The Lady of Winterfell

They made an odd pair: the lady of Winterfell and the heir to the realm, walking briskly through the castle courtyard. All the emotions and thoughts that were swirling around inside of her made her walk fast. It did drew some curious glances, but not much. Everyone is in a hurry to prepare for the royal feast tonight.

Catelyn couldn't get the image of her daughter kissing that young princeling out of her head. As Sansa grew into the beautiful woman she is now, Catelyn was as fearful as she was proud, knowing what kind of attention that would draw to her daughter. But Sansa was a pious young lady, courteous to all her suitors yet turning all of them down, convinced that a charming prince would one day come and sweep her off her feet. And here was a prince, right here in Winterfell.

Through the corner of her eyes, Catelyn looked at Prince Lyonel. Oh she can certainly see the appeal he would have on a young heart. Well muscled and long legged, the young Baratheon had striking blue eyes and an easy smile, and towered above all around him. He reminded her of Robert in his youth, but far more polite and well spoken. And Catelyn Stark knew the dangers of a few well spoken words.

Catelyn Tully was a Southerner, born and bred. In her youth, much like Sansa, Catelyn was obsessed with tales of chivalry and knights, and had dreamed of the day of being wed to a great Southern lord. Mace Tyrell perhaps, who was quite handsome back in the day. Or even Robert Baratheon. Or, gods forbid, that Dornishmen Oberyn Martell, who was famous for his talent in the bed chambers and had nine bastard daughters. However, in that fateful day when she was summoned to her lord father's solar, she was told that it was Brandon Stark she was marrying, and not some Southern lord.

Catelyn was heartbroken, but held her tongue, simply thanking her father for making such a good match. Catelyn was a dutiful daughter, and was a dutiful wife too, even though in the end it was not even Brandon she married, but his younger brother. Still, she did her duty, giving Ned an heir, a spare and three more children besides, and even coming to love him in her own way. But the north was cold, and so were its people. Most were rough spoken and mocked chivalry as 'southern nonsense' and because the old gods were prevalent in the North, there weren't many knights around either. Catelyn had adjusted, but as Sansa grew older, she saw herself in her daughter, and knew that she would be attracted to the South much like she was. And now the South has come to Winterfell and wrapped its arms around Sansa. But Catelyn would not let them misuse her daughter. Not if she had any say in it.

Lyonel's head was in a flurry as he trailed behind Catelyn Stark. A months long journey, a terrifying vision and a kiss with an extremely beautiful woman would do that to you. But he needed all his wits about him to get on top of the talk he was about have with the Stark matriarch. To clear his head, Lyonel focused on Catelyn's swaying ass. Unfortunately it was covered, along with the rest of her body, with furs, but the simple swaying motion of her wide hips helped calm down his troubled mind.

They entered a rather large wing of the castle, climbed some stairs, and walked through some corridors until they finally reached a closed room. "Your quaters." Catelyn said curtly.

When she opened the door, Lyonel saw two servants putting on a bed sheet, the finishing touches for his room.

"Leave," Catelyn said. They did, and took some time to get a good eyeful of Lyonel. When they were out, Lyonel could hear giggles from the corridor.

Catelyn sighed and locked the door, so that she would not be disturbed while giving a piece of her mind to the young Baratheon. Others would be hesitant to speak up against the crown prince, but the Starks were powerful and Ned was a very good friend of Robert. Casting aside all that, Lyonel was in the wrong, and were he to complain about this, she was certain that she would be the one to win the king's sympathies.

"Please sit down your grace." Catelyn said with icy courtesy. Lyonel sat down on his new, not very comfortable bed.

"Please explain what you were thinking your grace," Catelyn continued in her cold tone. "I would like to know what went through your mind as you entered the home of your father's most loyal vassal and seduce his daughter. Has his grace never taught you the proper conduct of a royal among ladies?"

Lyonel gave her a wry smile. "My royal father supposedly has eighteen baseborn children my lady. Propriety was never a concern of his, I'm afraid."

Catelyn pursed her lips. She should never have used Robert as a good example. But the figure of eighteen surprised even her. The Baratheons were a damnably fertile house, and so were the Lannisters for that matter. Nonetheless, Catelyn kept her cold exterior intact. "And was that what you were planning to do your Grace? Put a bastard in my daughter's belly?"

