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Tests of Honor: Catelyn

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Catelyn

The table was full of good things to eat. But Catelyn wanted none of it that morning. Her husband had just said that her son was to begin learning the ways of the sword. No. No, she wouldn't have it.

Robb was seven.

Bad enough she was in this cold, brutal place. Bad enough there were none of her family around or her father's bannermen. She wouldn't let this barbaric northern traditions win out.

"It's too early, Ned," Catelyn said.

"Too early to learn how to use a sword safely?"

"Robb is too young."

"They're wooden swords. They'll wear padding, if you insist. But a man in the North must be able to defend himself. Many women know how, too."

"If you think I'll allow Sansa..."

"We're talking about Robb and Jon."

"I care not for your other son, but I do care for Robb. I do not want him to do this."

"Do you love Robb?"

What? How could he ask that? "More than anything."

"Do you want to him to survive to be a man?" Ned asked.

"Of course."

"He must be a good fighter. At least as good as any Stark bannerman. If he cannot swing a sword well, none of our bannermen will support him. One or more might begin to plot again him. It can be a very lonely place in the North. It can be very deadly. He must do this. He must start now."

She screwed up her face, then consented. What other choice did she have in this horrible, barren place?

X-X-X

Catelyn stood out of the way and watched this first lesson between Robb, Ser Rodrik, and the bastard.

The boys wore padding. They used wooden swords. There was no grace or beauty in what they did.

"Again," Ser Rodrik cried out.

So the boys set to attacking each other again.

One of the bastard's hits made Robb cry out and drop his sword.

Catelyn ran forward and knocked the bastard down. "You stupid, stupid boy."

She picked him up and beat him with her hand. She beat him until she could see he was bleeding. "The Maester will not help him at all. You will never look at my son again, bastard."

Men pulled Catelyn away.

Ser Rodrick unfastened the bastard's padding and called for the maester.

"I said you cannot."

"Send for the maester," Ser Rodrik said again.

Catelyn hated the man in that moment. Another enemy in this foreign place. She would get her way. She always had.

"Take this one to Lord Stark."

Ser Rodrik had the grimmest sort of look on his face.

It mattered not. She would see him banished.

X-X-X

The guardsmen stopped and opened the door to Ned's solar.

"Come in," her husband demanded.

Catelyn held her head high and walked inside. Ned would be angry, but he would not hold this against her. He hadn't yet. He felt his own shame over the bastard and he wouldn't make a war this time either. She understood him. She had almost gone too far. Murdering the bastard would be too far. Everything else was permitted so long as it was done in private. Her great sin this day was acting as she wished in front of witnesses. Well, she could learn.

Catelyn moved toward a chair.

"I did not give you leave to sit."

What? She faltered but stood.

"I did not know you when we married. Father didn't either when he arranged the match. Maybe Brandon knew you..."

He blamed her? He questioned her? No, this was about the bastard... "I told you I would not have my son hurt, not by..."

Her husband was quiet as he usually was. "Fine. You don't want an explanation about why I needed to see who you were? Then we will discuss what will happen."

She already knew. She would apologize. And nothing else would change. Except she would wait for private moments to hurt the bastard. She would never lose her temper in front of others again.

"Your Father sold you to us in marriage. I will not undo it. It is our mistake."

"Mistake!" If this man thought to get another child off her he was mistaken. A mistake, indeed. His!

"I cannot permit you to remain here with whatever rage or foulness you carry within. You are not the woman I thought you were nor the one bargained for by Father. You are not kind or gentle or worth all this bother..."

She fumed with every word he said. "You would say these things to me over your bastard?"

"I was waiting to see if you would curb your abuse, Catelyn, if you would ever be a mother to him. Instead, you struck him and tore the flesh of his face. He is six and has never done a thing to you."

"He lives..." She couldn't believe she had said that. It was true, just not a true she ever meant to state aloud.

Her husband was colder now. "I was sad to leave you out of my counsels and my trust since we wed. But I was right to. Jon was your test..."

"Why should I be tested? Jon was your test of fidelity. One you failed by bringing your bastard home."

"Is he my bastard? I never said that. I said he was a Stark, which is true."

"But...

"I have no bastards."

She believed him. He could not lie. "Then who is Jon?"

"Why would I tell you this when you act as you do?"

"Who is he?"

"Perhaps Jon is a distant cousin who favors the look of my grandfather. Perhaps he is one of Brandon's bastards, as my brother fathered several. Jon is not mine, though I love him as a son. And you are no fair mother, Catelyn Tully."

Tully? She was a Stark now – and reforming this pack of savages was hard effort. Though, if this were true...she had been a fool. "It's all different if he's not your son."

Her husband shook his head. "I am setting you aside. I will take no other wife while you're alive. You will not remain here in Winterfell."

He sounded like he had just sentenced a poacher to die. He meant it. He meant every word.

"You can't..."

"I may send a letter to Jon Arryn advising him of your conduct and to have him watch your mad sister, the one he married. The gossip from court even filters back North. She is a disgrace from what I understand."

"Where am I going, then?" Riverrun? Home?

"You're of the North now. You will have a comfortable home on Bear Island. I know that the Mormonts are quite good at repelling the invaders. They only lose five or six people a year. I hope you take up the sword or a mace. Your protection will be your own responsibility."

