#nedcatweek2025

Cold nights became cold days became cold nights became cold days. Endless snow falling from clouds that changed between various shades of grey. Never so much as a flash of sunlight or a glimpse of a blue sky.

Catelyn’s chambers were warm and for that she was deeply grateful. She would have thanked her gods if it had not been for that she knew she had her husband to thank. He had told her he had chosen those rooms for her because they were the warmest Winterfell had to offer and he did not wish for her to be cold.

Escaping the cold was a possibility. Each night she was allowed to retire to the dry heat of her bedchamber and curl up underneath soft furs. There she could sleep comfortably with no worry of that the cold would reach her.

Escaping the loneliness was less of a possibility. The northerners were all kind to her. Welcoming, even. They had taken to her well and she did like them. It had not taken long to grow fond of them. Though they were not riverlanders. Not even southerners. They scoffed at her gods and her customs and the fashion she knew from her home. They were eager to bring her into all the they knew. They did not quite understand.

Benjen had been the closest thing to a friend she had acquired in her first time. He was certainly very young, though he had met her with a curiosity few others had mustered. Many northern lords and ladies she had met and they were all courteous, though she had not come to know them quite as closely as she had come to know Benjen. Then Benjen had joined the Night’s Watch and so she had again been alone.

She had her boy, of course. Her beautiful son. The sweetest thing in the world. He would grow to be a wonderful man, she was absolutely certain of it. Though that was years away. As of yet he had only just began putting words together. Which was a delight for everyone that listened to him even as he was not much of a converser yet. She could not tell him of what chafed within her.

The frozen silence that came from her husband made the chafing worse. He was good. She knew he was. He was so soft with their son. Loved him so truly. Mumbled stories to him and rocked him to sleep. For a time she had believed he was warming to her, too. He had smiled at her often. Conversed with her over their shared meals.

Then she had made a mistake. She had believed that maybe in the darkness of her bedchamber, in the gentle moment that was the aftermath of their coupling, she could ask of the other boy’s mother. The thing that had been and remained the worst aspect of her chafing. He had not liked that. For the first and so far only time he had frightened her. Then he had grown cold again.

All that she endured and would continue to endure. It could have been much worse. She had given her husband a strong boy that they both adored. With time she would grow more accustomed to the harsh cold of the north and the boldness bordering on impudence of her people. She would find friends among the strange men and women. It would all be right in the end. She merely had to wait for it. And wait she would do. She was good at waiting.

That night she waited for sleep to take her. She could not say why she struggled so with finding peace when she was usually so exhausted she barely had time to lay her head down before she was dreaming.

Perhaps it was worry for Robb. He had a cough. The maester kept a close eye on it and had initially seemed worried, though when after two days it had not grown worse he had assured Catelyn it was most likely nothing she needed to concern herself with. A common cough brought on by the cold, was all. If they simply ensured Robb was kept warm it would pass soon.

So she had brought his cradle into her rooms so that he could sleep just by her bed. Her rooms were the warmest, after all. And that way she could listen to his breathing and his little coughs, ensure he was well through the night.

Not much time could have passed since she had retired for the night when there was a knock on her door. There was not often visitors at that time. Whatever could have happened?

As quickly as she could she climbed out of the bed and crossed through the room to the door. She did not wish to call for someone to enter when Robb was asleep just by her. He could become so fussy if he was woken. It was difficult to get him to settle down more than once a night.

It was a surprise to find her husband just outside the door when she opened it. Dressed in a simple robe as if he had only just come from his own bedchamber.

”Good evening, my lord” Catelyn said, suppressing the initial shock. ”May I in any way assist you?”

There was a brief moment of hesitation from Eddard before he cleared his throat.

”I was merely wondering if I might share your bed this night.”

Catelyn stepped aside so that he could enter.

”Of course. It is your right always.”

Again there was hesitance.

”I would not force my presence upon you, my lady” he insisted.

”You are not forcing anything upon me.”

If he wished to come to her then she would welcome him. Continuing the animosity would do no one good. Neither of them would benefit from it. So why send him away? Why not make an attempt at bridging the rift? He was the father of her son, after all. He would be the father of all children she might have. And how was she to have them if they could not be close to one another?

Still she did not know what to say to him as he entered her chamber and she closed the door behind him. What did she speak of with this man that was her husband? This man that had been furious with her for asking about his bastard and now came to sleep next to her?

”Are you only just now retiring for the night?” she asked, mustering her politest tone. ”My lord.”

”Aye. It has been a long and tedious day.”

And yet he came to her rather than withdrawing to the calm and solitude of his own bedchamber.

”I was not certain you would still be awake at this hour” Eddard then added.

He had shed his robe and hung it over the chair by her dressing table. Again Catelyn was strangely flattered by his words. He had believed her to be asleep and still he had taken the chance. It would have been so easy not to.

