#brandon x cat

[shining-m00nlight]

Am I the Asshole?

Catelyn thought she and her husband were happy in their marriage. But Brandon telling her a story brings out insecurities and a lot of questions.

Catelyn snuggled up to her husband a little bit out of breath from their activities. Brandon laid on his back, having a satisfied smile on his face. 

“That was great” he mumbled into her hair.

“It was,” Cat agreed. 

Brandon had always been good at this part of the relationship. Even if Catelyn didn’t like to think about where he got the practice from. 

“You never believe what Ned told me today” 

Ned was Brandon's little brother. Cat had never actually met him. He lived far away since he had been a teen before Catelyn and Brandon started dating. It bothered her a bit. It’s not just that she didn’t know Ned, she knew almost no one in Brandon's family well despite the fact that they were married for a year now. 

She thought that she would meet them all properly with wedding planning and at the wedding and then get to know them after. But that never happened. Brandon and her had married in Las Vegas. He had convinced her to go on this trip with him and some of his colleagues. When he won quite a bit of money, drank quite a bit of liquor he had been on a high and asked her to marry him right this moment. Catelyn also had drunk more than she would have usually had agreed. 

She would regret this decision when she woke up the next day releasing what they had done. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be married to Brandon. She loved him but she had also always dreamed of a big wedding. She had wanted her father to walk her down the aisle. She wanted to hug her sister and brother, when they congratulated her on her wedding. He wanted to dance with her father and her uncle at the reception. And she wanted to meet Brandon’s family and felt like she was becoming part of them due to the marriage. But thanks to their dissection to elope in Vegas she missed out on all of it.

She had met Brandon's father twice, once before and once after they married. Cat thought he liked her when she first met him but the second time it was clear that they disappointed him. Just like they did her father. Catelyn felt awful. Still she had hoped that she and Mr Stark could build a good relationship with each other but that never happened. Catelyn had never been over at the Stark manor again. She wasn’t quite sure if that was due to Mr Stark or Brandon. 

Catelyn never understood why Brandon seemed to have a lack of interest in getting to know each other's families. He had reluctantly agreed to have dinner with her father once after their wedding. It had been a disaster. If Rickard Stark showed that he was disappointed that they didn’t have a proper wedding, Hoster Tully showed that he was angry. He also put all the blame on  Brandon. Catelyn had tried to tell him that it was just as much her direction as it had been Brandons. Her father hadn’t believed her, sometimes she wondered if she even believed herself. When they left her fathers house after Brandon and her father had gotten into a screaming match Brandon had said he would never be doing it again. And he has stuck to it to this day. 

Because of that Brandon had never met either of her siblings. The only sibling of his that she had met was little Benjen. He still lived with his father, so when he met Mr Stark she had met him. He seemed sweet but Catelyn didn’t know much more about him than that. Lyanna, Brandon’s sister also still lived at home but had had no interest in meeting Cat. According to Brandon she was being annoying about not having been at the wedding. 

So when Brandon mentioned one of his siblings Catelyn was immediately super interested and trying to soak up any information about Brandon's family to maybe use it if she ever got to meet them. Because Ned didn’t live close by, he was the sibling Brandon talked the least about so Catelyn immediately perked up. 

“What did Ned tell you today?” 

“He was talking about his friend Robert. Well technically he was complaining a bit but that is because Ned can have a bit of a stick up his arse. He said that he started to be in an open relationship with his girlfriend.”

Catelyn frowned a bit. Why was Brandon telling her that?

“Apparently Robert always had trouble sticking to one woman and when he met his current girlfriend he didn’t wanna cheat on her so he went to her honestly and they opened up the relationship. Isn’t that interesting?”

"Mhh, a bit I guess. But I also find it sad not being happy with being together with one person. Don’t you think?” Catelyn asked. She was getting a bit nervous why Brandon was telling her this story of some friend of his brothers that she didn’t even know.

“Nah. I don’t think it is about that. I think it is just about fun, keeping things interesting.”

"Interesting? Can’t you just keep it interesting with one partner?”

“Yeah, I mean if you try enough. I guess you could.” Brandon said but didn’t sound so sure. It furthered Catelyn's nervousness.

“Why are you telling me this Brandon? I don’t even know this Robert or even your brother by the way. Are you telling me you are bored with our marriage? Or our sexlife?” she wanted to sound casual but the way Brandon reacted she guessed she wasn’t really successful. 

"Jees Cat chill out. I didn’t mean anything. I just told you something. It doesn’t need to have some deep meaning. And if you think I meant anything by it, maybe you should think about why.”

“So you do find our sexlife boring?!”

“Omg, Cat!”

“Well what did you mean then?”

