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There had been no greater betrayal in her life. She would have preferred to be killed, burned, or drowned—anything, really. He betrayed her and their children, betraying everything they stood for. How could he? She wondered once again as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. It stung; she had wiped her cheeks so many times lately, at least it blurred the sorrow in her heart. She shook her head, crying so much for a man... she had sunk pretty low. But it wasn't just about her. He had left her and their children. Their five beautiful, clever children. She needed to see them, they were probably hurting. She should be with them right now. She would be soon. She should tell them what happened. Or maybe not. They knew, of course, they knew things weren’t right. And when she spoke to them on the phone, she heard the pain in their voices, but they hadn’t said anything. This wasn’t a story she wanted to share with them.
Twenty years.
Twenty years of marriage, twenty years of promises for love. She believed in all that; she even thought of him as her soulmate. Twenty years of happiness... all shattered now. Sure, she had a lot on her mind lately, and she often brought work home... but it didn’t seem to bother him that much. They shared almost everything; as the years went by, Ned had learned to open up to her and share his thoughts and doubts. She thought she knew him. She really did. Catelyn hugged the pillow tighter to her chest, stifling the sob that threatened to escape once more. She didn’t want her father to hear her, even though she knew he probably could. Her old room wasn't exactly comfortable, but at least she wasn’t there, in her room, in her bed. She could never go back there. Not after what Ned had done. She had only been away for four days. Four stupid days. Her work had wrapped up earlier than expected, and she had returned home early, hoping to surprise Ned. And she knew their children weren’t there. The house had been deathly quiet when she slipped inside, so she followed the light, leading her to their bedroom. Her throat tightened at the memory.
Ned was making love to another woman, passionately. The woman was moaning loudly, as if she owned the place, owned him. Catelyn stood frozen, her mouth drying up as she witnessed the betrayal unfolding right before her eyes. The man she loved, who comforted her every day, who whispered words of love when no one could hear, the man who had vowed to be faithful, the man who spoke of honor and embraced his children every morning... this man was betraying everything they had built... And Barbey Dustin, a woman who despised her, who had always tried to make her feel like an outcast in the family, was pulling her husband close, kissing his lips.
In her own home.
He cheated on her.
And then they saw her.
He caught sight of her, and the first thing he did was yank the sheet up to cover Barbey. She bolted, racing down the stairs, her mind a jumbled mess. She couldn’t find her voice, couldn’t even speak or scream. She fled the house, with nothing, nowhere to go. It hurt. It hurt so damn much. She found herself on Riverrun Street, panting, unsure how long she had wandered. Her hair was a mess, her face, her life, her beliefs. Tears blurred her vision when Edmure swung open the door, taken aback by her unexpected coming. She collapsed into his arms and wept. They were all there: her father, her uncle, her brother. They didn’t quite grasp what had happened, or maybe they did... but they stuck by her, holding her close. The Blackfish stayed that night, leading her to her bedroom and staying until she asked him to leave. In the darkness of the room, all she could see were flashes of Ned’s hand on the woman’s thigh. The way they kissed. The way she didn’t even see a hint of guilt in his eyes when looked at her. She hugged herself, loathing the turmoil within. She wanted just one thing: to be held by him. She craved something she couldn’t even bring herself to face at that moment. It haunted her every night.
He hurt her more deeply than anyone ever had before. Each call over the past three days was like a stab in the back, breaking her a little more each time. She couldn’t bring herself to talk to him, not yet. Her children didn’t deserve any of this. But she just couldn't go back there either. Not yet, not yet... Her father insisted she confront him; cheating was an issue they should discuss, not avoid. Edmure told her about his cheating friends and colleagues. They all cheated. All of them. But not Ned. Ned wasn’t a cheater. Ned stayed true to his word... he was the rock her life was built on.
He was that. Once.
Anew, a lump formed in her throat. She glanced around, seeking anything to ground herself. What time was it? Night? Noon? She hadn’t left her room, and her father had taken to bringing her meals there. She couldn’t eat. She had lost her appetite the previous night.
The previous night had been pure hell.
It had been the end.
He came to see her.
He dared.
Ned had dared to come to her father’s house, demanding to see her. Twenty years, and he was like a stranger. Her uncle nearly punched him in the face when he showed up. But Ned insisted on seeing her. He simply refused to leave. Eventually, he used the children as an excuse, so she allowed herself to meet with him.
She felt small as their eyes locked at the entrance of her childhood home. It hurt to meet his gaze, yet somehow, it also felt like taking a small breath again. The grey in his eyes was icy, a stark contrast to their usual warmth, for her. For a fleeting moment, she wished he would drop to his knees, beg for her forgiveness, plead for her return.
Twenty years.
