Catelyn

As the sun's rays streamed through the window of her room and gently caressed her face, Catelyn awoke with a start. She barely had time to take stock of her surroundings before she saw her husband getting helped into a shirt of mail by the servants. He buckled Ice to his side and gave her a resigned look, as if he were about to ride off to war.

"Ned, what is it? Are we in danger? What's he done, Ned?!" Catelyn couldn't stand the thought of being trapped in her own home again. Thoughts of the Siege of Riverrun came rushing back to her. Thoughts of being hemmed in, surrounded by Lannister men cheering the name of Rhaegar Targaryen. Of Gregor Clegane riding towards her father. There had hardly been a moment then she hadn't held Robb close to her breast, but all her children were too big for that now. They've grown too big for their mother to defend them. It had hurt seeing her husband return with a bastard in his arms, but that feeling could never have compared to her relief at knowing the Siege had been lifted. As her husband had taken her deep into the heart of the North, farther and farther away from the horrors of the war and her family's defeat, she had slowly begun to believe they were safe. Ned had seemed cold at first, as he had on their wedding night, but slowly she had grown warm to the man as she saw how he took care of his family, and how he protected his kingdom.

This had made the King's visit feel like a shock, a cruel reminder of the tense political situation that belied the comfort and happiness she had finally found at Winterfell. Rhaegar Targaryen and his Lannister pets had returned, tearing everything she had known asunder. The man who ruined her House stood before her as an honored guest, and he claimed Ned's bastard as his own. Guest right was supposed to go both ways, ensuring no harm would come to the hosts as well, but if King Rhaegar truly practiced sorcery like the septons of White Harbor said he would have no regard for the laws of gods and men. She looked at Ned with a pleading gaze. She needed to know her family would be safe.

"We'll be fine, Cat," he assured her. "A show of strength, nothing more. I just need to give Rhaegar a proper farewell. Did you have another nightmare?"

She had. She had dreamt that Rhaegar had executed scores of men in Winterfell for cheering 'King in the North' along with the Greatjon. She had seen Rhaegar's handsome face distorted, his eyes bulged, his nostrils flared, and his lips curling upward into a snarl that showed sharp teeth clinched in anger. She had dreamt that he laughed wildly as he went about it, stopping to look at her with a savage grin on his face, only to remind her that the man who passes the sentence must swing the sword. She had seen enough of war in her youth to know what a man being beheaded looked like, and it was not hard for her imagination to picture Rhaegar slaughtering Lord Umber in that manner. Rhaegar would swing his sword down on the Greatjon's neck, but he could not cut all the way through. The lord of Last Hearth would roar in pain as it would take several more brutal hacks just to sever his head completely. The King would be panting when he finished, his once smooth hair matted and disheveled. But it was just a dream. Ned had reminded her that heading to Moat Cailin with so many of his bannermen had served another purpose. With so many guests already, he told the King, he would not be able to accommodate a large royal party. Allegedly Rhaegar had taken the hint and sent some of his men back. No, once she calmed herself she knew Rhaegar would not try anything while in Winterfell. He may have been mad, but he was not stupid.

"Ned, how could you agree to that marriage for Robb?" She blurted out. In the past they had approached these kinds of subjects more delicately, but the King's visit had been trying on their own marriage, first with the revelation that Ned had lied to her for so many years, then when it had been decided that another Targaryen would be brought to Winterfell to replace the one that was leaving. She had been there when it was decided that the Pact of Ice and Fire would be honored, of course, and she had done her best to politely voice her objections. She had reminded Rhaegar and her husband that women had a place in matchmaking, and that she could say as a woman that a princess accustomed to life in the capital would find little joy in the North, and that an unhappy marriage could hardly be the basis of a lasting peace. But Rhaegar had countered by offering a reprieve on royal taxes, and though there appeared to be a bit more haggling that had been all it took. Her husband was not greedy, but he knew enough of his bannermen were, and enough of them resented paying tithes to King's Landing. Slowly she got out of bed and began brushing her hair. She knew she would be expected to see the royal party off too. Good riddance, she thought.

"It's a good match, Cat. It comes with a good dowry and gives us a good hostage," he said. After a pause, he went on. "We're not in a position to turn it down just yet."