“You know what? Doesn’t matter.” With those words Brandon turned around quickly, turning his back to Catelyn and pushing her unceremoniously to the other side of the bed. 

As Brandon was falling asleep Catelyn laid next to him getting more confused by the second. Brandon was definitely trying to tell her something right? Otherwise he wouldn’t have said she should think about it. But what else could he have meant? What was a story about a guy that started to be in an open relationship was supposed to tell her? Was Brandon bored with their sexlife? Their marriage? Or maybe just her? Did he want an open relationship? She couldn’t believe that he would ask that of her. He knew her. She wasn’t the type of person for an open relationship. She did not want her husband to be with anybody but her. But maybe he really just meant that their could be more excitement in their life. 

Catelyn didn’t see herself as a particularly boring person but she did like her routine. She thought she and Bradon had fallen into a nice one the last few months. But maybe this was exactly what Brandon didn’t like. Maybe she could try making their life a bit more interesting. And maybe that should include their sexlife. Here too they have a certain routine. It was not quite as routine as their day to day life but Catelyn knew that before her Brandon had been with a lot of girls, so maybe he was missing it.  

When she finally fell asleep, she fell asleep with thoughts of how she could make her marriage better.

[ladycatofwinterfell]

hey guys do you think ned’s experience with being an outsider from a different place contributed to him building Cat a sept? Winterfell had no sept for her as the Eyrie had no heart tree for him

[dr3adlady]

I have edited and added the illustrations above to my shop. Check them out if you're interested.

[an-unexpected-trollogy]

Oh to be Suzanne Collins and have little social media presence and to write a book regarding whatever current societal trend is bothering her at the moment.

[waytoomuchanalysis]

Send your results to my ask box if you do this bingo card! My interests and likes are kind of all over the place lmao

[kifkay]

Winx & Specialists Dynamics that are so Precious to me

it makes sense that in the show, winx and their non-boyfriend specialists don’t interact much. but!! i’m very insane about codependent found families, and I want them all to love each other. so here’s my take on some tet-a-tet dynamics:

rare pairings:

Musa & Timmy: childhood frenemies. they used to go to the same middle school on Melody, and as type-A tweens do, had an intense, “you’re the only person I match myself to” kind of rivalry. they lost contact after Timmy moved away, chilled out considerably, reconnected in Alfea and had a wonderful banter-filled friendship since. because of how fast they slotted back into a friendship, some of their classmates genuinely thought they were siblings.

Tecna & Riven: got up from a rough patch. from “I dislike you but we both love Musa, so we have to be civil” to “you have more depths to you than I expected” to “now that I understand you, I can’t help but admire certain things about you” to “bitch, you are the only person who is as weird and clueless as I am, ARE YOU READY TO GO TO THE ARCADE AND ANNIHILATE KIDS FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES”

Flora & Brandon: little sister, older brother vibes. of similar temperaments and views, they enjoy spending time over a cup of tea — talking about everything and nothing. it’s therapeutic, almost.

(no one in the group knew that Brandon and Flo were good friends. once, when the two had to team up during a mission, Bloom couldn’t even finish saying: “it would be a good opportunity for you to get to know each ot-“, before the specialist-fairy duo were re-creating the most complicated and choreographed hand shake ever. jaws were on the floor.)

Aisha & Brandon: they are sporties, and they like doing sport things together! they don’t talk aside from exchanging brief encouragements and advice while out, preferring to spend their time in companionable silence. sorta like those dads who never talk to their buddies, but somehow have the strongest and longest bonds ever?

Helia & Bloom: artist besties. Bloom drags Helia out on picnics, where they practice observational drawing (and tiktok trends that Bloom desperately wants to reenact but none of the winx are good at arts); Helia responds by taking her out to see art museums in Magix. it’s a fun dynamic of Bloom being the bubbly gold retriever, and Helia being her black cat.

Tecna & Sky: they didn’t have much of a relationship until year 4. somehow, they both got really, intensely into weaponsmithing and built a joint workshop. they found that they enjoy working alongside each other and value each other’s insights. sky goes to tecna when he needs frank, un-sugarcoated advice, and tecna accompanies sky on hikes and other spirited adventures, for “bonding activities” (because he told her she doesn’t get out of her comfort zone enough). it’s a relationship of deep mutual respect.

Sky & Stella: childhood friends. they knew each other as children and enjoyed playing together (which is how Stella also knew Brandon pre-Red Fountaine). at least, until Stella was unofficially banned from Eraklyon because shenanigans, and they lost contact. they still jokingly call each other “My Lady” and “My Lord”.