”I hear myself I sound silly, though I find myself worrying for Robb despite the good maester’s assurance of that he will be well” she confessed.

The thought of something befalling their only child was excruciating. He had to be well always.

”It does not sound silly in the least, my lady. I have been quite worried myself.”

Catelyn watched him as he crossed over to the cradle standing by her bedside and looked down at Robb.

”He still sleeps well” she told him. ”And for that I am glad.”

”It is certainly a relief.”

When she walked over to stand next to him so that she could also see Robb he glanced at her with half a smile on his lips and Catelyn found herself immediately returning it.

There was a drawn out silence as they both observed their son. Watched his chest rise and fall with every breath he took. He held onto the blanket he would not sleep without with a strength that should have been impossible for such a small being. He would be even stronger once he grew.

On a whim Catelyn reached up and kissed Eddard’s cheek before returning to the bed. It had simply felt appropriate.

As she once again made herself comfortable under the furs Eddard reached into the cradle and lifted Robb into his arms.

Any other person Catelyn would have advised against it, though she had seen Eddard’s marvellous ability to both make Robb fall asleep and keep him sleeping. It was a wonder. Robb could be crying and refusing to settle down and all his father had to do was hold him and speak to him in a soft voice. It was almost unfair.

”My sweet boy” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of Robb’s head.

Catelyn could not keep from smiling.

Carefully Eddard laid down on the bed with Robb in his arms so that the little boy was resting on his chest. Never once did he show signs of waking. He was perfectly content with Eddard. Even buried his small fists in the fabric of his father’s nightshirt, holding onto him. There was a warmth spreading through her chest when Catelyn turned to her side so that she could look at her husband and her son.

”You are so good with him” she said softly.

”He’s my son.”

There was some distance between them in the bed and in a bold moment Catelyn closed that distance so that she could hold Robb’s hand. It left her hand resting on Eddard’s chest.

The silence was heavy. As if there was something in the air surrounding them. Once again she did not know what to say. Even so she grew more tired with each passing second. Robb was asleep on his father’s chest, safe in his embrace. She was no longer alone in her bed, and Eddard did not seem so upset with her anymore. It was almost like it had been before. It lessened the chafing. Made it easier to find peace.

”I am glad you came” she said, wanting him to hear those words before she fell asleep.

”I could come more often. If you wish.”

’They speak of a man wandering these lands alone. They say he carries his head in his hands’ were the words that had been spoken to her. Ever since then she had been relentless. Barely letting anyone have a blink of rest, barely letting them stop to water the horses and have something to eat themselves. On and on she drove them. As silent as she had always been.

”What are we searching for?” a younger one asked. ”Why does she chase this rumour?”

It was clearly a tale told to frighten one another.

”She believes The Headless One is Lord Eddard Stark” an older one replied, having lowered his voice to barely more than a whisper. ”We are searching for her husband.”

The younger one had shivered then. He was afraid of their lady. Their corpse walking. There could not be another one. There could not be two of the murdered Starks still walking.

What unnerved him even more was the thought of their lady loving. That there could be anything but burning rage in the red pits that were her eyes. In life she had been a wife and a mother, that he knew, but that had to be past. Their lady could no longer love. No being capable of love would do what she had done.

Even those among them who had initially been thrilled to follow the rumour eventually faltered when they found nothing. Days and weeks and moons passed and there was no sight of The Headless One. Though their lady wanted to hear nothing of returning to a camp. On and on they went in her fruitless pursuit of the man that had once been her husband.

”He does not exist” an older one said one night when their lady had disappeared between the trees. ”Unlike the talk of her these are baseless rumours.”

They all silently nodded. How would he have made it out of the capital? Who would have given him the kiss? How would he have risen? They all knew the Lannisters had taken his head. While their lady had floated in the river for days before she was brought back she had at least still had her head on her shoulders.

Still no one uttered a word of that to their lady. Rain beat down upon them from grey skies until they forgot what it was like to be dry and warm. They shivered through the nights and then shivered through the days. It was endless misery. 

”It was one thing to enact revenge” someone said on an especially wet night. ”Though chasing her fantasies…”

She had been mad from the beginning. From the moment she rose. Though it had become something else entirely ever since she heard that the men and women of the riverlands whispered of The Headless One.

The man that had brought the rumour to her came to bitterly regret it as she forced him forward. It was no comfort that she had joined the hunt herself. Her silent presence was always there, a dark shadow that engulfed them. Would she ever tire of it? Would she ever realise they were chasing nothing?

One of them insisted they not speak ill of her or her chase. It was still Lady Stark. They had a duty to her. And if Lord Stark was truly out there they had to find him. The others had quickly grown tired of him. 