Catelyn was pleased to note that for the first time since they met, the young prince has been taken aback. "My lady," Lyonel said slowly. "I assure you my intentions with Sansa have always been honourable and innocent."

"I- innocent?" Catelyn spluttered. Even now, she could remember how Sansa's body has pressed close to the prince's, his tongue plundering her mouth. Her cheeks grew warm even thinking about that, and Catelyn quickly turned towards the roaring hearth to hide her blush. Why does the memory of my own daughter being despoiled by this man makes me feel this way? her mind screamed at herself.

Lyonel seems to understand what is going inside her mind. "I know how it might seem to you," he said in an assuring voice while standing up. "But I swear by the mother that my intentions were pure. It's just that we Baratheons are a... passionate bunch. Surely, you had some passion in your own youth, being such a rare beauty?"

That was almost the exact question he had asked in the godswood. "Yes," Catelyn said softly. Her mind drifted off to her childhood days in the Riverrun godswood, where she and Lysa played kissing games with Petyr. As she grew older, the games grew as well, and one time she had allowed a bold young suitor from House Brax to unlace her bodice and to have his hands be on her breasts. They would have done more, if Uncle Brynden didn't enter the godswood to find her. This man is making me feel and remember things that I was sure I had forgotten years ago!

Catelyn looked up, only to see Prince Lyonel looking keenly at her. When there eyes met, he gave her a most charming smile. "You know Lady Stark," he began saying. "Back in King's Landing, I always thought of Lord Baelish as a very smart fool. 'What kind of man,' I would think, 'would sacrifice his own life for a woman's hand in marriage?' But now that I have seen you blush, I completely understand his motives."

Catelyn's face was as red as her hair. I came here to scold this ma- boy! she reminded herself. "That is a completely inappropriate thing to say young man!"

"Why?" Lyonel asked, stepping closer to her. "Rare beauties such as you should be complimented well and complimented often, though words will never be able to convey your beauty."

Ned compliments me too! she wanted to shout, yet when she looked back, Catelyn was unable to find any such incident in recent memory. When was the last time Ned said anything half so romantic as this? It must be when Rickon was born. Her lord husband has come to the birthing chamber and thanked her. What was romantic about thanking?

"A-and what do you find worthy of compliments in an - an old woman like me?" she found herself asking. She needed to know.

Lyonel grinned cheerfully. "Oh I wouldn't use the word 'old,' my lady. A more apt word would be... mature." At the last word, the young prince's eyes rested on her breasts. Catelyn shivered.

Yet, she pretended as if she didn't notice his look. "You still haven't given me an answer." the words came almost unknowingly out of her mouth. What does she want him to do? To say outright that he finds her breasts attractive? Or maybe even give an answer in a more... physical way?"

Catelyn gasped as Lyonel's hands reached towards her... and gently took a strand of her long red hair in his hand and pressed it to his face. "I loved a maid as red as Autumn," he said. "With sunlight in her hair."

Catelyn melted when she heard the verse from that old Myrish love song. Her knees buckled, but Lyonel's strong, swift hands caught her from falling down completely. "You've had a tiring day, my lady. A small rest would not go amiss." he said as he slowly sat her down in his bed.

Catelyn closed her eyes and desperately tried to collect her thoughts and regain her composure. But when she opened her eyes, anything resembling clarity had fled her mind. Lyonel's cloak was on the bed, and he was removing his doublet. Catelyn's eyes grew wide. Shiftless, she could even more clearly see Lyonel's muscles, as perfect as if it was the work of a sculpture. A thin pale scar ran across his shoulder, giving him even more of an martial look.

"What are you doing?" Catelyn demanded, though it came out more like a squeak.

Lyonel smiled innocently, but his eyes were mischievous. "I would not begrudge you a rest on my bed my lady. But I must get ready for tonight's feast. Mayhaps you will join me in the bath?"

"I am married," Catelyn whispered, though her eyes were glued to Lyonel's fingers as they deftly unlaced his breeches.

"Aye," Lyonel said, walking over to her with his half untied breeches. "To Lord Stark. An honourable man, but Starks are so cold."

Lyonel dropped his breeches and smallclothes at the same time. Catelyn gawped. "But I am warmth," the prince continued. "Let me show you." With that, he took her hand and put it on his hardened, obscenely large manhood.