Stella & Nabu. Both are flirty and extroverted people, who enjoy the spirit of showmanship. They have a friendly rivalry going of who can fluster the villain of the week the fastest.

canon bf-gf dynamics (dating in canon, open to interpretation otherwise):

Bloom x Sky: liked each other since the first meeting; bonded over being the friend group moms. (on unrelated note: bloom gentle parents her friends, while sky goes all exasperated cig mom on his team and repeats things like: “you better go to sleep right now, or so help me Dragon I will take away your Owl pilot privileges-“)

they are not the most outwardly affectionate couple of the winx, yet they are so wordlessly devoted to each other. sky will follow bloom to the ends of all dimensions, when she gets a calling from powers as mystical as she. bloom will always believe in him and see him as his own man, unlike the many who see him only as his father’s son. they were entwined by fate, long before one had met the other; yet, there’s the trust, the respect, the faith so strong — that could have only come from friendship forged and tested by fire.

Stella and Brandon: the hottest power couple; sole reason behind 60% of all student fairies/specialists/witches queer awakening.

they banter all. the. goddamn. time. these dorks are speaking a whole different language.

they are also most comfortable in each other’s company, being able to be their genuine, less polished selves. stella and brandon are both performers bred and born, playing the roles of a noble princess and a knight. it’s nice, to have a safe reprieve from all that acting.

Aisha and Nabu. their love was one that sneaked up on them. their distance, set by a discomfort at the idea of an arranged marriage, bridged as they transitioned from being reluctant comrades to friendly rivals to unwilling friends to best friends to “if someday the moon calls you by your name, don’t be surprised — because every night I tell her about you”

Tecna and Timmy: partners in crime, ride or die, sunny faith in each other — even when the other person doesn’t believe in themself. I have a whole post about them, go read that ;)

Flora and Helia: they are so. they are. they-

icons. the most romantic couple, the one that sets the standards, the one that gives their friends advice. they are extremely attentive to each other’s needs and tender with each other’s feelings.

flora can recite helia’s poems in her sleep, and trace his drawings with her eyes closed. helia brings mielle presents every time he stops by. flora has tea with helia’s dad every other tuesday; she keeps note of every time helia and saladin are supposed to meet up, to be able to whisk helia away after and distract him from his troubles. helia knows how to care of flora’s plants, and sends her lovingly assorted gift baskets semi-regularly.

Musa and Riven. their relationship is push and pull, is joy then sorrow.

it’s all in a drag of a cigarette, in the vortex of a starless night, in the hoarse laughter. “of all the people in the world, why did it have to be you?” she’ll say and smile.

“ I’m afraid we’re doomed, lover,” he’ll reply, faux-casually, and smile back. both of them will know it’s the truth.

their relationship was not built to last, not for the lack of love or try. maybe they were too similar — both headstrong, unbending, bleeding hearts. maybe they were just different enough not to understand their hurts. nevertheless, it was not built to last — but neither of them would ever bring to regret it. love prevails, no matter in what form in comes, or something like that.

[last-starry-sky]

kinktober day 31 - scars // monsterfucking - pt. 2

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

poly!141 x f!witch!reader

[MDNI - NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS: 1.6k, mostly more Halloween party fluff, unwanted attention from annoying, nice guy, coworker Brandon (borrowed from charliemwrites), alcohol/drunkenness mention, vague magical elements, reader is vaguely threatened with violence/worse but nothing comes of it, kissing. no sex in this part.]

tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!): @slut-lmao, @mishaglass, @jaguarthecat

“Grab some food and drinks, you guys!” you said swirling away as your playlist ended, filling the room with silence. “Everything is on the table in the dining room. You all know where the bathrooms are, and the fire is going out back!”

Being a hostess really did suck sometimes. All you wanted to do right now was hang out with your friends (okay mostly your four guys), but alas, the music wasn’t going to curate itself. You just hoped that everyone, especially Ghost, would acclimate to the busy, party atmosphere. 

Unfortunately, this was also when your most annoying coworker, whom you didn’t even want to invite, Brandon, decided to hover around you. 

“What music are you gonna play?” he asked as he cozied up uncomfortably close to you, a beer he did not bring swirling in his hand.

“Just putting on a playlist,” you said, stepping into the corner of the room with your tablet, trying to type and escape him at the same time, “Nothing special.”

“You should just let me pick it,” he said following you, drunk, smarmy smile spreading across his face that made your stomach curdle. “You know how much everyone loves my music at work-”

“Okay!” you said shoving the tablet into his hands as you darted away. It was a small price to pay to get him off your ass. 

You rushed away into the dining room, taking a breath and calming down before making a round to check if anything needed to be refreshed or put away as you grazed. You were happy to see all of the guys had found their way to the food. Soap was shoveling down Brandon’s almost untouched deviled egg pyramid. Shuffling them from hand to mouth in an efficient assembly line. You snorted, glad someone was finally eating them.