He meant for her to die. Her husband was going to have some reaver murder her on a distant island... "But, it's all different."

"I know what kind of woman you are. That does not change."

All the things she had said and done to the bast... to little Jon. No. Her husband had seen every one of them and forgotten none. He was as cold as she was hot in his style of rage. All the worse for her.

"You are not worthy of living in Winterfell. As I will raise our children in the Northern way, I will tell them why I sent you off. Robb and Jon, at the very least, will approve. Sansa, Arya, and Bran are younger and will forget you."

Yes, they would.

"Will I have no guard? No companion?" Someone to get a message to Riverrun.

"We will send your septon and septa with you. We will also clear out the Sept as we have no use for it. Silly bunch of principles if you can't even abide them yourself."

This could not happen. She had to convince him otherwise. She had to stop this. "I am a good mother."

Her husband shook his head. "Not for the North."

"You're setting me aside for some second cousin?"

"He was your test."

And she hadn't even known there was one.

"I do not expect to see you again. I plan to remarry after your death. I may have to war with your father, but I've drawn up plans. The siege of Riverrun will be short if it happens."

"But..."

"It's always this way when a Stark marries South. We always test. Some pass, some don't. I gave you longer than I should have and Jon suffered for it. No longer." Ned nodded to two guards who had been in his solar the whole time. "Take her. The wheelhouse she brought with her will carry her north at once."

X-X-X

Her 'home' on Bear Island was no home. The septa had died. The ground had been too frozen to bury her. That horrible Mormont insisted that the septa be burned like some heretic.

The septon had tried to get into Catelyn's room again the night before. He had cooed at her through the locked door, making promises to her.

She was not safe here, not from the septon or the Mormonts or the other families here. She had carried a dagger since she arrived. Now she was most worried about her own people, not these Mormonts.

The septon had eyes for her. He and that septa had carried on as if they were trash in the street clanking together in the wind.

The horns blew in the distance. The horns signaling that arrival of unknown boats or ships. Raiders. Reavers.

She could hear the fighting and the screams. They were close. She could smell smoke. She could hear death.

Father, avenge me. She used the dagger on herself. That was an end to it, to the cold and the hate. I did done nothing wrong. Please don't let them burn me.

X-X-X

Eddard

He looked at the coded message from Bear Island. Killed herself during an Ironborn raid. Catelyn had always been a weak person.

Well that wouldn't do for southron consumption.

He got out some parchment and ink.

To my good-father Hoster Tully, greetings.

I am afraid I write with dire news. My wife, and your daughter, was traveling to Bear Island in my name on a journey to see many of the major houses of the North. Ironborn raiders heading to Bear Island discovered her slow-moving procession first. My wife's guards perished protecting Catelyn's wheelhouse, and the septon and septa who traveled with her. Their bodies have not yet been found. She had wanted to take Robb with her, but he was sickly just before she was meant to depart. Our four children all remain safe here in Winterfell.

We will hold a service before the Old Gods. I do not know the traditions of the Seven. If you wish to hold an additional service at the Sept in Riverrun, I would bring our children south.

I plan to build a fortress on the western shore to start beating back the Ironborn. I am sorry it is too late for my beloved wife. She was the most beautiful Lady of Winterfell in many years.

Eddard Stark

Lord of Winterfell

Warden of the North

Ned read it through again. It gave Catelyn a far more noble end than she deserved. A good story, all these guards dying to protect a woman and two zealots of the Seven in something useless like a wheelhouse. It would sound right to southron ears. Hoster was one for good stories.

Though he would build that fortress and have a good reason to give those who might object. Perhaps he couldn't name it as he wished – the Iron Bitch – but it would be regarded as a fortress in the memory of Catelyn Stark.

Ned called through his open door, "Get me Jory Cassel."

One of the guards moved with rapid dispatch to do just that.

A good lie was more comfort than the truth. Wasn't that what southrons believed? Or at least it's what they did. No one in Winterfell would ever tell the true events to some southron, not after Catelyn had beaten a Stark in a training yard.

She might have been beautiful, but she was also the most hated Lady of Winterfell in many years.

The timing was inconvenient, though. A year from now his lords would begin visiting Winterfell without being called to do so. Many would bring their widowed sisters or unwed daughters with them. Ned could almost hear the conversation. He would have to pick a new wife, a Northern wife.

This one he would test, too. Not with a bastard. Something else, some other test. He would need to think on it. Maybe a test of loyalty. Did her ambitions lead her to protect or betray the Starks? A useful thing to know.

Jory was in the doorway. Ned looked to the guard who was playing messenger, "Ask Maester Luwin to see me. We have some messages to get out to all the houses of the north."

The game of weddings was about to start up again. Even an aging lord who had four children was a pretty good prospect for the more ambitious of his lords, the ones who most needed some appeasement.

"Jory, come in. I need to seal this letter and then I'd like you to ride for Riverrun. My wife is dead, killed by the Ironborn."

"I am sorry, my Lord."

He didn't sorry at all. Yes, she really had been hated. Ned had let her do as she liked for too long. A shame.

Maybe he really should send a letter to Jon Arryn. If Catelyn was the better sister, what was Jon saddled with?