Catelyn Stark

HE WANTED TO SEE WINTERFELL again, bring back the memories of his childhood. Remember what it had been like when his father was there, before they had all separated. He missed when things had been so simple. He had lived in Winterfell since he was a mere babe, yet he never felt like he fully belonged there. His lord father’s wife, Catelyn Stark, hated him from the moment he was born and brought to Winterfell. He was a constant reminder of her husband’s affair while he was away, a reminder that even the noblest of men could fall into temptation. Jon figured he would feel as welcome at Winterfell now as he did when he was a boy, except his lord father would not be here to defend him. Ned Stark’s bastard would be the last person Catelyn would want to see, but Jon rode with his brothers and sisters. When she approached, he nodded his head politely. “Lady Stark.”

Catelyn was given a moment of pause at the sight him... Her husband’s bastard had always been a complex mixture of emotions for her. When Ned had first brought him home from the war she’d been angry, hurt so unbelievably betrayed, but she’d tried, she’d tried to love him as she’d loved Robb... But she couldn’t. Everything he embodied was a mockery of her marriage, of the true love she and Ned built over decades like a building of stone.

She inhaled through her nose, head tilting up just slightly, “Jon Snow.” It wasn’t a greeting, she merely spoke his name with all the fondness one would give a foe upon a battlefield. “I should have expected you’d manage to find your way here.” Not even vows to a wall could keep him from flaunting his presence. “Where are the Starks? My children?” He was neither a Stark nor her child and that would be made abundantly clear. He shouldn’t even be riding this close to the lead.  

arrivals rarely caused disruption within the camp now, so many seemed to join them each day it was difficult to keep track of the growing houses that marched north. but the mother of wolves presence was impossible to ignore amongst the northern camp no matter what their differing opinions of her may be. lyarra herself had always felt great respect for the stark matriarch, always a stern existence in her childhood throughout her many stays at winterfell, now she had come to admire the other’s strength rather than fear it.

“lady stark.” her head dips respectfully, dark eyes glancing up at the woman as she stood to full height once more. lyarra dons a polite smile then, “your presence here will surely boost the spirits of all northern souls now that the starks are together once more.” the north had suffered for so long, tearing itself apart in too many battles to count, now, in the midst of hundreds of northern flags waving in the wind, lyarra might allow herself a slither of hope.

Catelyn was no fool, she was well aware her arrival would herald a great deal of interest and many would seek her out, not all her allies regardless of what they might say; pretty words were yet another kind of poison, even now.  She walked head up, back straight and with purpose, unwilling to stop and engage with any but her son lest she was sought out and spoken to directly. She saw many cow as their eyes met her own briefly, yet it seemed one was brave enough to bid her a greeting.

She came to a pause and looked at the girl for a moment before recognition shone through, “Lady Cerwyn,” she dipped her head slightly in kind, though maintained her rather more severe expression rather than a smile she hadn’t the strength to conjure. “I highly doubt my being here shall have such an impact, my son is far more a herald for hope than I.” she said with a sigh, “I am here to see how I might assist in this movement, and assure all who may need it that Winterfell is ready to receive the army.”  

Growing up, Arya never felt like she belonged, she always felt like an outcast. It was part of the reason why she was so close to Jon, because he felt the same way that she did. For different reasons of course, but still, they both felt like outcasts. Arya was forced to learn how to be a lady when she wanted nothing more than to learn how to be a fighter. And it was why she snuck out to the courtyard when she thought everyone was away for the night, to practice shooting arrows, always the same one arrow, Arya would shoot it, run to retrieve it and then shoot it again. She would do this almost every night, for hours until her hands hurt or someone caught her. That was until one night, when she finally managed to hit the center of the target and she heard clapping from the balcony above. It was her father, he had been watching her and he had a smile on his face. On that moment, Arya knew what she was doing wasn’t wrong, the ruled were wrong. 

“But I could’ve tried … I hated Sansa so much in that moment, because she was up there with them and she did nothing to stop it, none of them did! But now … I know there was nothing no one could’ve done, no one could’ve stopped it.” Arya frowned, shaking her head, no matter how long her list would get, Joffrey would always be the first name on it. He was dead not, but she wished he wasn’t, just so she could be the one cutting his throat. “I tried my best, it was so hard mother, at times I felt like giving up. But I had friends with me, they helped me and they are the reason why I’m alive and here with you.” Gendry being the most important one, she highly doubted she would’ve made it out alive if it wasn’t for the blacksmith. Arya hugged her mother once again and let out a sigh, just enjoying being in her mother’s arms again. She stayed silent for a few moments, not wanting to move because this felt so good and she didn’t realize just how much she missed this until this moment. “I will kill everyone who wronged our family, I will risk their names of my list, one by one.” She promised her mother before pulling away slightly to look at her. “I will slit throats and cut off heads of every single one of them.” 