Ghost was standing over the punch, staring into the solo cup in his hand. Your eyes met across the table. You wanted to laugh at his pleading eyes, but instead you flounced over, grabbing a novelty pumpkin print straw out of the jar for him.

“Here,” you said pointing the silly thing in the area of his mouth. 

Once he took it in his grubby, wrapped hand, you averted your eyes and walking away to keep from giggling as he put one end in his cup and threaded the other under the gauze. 

Thankfully, you ran into Price talking to two more of your neighbors in the sitting room. They were a young couple from down the street. She was dressed as a black cat, her costume-less fiancé had her kitty ear headband on, except they were cocked drunkenly to one side of his head. Seeing his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders made a spike of jealousy rise in your stomach. They all laughed as Price finished the end of his story, and the feeling faded.

“This real, love?” Price asked, gently palming a crystal ball decorating the top of a stack of antique books on various creepy subjects like the occult and Victorian mysticism. 

“Ah, yeah!” you replied, swallowing your bite of cheese. “Saw it in an antique shop and, you know me,” you said with a nervous laugh, “Love all this spooky stuff.”

“Magic, creatures . . .” he said looking around the room. You squirmed, sweating under your felt hat. He had seen most of your house. He knew how you decorated. It was no surprise. Why was he so curious now? “Fascinate you, do they?” he said settling his blue-eyed stare on you. 

“It’s so cool how you fixed up this old house,” the girl said dreamily, ignoring Price, as she leaned back against her guy. 

“Yeah, we all thought it was creepy until you moved in,” he said, most of his attention focused down on his half-asleep girlfriend. “Haunted or somethin’,”

You laughed nervously again. “I guess that’s why it was so cheap!” you said, trying not to stare as Price ran his hand over the stack of books, reading their titles with interest. 

Before they could continue the conversation, you heard the backdoor slam shut. You pulled away, making your excuses to check on the fire. 

You shivered as you hopped down the porch steps, wind whipping up a clatter of crunchy leaves as you passed the tool shed. You hated that thing. Even the basement, with all it's cobwebs and clunking old pipes didn’t make the hair on the back of your neck stand on end like that leaning old wooden box, tucked under a scraggly, dying tree. It was stupid, you’ve lived here for almost six months now, and you’ve hung out alone by the fire-pit near the back of your property countless times, but that thing still terrified you for some reason. 

Even after performing your janky, amateur, “blessing” ritual from your book, it still bothered you. You were new to this whole “witch thing” though. Maybe this was out of your element. Maybe you should call someone else in to handle it, which, to be honest, you definitely were not going to do. You were a big girl, you’ve handled everything life has thrown at you so far.

You’ve had successes with the small bits of magic you’ve done so far. Like the protection potion you put in the punch. That seemed to have worked . . . a bit. What you were trying to convince yourself was: you were going to handle this fucking shed problem on your own. And that was that. 

You eventually made it back to the group lingering around the dying fire. Everyone was finishing up their beers before they headed out. You reminded them to at least try to toss them in the bin to make your job easier in the morning. Again, you wished you could just sit down and enjoy these last few moments with your friends, enjoying the warmth, the dancing red and orange lights, watching the smoke whirl away high into the starry night sky. 

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you headed back. There was so much to do now that the party was winding down. You kicked at the gravel with your boots, watching as it scattered off the path into the dark grass, as you absently made a list in your head. You probably have enough containers to pack away the leftover cheese and meats, but unless everyone wants to take cookies you’re going to be left with a mountain of them. The punch you could pour out, but the extra sodas and beer-

“Hey,” a weak voice beckoned you. 

You couldn’t tell who it was, but he was partially hunched over, leaning against the tree next to the shed. He sounded like he had just been sick, so squashing your fear, you dashed over to help him. 

“Brandon?” you asked, recognizing his obnoxious mustard yellow jacket from the beginning of the party. 

You had reached out your hand to touch his shoulder, but when his head jerked up at you, a look of pure malice scrawled across his face, you recoiled back.

“Yeah,” he answered bitterly, spitting on the ground between your feet as he stood. “It’s fucking me.”

He tried to take a step toward you, but he stumbled, grabbing onto the sloughing bark of the dead tree to regain his balance. In the dark, all you could see was him lurch forward, so you dashed back. You spun out of his way so quickly, you didn’t notice the shed until it hit the middle of your back, knocking the breath from you. 

He let out an evil laugh when he heard you gasp helplessly for air. You knew he was annoying, but this was a whole different and terrifying side of him. You were stuck in place, shallow breaths in and out all you could manage as he regained his footing, dusted off his jacket, and turned toward you. He wiped his mouth across his sleeve, beady, poison filled eyes narrowed in on you.

