AN: This is a vignette. It will likely be tied to others that I would like to write. I am new to the books and to the fandom. I am simply writing these to play with characters that I enjoy. If you read them, please do try not to take things too seriously. Also, please note that I often ignore canon when I write.
If this is not your cup of tea, then I hope that you find something that you do enjoy!
If you do read, I hope that you enjoy. If you do enjoy, please do let me know.
111
Family. Duty. Honor.
The words of House Tully, repeated over and over in her mind, seemed like all that Catelyn would likely have to keep her warm at Winterfell.
Her new husband rode with her. They rode alone. He'd promised her father that she would have ladies there to help her, and his house was well outfitted with every kind of assistance she could require. Her husband was Eddard Stark, and Catelyn hadn't laid eyes on him before their wedding. He was handsome enough, though he seemed somewhat distant and cold.
The ride to Winterfell was long and quiet, giving Catelyn more than enough time to be alone with her thoughts.
Family. Duty. Honor.
She had been engaged to Brandon Stark, first, and she'd imagined that she would be happy with him. Her father had given her hand to Eddard after Brandon's death. She was honor-bound to marry him. It was her duty to be a good wife—the best that she could be—to Eddard Stark.
She would be the lady of his household, and she would produce him heirs.
Catelyn would do what she must. She was a Tully, and she would not shame her house.
111
Her new husband had spoken very few words to her after their vows had been made. Even upon their arrival at Winterfell, the conversation that passed between them had been limited. Catelyn felt, honestly, that her husband may not be happy with her as his wife.
There was nothing she could do except be the best wife that she could possibly be for him.
Despite the fact that she'd practically been trembling under the weight of the life that loomed ahead of her—a life filled with so many possibilities, both good and bad, that she could hardly hope to count them all—Catelyn had done her best to carry herself with all the outward appearance of absolute confidence and calm.
She had smiled at her husband. She had said everything she knew it was right to say—and she had been silent when she'd felt that's what would please him most.
She ate at his table, and she drank the wine offered to her. After the meal, she'd left him to the things that he must do as the new Lord of Winterfell, and she'd allowed herself to be escorted by the two ladies that had been hired to assist her.
In the copper tub, Catelyn allowed herself to be bathed in the fragrant water. She let her ladies wash her hair and, after her bath, she let them slather her body with the fragrant, floral oil that would please her husband. She let them brush her hair until it shone. She let them dress her in some of the fine garments that had been gifts for her wedding.
She let them lead her to the bedchamber where there was a fire burning in the grate.
There were a number of burning tapers bringing light to the room, in addition to the light that came from the flickering flames in the fireplace.
Catelyn walked around the chambers. Underfoot, the floors were stone and cold. Everything in the North was cold—including, Catelyn feared, her husband.
And, now, she was the Lady of Winterfell.
Despite the fact that she knew it was cold, the chambers actually felt a bit stifling. Catelyn walked over to the window and opened it. She stood there, enjoying the way the cool night air licked at her skin—still damp from her bath and, perhaps, from the sweat that rose thanks to the heat.
She touched her fingers to the stone wall next to the window and was surprised to find that it felt warm to the touch.
"Winterfell is warmed by the springs."
Catelyn jumped in a rather undignified way, but she hadn't expected to hear the voice of Eddard Stark quite so quickly. She'd imagined that whatever matters he had to attend to would keep him occupied for several more hours.
Yet, here he was.
Catelyn turned to face him.
Suddenly, she was very conscious of herself—of her body. She had been told that she looked like her mother, and Catelyn thought that her mother had been beautiful. There had certainly been a number of young men who had been more than willing to tell her of her beauty, too.
However, some part of her felt that Eddard Stark disapproved of her, and she couldn't help wondering if it was some sharpness of her features or some lack of weight on her frame that displeased him. After all, her nurse had told her too many times that she was a bit too tall and a bit too thin. Men liked to see a bit more weight on the women that they were bound to marry, she'd been told, to be sure that they were fit for the birthing bed.
"M'lord," she said, curtseying slightly.
She felt her face grow immediately warm. She wasn't sure how to greet him in their bedchamber. With Brandon it had been easier. She'd been betrothed to Brandon for so long that all that iciness had melted from him, if it had ever been there at all. He had expected her to act as a lady—she was meant to be his wife, after all—but he'd enjoyed that there was a bit of fire in her, as he said, that matched her hair.
Eddard made her feel stiff and self-aware.
He didn't respond to her greeting. She drew in a breath to steady her nerves and released it. Then, she made her way toward her husband on knees that felt less than trustworthy. She did her best, however, to move as gracefully as possible and not to give away that she was nervous.
In front of her husband, she stopped. She focused a moment on the way her feet felt against the stone floor. She marveled that it still felt cold to her, despite the fact that she'd felt the warmth of the springs running through walls. She focused on anything that helped her to control her breath so that Eddard Stark knew he married a woman and not just a fearful girl.
She saw his eyes as he carefully took her in, from head to toe. She stood still beneath his scrutiny. She reminded herself that, though they'd now been married several days, this was the night of consummation for him, just as much as it was for her.
She calmed, slightly, to simply remember that he, too, might be nervous. She straightened her shoulders a touch more.