She was her father’s daughter, through and through. It had seemed so much simpler back then, when her biggest trouble was having to spend a day with Jon Snow present or needing to scold Bran for climbing or seize Arya and drag her from watching her brothers spar. She’d so wanted back then for her daughter to be more like her sister, for them to get on and be close like she and Lysa had been so long ago... Her sister’s death had left a hole in her heart, despite what she’d grown up to be, Catelyn remembered the carefree times of their youth, so much like her own children’s... while it had lasted. Now, after the trauma her family had suffered, all that had been lost, she’d found it didn’t matter. Arya could cloak herself in armour and shoot arrows all day if she pleased just so long as she was safe.

“And you’d have died if you did.” she shook her head, “Don’t, don’t hate your sister. You both did what was right.” she so wanted to ask of Sansa, if the other had seen her, spoken with her maybe? But... this moment was beautiful, pure and to hear the worst of her eldest would break her in a way she wasn’t yet prepared for. “No. The world is cruel to good men, your father didn’t deserve his end, none of our family have. Yet we have been powerless to change it.” Someone plotted against them, and when she uncovered who it was the beasts of the North would find there was nothing left of the corpse to feast upon. “You, my girl, have never given up. You father used to tell me every night you ran back and forth with a single arrow till you hit that centre. I should’ve encouraged you more, my love I’m so sorry I didn’t give you your freedom that way.” It seemed such a petty thing to have caused her child misery for. Catelyn stared at her daughter as she spoke those vengeful words, “No, Arya,” she paused, “We shall slit their their throats and cut their heads. The pack.” Lone wolves no more.  

Most of the people she had come across from her past had a hard time recognizing her. She couldn’t blame them, she was only a little girl when she left Winterfell to go to King’s Landing with her father. Now, she was grown up, she wasn’t a little girl anymore, she was a woman whose childhood was taken from her and instead had to grow up fast to be able to survive what the world threw at her. It had been a long way, many obstacles on her way but she overcame everything. Always with only one thought in her mind, the chance to reunite with her family. For a long time, she had no news of them, all she knew were the whispers she heard on the different inns she would stop by when travelling with Gendry and Hot Pie and later, with the Hound. At the time, she wanted her family more than anything, but when she realized she wouldn’t be useful to them like this, she knew she had to postpone their reunion a little bit longer, so she could come back as a different person.

Arya stared at her mother for a few moments, not knowing how to react, not even knowing if her mother would recognize her. Of course, those thoughts vanished as soon as she saw her mother running to her and taking her into her arms. For the first time since she arrived here, Arya cried. Tears fell down her cheeks as she wrapped her arms tightly around her mother. This was probably what she missed the most, her mother’s embrace, the security it gave her and just like that, Arya was a little girl again, hoping for her mother’s embrace. “Mother.” She said once again, sobbing. “I’m sorry … I’m so sorry … I was there, when they … “ She paused, shaking her head. “I wanted to save father, I wanted to jump on that stage and stop them but I couldn’t. Yoren got to me before I did it, he took me away from King’s Landing.” She said between cries and sobs, this being the first time that Arya allowed herself to be vulnerable, to break down in front of someone and admit this.

It didn’t matter how she looked, she could be a three headed dragon for all it mattered to Catelyn a mother knew her child and this was her girl. The same one who snuck out to shoot arrows in the courtyard when she should’ve been practicing her needlework work and endless tormented the proper sensibilities of her sister. Feeling her daughter hug her back made her clutch Arya all the tighter, a joy blooming in her chest so strongly it gave her the best kind of pain, it was only her stuttering words of unneeded apology that made Catelyn pull back to look her daughter in the eye, both blurred by their own tears, “Now you listen to me, my girl, you have nothing to apologise for do you hear me? Nothing.” she moved both hands up to cup her cheeks and wiped away the falling drops.

“You couldn’t have saved your father, not from that.” she shook her head, voice trembling slightly, “You kept yourself alive and you came back to me, your father rests more peacefully knowing that.” she smiled, a bittersweet thing, “Come here,” not ready to let her go, she pulled Arya close again, though less desperately this time, running her hand through her daughters hair, soothing her worries, her fears, “No matter how far you went you came home, nothing else matters but that my love. Nothing else.” she swallowed, “In this our enemies haven’t won. Sssh, now my girl,” she continued to run her fingers through her hair, her other hand rubbing circles in her back, “It’s all right. I am here and I love you and you will never be taken from me again, I will kill whoever tries.” Words fiercely whispered close to her daughters ear, “You’ve done so well.”  