”Of course you would say that, you were part of their guard” someone groaned when he had grown especially passionate in his defence of their lady. 

”Shut it, stableboy” someone else had grumbled.

”I was and remain in service of House Stark!” was his response. ”And my lady will not tolerate disloyalty.”

Though their lady never said anything. They knew she could speak if she held her throat together, but she had not uttered a word since they set out. Silent she was in her pursuit. They didn’t know  if she heard what they said even as they took care only to speak when she went off on her own. She had a way about her that implied she always listened, even when she was not there.

One day they all sat huddled together under a tree, trying to find refuge from the relentless rain. They passed most of their stops that way, there was no firewood dry enough to light fires with. They had all long since given up on the mere thought. Though at least their lady had allowed them a stop in the middle of the day so they could eat. Usually they had to move all the way until nightfall.

”She has been gone for longer than she usually is” said the guardsman.

”I don’t think you need to worry about her” said a younger one. ”Should anyone come across her they’ll run.”

He said it and though of how he himself had wanted to run the first time he laid eyes on her. The urge remained. There was something so deeply inhuman about her, he simply could not help it.

”And no one with anything at all between their ears would be this deep in the woods in this weather” an older one agreed.

Still the guardsman pushed himself up, pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and moved to go towards where she had disappeared.

”You’ll get lost, you fool” said the older one who had just spoken.

Though before the guardsman could respond they heard someone move close by. A few seconds later their lady emerged between two trees. Several of them flinched when they saw that she held a severed head. Brown hair streaked with grey fell over her hands. That was all they could see as their lady held the head so that it was facing her.

”My lady, what is it—”

Another person came stumbling in behind her and they all screamed. It was a walking body with no head.

As they all scrambled to their feet, no one grasping the situation enough to understand how they were supposed to act, their lady carefully turned the head around so that they could see the face.

”Gods be good” the guardsman whispered. ”Lord Stark.”

The in life so neatly kept beard had grown long and shaggy, and it was a gaunter face than he remembered it being. Where the eyes had been there were empty hollows and around them were claw marks similar to those their lady had on her cheeks. Though there was no doubt in his mind about who the face belonged to. The nose and the mouth were the same. 

The guardsman fell to his knees, lowering his head. Under the cross gaze of their lady the rest found it in them to do the same. All filled with dread at the monstrous sight before them. 

”Seven save us” one man mumbled. ”He lives.”

He had never been pious, though more and more he felt he needed what the gods had to offer.

They were regarded with coolness before their lady gently laid the head on one arm so that she could use the other to take the body’s arm. Slowly she guided the body over to a tree and sat it down, placing herself next to him with the head in her lap.

It was long before anyone could tear their eyes away, but she paid them no mind. Merely sat there and calmly patted the head’s hair as if she was alone in the world with it. 

The youngest was the first to look away and once he had done so he could not bring himself to look again. He was so nauseous he was certain he would cast up all he had managed to eat. The sight of those ghastly hands holding the eyeless head would be forever burned into his mind.

Many others shared his terror. No one would eat another bite. It would be many nights before anyone could sleep without nightmares. 

While the others again gathered under the tree, pale and unable to speak, the guardsman went to sit closer to their lady and the body. He chose a different tree, but was close enough to hear her as she raised her hands to her throat and rasped out words.

”Ned” she croaked.

The eyeless head said nothing, of course, though the body managed to get an arm around their lady’s waist and held her to it.

When their lady smiled it was more of a twisted grimace. It took them seconds before they realised it was a smile. It frightened hem all, brought unease to the entire company. 

Their journey was at end, they had found The Headless One. And he would return to camp with them and their lady.

***

She sewed the head back on the body herself. Gently and lovingly she stitched together his neck. Then the youngest one had actually vomited. In life she must have been skilled with a needle, though the rigidness brought on by her time in death caused the stitching to be crude and uneven. Still they all agreed he was less horrible to look upon when he was not in two separate pieces.

Once his head was firmly in place she dedicated herself to grooming him. Combed through his hair with her hands, cut it using a knife and then tied half of it back with a leather cord. The beard she could not do much about, nor could anyone else. 

They all drew away as she tended to him. Had they spoken aloud then they would have found they agreed on that something was simply wrong with the entire ordeal. They tried to justify it to themselves, but could not escape that instincts told them to run from it. Something so monstrous was not supposed to be gentle. She was meant to be vicious and cruel. 

Still they could not escape that the monstrosity had been done to them. Both had met their ends through cutting betrayal, they had not wished to be the way they were. The guardsman especially repeated it to himself. Lord and Lady Stark had been different than they were. 

