A/N: After so much writer's block that it was legitimately crazy, I have finally come to grace the ASOIAF world with an original idea, one carefully plotted with the help of minds such as wisewillow/RedWolf17, geekyowl, wiverse and other brilliant minds.

The PoD is simple. Cat was trained as heir until Edmure was born, but if Edmure had died, Cat would have been heir, and then, Lady of Riverrun. What if Edmure, Hoster, and other somewhat minor characters had died, and forced Cat into the position where she would rule Riverrun? How would the Stark-Tully alliance, and the realm as a whole, fare under Lady Catelyn Tully of Riverrun? All I can say is that canon is gonna diverge fairly quickly, and the stations of canon will be treated as a suggestion as things go crazy without the appearance of multiple actors.

I'm really hoping to turn this into an epic, so I hope you all enjoy this fic! Please write comments and review, they feed the parasites and let me write.

Relevant Character Ages:

Brynden Tully: 36

Brandon Stark, Robert Baratheon: 17 (262 AC)

Ned Stark: 16 (263 AC)

Catelyn Tully, Stannis Baratheon: 15 (264 AC)

Jaime Lannister, Cersei Lannister: 14 (266 AC)

Lyanna Stark: 12 (267 AC)

Lysa Tully: 11 (268 AC)

Benjen Stark: 10 (269 AC)


Catelyn I

279 AC

The fires danced throughout the shadows as Cat stared at the flickering torchlights, seemingly jumping from brazier to brazier, as it illuminated the river below the keep. The keep whose fate and legacy were to be decided tonight, under torchlight and candlelight alike. Her father's precious legacy was at stake, and here she was, staring blankly at the door to her father's solar like the little girl she still felt like.

Even Lysa's delicate hand, clasped in her sweaty palms, did not help, nor did Lysa's dress - a whorl of blue and red with the slightly uneven stitches characteristic of her carefree and innocent one-and-ten years of experience in this world. A vision that contrasted heavily with the sister she saw today.

Her grief-stricken sister's gaunt figure and red-rimmed face, tear tracks enhanced in the soft flames of the brazier were that of a girl who had cried most recently and most deservedly. The frail alto of her sister's voice, a constant reminder of what they had lost, of the fact that she had nearly lost everyone save for poor old Uncle Brynden to a horrid disease, one that had swept through Riverrun and the Riverlands as a whole less than two moons ago. Her sister had barely recovered from the ordeal that had nearly taken her from Cat, and yet she stood, beautiful and haunting in her grief.

"Are you ready, Cat?" Lysa asked hesitantly.

No, she wanted to scream, I am not ready. I will never be ready. Not while Father, Petyr, and little Edmure lie forgotten in some damp riverbed below the keep. Not while Uncle Brynden sits in there, deciding a fate he had never wanted in the first place. Take me back to a world where Father and Edmure were alive, to a world where I appreciated what I had before the Stranger snatched them from me. Seven, please take me back.

Alas, a lack of decorum was a behavior reserved for little girls and not for heirs, not like the one she would be, like the one Uncle Brynden had promised to protect, and so she nodded shakily and pushed open the doors herself to the triangular solar.

Behind the desk of her father's solar was the Regent of Riverrun himself. The Regent of Riverrun had no laughter in his face. His eyes, deep blue, were closer to a stormy sea rather than an ocean, and his weathered face reflected the seriousness of the moment that stood before them. He was not the Uncle Brynden she knew and loved, nor the Blackfish he was famed to be, but rather, a creature made from the tragedies that had befallen House Tully as of late.

Waiting for them in the solar alongside Uncle Brynden was Maester Lomys, Utherydes Wayn, the Steward of Riverrun, and another, older lord that she faintly recognized by his long face and dark hair; one she knew immediately as the father to her betrothed, Brandon, Lord Stark of Winterfell.

"Cat," Uncle Brynden greeted them with a saddened look. "Lysa."

