when she felt the room darkening. Stannis had blown out one candle, and was on his way to blow out another.

Perhaps it will be easier, for both of us, if it is not so bright, she thought. But when he was about to blow out the fourth and last candle, Catelyn was less certain. Surely complete darkness would not be helpful either? Especially since both of them were still fully dressed.

"Maybe we should leave one candle burning," she spoke up. "It will be too dark otherwise."

Stannis looked like he was about to argue, but Catelyn quickly added, "I am not used to sleeping in complete darkness. There is always a small candle burning in my room. I'm afraid I am not as brave as you are, my lord."

"Very well, my lady," Stannis replied curtly, and left the last candle burning. It seemed to take him forever to make his way from where that last candle was back to the bed. Catelyn was sitting at the foot of the bed, expecting Stannis to sit next to her. Instead, he sat as close to the bedpost as he could, putting as much distance as possible between himself and Catelyn.

She cursed her relief at the decision not to have the bedding ritual this time. It had been strange and uncomfortable, even frightening and humiliating, but at least it meant that she and Ned were already completely naked by the time they entered their wedding chamber. Catelyn and Ned had been as much strangers to each other as she and Stannis were, but somehow instinct, and perhaps nature, had taken over that night, and neither of them had hesitated for long. They made Robb the same night she had given Ned her maidenhood.

And there had been no long and awkward silences with Ned, the way there were with Stannis right now.

"We should undress. Yes, that's what we should do," Stannis muttered, almost as if he was talking to himself. But she heard him just fine.

"Yes, we should," Catelyn replied, trying to catch his eyes. He stood up abruptly and started undressing. Catelyn followed suit. As she was removing the last article of clothing, suddenly Catelyn began to feel ill at ease about a man seeing her naked body. She knew it had not been quite the same since giving birth to Robb. Her anxiety was further increased when she realized that Stannis, who had finished undressing before her, was staring at her. Not her face, or even her breasts, but further down.

It must be the stretch marks on her stomach he was so preoccupied with, Catelyn thought. Preoccupied, or perhaps even horrified, for his expression was hard to decipher. That was for bringing another life into this world, she wanted to tell him, feeling defensive. But why should she have to explain anything? He knew who he was marrying, a woman who had given birth, not a maiden in the first blush of womanhood.

But as his eyes continued staring, Catelyn finally realized that Stannis was looking further down than her stomach. She followed his gaze and -

Oh.

And then everything clicked and started to make sense to Catelyn.

He has never been intimate with a woman before.

She would not ask him if this was indeed the case, of course, not in a million years. Catelyn was taught by her mother to always let the men lead. She had always abided by that rule, until now. An exception had to be made this time, she sensed, or her marriage with Stannis would not start off on the right footing.

How to lead him without making him feel like he's being led - that was the problem. She was cracking her brain trying to think of something, when she realized that the awkward silence had gone on for too long. The fact that they were both now completely naked was somehow making the silence infinitely more awkward and uncomfortable.

"I must not be the young, comely maiden you deserve, my lord," she said, to break the silence.

Immediately he was the one on the defensive. "I am not that shallow, my lady," he said, sounding almost offended. "And you are young, not yet twenty."

But not comely? She almost jested, to lessen the tension between them. But instinctively Catelyn knew that would have been the wrong thing to say. This was not a man who knew how to laugh at japes and jests.

He moved closer to where she was sitting, as if to prove a point. This time, he was staring at the stretch marks on her stomach. Catelyn had to resist the urge to cover herself.

"Was it a difficult birth?" He asked her, after a while.

Catelyn was sighing deeply on the inside. Talking about the pain of childbirth was hardly the thing that would facilitate matters on their wedding night. But Stannis seemed genuinely curious. It was in fact the first time he had shown any real interest in her at all. So she gave him an honest answer.

"It was harder than I thought. Much harder," she told him. And Catelyn had thought it plenty hard, she who had seen her mother dying in childbirth, trying to give Hoster Tully another son. But watching was one thing, going through it herself was completely another. "It was all worth it in the end, hearing Robb's cries and holding him in my arms," she continued.

"That's what my mother said too," Stannis volunteered, the first time he had told Catelyn anything without her asking him a question first. Catelyn was so shocked at the sudden revelation she was speechless for a long time. "It was a difficult birth. Renly. She was in labor for three days," Stannis continued, without Catelyn prodding him for more. After that he must have felt as if he had said too much, for he abruptly turned his face away from her.

Catelyn tried another tack. "Should we try to get some sleep?" She asked Stannis.

"No!" He replied, swiftly and adamantly. He turned to face her once more. "It is our wedding night. We must … we must do our duty, no?"

I'm doing my duty, she told herself, as she took his hand without warning, and placed it on her midsection. He was startled, and stared at her as if asking, What are you doing? She smiled. Trust me, her eyes were telling him. Her hand guided his hand upwards, all the while her eyes never leaving his eyes. She stopped when his hand was finally touching her breast. There was an initial sharp intake of breath from him the moment his palm met her nipple, but miraculously, he seemed to know what to do just fine after that. Not instinctively, the way it was with Ned. Not from experience either, his touches and moves were too fumbling and uncertain for that. But as if he had diligently studied the steps from a book beforehand.

And yet, Catelyn thought, when she woke up the next morning, surely there was no book that could teach a man, or a woman, about that subject? Or was there?

Her husband was still sleeping, his arms crossed over his chest as if trying to ward off a blow from an invisible enemy. She looked at him now, really looked at him for the first time, memorizing his features, the contours of his face, the tightly-drawn mouth, the perpetually frowning forehead, the thinning hair. A plain face, Lysa had said. Perhaps. Certainly plainer than his brother's. But his eyes had been almost hypnotic, when Catelyn was staring at them for what seemed like an eternity last night. She was trying to recall their exact shade of blue – sky blue? Or was it more like the sea? – when those eyes suddenly opened, gazing at her intently. Her cheeks reddened and Catelyn quickly turned her face away.

"You are not a maiden," he said. She was extremely confused. Had he been expecting that she was one? Surely … surely he could not be that naïve? It was not uncommon for wartime marriages to be unconsummated, but Robb was living proof that her marriage to Ned had been consummated. And Stannis himself had asked Catelyn about giving birth just last night.

"No, I am not," she replied simply, not knowing what else to say. Her tone must have struck him as strange, for he immediately said, "I was not expecting you to be one, of course. I know that you are not. You are a widow, that was my point."

"My lord?" She still did not see what the point he was trying to make was.

"As a widow, you could have chosen a husband without having to ask for your father's approval or permission. So why agree to this marriage?" He asked her.

So he was naïve, just not in the way she had previously thought. I can't very well say no to the king, can I? She was not just any widow, she was the widow of Ned Stark, who had been Lord of Winterfell and the king's closest companion. She was also the mother of the boy who would be Lord of Winterfell someday. She never had any choice in the matter. "I have a duty to my king," was all she told Stannis, however.

Stannis nodded. "And I have a duty to my brother," he said.

"Have you always done your duty?" She felt moved to ask him, all of a sudden. Was marrying me a duty too?

He grimaced, as if the question was causing him great pain. "Yes," he replied, gritting his teeth. "Haven't you?" He turned the question back to her.

"Of course," she replied, without any hesitation.

"Well, we both certainly did our duty last night," he said. It was only after he had dressed and left the room that she began to wonder. Had there been a slight smile on his face as he was saying those words? Or was that merely her imagination, or even worse, wishful thinking on her part?