Most of the time the stitching around his neck could be hidden by cloaks and high collars. For a time he also tied a piece of cloth over where his eyes had been, hiding the empty hollows and the marks the birds had left around them. Eventually he ceased doing that. Perhaps he sensed it unnerved each and every person that was unfortunate enough to lay eyes on him. Everyone averted their gaze at the sight of the dark holes in his skull.

He was entirely blind and as silent as his lady, but he listened even more attentively than she did. Every little whisper reached him, and not a one could answer to how. They blamed the guardsman, initially, until they realised things no one told him still came to the attention of their lord. 

The guardsman spoke of how cold his eyes had sometimes been before. Grey eyes as hard as stone that judged and judged and judged. The judgment seemed even worse when there were no eyes. When he turned his face towards them and there was nothing that saw and still he knew. Still he judged.

Their lady had had a habit of disappearing every now and again ever since she rose. Leaving them to wander the woods for a few hours at a time. She still did, though she brought their lord with her. He rarely ever left her side, as soon as they were both standing she was holding his arm. Between trees and through creeks and over roots she led him. On and on.

”Do you think they still..?”

The question was raised a dark night when they had again vanished.

It brought grimaces from all his companions.

”Why are you thinking of it?” someone else demanded. ”They’re dead.”

”They’re not, though” said a third. ”And they still… love..?”

He was not certain it was love. Could they love? Or was it devotion that lingered from what they had been before? They could not speak with one another. He could not see her. Though very often they sat in silence together. Never before had there been some resemblance of peace in their lady’s expression. And though what little remained of her hair was white and brittle their lord would run his fingers through it.

”They loved each other deeply” said the guardsman. ”It was known through the entire north.”

Before him they had done their executions by hanging. The noose had been the fate of all those they had managed to catch. So it was no more. Their lord had not lost his precision with his eyes. No, he swung a sword as he had in life. Enacted his wife’s justice rather than the king’s.

He would sit entirely still, almost as if frozen, until their lady had delivered her sentence. Then he would rise, his rotted fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword. 

”Mercy, mercy” they would cry as they were dragged to the block. 

Some were so young their voices broke as they wept. Boys not yet men. Though there was no mercy to be found once their lord had risen. Their lady had given her command and so he would put an end to whatever life he had before him.

”Lord Stark” a man begged. ”Lord Stark, I met you before. Your wife was with child, we spoke of the children. Please. Please, we spoke of our children. I am a good man, you know I am a good man. I have children.”

In spite of himself one of their own almost laughed, could not keep a smile off his face. How could one look at that thing and try to appeal to what had once been Eddard Stark? How could one gaze at his ruined face and believe there was a man there who would show mercy? Lord and Lady Stark were dead.

Their lord paused briefly. Their lady’s eyes burned more fiercely than they ever had. Red and hateful, her face twisted with it. 

”You’re a Lannister man” said another. ”They’ve got you to thank for that they have no children.” 

”I had nothing to do with it, I swear I had nothing—”

His head rolled all the same. His blood soaked into the soft ground, his eyes stared blankly at the sky above them. 

”He mentioned their children” whispered a young one as they huddled around the fire that night.

”And the next man brought before them will pay tenfold for that” said an older.

”The scum will deserve it” someone else added.

Even so he shuddered. He pulled his cloak around him, blaming the cold. It was cold. Winter would soon be upon them. 

”Winter is coming” the oldest among them said as the green was bleeding out of the leaves.

Their lord turned his head towards him and was still for a moment before nodding once. Indeed winter was coming. As it always did. Every summer had to end, life had to give way for the barren cold.

When the snow began falling it was gentle. Soft snowflakes danced through the air and covered the everything in a white blanket. The woods grew still and quiet.

It was only then it became apparent their lord did not breathe. White clouds formed before the faces of them all, but he did not breathe. 

”Whatever brought him back is different than the kiss of life” someone noted sullenly. 

Evil, he thought. Whatever kept him animated was not supposed to be in the world. That he would not voice, but he prayed. Each morning and each night he prayed.

”We’ll never know what brought him back. And I don’t want to know.”

Mere days after that first snow there was a storm. Winds made the snowflakes lash at any skin not covered and it was near impossible to see their hands if they held them in front of their faces. Biting cold unlike anything even the older among them had ever seen before. Winter as it had been in ages long past. Winter that put end to anything not strong enough to withhold it. True winter.

It was in this storm their lord and lady vanished. Out into the storm they went, never to return. Once the snowing eased enough for their men to search for them their tracks had long since been covered.

”They can’t have survived” the oldest muttered. ”The storm took them.”

Several others came to wonder if their lord even could die. Their lady lived through a kiss of life, she could be killed. But their lord had wandered headless for so long and he did not breathe. Nor did he eat or drink. Did he wander alone again? Had their lady perished in the cold?

”They meant to go somewhere.”

”Where would they have gone?”