His low, smoky voice seemed to emphasize the gravity of the talk they were about to have, and she found herself tensing in anticipation. Lysa, however, had no such compunctions, running to her uncle tearfully. Her uncle smiled sadly as he enfolded her in a tearful hug, but after a moment, let Lysa go, allowing her and Lysa to take a seat. His face turned serious, and she knew that she was talking to the Regent of Riverrun rather than her charming uncle.

"I have received a raven from King Aerys with an agreement," the Regent of Riverrun began firmly. "I promised you, Cat, that I would support your claim to Riverrun, and I have upheld it. When this damn regency ends in a sennight, on your six-and-tenth nameday, you will officially become the Lady of Riverrun, and Lady Paramount to the Riverlands. Maester Lomys has sent the ravens out to the riverlords announcing the news officially."

Cat sighed in relief as Lysa smiled ear-to-ear. She had known that her uncle had never truly wanted the Riverlands, nor had wanted to marry, yet confronted with such power, she had no idea how her uncle would truly react, nor could she ignore the historical precedent. History books detailed many tales of uncles overthrowing their nieces for a claim to their ancestral seat, and of regents who had betrayed their child lord or lady, and even though she had known in her heart that her uncle was not power-hungry, she still feared.

"However, with that being said, your nameday approaches soon, and as Lady of Riverrun, you must marry," The Regent said. "I would normally tell you that I don't care who you marry, if you even want to, but…"

Cat nodded quickly, finishing his thought. "To keep my hold on the Riverlands as a woman and as a Lady Paramount, I will need a husband. A proper husband, one that would not seek to use me for Riverrun's power, but rather, a consort who will support my decisions and solidify my rule."

She had been aware of the fact from the moment she had realized that the burden of Riverrun would fall to her, and of the implications that it would have.

Her uncle sighed heavily, regret deep upon his face. "The sharks are circling, Little Cat, and soon, you will be prey to those wishing for a slice of the Riverlands if we do nothing to stop them. Marriage alliances will be absolutely key for us to sustain our hold over the Riverlands, and the three of us will need to think carefully to ensure what is best for the Riverlands."

Lysa's happy smile vanished and shuttered, as fear crept up her face. Though Cat would be Lady and would have some say in her match, Lysa would be bought and sold for an alliance, an alliance that would keep Riverrun safe.

"That is, in part, why I have decided to invite Lord Rickard to this conversation tonight," the Lord Regent continued. "Your father had a betrothal agreed to before his death, one where you were to marry young Brandon Stark, a betrothal recommended by Maester Vyman here." Maester Vyman nodded, confirming her uncle's words.

"But then…" Cat interrupted awkwardly. "With Father and Edmure's death, and my new status–."

Uncle Brynden nodded. "Precisely. An alliance with Lord Stark is valuable for us, but it would be impossible in its current form. With Brandon as heir to Winterfell and you as Lady to Riverrun, one of you would have to surrender your inheritance to a younger sibling in order to ensure both the North and the Riverlands stay in its current form."

"And thus, why I am here, instead of being halfway past Moat Cailin by now," Lord Stark affirmed. "Your Uncle and I feel as though there is some value left in the alliance, but now, we must decide what form it should take, and whether the alliance will continue with you, your sister, or something else entirely. As heir, and soon-to-be Lady of Riverrun, we would see you and your sister involved in these conversations."

And now, the real struggle begins, Cat thought wryly, as she outwardly expressed her gratitude and affirmed the seriousness of the conversation.

"Now," Lord Rickard stated quietly. "The original terms were that Brandon and Catelyn were to marry when they were of age and given the chance to mature into their roles. Lord Hoster and I had originally planned for their wedding to be in three years hence, when Catelyn had turned one-and-eight, but that was not to be."

But then, Lord Rickard turned to Lysa, a contemplative look on his face.

"How old are you, Lady Lysa?" he asked gently.

"O–" Lysa stuttered. "One-and-ten, my lord," she answered falteringly.

