HOW HAVE YOU BEEN MY DEAR SEXINESS EMBODIED READERS
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This was her second day looking after her Lord husband's castle.
She had spent most of the afternoon writing letters, planning meetings for when her husband arrived, and going over the accounts from the north. It was exhausting work, but someone had to do it.
Night had fallen and it was time for dinner, and to Catelyn's sadness she had not been able to see her children all afternoon. Another good thing was that she didn't think about her husband's bastard; the humiliation she had experienced in the morning hit her as she walked towards the dining room. She didn't want to think about the bastard.
With a broad smile, she arrived with her children, who greeted her with a warm welcome that warmed her heart.
Catelyn couldn't love Ned completely, but she loved him for being a good man and for giving her five beautiful children.
She had felt guilty when she'd said those awful things about Ned in the bastard's room; she'd been furious and, in the heat of the moment, had said things she'd only thought.
It was true that Catelyn still loved Brandon, but not like she did with Ned.
What she felt for Brandon was something sexual, a desire for him to possess her in a way that no one else could.
Initially, there was no love between Ned and her, but once Robb was born, everything changed.
Seeing Ned carry their baby warmed her heart in a way that Brandon never did; this was a different kind of desire.
But the bastard had made her succumb to her most basic instincts, making her scream, curse, and desire another man.
All those stories she'd heard as a child about bastards were true; they were detestable beings who wanted more than they had, were treacherous by nature, and lustful.
For that reason, Catelyn had to keep a close eye on the bastard, keeping him away from the handmaids and Sansa. Although she knew her daughter would tell her if the bastard tried anything against her, she had to be cautious nonetheless.
Likewise, she had to take care of her daughter Arya, although trying to separate her from the bastard would be a challenge since her daughter admired him.
"Mother!" greeted Catelyn's youngest son, as he took his seat at the large table.
"It's good to see you, my children," Catelyn greeted.
"Mother, Jon taught me a new sword move today," her son Brandon said, his voice filled with excitement.
Catelyn had to hold her tongue to avoid saying anything that might dampen her son's enthusiasm.
Catelyn had been against that bastard teaching her son swordsmanship, but her husband and Ser Rodrick had declared Jon the best swordsman in the castle, and besides, it didn't help that her son didn't want any other instructor.
If there was one good thing that came from the bastard teaching her son, it was that Brandon avoided climbing the castle walls. Now Bran preferred sword training to climbing, much to her relief.
"I am pleased, my son, you will undoubtedly be a great swordsman, better than your father's bastard," Catelyn declared. She knew she shouldn't insult the bastard in front of her children; Arya and Bran defended him tooth and nail, and she feared Rickon would follow that path when he grew up.
"Did you hear that, Arya? I'll be a great swordsman, better than Jon, even better than Aemon the Dragon Knight!" Bran cheered his sister.
"You can't even shoot an arrow and now you want to be better than the Dragon Knight," Arya mocked her brother, making her children burst into laughter, even her perfect daughter Sansa seemed to enjoy the teasing.
"What did you do today, Sansa?" Catelyn asked with interest. Her daughter was a beautiful lady, her hair shinier than her own. She was taller than Catelyn and had slightly wider hips than she had in her youth. Knowing that her daughter was worried about not having her blood moon saddened her. Knowing that her daughter thought there was something wrong with her made her pray to her mother that those thoughts would leave her perfect daughter's mind.
"Oh mother, today I had a wonderful afternoon with Jeyne. We spent the afternoon in the yard watching Bran's progress, and after that Jeyne and I went for a walk," her daughter recounted with emotion in her voice. Undoubtedly, the prayers Catelyn had said had worked.
"I'm glad you're happy, daughter. I hope your worries from this afternoon are gone from your mind," Cat said.
"They're gone, Mom, thanks to J… Jeyne who explained to me that it was normal and that everything comes in its own time," Sansa explained, with a slight blush on her cheeks; undoubtedly, her daughter still felt embarrassed to talk about these things.
"I see, it's a relief to have a friend like Jeyne, and you Arya, what did you do today?" Catelyn asked her youngest daughter.
"Well, the Septa scolded me, then I played with the blacksmith's son, and then I spent the rest of the afternoon with my brothers," Arya said, a little nervously.
"Are you sure there's nothing to do with playing with swords?" Catelyn questioned.
Her daughter was red with embarrassment because she had discovered her little secret. Catelyn had been completely against her daughter behaving that way; she had tried to mold Arya into a perfect Lady like Sansa, but Arya was never interested in tales of knights or dresses, like her sister Sansa.
No, her daughter Arya preferred riding horses, running around the courtyard, and playing at being Nymeria.
She often wondered why she had two completely different daughters when they were only two days apart in name, but the only reason she allowed Arya to do all that was because people said she resembled Lyanna Stark, her husband's sister. Everyone knew of the tragedy that had befallen Lyanna at the hands of Prince Rhaegar: kidnapped and raped, left to die of hunger and thirst, abandoned alone in that tower. That was what was said in the North, but in the South, people said that Prince Rhaegar and Lyanna had run away; that was a love story they had made up.
Catelyn always saw how her husband looked at their daughter Arya, always with affection and sadness.
Catelyn hardly remembered Lyanna, but everyone said that Arya and Lyanna were similar, and sometimes old Nan called Arya Lyanna, so she couldn't change Arya's appearance.
AN:-
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