"Then when will we be?" she shot back, though still focused on her hair. "You said yourself Moat Cailin is nearly ready."

"But the Westhold isn't, and neither Bran nor Rickon are of an age to take command of either one."

"Why does it have to be them? The Cassels have proven themselves—"

"But they aren't Starks," Ned said solemnly. "Cat, the dragons are losing the North bit by bit. Rhaegar knows it, and so do we. War will come, but when it does we can't be in the same position your father was." The brush stopped moving. Catelyn looked at her husband, horrified. Ned's face grew pale; he knew he had touched a nerve.

"I'm sorry," he told her, his voice laden with remorse. "I just meant…our bannermen can't be waiting to turn on us if we look weak, like the Freys did at the Trident. They have to look to us first for protection. They have to see our family on the battlefield before their own. They have to see us as the North, Cat, and as equals to any house south of the Neck, even those that put crowns on their heads."

"And a royal marriage will help with that," she said sullenly. Slowly, she went back to readying herself for the day, the brush moving through her long auburn hair more and more smoothly.

"Yes Cat, it will. All giving us Daenerys does is remind the North how much the dragons need us. Her children with Robb will still be raised at Winterfell, they'll be taught to put the North first. They'll still be Starks, just like Jon." Cat scoffed.

"And yet Jaehaerys is going south, and you're letting him." Catelyn thought it a good time to remind her husband of his nephew's true name. Although learning the truth of his parentage had made her see the boy somewhat differently, she could not bring herself to trust him. Cat may have been taking her husband to task for letting him go, but she knew that if Jon relented and asked to stay at Winterfell for a while longer she would speak to Ned against it. Even if he weren't a bastard he was still a Targaryen, born from the passion between the son of a madman and a girl who refused to learn her place. He may have been family, but both his blood and his upbringing had given him reason to work against her children.

"I don't think Jon will stay there long," Ned told her, opening the door for the servants who entered their chambers with a bow, several dresses, and a selection of jewelry and accessories for Catelyn to choose from. She chose a simple but lovely gown in the colors of her husband's house, with an exquisite wolf pelt to wrap around her shoulders as protection against the cold. She also motioned for earrings of silver with rubies and sapphires to evoke the Tully colors.

"It will take time to make Winterfell truly fit for a princess," he continued sardonically. "By the time we're ready to receive her I wouldn't be surprised if Jon volunteered to escort Daenerys north with that fellowship of his."

"And when he does?" Reminding Ned of his hypocrisy was one thing, but the possibility of Jon returning to Winterfell was something she wanted to guard against. "What if he wants his own keep? Will you give it to him? He was born of passion; what if he deflowers your son's betrothed on the way to her own wedding?" Ned scowled, waving off the servants who had now finished helping him prepare. Now it was she who had touched a nerve.

"Cat, when have you ever seen the boy inflamed with passion? I suspect if Jon does not join the Night's Watch I can find a place for him. I've spoken with Rhaegar about resettling the Gift with lords who would be subject to the Watch. For all his faults he understands how badly we've neglected them. He seemed amenable to the idea." Catelyn had now fully slipped on her dress and sent the servants away, beginning to powder her face. It was a vanity she rarely had time for, but she could not stand the thought of being upstaged by Cersei Lannister once again.

"So you would give the dragons a second front from which to wage war on us?" Eddard seemed unfazed by this question, pointed though it may have been.

"Whether Rhaegar likes it or not, if he agrees to the proposal then it will mostly be Northmen there anyway. I've already mentioned it to Lord Commander Mormont, and it's what he would prefer. Besides, how many Southrons do you think could survive up there?" Ned chuckled slightly and despite herself Catelyn joined him. Cersei Lannister's reaction when she had mentioned summer snows had been priceless.

Finally ready, Catelyn moved towards the door of their chambers, mentally preparing herself to face the day and the Targaryens. Ned caught her hand. Before she could react he pulled her in close and whispered in her ear.

"Cat, I know this hasn't been easy for you," he said. "It's been hard on me too, seeing them here. But I promise you this. They will never take from us what we have built here, together. I love our home, I love our children, and I love you. And I will defend you all until my last breath."

"I'll hold you to that promise, Lord Stark." She disentangled herself from his embrace, a faint hint of a smile on her lips. She wasn't ready to forgive him yet, but she was glad to see him making an effort.