Lord Rickard nodded and looked at her. He seemed to be staring into her soul, searching her for something, some indeterminate thing that he could not tell the others, as Lysa paled further and further, tears gathering from the corner of her eyes. Cat noticed that her uncle's face was hard as stone as he watched, almost as though he couldn't bear to watch it. Even she struggled, barely managing to watch him herself, but then Lord Rickard sighed, shaking his head sideways, before continuing.

"Had Edmure been alive, I would have considered betrothing him to Lyanna, yet that was not to be. I had considered merely replacing Catelyn with Lysa in the alliance agreement, and to give Lysa and Brandon five years to get to know each other before marrying when she is a woman grown–" Lord Stark commented.

"But?" Cat found herself asking, almost automatically. She then clasped a hand to her mouth in reflex, but Lord Stark looked at her and continued.

He smiled grimly. "Lysa will be six-and-ten when Brandon is two-and-twenty, and Winter is Coming. He– no, the North, will need an heir, and Lysa is too young to jeopardize the safety of the Northern succession should something happen to me. Brandon will likely need another bride."

She nearly sighed in relief but managed to stay impassive. Lysa is too young. And after Father and Edmure, and even Petyr's death, she is not in a fit state to be betrothed, let alone married to a stranger in a distant land.

"I feared as such," Brynden said regretfully, even though he did not look very regretful to Cat's eyes either. "Brandon is too old, and Lysa is too young. Yet the loss of Winterfell as an alliance is a dreadful thing. The Riverlords are circling, and Riverrun is the weakest it has ever been."

Uncle Brynden was right, Cat realized, her mood sinking. House Tully was prey to the vultures that were the Darrys and Freys, who had ever coveted Riverrun. Marrying a second son from nearly any of the houses in the Riverlands, like the Blackwoods or the Mallisters, would inflame another house, and grant too much power to the victor. They would seek to use Riverrun through my voice, through my claim. But if we were allied to an outside power, like the North…

Lord Rickard smiled sharply, his eyes gleaming. "Your eldest daughter will need a second son for a husband," he pointed out, "and you seek a way to consolidate power and deny your rivals of influence. Why not a second son from the North? There exist none of a similar age, save for Stannis Baratheon and Oberyn Martell, and the North is the strongest ally you would have by your lands that can provide the protection you would need if a vassal were to rebel."

Uncle Brynden nodded consideringly, and Lord Stark continued.

"My Eddard is fostering with Jon Arryn in the Vale alongside Robert Baratheon, and he is an honorable, kind man. He is a year younger than Brandon, but he is of an age to marry, and he would treat Catelyn with the respect she deserves. The Stark-Tully alliance would be further bolstered by it, and Ned would be able to protect Cat from outside influences with his connections to the Warden of the East and the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, let alone his brother or I ruling up North. Let us seek to enfold Riverrun in an alliance of four major noble houses, to shield it from what may come. A bargain, surely, but only for a single betrothal?"

"Yet how are we certain that you nor your son would not seek to use Cat's mouth for his words, use her authority for his armies, for his ambitions?" the Lord Regent of Riverrun countered, but a frightening growl of anger erupted out of Lord Stark's mouth.

"I offer you a reprieve, and yet you offer insult?" Lord Stark asked, his voice cold as ice. If you think of us so little, so lacking in honor, so overambitious, then this conversation is over. "

Lord Stark then began to get out of his seat, as Uncle Brynden proceeded to respond in kind, but Cat interrupted him before he could begin his statement.

"Uncle, enough!" Cat interrupted, her eyes flashing fiercely. "As heir, and soon-to-be Lady Paramount of Riverrun, I should like to hear Lord Rickard's proposal, especially when I am the fish bartered off to market. Let me decide who I shall marry."

The Regent of Riverrun closed his mouth sharply, a pinched look on his face, and Lord Stark sat back down, an impassive look on his face.

"Lord Stark," she began, "I would ask you to tell me of your Eddard, and of his measure as a man. What is he like? Will he seek to challenge my claim?"

