Her father didn't know until the morning of the wedding, when Catelyn could no longer keep the truth from him any longer, and by then he looked ready to tear out his own hair. She was suppose to be the responsible one, his right hand until Edmure came of age, and she should have known better than to give herself up to any man before marriage, even her betrothed. Lysa in turn confessed to her own scandalous activities - with Petyr of all boys - and Catelyn wished to sink below the Red Fork never to rise. How could both of Hoster Tully's daughters proven so reckless and wanton?

"You don't have to take moon tea." Father said to her quietly. Lysa shrieked in indignation, her eyes filling with tears, and fled.

"Father, what have you done to Lysa?"

He raised a hand signaling her to stop, his face as red as his hair, "You will speak only when spoken to!"

Catelyn shrunk. She could not presume that she would be treated with the gentleness and trust she had always known, not when she had broken that trust and dishonored her family so terribly.

Hoster continued, "You are not far along, only a few weeks?" She nodded. "Then there its a simple remedy: tell Lord Eddard that the child is his. If the child does not resemble you, he will still have the appearance of a Stark."

Catelyn's mouth became as dry as the Dornish sands, but she nodded. Her father slumped in his seat and covered his face with his hands; and only know does Catelyn see the grey hairs against the red. Rebellious children being their parents to an early grave, her septa used to say.

The wedding she had been dreaming of since she was twelve never happened. She wass not Brandon's bride, but his brother's, the maiden cloak felt like a lie, and the war loomed over everyone's heads like a coming storm. Lysa wed to Jon Arynn the same day, a commitment she was very unhappy to make because her new husband was older than their father. The northmen, valemen, and rivermen feast and drink and sing together, oblivious to the secrets being kept from them by their hosts.

Catelyn spent a great deal of time looking at her husband and resisting the urge to cradle her belly. Lord Eddard was not as tall as his brother was, nor as handsome and well-spoken. Her life would have been so much better if Brandon had been to one to put the direwolf cloak on her shoulders. They were unkind, unfair thoughts, especially from such a deceitful woman as herself, but they keep coming all throughout the night.

The bedding ceremony went by in a blur, though she remembered the feeling of stares and the sound of japes. She was thrown into a room alone with Lord Eddard, both of them naked. It was awkward in a way it never had been with Brandon.

"I suppose now we do our duty." Lord Eddard approacheed her.

"I can't." Catelyn cries. Seeing the stunned look on his face, she scrambles for an explanation but all that comes to mind is the truth, "Brandon and I...I'm pregnant... with your nephew or niece." Fool! She screamed to herself. He doesn't have to know. Her father had been right but the truth fell from her lips like a slippery fish. Her body felt bloated and she succumbed to the irresistible urge to weep.

Lord Eddard put on his robe. Catelyn half expected him to throw her from the room exposing her shame, but instead he covered her as well and cleaned away her tears with a handkerchief. "My lady..." He was at a loss for words, but the softness in his eyes showed his meaning well enough. For the first time, Catelyn's heart warmed for him.

Someone started rumors the next morning, someone with very good hearing, and Catelyn denied nothing.

Ned, as her husband liked to be called, wrote to her frequently, asking after her health and bringing news from the war-front. He spoke highly of his friend Robert Baratheon and expressed a desire to see her again. Hoster Tully wished for them to meet again so Winterfell does not slip into Benjen Stark's hands should his goodson fall in battle.

In the meantime, Catelyn's pregnancy continued. Edmure watched in wonder as her belly swelled while Lysa looked on with envy in her tear-filled eyes.

"It's not fair." She lamented one day while they are doing needlework. "You did the same thing I did, so why is it that you get to keep your baby but I don't?"

The answer should be obvious, but somehow it eluded Catelyn. "You have your reputation. As far as anyone else knows, I'm the soiled daughter, not you."

"I'd rather have a baby." Lysa complained.

"And you will someday," Catelyn replied, her patience already wearing thin, "a trueborn son of House Arynn. Until then people will comfort you for the shame of having a slut for a sister. How fortunate for you, getting everything you want. "

Lysa looked wounded, "You're the one who got everything she wanted and everyone liked you better than me."

"Well now our positions are reversed, are they not?" Catelyn shut her mouth from fear she will say something cruel. Lysa has always been sensitive. "It'll all be alright in the end, just wait a bit longer." She wasn't sure if she is speaking to Lysa or herself.

The morning before her child was born, Catelyn receives a letter from Ned confirming that if she had a boy they would name him Robb and if she had a girl they would name her Minisa. Robb Rivers, Minisa Rivers. Hopefully her father would not be too upset about having to raise the child in Riverrun and it might do Edmure good to have a small child to look after like a big brother.

Robb came into the world screaming and red-faced. With his auburn hair and bright blue eyes, he resembled her so much and not his father at all. Still, despite all the rumors, no one outside the family knew with certainty that Brandon was the child's father. She could keep it that way if she chose to. She cradled the babe close as he nursed, almost forgetting that he is illegitimate, that she will have to leave him behind when her husband returns from war. Almost.