Together they left their chambers and headed out into Winterfell's main courtyard. Rhaegar and his family were there, dressed and ready to depart. It wasn't a particularly chilly morning by Northern standards, but the King did not seem to take well to the cold. He looked resplendent as usual, in the black and red plate he had ridden in with and with a circlet of Valyrian steel about his head, but he was noticeably shivering and his lips seemed a pale shade of blue. Cersei and Daeron stood about impatiently while the wheelhouse was being prepared, and Visenya and Baelor were looking about with children's curiosity as the royal party prepared to take their leave. Ser Barristan stood at the ready, the aged knight standing silently behind his king.

Cat's own children were ushered out by Septa Mordane in short order, and she was relieved to see they all looked presentable. Robb looked quite dashing in a grey and white doublet, much like his brothers. Sansa looked lovely as always in a green dress she had almost never worn, but a blushing look she sent Prince Daeron was enough to explain it. She had become somewhat infatuated with the Targaryen prince since his arrival here, and although he retained the silver-blonde hair and countenance of his father, he nonetheless had his mother's green eyes. Although in a way that was a trait of his father's as well, for it was said Rhaegar had coveted his father's throne long before the Mad King was ready to surrender it. Looking to Arya, Cat was relieved to see that her youngest daughter was wearing a dress at all. Septa Mordane had even managed to keep Arya from dirtying herself on the way to greet the royal party. Catelyn's faith in the Seven was not what it used to be, but she thanked them for the small miracle before her. The Northmen who had chosen to accompany Jon were there as well. The Smalljon, Domeric Bolton, Eddard Karstark, and Jorah Mormont were all waiting and ready with their retainers, along with a small portion of the Stark household guard Ned had decided to send south with Jon.

"Jaehaerys was not with your children, Lord Eddard?" asked the King.

"He asked if he could pay his respects to his mother in the Crypts before he left, Your Grace," Ned informed him. "I imagine he's still there now." The King sighed and turned a melancholy gaze towards the Lord of Winterfell.

"We must be off soon," he said flatly. "I will go and fetch him." Cersei scowled at this, and Daeron seemed upset at the prospect as well.

"It may be best to let him have his time alone with her, Your Grace. You and I knew Lyanna, but the boy never had the opportunity."

"I would like to see her as well, Lord Eddard. One last time." Ned clenched his teeth at this, but relaxing he exhaled and looked at the King. Jon's fellowship was staring at him expectantly.

"The Crypts of Winterfell are for House Stark to mourn our dead, Your Grace. Please, I would not violate the peace of your own ancestors beneath the Sept of Baelor." This time it was Rhaegar who clenched his teeth.

"She was my wife, Lord Eddard."

"Aye, but she was my sister for far longer." The King's nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed.

"Very well, Lord Stark. We shall fetch him together, but I shall not enter the Crypts." As the two headed off together with Ser Barristan in tow, a long silence followed as those who remained in the courtyard found themselves with little to say. Catelyn realized she had been left in a very awkward position. Thankfully, she was not the one who would have to make small talk.

"We have been much honored by your visit, Your Grace," a red-faced Sansa said to Daeron.

"What a kind thing to say, sweetling," the Queen cut in. Catelyn doubted her daughter had noticed the displeasure in Cersei's voice.

"Th-thank you, Your Grace," Sansa went on nervously. "It truly was a pleasure to receive you all as guests…it's been wonderful, just like one of the songs."

"I take it you have a fondness for the songs?" asked Cersei haughtily. When all of this was over Cat knew she would have to explain to Sansa just what the Queen was doing. Sansa nodded meekly in response to the question. Cersei smiled in a manner that to the untrained eye would be seen as polite before continuing.

"Lovely. What a lovely daughter you have, Lady Catelyn. How old are you, sweetling?" Sansa's eyes were on Daeron, but Cat noticed the boy had already lost interest.

"Thirteen, Your Grace."

"Lovely. You're very tall for thirteen. And still growing I take it?" Sansa nodded.

"Tell me, Lady Catelyn, has your daughter bled yet?" Thankfully before Cat could answer the Queen's question Ned and Rhaegar returned with Jon. The boy looked miserable, but that was nothing new. At least he'll be miserable somewhere else.