Twenty years and he didn’t even flinch as tears pooled in her eyes. Where was her husband? This man certainly wasn’t him. Who was he? Had they already drifted so far apart? Ned couldn’t bear to see her cry; normally, he would have taken her in his arms. But not now. Instead, he handed her an envelope. She stared at it in confusion. They hadn’t exchanged a single word. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. The first word she saw when she pulled the paper out of the envelope was divorce.
Divorce.
Divorce.
It didn’t make sense in her mind. The word sounded false as it echoed in every part of her.
Divorce.
Then, her confusion turned into something different, it turned into a blazing rage. She unleashed a torrent of shouts and insults at him, her voice echoing through the house. "How could you?" she screamed, pleading for the sake of their marriage, for their family. But he remained silent. "Why, Ned? Why?" she cried out, tears streaming down her cheeks, yet he refused to meet her gaze. Who was this stranger standing before her? How could he ask for a divorce? They were so great together. Was it all a lie? She couldn’t breathe any more; she panted, staring at him, waiting for an answer.
"I’m sorry."
I’m sorry. Was that all? She wasn’t sure. It couldn’t be. Was this the extent of his remorse? It felt like a knife twisting in her already wounded heart. With a final, devastating silence, he turned his back on her, disappearing into the shadows of the night. She stood alone in the entrance, the world she knew crumbling at her feet.
His silence was like a mutilation of everything they had built together: the tender caresses, the loving gazes—now nothing more than bitter memories. He didn’t care. It meant nothing to him. She couldn’t speak; the envelope slipped from her hand, and she followed after it. Brynden came to her aid once more, leading her back to her room, or rather carrying her there. A room she hadn’t left ever since.
The distant rumble of a car caught her attention, and her heart skipped a beat. It had to be her children. She wanted to see them, hold them close, but at the same time, she dreaded facing them. They were the ones getting caught in the crossfire of her broken marriage. Rickon, her sweet three-year-old, wouldn’t understand. The thought of breaking his little heart tore at hers. She boiled with anger toward her husband, cursing him for his cowardice and betrayal. "Honor" was just a word now, as fleeting as the love he had once professed. It hurt to love him still. But the pain of his sudden departure gnawed at her, leaving a gaping hole in her heart.
"Catelyn?"
Her father's voice called from the other side of the door, breaking her reverie.
"They’re here," he said softly, his tone filled with concern.
It took her a moment to collect herself, to steel her nerves for what lay ahead. She sat at the vanity where she’d been for a long time, she took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. She couldn’t let her children see her fall apart. Quickly, she pulled her unruly hair into a messy bun and splashed water on her tired face, hoping to wash away the traces of tears. Their voices reached her before she even hit the bottom of the stairs, a cacophony that filled the air. As she descended, the familiar sounds grew louder, mingling with the thud of her racing heartbeat. But when she saw them, tear-streaked and searching for her, she felt her heartache with a new kind of hurt, worse.
He had done this.
They came running to her, arms outstretched, relief but confusion painted all over their faces. She held them close, showering them with kisses. Wiping away their tears and her own, she whispered words of comfort. Rickon cried, missing his dad. Robb was angry, his tears burning with frustration.
He had done this.
It hurt, and it hurt that she wanted Ned to be with them more than anything. He should be here, comforting his children, right where he belonged. But he left in a place she couldn’t follow, he left her to pick up the pieces.
He had done this and she would never forgive him for it.
*
Over time, Catelyn began to piece her life back together. For months, she had been devastated, grappling with the pain and confusion. She reached out to him repeatedly, mostly for the sake of their children, but he never responded. It was as if he had vanished into thin air, leaving no trace behind. Twenty years together were not easy to forget, memories of him lingered like shadows, haunting her every night. Where had he gone? Was he off living a new life with Barbey? Had he taken half of their money and disappeared to start afresh somewhere far away? In the end, the judge granted her full custody of their children, a decision made in his absence as he failed to even show up for the court proceedings. He had abandoned them all, leaving behind a trail of unanswered questions and broken hearts. He never bothered to reach out to his children again after callously dropping them off at Riverrun Street. His actions were unforgivable. They were left hurt, disgusted, and filled with anger. Robb and Sansa made it clear that they wanted nothing to do with him ever again, and Catelyn couldn't bring herself to disagree.
She glanced at the date on the calendar, her heart sinking as she realized what day it was. Turning to the window, she sought solace in the tranquil sight of the ocean, its calm surface a stark contrast to the tumult raging within her. Today should have been their 25th wedding anniversary, a milestone now…. Did he ever think of her? Their children? Did he even remember their birthdays? But why did she even care? He was nothing.
Nothing.