Months passed and Ned's letters became fewer and further between. A million different stories float around the Riverlands; about how Robert Baratheon vanquished Prince Rhaegar; how Jaime Lannister soiled his white cloak by murdering the king; poor Princess Elia and her butchered babes. Though she knew she was safe, Catelyn worried constantly that someone might hurt Robb. If I must, she thought to herself, I will beg Ned to accept my child in Winterfell, at least until he is old enough to squire for Father or Uncle Brynden.

In the end, the begging is not necessary. Ned sent a letter inviting her to bring Robb north with her. He wrote that he is already on his way home and would be waiting for them. Catelyn kissed the letter and thanked the Mother Above for giving her such a kind husband.

Catelyn bid farewell to her family, to Riverrun. With Robb wrapped safely in her arms, she rode a liter to Winterfell with an escort of twenty armed men, servants, and the maester who had helped her during her son's birth, a little grey man named Luwin. The going was long and strenuous, but Catelyn reached Winterfell at last, a grey crown on a hill in the center of the North.

Her reception was as cold as the wind messing up her hair. Hard, scornful, judging glares met her at the gates. A sudden icy fear seized Catelyn. They will never accept me, she silently lamented, a foreign woman who dishonored their lord by being her bastard to be raised alongside their trueborn children. If they knew he was Brandon's son, would the northerners love him more or less? I should not have brought Robb; I should have left him with my father, where he would have loved by more than just his mother.

A gangly boy no older than sixteen ran up to her as she entered the Great Keep. "You must be Catelyn," he said with an open, innocent smile, "My name is Benjen, I'm your goodbrother. It's wonderful to have you here."

Catelyn could almost kiss him, he was so sweet. "It's wonderful to meet you as well Benjen."

He peers at the bundle in her arms, "That's him, my nephew?"

So Ned told his brother. Who else knew? "Yes, his name is Robb. Would you like to hold him?"

Benjen was awkward holding the babe, but Catelyn showed him how to do it right. Footsteps interrupt the lesson.

"Lady Catelyn," Ned appeared in the hallway, looking both excited and nervous. It almost made her want to laugh. "I came as soon as I heard you were here." He looked at Benjen holding Robb and smiles. "May I?" Catelyn nods and Benjen hands him the babe. Before Catelyn can show him the correct way to hold a babe, she sees that her husband already knows, as if he had held a child recently. He returned Robb and said, "Let me show you to the nursery."

The nursery was close to the rooms Ned gave her as Lady of Winterfell so she will always be near her son. As they step inside, a short, dark woman rose to show respect to her betters. "M'lord, m'lady." She murmured respectfully. A babe whimpered in her arms, trying to turn his head to see what had interrupted his feeding.

"Catelyn, this is my son, Jon Snow."

The boys loved each other in an instant, her bastard and her husband's. Though they were cousins, Catelyn could already see that they will be more like brothers. She watched them in their cribs, trying to ignore the stuttering of her heart whenever she looked at Jon Snow. He was all Stark, dark haired and grey-eyed with Ned's face. Neither child would truly be accepted, but Jon, not Robb, would be loved by the North.

Ned found her still in the nursery holding Robb, "My lady, I apologize for dishonoring you."

"It was I who wronged you first, my lord." She replied quietly, "Now we stand on equal ground. Do you plan to raise them together?" A small foolish part of her hopes, for just a second, that he might send his son away, but why do that and allow her son to remain? Jon will stay in the North; and if Ned would be a father to her son, it would only be fair of her to be a mother to his. She considered how she felt about Jon and wondered if her husband feels the same way about Robb.

"Indeed. I pray they will be like brothers." Ned said.

"As do I my lord. If I may ask, who is Jon's mother?"

Ned became uncomfortably. Gruffly, he responded, "You may not. I do not wish to speak of her."

Catelyn bristled, because Ned had always been so honest and generous, but she didn't question it. He was entitled to his privacy, but the mystery of Jon Snow's mother weighed heavily on her mind.

In time, Catelyn and Ned consummated their marriage and their fondness for each other grew into something more. She was still the laughingstock of the North, but Catelyn built an armory of courtesy and confidence to guard her heart. Though she was an outsider, she was the Lady of Winterfell.

Robb and Jon did not yet understand their station, but for now all they knew was that Catelyn was their mother and Ned was their father (although that was not fully true). Just as Catelyn had feared, Jon received preferential treatment from the people; Robb is at best an afterthought, at worse an insult to everyone around him. She did her best to shield him from harsh words, but knew he would be hearing them all his life.

Three years after first arriving in Winterfell, Catelyn gave birth to a daughter, Sansa. She knew she needed a trueborn son to at last remove the stain of her dishonor, but Catelyn spent more time dwelling on Sansa's dark hair and a pair of grey eyes settled in a Tully face. Her second daughter entered the world while Ned fought in the Iron Islands and Catelyn spent her entire pregnancy worried that if the child looks like her, no one would believe that she had been faithful. Her fear abateed at the sight of Arya's Stark face, Stark coloring, and Stark temper. Bran, the first trueborn son between them, was greeted with deafening celebration from the entire North. His coloring was Catelyn's, auburn hair and blue eyes, but he bears a striking resemblance to his father. The same could said of Rickon, his little brother, the wild child that stole all their hearts.

It wasn't not a perfect family, but it was more than enough for Catelyn.

AN: The remake/sequel is now up. It's titled "Mother of Wolves".