“It’s fuck-ing Bran-don,” he said, mocking your usual tone. “Brandon who does . . . fucking everything for you at work,” he spit out with a roll of his eyes, throwing out his hands, “You know that, right? Don’t even ask for a thank you, either. And I’m nice to you! So fucking nice! Unlike all those other guys you throw yourself at.” 

He fell forward against the shed, making the dilapidated thing wobble as he landed. You gasped involuntarily and, again, you were struggling for even the slightest breath. He continued his rant, crawling along the wall toward you. Your heart hammered in your chest and all you could do was watch him. It was something out of a horror movie. 

“-made food for your stupid fucking party. Just wanted to hang out with you . . . show you . . . show you how good I could be for you. Make you finally see how nice I am. Fuckin’-”

An arm slithered around your waist, pulling you away from the shed and Brandon's outstretched hand. 

“There you are, baby,” Gaz’s smooth, familiar voice purred in your ear as he hauled you up against his chest with a kiss to your cheek. “Been looking everywhere for you,” he said looking down at you with half-lidded eyes. 

If you could have spoken, you would have called him your savior. You would have screamed and cried and actually kissed him back. You would have held onto him and never let go. As it was, all you could do was gasp out his name as he rubbed at your cheeks with his cold hands. He gave you a smile before turning his piercing gaze on the drunk man behind you. 

“Brandon,” he hissed through a smile, fangs bared, “party’s over, mate. You need to leave, or,” he said with a fire-red glint in his eye, “one of us can give you ride. Choice is yours.”

You gripped onto Gaz’s vest, shivering as you heard gravel slowly crunch under his slowly retreating footsteps. You heard him mutter under his breath as he took his time leaving, Gaz continued to stand with you, though. He leaned down, pressing his chilled face to your ear to speak directly to you.

“Still looking,” he whispered, cupping your face in his hands. “Gotta make this believable, ‘kay doll?”

[myladysapphire]

The Dragon and the Wolf

Epilouge

You had been betrothed to Cregan stark at the start of the war. He was the noble and honourable stark that he was he supported your mother claim without restraint. So much so your mother saw it fit to betroth the two of you. So when disaster strikes and you and your younger brother are the only two survivors, you a shipped of north in your grief, leaving only Cregan to heal your wounds.

word count: 2,212

CW: MDI, 18+, refrences to pregenacy, miscariges stillbirths and death, happy ending! lots of fluff (all the bad tags where small and lead to a very fluff, not proofread!

Cregan Strak x Veleryon(strong)!reader

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part |

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

authors note: this epilouge is largely based of cregan starks wiki page, thats why they have a hell of a lot of kids. find it here.

Cregan Stark had been many things, the lord of Winterfell, warden of the north, hand of the king. But most importantly he had been your husband. Married for 66 years before your death in 200 AC,

Your marriage with filled with tragedy and triumphs, but most importantly love.

A love that inspired songs, poems and stories.

Though you and he had your ups and downs, he stayed by your side during your worst and your best times.

And even after years of struggling, years of sadness and tears as your moons blood came, you and he ended with ten children to call your own.

First there had been Rickon, followed by Saera, Alys and Rhaeya, then Mariah, Jacearys, Edric, Lyanna, Lucerys and finally Brandon.

The birth of each of your children had filled your halls and your heart, the ache you had felt after the war had finally been filled, and you had felt whole once more.

You had found the happiness you had been chasing and felt contentment and happiness more and more each and every day.

Your love for each other continued to bloom and grow, love so deep that Cregan himself passed only moons after you, your son Jaceaerys, know as Jace ‘one eye’, becoming the lord of Winterfell after his death, though it was your youngest son Brandon that the stark line continued from.

Your legacy was one that would be remembered even a hundred years after your death, songs were still sung in your honour, halls and castle erected in your name, there was even a castle built in your honour on the wall, after your help in the victory against Sylas the grim.

But where your legacy blossomed still was within the walls of Winterfell, where your kin ruled to this day.

“we have Targaryen ancestry, or one ancestor to be precise” Ned Stark spoke to his children, as he walked them down the crypts of Winterfell.

He speak your name, bowing in respect as he approached your statue, your stood beside your husband Cregan Stark, your hands adjoined in a symbol of your love, a love that had become famous amongst the pages of history.

“she was the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Veleryon, the last rider of Silverwing and the last dragon rider in history. “

Sansa seemed giddy as she looked at her, her ancestor a Targaryen princess.

“did she fight in the dance of the dragons?” Jon asked, looking at his ancestors, noting the similarity in your features with his.