After the divorce, which he skipped out on too, she had taken their children and left King’s Landing for a better life down south in Westeros. He wouldn’t come here. The weather was too hot. Suddenly the quiet of her morning was interrupted by the banging of the door often mistreated by her children. The house was quiet when they were away, but now they had friends and sought solace in each other's company, navigating through their difficulties as best they could. It hadn't been easy for them, but they had managed to find pockets of joy amidst the chaos.
She did everything she could to ensure their happiness. Night after night, she sang them lullabies as they cried themselves to sleep, especially her youngest. And then, once they were finally asleep, she would retreat to her room, where her tears flowed freely in the solitude of the night.
Sometimes, in moments of loneliness, she sought solace in the arms of other men. They provided a temporary distraction, but it didn’t mean anything. It was just sex. She wasn’t ready to love again. She still loved him. Not the spiteful Ned, but him, her Ned. From before. The one who had told her he loved her just before she went on the infamous business trip. It was the last time she’d seen him. The last time he kissed her, in their home, in Winterfell.
Her children pushed open the kitchen door, offering a fleeting hello before returning to their tasks. Just then, the phone rang for the third time. She suspected it was her father, eager to discuss more business matters. Since her departure from Stark Company to pursue her life, she had been wanting change. Despite her lifelong career as a lawyer, she had successfully found her footing in an agency specializing in cultural affairs within the city. While grateful for her father's support, she deemed two calls sufficient for the day. Disregarding the persistent ringing, she made her way towards the living room, only to be intercepted by the phone once more, scarcely seconds later.
"Gods be good," she muttered, snatching up the receiver with haste. "I told you I’d call you later," she exclaimed, her voice edged with frustration.
"Hello, Catelyn."
The sound of his voice froze the blood in her veins, sending a shiver down her spine. It was unmistakable. Ned. Memories flooded back, overwhelming her senses. Why, Ned, why? The recollection of that dreadful night when he was with Barbey flashed before her eyes. And when he had wordlessly handed her divorce papers. Or the day he had left the children on the doorstep and walked away without a backward glance. She was left speechless, stunned by the overwhelming resurgence of emotions. Swiftly, she replaced the phone on its base, unable to bear the weight of the memories that had just fallen upon her shoulders.
She stared off into space, the pulsating sound in her ears drowning out everything else.
How could he? Of all days.
The phone rang again.
No, she wouldn't pick up. She just couldn't.
It stopped its insistent ringing. It took her a moment to realize that the phone in the kitchen was connected to the one in the living room. No. Oh no. Catelyn bolted from the kitchen to see who had answered in the other room. No, please, not this. But it was too late. Rickon held the phone to his ear. She stared at him, and he looked up at her, puzzled by her sudden appearance. Had they spoken? Said hello? Rickon couldn't recall him, or his voice. He was only three when Ned left. They were practically strangers.
"It's for you," he said, handing her the phone. She held her breath as she brought it to her ear.
"I know you can hear me, Cat," the voice on the other end declared. No. How could he? She wasn't Cat to him anymore. He had lost the right to call her that. Why was he calling now? It was too late to reach out.
"Was that Bran?"
She had her breaking point, and he was dangerously close to it. Anger surged within her, as it always did whenever she dwelled too long on thoughts of him. Why did he even care if it was Bran? He had no right. Her voice turned icy when she finally spoke to him.
"Why are you calling?"
A chuckle echoed through the phone. She despised it, despised how she could vividly picture his face, know his expressions and mannerisms, yet remain clueless about his intentions.
"I was thinking about you. It’s a special day," he remarked.
She wanted to scream. Rickon's gaze bore into her, and she retreated into the kitchen. He didn’t need to be exposed to this.
"You disappeared. You never answered me. You have no right to call today special or even think about me. It means nothing."
"I miss you. And them."
The nerve.
"Too late for that."
"Come on Cat. You know it’s not true."
She despised him. Who was he to act so arrogantly and sarcastically? Not a word about the five years they spent apart. Not a hint of remorse. Just sheer selfishness.
"How dare you?" she retorted, seething with anger at his presumption that they could engage in casual conversation, or that he still possessed any claim over her.
The kitchen door burst open with a resounding bang, causing Catelyn to startle, her grip on the phone slipping slightly. Sansa stood in the doorway, her eyes ablaze with a mixture of fury and hurt. Catelyn's heart raced as she instinctively lowered the phone, her breath catching in her throat as Sansa marched forward and snatched it away before she could protest.
"Sansa!" Catelyn yelled, reaching out futilely for the phone.
"Hey, it's Sansa. Remember me? Your daughter? The one you abandoned?" Sansa's words cut through the tension like a knife, her tone patterned with bitterness and betrayal. Yeah, that's right. I heard Mom talking on the phone, and I knew it was you," Sansa continued, her voice trembling with emotion. "You're pathetic, you know that? A coward, too scared to face the mess you left behind. And don't even get me started on the lies. I hate you. Don't you dare call us again, ever again. Mom doesn't need you, none of us do."