Lord Stark looked contemplative. He spent a minute deep in thought, and then, he spoke. "You are familiar with my Brandon, yes?"

Cat nodded quietly. A man I will never meet for true now, not as husband and wife as I once thought.

A smile bloomed on Lord Stark's face at the thought of his second son, reflective of the deep love he held for him. "Ned is…a different sort of man than Brandon. Though Brandon is hot-blooded and wild in a way befitting his wolfsblood, Ned is a more reserved sort of man. A shy man with a good, honest, and honorable heart; one who is fiercely loyal to his family and the people he cares for."

"Is he an ambitious man? Does he respect the ladies around him?" she asked. Will he respect his lady wife, respect me?

Lord Stark laughed. "Ned is the furthest thing from ambitious. He has never been an ambitious man, and has always sought to support his brother, nor can he lie, for love nor for honor, to my eternal chagrin. He is stubborn, with an unwavering sense of honor, and whether that has developed from his time in the North or his time in the Vale, I could not tell you. But if you were to marry him, he would seek to support your duties as best as I could, and I would predict that he would never dare to undermine you."

Something must have shown on her face because Lord Stark and Uncle Brynden looked fairly satisfied, but they turned to her.

"Cat," Uncle Brynden addressed her. "You know I would never force you into something you don't want, let alone a marriage to a man you have never met. But out of all I have heard so far about him from Lord Stark or Lord Arryn, he seems like a respectable sort of man, but I will leave it up to you. What will you decide?"

Lysa looked at her nervously, and the anticipatory looks of nearly every person faced her. She was doing this to protect them, to protect Riverrun, to protect the legacy that should have gone to little Edmure but fell on her instead. A destiny she could not ignore.

But Catelyn had one more question before she could launch herself into a decision.

"Maester Vyman," she asked, "your thoughts?"

The Maester smiled.

"It is a good match, politically speaking," he answered, in that lecturing tone she had heard all throughout her childhood. "The Riverlands are too fragile as is, and rewarding a single house in the wake of this disaster would undermine the foundation of Tully stability that would be needed to keep Riverrun from plunging into civil unrest. The Faith may protest, yes, but you would be Lady of Riverrun, and your children would have to be raised in the light of the Seven. It is a very beneficial match for House Tully, and I would recommend it in my capacity as a Maester and advisor."

She nodded, looking, and not breaking eye contact with Lord Stark.

"Your son would be Lord Consort Tully, nothing more," Catelyn declared, "and any children we have would have to be raised in the Light of the Seven. They may be raised with knowledge of their father's gods, but they will be raised within the Faith's teachings, as well. We would need to marry as soon as possible to secure and strengthen my claim, as Eddard is a grown man, and I will be Lady Paramount Tully at six-and-ten. We will wed a sennight after my six-and-tenth name day, and confirm our marriage in the eyes of the Seven and Old Gods alike."

Lord Stark nodded, an impressed look on his face.

"Eddard would be last in the succession to Winterfell if anything were to happen, behind Brandon, Benjen, and any children of theirs. He would be Lord Consort, and nothing more. We would provide the dowry for the wedding, as it is a matrilineal wedding, and Eddard would take the name Tully." Lord Stark replied firmly. "Are we agreed, Lady Tully and Lord Regent Tully?"

She smiled, recognizing the added respect to her name for what it was, a method to butter her up, but it was the best deal she could receive, in order to keep her home and prepare her for the storm coming her way, so she nodded.

"I will do it, Uncle Brynden. I will be betrothed to, and marry Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell."


End A/N: And now, a warm welcome to everyone's favorite canonical GirlbossTM Catelyn Tully, and everyone's favorite canonical MalewifeTM, Ned Stark, in the prime position of being a malewife. Here, he can get away with looking pretty and supporting his wife, but he will still have a very valuable part in the plot (he's literally in the title, after all). Next: we start moving the plot ahead. (he's literally in the title, after all). Next: we start moving the plot ahead.