Arya had heard word that her mother had arrived recently to meet the army. She had been preparing to meet her mother when they arrived in Winterfell, not here and she didn’t know if she was ready to see her. Of course Arya couldn’t wait to see her again, she couldn’t wait to hug her mother and be in her arms once again. She might not be the same little girl that left Winterfell all that time ago, but she still needed her mother’s embrace as much as any young child. She was afraid though, of what her mother would think of her, what she had become. Arya wasn’t a lady, not in the way that her mother wanted to be and that was the whole reason she chose to go to Braavos and train with the Faceless Men instead of reuniting with her family. She needed to become something else, something useful to her family.     

Arya gathered enough courage to go see her mother. With Nymeria following behind her, she headed towards were she knew her mother had dismounted, guessing that it was near where Robb would be ridding. And that’s when she saw her from behind. Red hair, walking away towards where Robb would be. Arya let out a sigh and dismounted her horse as well, ordering Nymeria to stay away. She followed her mother until she was just behind her and took a deep breath. “Mother?” She called out, her tone uncertain as she waited for the other’s reaction.

Her eyes remained sharp as she drew closer to the soldiers with the Stark sigil overhead, it had been a long march from Winterfell and she’d seen nothing but despair in her time at Riverrun. Here, at least, she could be with her son, though her other children may be lost to her, she could know the comfort of holding her firstborn close. If the Old Gods were kind he may have heard from Sansa, she knew nothing of her others, snatched from her by those blaggards of the South. They would pay, once the dead were vanquished she would see those who destroyed her family were sent to join them.

Catelyn’s progress came to a sudden halt when she heard a voice behind it, she knew it instantly yet her body and mind were so overcome, images of a rambunctious child who was always running, exploring, roughhousing with her brothers- she spun on heel, mouth open, eyes wide at the sight of her youngest girl... No, not a girl, not any more. A woman. She stared, her eyes beginning to mist, she was so... “A-Arya,” her voice a whisper lost in the marching crowd. “Arya!” A hoarse scream this time as she hitched her skirt and sprinted the short distance, half running into her daughter as she wrapped her arms around her and pulled her into a close embrace, tears running down her cheeks, her eyes scrunched shut at the solid feel of her daughter, her Arya, against her breast. “My Arya,” she breathed, “My precious girl. Oh, my baby,” incoherent nonsense escaped her lips in a never-ending flow of sweet words.

She sobbed, unable to stop herself, a hand splayed on the back of her daughter’s head, holding her close, solid, alive. “Arya, Arya.” Her daughter’s name a prayer whispered between cries.

She’d reached Riverrun before them and the sight of her homeland brought tears to her eyes she refused to let fall. She’d cried enough, too much. And after being told the army was days away continued to meet them. Her small party saw enough men and woman to blot out the road itself and her heart beast more swiftly in her chest at the sight so many, of all houses, all lands and kingdoms. In this... perhaps she could find some peace.

She dismounted her horse and walked the rest of the way, her men behind her as they moved into the marching horde. Her shrewd eyes sought out the nearest Northern banner, best to reunite with Robb first, she longed to embrace her child... He might have heard news of her others.

♔  →  westeros  presents  CATELYN STARK,  the  LADY  of  WINTERFELL.  a  raven  sent  word  that  he  bears  the  resemblance  to  MICHELLE FAIRLEY.  the  FORTY NINE  year  old  FEMALE  was  MATERNAL  &  DEVOTED  before  the  dawn  of  war,  but  have  now  become  LONELY  & BITTER.  when  songs  are  sung,  their  verses  speak  of GLORIOUS RED HAIR OF A TULLY GIRL, SOFT HANDS TO HOLD A BABE NOW SCARRED BY A BLADE’S EDGE & A VICIOUSNESS TO COW A WOLF IN THE NAME OF HER CHILDREN. whispers  throughout  the  seven  kingdoms  claim  that  their  allegiance  lies  with  HOUSE  STARK,  but  fealty  means  little  when  you  play  the  game  of  thrones.  

So! After much humming & harring I have finally picked up Momma Stark who I’ve been too scared to play before, haha. I’ve got a lil more info on her below but feel free to hit me up for plots!