Sansa's words hit Catelyn like a ton of bricks, leaving her stunned and speechless. She watched helplessly as Sansa choked back a sob, her fingers trembling as she pressed the hang-up button with shaky hands. Without hesitation, Catelyn enveloped her in a tight embrace, holding her steady against her. She guided her to the living room, her heart aching with the knowledge of the pain her daughter was going through. Catelyn made a solemn vow to herself at that moment, swearing that she would never again allow herself to feel love, hate, or any emotion toward the man who had caused her so much pain. In her mind, he ceased to exist; he was as good as dead to her.
*
"Let's meet here in forty minutes. Clear? Don't make me come looking for you."
The five pairs of eyes nodded eagerly before scattering in different directions. She gripped Rickon's arm firmly, sensing his desire to accompany Robb.
"Mo-om, I want to go with Robb," Rickon pleaded as he tried to get away.
Predictable, she thought.
"You're sticking with me, young man," she replied firmly. All her kids had been difficult to reign when they reached the age of ten but Rickon was without a doubt the wildest of them all.
He sighed heavily, his now slumped posture revealing his discontent. But it wouldn't sway her decision. Glancing around the mall, she tried to recall the route to the store where she needed to purchase supplies. She despised malls, with their crowds of questionable characters and dubious ethics. Yet, unfortunately, they were the most convenient option when it came to shopping for her children's clothes all at once.
As they strolled, she dialed her sister's number to arrange a meeting for next week. After a few rings, Lysa answered, and they engaged in a lengthy conversation. Catelyn slowed her pace, eventually coming to a stop as she listened to her sister's monologue. This conversation wouldn't be brief; Lysa had a knack for delving into every detail.
Rickon, growing impatient, pointed towards a video game store just across the corridor. Catelyn nodded, permitting him to go. He dashed off in a second.
She found a bench facing the video game store and settled onto it, continuing her conversation with her sister, or rather simply listening. She glanced around the brightly decorated mall, adorned with Christmas ornaments. She had no fondness for Christmas, as it invariably meant enduring the annual journey to King’s Landing to visit her father. The memories associated with King’s Landing were far from pleasant—ones she wished she could erase.
It reminded her of the unknown number who had called her the previous week. That call had stayed on her mind ever since. Deep down she knew it was him. She just knew it. And she hadn’t called back. But when she got home she went to the photo boxes and looked at old pictures.
Smiling faces... births, anniversaries, parties, vacations. Amidst them all, she had set aside five particular pictures—the ones of Ned cradling their babies for the first time.
She remembered the wonder in his eyes when Robb was born, the tenderness he showed Sansa, the pride he felt for Arya, the fear he endured when Bran nearly didn't make it, and the sheer joy he exuded with Rickon. He had loved them all so deeply. And now, he wouldn't even speak to them. Bran and Rickon couldn't recall him, but the other three did, and they resented him deeply.
Many times, she had fielded questions about him, particularly from Bran and Rickon, who wanted to know why he had left them. She didn't have the answers. In truth, she should have been the one to leave, but he didn’t even let her. Now, she needed to find Rickon. She needed the comfort of someone she loved. She put an end to Lysa’s elegy and headed towards the store.
"Cat."
Right out of the blue.
Like lightning on a dark night.
Her heart plummeted to the depths of her being. When she turned around, he was standing there, the man who had vanished without a goodbye.
He hadn’t changed much. Eyes as grey as ever. Beard neatly trimmed. Perhaps there were a few more strands of gray in his hair. What was she supposed to do now? No song or novel had ever prepared her for this moment. She felt paralyzed, unable to move or speak. They stood there, staring at each other in silence. There was curiosity, of course, and his eyes were searching for hers.
For a brief moment, she forgot everything else. It was as if they were back in Winterfell, happy and content. He studied her, taking in her appearance. Had she changed? Undoubtedly. The sorrow had certainly carved some wrinkles in her face, that or the five kids he had let her alone to deal with. With that realization, she snapped back to reality.
Seven years had gone by. No word, not a sign, except for these ridiculous phone calls. His sudden appearance felt like a deliberate cruelty. Why did he have to come back? What purpose did it serve now, after all this time? She bit her lip, struggling to contain her emotions.
"You haven't changed," he said softly.
Why, Ned? Why torment her so much?
"They've grown up so much," he continued.
They? Oh, the children. The ones he left. For how long had he been watching them?
"Why are you here?" she whispered, her voice was soft. She was so tired of this endless cycle of hurt and longing.
He took a step closer, and instinctively, she stepped back.
"I need to speak with you," he insisted.
"Don't you think it's a little late for that?" she retorted, her voice laced with bitterness.