“aye, though she played the role of a diplomat more than a fighter, but she is too thank for several victories, even after the war she helped defend the north against wildings”

His children gasped in surprise, eagerly listening to their father recount the tales of you and your legacy.

“did any of her children have dragons?” Jon asked eagerly.

“aye, each child was given an egg, though only two hatched” he looked to the left towards were your children statues stood, “the ones belonging to Lord Jacearys and Lucerys, named after her brothers” he looked down to Jon, the most egar to here of his ancestors, “though it was said they died and grew no larger than cats“

A sound of disappointment left Jon at the news.

“is it true they were so in love that he died of a broken heart after her death?” Sansa asked.

Ned chuckled, “it was said he did, aye”

Sansa let out a small squealed, “imagine being so in love you can’t bare to live in a world without them” she gushed.

“aye, there love is famous” he said looking up at his ancestors.

“can any of you tell me about their children?

Robb raised his hand enthusiastically, “they had ten in total, though it was their second son Jaceaerys, named after her brother who died in the dance who succeeded Cregan…he then died with no children and was succeeded by Lucerys also named after one of her brothers whose death started the dance of dragons”

“very good Robb…but who succeeded Lucerys?”

“there youngest child, Brandon, who we are descended from” Arya spoke up, as she gazed at the sword at your hip. “was she trained with a sword?” she asked eagerly.

“most likely, she was a fighter, a warrior though most accounts was due to her fighting on the back of silver wing, it was said she killed several men who insulted her brother, King Aegon III and was known to have fought several who questioned her mother, Rhaenyra being a legitimate queen.”

Arya seemed very please with this response, as did Robb and Jon as they admired their 4x great grandmother.

At the feet of their statues laid 3 dragon eggs, long turned to stone, and though neither of them noticed at first, as Ned light the lights surrounding their statues, behind them sat the skull of Silverwing.     

A reminder of house Targaryen, and their power even now years after they had been defeated and banished.

And though you had become a stark you were forever remembered in house Targaryen, with your named reused countless times, a holdfast in the red keep named after you, and gardens throughout Westeros grew a rose named after you.

But whilst you had grown a legacy and left an indent on the history of Westeros, you had not lived to do so.

Your life had been one you had ended up devoting to your family, to love and happiness, no care if your section of the history books was a long one or not.

The first five years of your marriage where the one filled with the most hurdles to cross, with fertility issues and you suffering from depression, it truly tested your marriage but the day your eldest Rickon was born, was the day your life truly became filled with Joy.

Your pregnancy had been spent bed bound to nervous to venture out of it for fear of another miscarriage.

Cregan had moved his office to your shared chambers, insisting on spending every moment you would allow with him. His days spent with you, his meals shared with you in bed, he only left when necessary and even then, he was racing back to be with you.

The birth had scared him, his mind remembering the last birth, how you had laboured for hours knowing full well the babe was already dead.

But this time the babe was perfect, a healthy boy you named Rickon after his father.

You watched him grow and as the years passed more children followed, each and every one of them filling your life with more and more love.

You and Cregan grew inseparable, your duties becoming one as you both ruled Winterfell together.

And after fifteen years of marriage, and the birth of you first five children, Rickon, Saera and Alys, Rhaeya and Mariah, your brothers came to Winterfell on their tour of Westeros.

Aegon and Viserys both married with children of their own were more than happy to see you again, years of letters making up for little of how much you missed your brothers.

“Aegon, Viserys” you greeted as you they rode into Winterfell with the pride and fancy house Targaryen always brought.

“sister” they greeted, coming straight towards you, their boyish looks still in full effect despite being adults in their own right, “I have missed you”

“no more than I have missed you” you replied before introducing your family and household to your brothers.

Your sons and daughters presenting themselves proudly, with your daughter Saera pointing out the similarities between herself and her cousin Daena, they could practically be twins. In both looks and nature.

They caused many a problem during their time in Winterfell, with many pranks and havocked caused as they spent their days freeing horses or practicing with Sareas crossbow, shooting apples above servants heads.

Your eldest Rickon spent most of his time with Daeron, many time spent in the courtyard, sparring or exploring the dragon nest Silverwing had left upon her most recent return from Winterfell.

You watched as your children created bonds with their cousins, bonds that would stick even after the tour. Letters exchanged and your sons Jacearys and Lucerys being sent to ward in Kings Landing.

And whilst they were here your sons Jacearys and Lucerys eggs hatched, small dragons, the first dragons born in near ten years.

Jace’s dragon, a soft shade of white shade, easily blending into the snow. He had named the dragon sōna, the Valyrian word for snow. And though the history books would mark him to be as big as a small housecat, he in truth grew to be the size of a dire wolf, and though not big enough to take a rider on his back, he was known to fly the walls of Winterfell before his death, after falling victim to a stray arrow during one of house starks monthly hunts.