"Do I please you, Lord Stark?"
He smiled. She thought it might be the first that she'd seen come across his lips.
"You would please me more, if you didn't make me think of my father. It is difficult enough that once this was his bedchamber."
"But now you are the Lord of Winterfell," Catelyn said.
"I am," he said. "Still—I am not yet ready to be Lord Stark in the room where I make my bed."
"Or—where you bed your wife?" Catelyn asked.
She saw a flash of something she couldn't name. She saw the way that his throat moved. It wasn't fear. She didn't sense fear from Eddard Stark but, still, there was something there. He was uneasy.
Or, perhaps, simply unaccustomed and a touch overwhelmed.
"How do you wish for me to address you, m'lord?" Catelyn asked.
"Ned," he said, simply. Catelyn nodded.
"Ned," she repeated. He seemed to visibly relax a little. "If it pleases you—I prefer Cat."
He accepted that with nothing more than a nod, and Catelyn waited for a moment for some instruction from her husband. When it didn't come, she untied the threads that held the light garment closed that had been meant to guard her modestly until, like a gift of sorts, her husband untied it to reveal her to him.
She let the silken garment drop to the floor. What she wore underneath was equally as silky, and truly revealed nothing too scandalous, just in case Ned didn't approve of such things, but she was aware that it hugged parts of her body to tease and to tantalize.
Ned moved toward her, then. He kissed her, and she kissed him back. She hadn't kissed him since their wedding. The kiss that had sealed their vows had been the first and last they'd exchanged. This kiss felt quite different than that one.
Ned's fingers went to Catelyn's hips. They squeezed her a bit roughly. They moved down. She felt his fingertips practically probing her skin. She felt him pause, his fingers came to rest on her hipbones. His kisses stopped a moment.
"We have meat aplenty at Winterfell," Ned offered, practically whispering the words into Catelyn's ears. She hadn't expected that to be what her husband whispered to her as he groped her body. She laughed quietly.
"I have eaten well…Ned," she said. "My hips are wide. I will bear you heirs."
He looked slightly amused, maybe as a simple response to her own amusement. He tugged at the garment she was wearing, and Catelyn understood that he meant to have her free from it. She helped him remove it, and it joined the other at her feet. He pressed his face, for just a moment, in the crook of her neck and breathed deeply the scent she'd been bathed in for his pleasure. His rough beard scratched her collarbone.
Finally, she let her hands move to begin undressing him. He understood what she wanted and made much shorter work of removing all his clothing than she would have, if she'd been left to do it herself. He stood before her, naked as he had been when he'd come into the world—just as she was—and she took him in.
Her pulse and her breathing quickened. He was her husband. She had sworn loyalty to this man for all the rest of her days—love, she hoped, would naturally follow.
For now, there was simply her duty as his wife.
She moved toward the bed. She sat on the edge of it. She offered her arms out to him, and she embraced him when he came. He kissed her, pushing her back on the bed. She opened her legs to make space for him, and he took more space than she had imagined he would require.
"You will find my maidenhead intact," she offered quietly.
It was something, she knew, that husbands valued. She also knew that more ladies than would let you believe such to be true, went to their marriage beds without it. Catelyn had guarded her honor ferociously, even when she'd ached to give it to Brandon, believing that it was his to take, at any rate. Now, with Brandon lost to her, she was glad that she hadn't given into that belief, and that he hadn't insisted too much.
She had been prepared enough, by her ladies, to understand that the marriage bed was a place for pleasure. It was a place for man and wife to enjoy each other's bodies and to strengthen the bond that helped them navigate everything that would come their way in all their years of marriage. The marriage bed was the place where she was meant to submit to the desire of her husband—to meet his needs and provide him pleasures—and, if she pleased him well enough, she would likely find that he pleased her, too. The marriage bed was a place of pleasure, but she'd been warned that, as was often the case, there was some pain to be expected there—at least in the beginning.
Catelyn accepted all of it, understanding that this was the start of her role as the Lady of Winterfell.
When Ned rolled away from her, he was almost immediately asleep. Catelyn lie a long time and stared at the shadows the tapers made on the ceiling as they danced in the breeze that came through the still-open window.
She had officially left behind Catelyn Tully—as much as she would ever leave that part of her behind, pushing it down deep inside her, instead of abandoning it entirely. Now, she was truly Catelyn Stark.
Catelyn drew in a breath. The marriage bed was the place that was meant for conceiving heirs and growing families. She slipped her hand down to touch the soft skin of her abdomen. If she was lucky, even now her husband's seed, buried deep inside her, would begin to grow the first heir that she would bring forth for him.
Family. Duty. Honor.
Catelyn would be the best wife for Ned Stark that she could be. She would be the Lady of Winterfell, and she would have a family of which she could be truly proud. Tonight was the first night of their shared life as husband and wife, but there would be so many nights to come.
Beside her, Ned slept. She looked at him. She felt herself soften to him. He was a man. He was a bit cold, perhaps, and he was not quite what his brother had been to Catelyn. But Ned Stark was a good man and, someday, Catelyn would love him as she should.
Until then, she would be the best wife that she could possibly be.