Catelyn hated the conflicting emotions she felt. Despite all the pain Ned had caused, a part of her, buried deep down, still felt love for him. With this second of distraction, he reached for her hand. His touch was familiar and comforting. She missed him, missed this. But he wasn't her husband anymore, so she withdrew her hand, severing the small connexion they just shared.
"Please, let's sit down for a coffee," he offered, his gaze searching hers.
"Are you out of your mind?" she snapped, incredulous. How could he? What if her children caught sight of him? It would only reopen old wounds. Robb had made it clear recently that he never wanted to hear about his father again. Was he right? Should she honor his wishes and shield them from further pain? Should she allow Ned to see them? She didn't know.
"You should leave," she added hastily, avoiding his gaze. "That shouldn't be too hard for you."
He flinched at her words, and she felt a small satisfaction. It was what he deserved. But he remained steadfast, attempting once more to reach for her hand.
"Ned, if you still possess the honor you once spoke of, then use it and leave now," she demanded, her voice tinged with desperation.
Yes, she wanted him gone. It was the right thing to do. Back to being nothing, only a memory.
"Honor... I lost that the moment I handed you those papers," he confessed.
That, and Barbey, she thought. Was he mocking her? Was that a game for him? Who was he?
"They can't see you. You've hurt them too much," she declared, meeting his gaze squarely. "I'll never forgive you for that."
With those words hanging in the air, she turned away, hoping he would respect her wishes and let her leave. But, as expected, he followed, calling her name and grasping her arm. She felt a surge of frustration. Enough was enough. Turning back, she pushed him away.
"Stop!" she shouted, enough for him to have at least the decency to feel shame. "Don't you understand? I never want to see you again. Ever. I hate you. There's nothing you'll gain here. Not from me, or the children. I couldn't care less about your feelings or thoughts. Don't ever speak to me again."
The heat of the moment enveloped her, her blood boiling with fury. He wasn't listening, ignoring her pleas as he took her hands in his, drawing her closer. He begged her to listen, disregarding her earlier words.
"Catelyn, please, listen to me, listen Cat, listen" he pleaded. "Listen to me, listen."
She fought against his grip, feeling suffocated by his presence. He was all over her. She couldn’t breathe. But then he pulled her too tightly against him, crossing a line she couldn't tolerate. Without hesitation, her hand met his cheek with a resounding slap, the sound echoing around them. Everything stopped. She had slapped him.
His hand was on his cheek.
Her mouth was dry.
People were staring.
Rickon was staring.
It was all his fault. Ned had done this. He had done this. Again.
She took a step back, siding with her son. What was he thinking? Did he remember his father? Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she gently nudged him in the opposite direction. "Let's go," she murmured, hoping he would comply.
But Rickon didn't move. Of course, he didn't. He stood his ground, his eyes fixed on Ned. And Ned, in turn, gazed back at him. This was not how Rickon should meet his father. Not like this, never like this.
"You're my father, aren't you?" Rickon finally asked, his voice small and uncertain.
Ned nodded silently, a faint smile playing on his lips. No, he had no right to claim the title of Rickon's father. He had abandoned him when he was just three years old.
"I am indeed your father, Rickon. I'm sorry you had to witness this," Ned replied.
Rickon leaned against her slightly, his chin held high. "And I'm sorry you are what they say you are," he added
Catelyn gasped, shocked by her son's boldness. She didn't know who had filled Rickon's mind with such thoughts about Ned. The memory of Rickon begging for his father at three years old flooded back, shattering her heart once again. He took her hand. He wanted to stay, she knew. He had questions. She couldn’t refuse him. She simply squeezed his hand back.
"Why?" Rickon questioned Ned.
"It's complicated, son," Ned began, struggling to find the right words.
"I'm not your son," Rickon retorted, his tone defiant, but tinged with his sweet innocence.
She wanted to scold him for his disrespect, but deep down, she knew he was right.
"I..." Ned faltered, searching for an explanation. "Rickon, things... things don't always turn out the way we hope they would."
Rickon shook his head, his red curls swaying with the motion. "I don't understand. What is it you hope for?"
"I don't know, it's complicated," Ned admitted, his voice heavy with regret.
"Yeah, right," Rickon scoffed, his frustration evident in his tone. "I hate you."
Catelyn tightened her grip on his hand, offering support, or whatever her son needed. He began to talk like a grown-up. He leaned further against her. Not that all grown up. Then Ned looked up at her.
"Whatever you've told them about me, I hope you're satisfied," Ned muttered bitterly.
This was pushing her beyond her limits.
"They don't need me to dislike you," she snapped back, her voice edged with frustration. Stepping forward, she shielded Rickon behind her. "You're the only one responsible for this, the only one to blame."