Lukes’s dragon had been named icefyre, he had claimed it was who he was, a merge of ice a fire and so was his dragon. With silver scales and a blue flame, similar to the blue flame of your uncle Daeron’s dragon Tesserion. He too grew to the size of a dire wolf, before accompany Luke south to Kingslanding, ending up on Dragonstone where she was killed by the now wild dragon, Sunfyre.

And though when the tour ended, after being extended moons, with neither side wanting to part from the other, the sadness and regret you felt before when leaving your brothers was no longer, as you where more than happy with the family you had in Winterfell. No longer did you dream of the ghosts of your family, wishing them alive, but now you saw them reborn as each of your children.

In Rickon you saw Jace, he was noble and kind, the perfect future lord. And you saw even more of Jace in him as he died fighting alongside his cousin Daeron, after he had been named king and set to conquer Dorne. Dying before his time, a hero’s death.

In Saera, you saw your mother, Rhaenyra. A fierce and defiant girl, egar and pride. She was smart and quick and though as time passed and you began to forget the faces of those you lost, however you looked at Sarea, you saw your mother.

In Alys you saw Joffrey, shy and kind but egar to prove herself. Going out of her way to prove her loyalty and her devotion to house Stark.

In Rhaeya, you saw your grandmother, Rhaneys. Though she was named in honour of bother her mother and grandmother, her grandmothers laugh, and smile shined through in your girl. She was always riding, though a horse not a dragon, she was a warrior in her own right, fighting in the conquest of Dorne, though she eventually chooses to sheath her sword after she found love in the son of Benjicot Blackwood.

Then there was Mariah, sweet Mariah reminded you of Rhaena, though alive and well with six daughters of her own, she reminded you in every way of your sister. With a fierce heart, hidden behind a sweet temperament.

Jace, who had become Jace one eye at the age of six and ten after an arrow pierced his eye during the conquest of Dorne, he reminded you of you uncle Aemond, before the cruelty took over him. He was determined and fierce, though hidden behind a shy demeaner.

Edric, was the very image of Daemon. Though Stark in looks he was the rouge of her stepfather, careless and wanton, so much so he died before all of his siblings after fighting and loosing a duel against the man who would later marry his sister Lyanna, Lynol Tyrell.

Lyanna, Was you. You looked at her and saw yourself, a girl born out of love, a girl desiring love more than anything in the world. A girl who would fight for what she believed in, no matter the cost.

Lucerys, of cause reminded you of Luke in every way he was your sweet younger brother. In looks and nature he was Luke reborn.

The Brandon, your youngest child, a big age gap, born near ten years after Luke. He seemed to be the image of your husband, fierce and wise, a good lord. Though often driven my lust.

Your legacy was fierce, your blood spread through Westeros as you were remembered in the page of history books for all to read.

“the dance of the dragons” Daenerys read, as she was gifted a book of the history of her family.

“not just the dance, Princess” spoke Ilyrio Mopatis. “this book tells the story of your Ancestor” he spoke your name, and printed out the portrait of you that covered the first page inside.

“A whole book dedicated to one ancestor?” Viserys scoffed, “what was she a conqueror?”

“in some ways” Ilyrio started, “she was a key player in the dance, without her diplomacy the war could have been much longer than it had been”

“Really?” Viserys asked sceptically.

“indeed, read for yourself My prince”

And so they read your tale, and you where once more brough back to life.

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[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch.3

Warnings/Mentions: Merle being Merle, History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut, slowburn, angst

Summary: You reminisce on the old days spent with Merle and Daryl.

Notes: This is mostly flashbacks to life growing up with Daryl and Merle, the good ole days :D Merle says some homophobic and probably racist stuff, cause he's Merle

“Dude, just go apologize, holy shit. You're worse than the teenage girls I went to school with.”

“Mind your own goddamn business. S’between me and Merle.” 

“He's got a point. You're acting shifty as hell. What happened to leaving? Huh? We've got Merle back, nothing's changed, these people still see us as redneck trash, can we just go already?”

“Said mind your business.”

Hindsight is a bitch.

You were five years old when you met Daryl and Merle for the first time. Unless your memory served you wrong, it was the fourth of July, and the trailer park was getting together to set off a bunch of illegal fireworks. You were sitting with your family as your neighbors got everything ready, a few of them grilling hotdogs and hamburgers. Your father had brought your mother a burger, which she split with you.

