Chapter Text
She rolled off and away from him, limbs heavy and tingling with pleasure, and a low hum escaped her lips. He turned to his side, resting his head on his elbow to watch her come back to herself. He could smell her hair and he could smell their sex, and something like love and pride swelling in his chest that someone so beautiful would be his, and that he could make her feel like that.
"Oh, I still can't catch my breath, Ned," she giggled a little, raising her arm to fling over her forehead, and he risked a finger trailing down her chest, starting at the hollow of her neck, picking up slick beads of sweat between her breasts, still puckered from his earlier attentions. She shivered at the touch - he knew how sensitive she was in these moments - but she did not swat his hand away as she might normally do.
"Has something made you lose your breath, Lady Stark? Is it the cold of the morning?" he teased, lowering his hand to grip her hipbone.
She pulled her arm back to slowly raise an eyebrow at him. "Someone seems rather proud of himself, my Lord," she countered.
"I do not know what you mean, my lady. Have I done something I should be proud of?"
* * * * *
Was it the ale or the wedding, or just being away from the children for the first time ever in their marriage that had brought out this playful side to Ned? Catelyn had been uneasy about leaving the children alone at Winterfell, even for just a week, but Ned had refused to go to the wedding if she did not come with him, and she knew it would look terrible for Winterfell to not be represented. He was playing to her sense of duty and honor, she knew, but in the end, she was glad she had consented. Despite missing the children at nearly every moment, it had been wonderful to not have any large responsibilities looming over her, other than to look pretty when her presence was requested, speak politely with the other ladies, and congratulate the joining houses on the marriage.
A day after their arrival, the men had left the castle for a three day hunt. But Ned had confessed it was a Northern tradition to get the poor lad, just days away from his marriage, appallingly drunk, and then scare him with made-up stories about the wrath of women, the terrors of raising children, and make him drink for a few days straight.
Ned had laughed at the shocked look on her face, but explained "don't you see - when the real thing proves easier, he will be so grateful, and hopefully good to his wife and children?"
She had been unable to form a proper reply before Ned had kissed her soundly and walked down the hall to the stables to ready his horse for the journey.
She spent the next three days with the ladies around the castle. Despite her reservations, she enjoyed the time they had spent together. She slept soundly, though missing the heat that was always Ned's body beside hers. After breaking her fast in her room, she would wander the gardens and nearby woods with Lady Wull and Lady Liddle - both of the Northern clans and clearly accustomed to being out of doors even more than she. They would walk and talk of their children, their husbands, and their own weddings. Catelyn could not bring herself to truly confide in these strangers, but she could laugh and make polite inquiry. It was the closest she had had to friends in a long time.
In the evenings, the wine flowed freely, and the women would sew, play games, or just sip their cups around the fire, exchanging stories. At first, Catelyn felt like the outsider - she was the only one who had been born in the South - but the women seemed to accept her as one of their own after the first night. It helped that a maid from House Umber had appeared at her door the second morning, asking if she might help with Lady Stark's hair.
The men had returned on the third day, the husband-to-be looking just a little worse for wear, but with a grim determination on his face.
She had met Ned's eyes when the horses came in. His grey eyes probably looked cold to everyone else in audience, but she noticed how they washed over her as she curtseyed - she felt their heat upon her breasts, which were pushed up pleasantly against the sheer fabric that pulled against them. She felt it again as he dismounted and kissed her gloved hand, pulling her a little closer than was probably proper as he did so, but then he turned abruptly to see to his horses.
They had met again after he had bathed and dressed. He found her in the hall with the other women, laughing quietly as they observed the betrothed attempting to speak to each other in a casual fashion, mere hours before they would be wed.
He had bowed politely to all the ladies, then pulled her from the group, enjoying her blush as he led her to a small alcove. She could smell the ale on his breath, but he was otherwise clean. She almost wished he didn't have to bathe. There was something about her husband after a few days out in the woods - no bath, unshaven, hair unkempt - that Catelyn was attracted to.
She could tell in his gait and easy smile at her that he had, at least momentarily, loosened the tight grip he normally kept over being the Lord of Winterfell. It was good to see him so relaxed.
"I missed you, Cat." He kissed her hand again, casting another appreciative gaze over her dress. "Is this a new dress, my lady?" He reached out a finger to trace the outline of her breasts.
"Ned!" She looked around them. They were alone and no one was so much as looking their way. "Yes, I...I had it remade for this occasion."
"You look lovely," he said simply, his finger continuing it's travels along the hemline of her gown. She willed herself to breathe normally.
"Did you enjoy your time away, my lord?" she changed the subject, reaching up to pull his hand into hers, not wanting to go down a path that would have to dead-end shortly before the marriage ceremony.
"Oh, we had a laugh, yes. But, I confess..." he leaned in closer to her. "All the stories exchanged about how to properly please a woman," Catelyn pulled back, eyes wide, "only made me wish to hurry home to you..."