"Right, as if you were a saint yourself," he shot back.
What was his point? This man standing before her was a mere shadow of the person she once knew. He was a stranger now. There was no point in arguing with him. No, she wouldn't stoop to his level. She was better than that.
"Let's go," she said firmly, turning away from him.
She stole one last glance at him, noticing the mix of pride and pain in his eyes. But what about their pain? With Rickon in tow, she walked away from him.
"I still love you, Cat," he called after her.
It felt like a dagger to her heart. She couldn't bear this. It was madness. The tears threatened to spill over, her frustration reaching its peak. She kept walking, determined not to break down in front of her son.
"Let me give you answers. Please, my love."
How dare he say that after years of silence? Just when she thought she had finally laid their love to rest. Oh God, how she had loved him once. But her husband was dead. A different time, a different man. This wasn't Ned. He didn't love her. Why, Ned, why? Would she be weak if she... if only...? All she had wanted was answers all this time. Maybe... maybe she would finally get them. Answers. She wanted those answers.
"Please, my love," he pleaded again.
My love. She squeezed her eyes shut. No, she wasn't his love. But to hear him say it... Her resolve melted, and she turned to speak to Rickon.
"Rickon, go find your brother. Tell him to take you all home and text me," she instructed firmly. He hesitated, but she pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Go sweetling, I'll be fine." She watched attentively as he darted off in the right direction before turning her attention back to Ned. "Alright. Let's talk then."
He seemed pleased with himself, but one thing was certain; she wasn't.
"Let's sit down for coffee. Double espresso with milk?" he suggested with a smile. She despised him, but she nodded nonetheless.
They walked in silence to a small cafeteria at the end of the hall. It felt both natural and wrong. He breathed heavily beside her, and the weight of their past hung heavy in the air. It was too painful. They sat down, and she removed her scarf and gloves. He did the same, his gaze lingering on her every movement. It bothered her, reminding her too much of the past. He was supposed to speak first, but the words spilled out from her lips before he could begin.
"Why, Ned? Why?" It felt like a release to finally voice this aloud to him. She had pondered over it countless times. "What changed?"
He lowered his eyes. "I couldn't do it anymore," he murmured.
"Do what? Love us? Love me?" she demanded, her voice laced with hurt.
"I don't know," he admitted quietly.
"You don't know?" she repeated incredulously, her frustration mounting.
Silence.
"I couldn't breathe," he finally confessed.
Silence.
"You said you loved me." Her throat tightened. Her eyes stung with tears.
"I still do," he said, meeting her gaze with a smile. She recoiled slightly, removing her hand from the table when he reached for it.
"I don't think you do. If you did, you wouldn't be here."
Their cups arrived, but she had no desire to drink with him.
"Hurting you was never my intention," he insisted, his tone filled with misplaced confidence.
"No one has hurt me like you did," she shot back bitterly, a single tear escaping down her cheek. "Do you have any idea of the pain you caused? Our children. They were happy. Did you even think of them when you left? Do you know how hard it was to tell them I didn't know where you went? I'll never forgive you. And neither will they."
Another tear fell, and Ned stared at it in silence.
Silent as ever.
Only silence.
"If you don't have an explanation, then I'll just go," she whispered, reaching for her gloves.
He watched her silently.
"Do you still have your ring?" he suddenly asked, catching her off guard.
He was supposed to provide answers, not ask questions. He pulled a chain from around his neck, revealing his wedding ring—a silver band, just like hers. Their wedding... wasted away. So far now.
"I don’t understand Ned. I really don’t." She tore her eyes from the ring. "You’re nothing like the man who wore this ring."
Silence.
He was too cruel.
He had broken her once. It wouldn’t happen twice.
"Goodbye, then," she said, standing up and placing her hand over his. "I'm sorry for you. The man I loved would have despised who you've become."
Many emotions danced on his face. None Catelyn could put a name on.
"The kids?" he asked quietly.
"Don't go near them. Or I'll call the police," she warned sternly.
Grey, grey more grey.
As she looked into his eyes, all she saw was grey—a shade of grey she didn't know.
"Goodbye, Ned," she said one final time, before turning and walking away.
As soon as she stepped out of the mall, she felt her breath quicken, her lips trembling with pent-up emotion. She stopped in her tracks, pressing herself against a nearby wall for support. Gasping for air, she slid down slowly onto a nearby bench. It hurt. It hurt so much. This world seemed unbearably cruel, and he... he was the cruelest of all.
The air felt like it was searing her lungs, every breath a struggle. She clutched her hands together tightly, trying to anchor what little was left of her. He was gone, she had left, and yet he had managed to shatter her all over again. His silence was suffocating, deafening. Nothing. Only silence.
