#slaining

even after all this time apart, he was singular in the way that he captivated her attention from across the square ─ catelyn had not even glanced at the statue properly once she had picked beron out in the crowd of northerners, towering over the rest in his furs. her heart lurched, as did her body, as though tugged by some invisible force and it was only the fact that she had been standing slightly behind her older sibling that kept her from running through the gathered crowd to get to him. it had been a feat in itself to keep herself rooted to one spot, gaze focused on the features of the ruling lord stark and the targaryen king as they spoke in turns, just so she was not constantly staring at beron. had he noticed her ? catelyn could not be certain, though she knew that she had not changed much from when he saw her last. what little weight she had gained had been lost during the plague, though she bemoaned the plainness of her dress before scolding herself for the thought. when had beron ever cared about that ? ( but perhaps he did now ? perhaps the years had turned him into a man of refinement. ) waving her siblings off as they began their journey back to the inn, she allowed her eyes to lift, finally, seeing him standing at the opposite end of the square. catelyn took a hesitant step forward, then plucked up her skirts to run over to him, uncaring of how wild she would seem to those that still lingered behind as she slammed into his chest with a soft grunt. ❝ ... beron. ❞ relief coated her voice, years of distance thawing out into something that almost choked her. how terrified she had been when the plague hit ... how much she had grieved on his behalf when she heard news of his twin sister's death. her head lifted from where it had been hiding against the fur of his cloak, studying his features. ❝ oh ... ❞ oh, her sweet boy. ❝ ... i'm so sorry, beron. ❞ what else could she say ? she should have ridden north, seagard and the riverlands be damned.