Jon found a horse saddled and waiting for him. Before he could mount it, Robb walked over to him.

"Next time I see you, you'll be all in red and black," he said.

"Black always was my color," laughed Jon. Prince Daeron looked on his father as if Rhaegar had just slapped him, and Catelyn remembered enough of her history to know why. Daeron usurped by a black dragon at his father's urging. As amusing as she found it, she did her best to remain impassive.

"Farewell, Stark," Jon said warmly to his cousin.

"And you, Targaryen." The two embraced as the other Stark children approached to say their goodbyes. Bran and Rickon hugged their cousin, both trying to keep a stiff upper lip in the face of what clearly a sad day for them. Arya didn't bother. She cried openly and buried her face in Jon's doublet, allowing her embrace to dishevel her hair. Catelyn sighed. She had tried so hard to keep them from growing attached to someone she knew would only hurt them in the end, but she had only had any success with Sansa. The girl approached Jon slowly and curtsied politely.

"Farewell, Your Grace," she said more warmly than Cat would have liked.

"And you, My Lady," Jon replied. Ned approached him last, bending down so he could look the boy in the eye.

"Remember what I said in the crypts, Jon. You'll always be welcome here." The Targaryen boy turned his sullen gaze to Catelyn, lingering there a moment before turning back to Ned. Cat realized she had no idea what she had looked like to him, or how she herself had even felt under his gaze, but she gained some insight into the boy's thoughts when she heard the emptiness in his reply to her husband.

"Thank you, Lord Eddard. I'll remember that." The goodbyes that followed were nowhere near as tearful nor as emotional. The Starks and their retainers maintained courtly courtesy in bidding farewell to the Targaryens, and the royal party returned the favor. Rhaegar and Ser Barristan mounted their horses, and Cersei ushered her children into the wheelhouse. Jon was about to step into the saddle when Ghost ran up behind him. The dire wolf was already as large as some the hounds Farlen kept in the kennels. Cersei stopped in her tracks and turned to the King.

"My love, surely that beast isn't coming with us?" Jon also looked pleadingly at his father, but Rhaegar had eyes for neither of them. He regarded Ghost with an intrigued expression. He stared into the animal's eyes contemplatively. It made no sound, but just by looking at it Catelyn could tell it too was begging to remain with its master. A small smile played about Rhaegar's face before disappearing.

"Of course it is," he said authoritatively. "I would have it no other way. In fact, this beast is under royal protection. Any who harm it will face the same penalty as a poacher in our woods." Jon smiled.

"Thank you, Your Grace," he added warmly. The King simply nodded and turned his horse towards the gate of the castle. The rest of the royal party followed, slowly trickling out. It seemed to Catelyn like an eternity as she waited for them to be gone. As everyone else who had assembled to greet them began to filter out of the courtyard, Cat turned to her husband.

"Ned, I've been thinking," she said quietly. "You spoke of needing to make 'preparations' so that Winterfell could be worthy of a princess."

"What did you have in mind?" he asked her.

"It occurred to me that one excuse you could give King's Landing is that any princess would deserve a number of ladies in waiting, as Daenerys no doubt has in the capital. Should we not assemble our own Northern ladies for her, to help her grow more accustomed to our ways?"

"Naturally," Ned agreed, sounding somewhat intrigued.

"But of course only the best would do for a princess of royal blood," Cat went on facetiously. "I would have to select them myself as a Southron lady who knows what must be done to adapt to the North, and that would take a great deal of time. You should advise the King that we won't be ready until then." Eddard nodded, seeming to like where she was going.

"Very well, you have my leave to begin your search," he said. "Whenever you think it most prudent, of course." Catelyn smiled and embraced her husband. She hated deceiving him. The truth of the matter was that the appearance of Rhaegar had been far more trying than she would ever admit. Despite all the courtesies, it felt as though lions and dragons had come to her home once more to take everything she held dear, just as they had when she watched the Mountain murder her father. This time they had robbed her of her faith in the future, and to an extent of her trust in her husband. Next time they might take even more. Which was why there would be no next time. So as Catelyn removed herself from Eddard's embrace and followed him back to their chambers, she swore an oath to herself that Rhaegar and his bastard would be the last Targaryens to ever set foot in Winterfell.