A sob escaped her lips, followed by another. She felt an overwhelming despair—for herself, for her children, for Ned. Where was he now? He had to be somewhere out there, anywhere. Why? How? They had been so happy back in Winterfell, in their home, far, so far away.
She buried her face in her hands as if to shield herself from the agony threatening to consume her.
"Ma'am, are you okay?" A lady stood before her, a little old lady with pity etched all over her face. Catelyn shook her head; she couldn't bring herself to lie. She hadn't been okay in years. The old lady pulled a tissue out of her bag and sat beside her.
"What's the matter, child? Are you hurt?"
Catelyn shook her head again, her emotions too raw to speak. The lady gently pulled her hair back. "Whoever did this... no one should be this sad. Pray to the gods, child; they'll guide you."
Catelyn offered a half-smile through her tears. "They must be deaf then."
The old lady reached out, gently patting her knee. "Sometimes, my dear, there are no easy answers," she said softly. "But know that you are not alone in your pain. The gods are always watching over us, ready to offer guidance and support in our darkest hours."
Catelyn managed a small, grateful smile through her tears. "Thank you," she whispered. She didn’t believe in that, not anymore.
The old lady returned her smile, her eyes twinkling with kindness. "Of course, dear. Now, would you like me to call someone for you? A friend or family member who can offer you comfort and support?"
Catelyn shook her head, "No, thank you," she replied, her voice steadier now. "I'll go find my children.
The old lady nodded approvingly. "You do that, darling," she said, giving Catelyn's hand a reassuring squeeze. "And remember, no matter how dark the night may seem, the dawn will always bring a new day." The woman left and Catelyn took a moment to steady herself before going home, to her children.
Closing the door behind her, Catelyn felt a wave of relief wash over her as she stepped into the familiar comfort of her home. "I'm here," she called out into the quiet house, her voice echoing in the hallway. In the stillness that followed, she took a moment to glance at her reflection in the nearby mirror. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, a telltale sign of the things that had happened at the mall.
Before long, the sound of voices reached her ears from the living room. Steadying her breath she made her way there to meet them. As she entered the room, she was met with a somber atmosphere. Silence again. She hated silence.
Her gaze landed on Rickon, and she just knew. Of course, he would have told them about the encounter at the mall.
Putting on a brave front, Catelyn offered her children a small smile, hoping to reassure them despite the heavy situation. "I'm sorry you had to hear about this," she began softly, but before she could finish, Sansa threw herself into her arms, embracing her tightly. Surprised at first, Catelyn soon relaxed into her daughter's embrace, returning the gesture with equal warmth.
"It's okay, Sansa," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "I’m okay."
Sansa shook her head, "No you’re not." guiding her to sit on the couch.
Robb sat on her other side. And faced her seriously. "We are the ones who are sorry, Mom."
Catelyn's heart clenched at her children's words, and she shook her head vehemently. "Oh, no, no, never," she replied quickly, her voice trembling. "You shouldn't be sorry. He should," she added, her eyes growing distant as she recalled the painful encounter at the mall. His silence... his silence had been deafening. "He should be sorry," she repeated, her breath quickening with the weight of her emotions. "He's the only one who should be sorry." Her voice trailed off, her thoughts consumed by the unfairness of it all. How could he still love her after all he had done? And how could she still love him in return? It wasn't fair. She wasn't strong enough for this—wasn't strong enough for her children.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her gaze dropping to her trembling hands. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she repeated, the words tumbling from her lips in a desperate plea for forgiveness. Tears blurred her vision until all she could see were the shadows of her own failures.
I’m sorry.
Sorry.
"I miss him." Robb’s voice broke the heavy atmosphere. His eyes glistened with crocodile tears as he sat beside her. No, don’t cry, she wanted to tell him. Don’t. Glancing to her other side, she saw Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Rickon—all of them bearing the same expression. They missed him too.
"Yeah," Catelyn whispered softly, her voice catching in her throat, her eyes far away, moist from crying. "I do too."
It felt like a looming fatality, an inevitability they could never escape. There was no coming back from this loss.
Not ever.
*
Two years later.
She quietly opened the mail in the kitchen, exhaustion weighing heavily on her after a long day at work. All she wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep, but she knew her children, bustling around the house, would never allow her such luxury. Their energy was truly boundless, filling the air with more noise than an entire army. But the noise was good. She had once thought that with time, the older ones would calm down, but that notion felt like a distant dream now. As she sorted through the pile of letters, her eyes caught sight of one with her name and address scrawled on it, devoid of any official logo or claim. With a furrowed brow, she twisted it in her hands, trying to discern its origin.
Upon opening it, her breath caught in her throat as she recognized the familiar handwriting. One from long ago. She knew instantly who had sent it. Her heart began to race as she unfolded the letter, her hands trembling slightly. It was from him. She read.
"Catelyn, my dearest Catelyn,
A name I never thought I’d stop saying. I'm late, painfully late, my love, but here, finally, is the explanation you've pleaded for all this time. Allow me to steal a moment of your time once more. How cruel a thing, time can be.
Last week, I visited a doctor, and he delivered news that shook me to my core. I'm sick, my love. Very sick. Please, forgive me, for I never wanted to burden you with such news. The doctor told me I have a brain tumor, one that is likely beyond any hope of healing. He told me it started nine years ago, on that infamous business trip you went to. I remember it vividly now as if it were yesterday. I tripped—what a time for making jokes, right? You must think me a fool, but perhaps I'm just hoping to elicit a chuckle from you one last time if nothing else.
I tripped and fell down the stairs, a seemingly innocuous accident with far-reaching consequences. The doctor said I must have hit my head then, though there were no visible wounds. That fall would be the catalyst that would change everything. I cannot say how long I lay there on the floor, lost in the void between consciousness and oblivion. Minutes? Hours? Days, even? But enough to awaken a tumor that had been dormant there. It settled in, unwelcome, and with it, it took everything that I was. It's difficult to put into words, to make sense of it. I didn't feel like myself—not in the slightest. I forgot. I forgot who I was, the life I had built, the family I held dear... I forgot you, my love. All that was me seemed to vanish into thin air, leaving behind a hollow shell of a man who felt nothing. All of me was gone. The tumor blurred everything. I couldn’t feel anything anymore, I couldn’t feel love.
That’s when I made the worst mistake of my life. I am filled with remorse, Catelyn, beyond measure. I am sorry. I am so deeply sorry.
Now I remember. The doctor gave me medication and specialized treatments that allowed lucidity to return to me—leftover of memories, of consciousness. I lost myself in a bar and sought solace in the arms of a woman who was not you. I asked for a divorce. I spoke words I cannot take back. Not even words. But you’ll always be my wife, no matter the law or the gods. I remember everything about us.
But now that I do remember, I know that I can never atone for the pain I have caused you, for the wounds I have inflicted upon our family. Perhaps this tumor, this punishment, is all that I deserve. No man should forsake his children, regardless of the state of his heart. I am not a man.
Two years ago, we crossed paths at a mall, and you were as radiant as ever, my love. But back then, I was but a shadow of a man, devoid of recognition or understanding. It was only with the assistance of medication that these memories were stirred within me. A mere week ago, I didn’t know our children—Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Rickon. Or you. This, too, is my punishment—for having forgotten, for having forsaken us.
And it pains me to long for you all beside me, to yearn for a reality where none of this ever occurred. But I have no right to such wishes. Hate me, Catelyn, for I deserve every ounce of your resentment. Hate me, and I'll despise myself in turn. Because I love you. I love you and our children, despite everything, I am filled with joy knowing they had you by their side when I could not be there. They’re great, our children. I can never make it up to them, and I’m sorry I’ll never have the chance to. The doctor told me I don’t have long.
I do not seek your forgiveness, I don’t deserve it. But it would have been selfish of me to die letting you believe I stopped loving our family. I won’t be there when you receive this letter, the hospital takes forever to send the damn mail.
Don’t be sad my love, it is the way things are meant to be, as the gods made them. I don’t want to give you any more pain. I died nine years ago, when I stopped being there for you, because what’s life if you’re not in it?
Catelyn, Cat, my dearest love, keep smiling, you are made to smile, there’s nothing more beautiful, it illuminates the world. Smile for our children, smile to your friends, smile when spring knocks on your door and flowers bloom, and smile in the winter when there’s snow falling. And when you do, think of me.
I died nine years ago. Thank you for the life we shared. I am eternally grateful for our time together. I am sorry for the pain I have caused. I trust we will all meet again if you’ll still have me. I will think of you and our children when I close my eyes.
I loved you, I love you, now and forever,
Ned."
Dead? Ned was dead? He died nine years ago. No. He died just now. Now. Ned was dead. Ned, her love, the father of her children. A tumor? Catelyn began to stutter, and then maybe she screamed because Robb was holding her to his chest really hard. Ned was dead. For real. And he was sick, all this time. Nine years of anger, confusion, and heartbreak. Ned, the love of her life. Sick, dead. Robb held her tighter. And Sansa too perhaps. They held her hands, stopping her from scratching her face. They held her from breaking entirely. Smile, he said. But how could she? Smile when everything shattered into a million pieces, her beliefs crumbling around her. Smile? She could never.
And she never did again. Catelyn Tully, once Stark, lived and waited for her children to forge their path, finding solace in their happiness. And on December 5th, ten years day to day after her lover’s death, Catelyn suffered a lethal heart stroke that put an end to her pain.
.