Your father was the only black sheep in your lives at that point in time. Anyone could tell just by looking at him that he didn't belong there, in a dingy trailer covered in blotches of mildew and rust. He was always clean shaven, no tattoos, perfect white teeth. He never smoked, never did drugs, never even drank. Even his name stood out among the Tammys, the Justins, Tuckers, Mandys, the Brandons and the Krystals. He was a Sebastian. He always wore clean clothes, and it was a stark contrast to your mother, who was the whole reason he was there in the first place. 

She was nothing like him. She had a beautiful face, sure, but that was about the only thing beautiful about her. Most of her teeth were yellow from cigarettes and drugs, some of them missing, and the molars in the back had eventually all turned black. She was never seen without a cigarette in her fingers, her nails a different bright color everyday. Her clothes always stank of cigarettes and BO, but despite all of that, she wasn’t all that much of a terrible human. Not until later on.

Your mother loved your father, and he loved her. She loved you too, even if she was mean most of the time, she never hit or screamed at you until he left. After that she took a dark turn, becoming a woman you grew to despise. She blamed you for him leaving, but  you knew the truth, she was the reason. She’d relapsed one too many times and he had enough, he left and he took you with him, but CPS ultimately dragged you kicking and screaming from your grandmother's house back to the prison that was your trailer.

That fourth of July was one of the last good memories you had with your parents. Your mother had been clean for seven months, and she looked stunning that night in her pink sundress and purple nail polish. She brought you a freeze pop and you ate it like it was a gourmet dessert, sitting beside her on the grass as you watched your neighbors set up the fireworks. 

When you finished eating you went to play with the group of kids, they would end up becoming your last resemblance of a friend group, a pair of girls your age and a handful of boys. One of the older boys made a rude comment about the DIxon brothers, and you decided to introduce yourself. 

Merle was about sixteen then, maybe seventeen, but he treated you and Daryl like you were the same age, something you deeply admired about him. You threw rocks at beer bottles behind their trailer, and you smoked your first cigarette there, hacking your lungs out, much to their amusement. Merle bragged and showed off his father's gun and crossbow collection, and soon after that their mother shooed you all out of the house like stray cats. 

You wished you could say the three of you became thick as thieves after that, but truthfully you didn't have many memories with them. To echo the point, you weren’t really friends. Just people with similar situations that lived near each other.

You took a deep drag of Daryl's cigarette and pulled away from him, holding it in your lungs. 

He didn’t say anything, and neither did you. You sat in silence, your legs hanging off the bridge you sat upon, sharing one of your last cigarettes. 

You turned a spent shell casing over in your fingers as Daryl flicked the butt into the river below. It was Merle's bullet casing, you knew that, the three of you had been on that bridge a few days prior when he let off a few shots into a small group of walkers. It was small, from the little .22 pistol that he’d borrowed from you. He’d never given it back, and it pained you to assume it was most likely still in his waistband, stuck to his rotting corpse until some other survivor came along and took it. 

“C’mon. Let's get back.” Daryl grunted as he hopped off the ledge and slung his crossbow over his shoulder. This was the only thing he said to you for the rest of the day, and for a while after that. 

Once you had said that your odds of survival were higher when there were more people around. World views change fast, apparently, because when the prison group took in the Woodbury citizens, you felt more at risk than when it had been a group of ten. 

Though you always despised the word ‘outcast’, it was the only word good enough to describe your place in the prison. 

It was easier when Merle had been there. It was only a few days but it was nice, you found yourself making an effort to hang out with him more, something he secretly appreciated. There wasn't anyone in his life anymore that enjoyed spending time with him, aside from Daryl. But some days it felt like not even his baby brother wanted to be around him. 

“You know how to fish?” You had asked him one evening as the two of you walked back from a supply run mostly empty handed. 

“Do you know who you're talkin' to sweetheart? Course I know how to fish.” 

You sat on the riverbank as he dumped his fourth trout into your bucket of water. You had caught one small catfish, and that seemed to do wonders for his pride, it gave him another thing to brag about doing better than anyone else in camp. 

“Little asskickers gonna have her first taste of good ole American fish tonight.” Merle laughed proudly, wiping his hands on his pants. 

“I don't think babies can eat fish. I don't think they can eat anything but formula.” You commented and stood from your spot, pulling in your makeshift fishing line. 

“A lil’ fish can't hurt.”

“No, seriously. I don't think she can have any.”

“Psh.” He muttered and picked up the bucket. “Useless fuckers. Can't eat, can't speak, can't walk, hell.”

Before the outbreak, you'd spent the most time with the eldest Dixon brother. Only to buy or trade drugs, occasionally getting high together, but it was still time spent in each other's presence. He very much enjoyed doing speed and teaching you things, normally how to shoot different types of guns, or just sitting in some random person's house listening to his rants about racism, homophobia, whatever he felt passionate about that day. 

“It just ain't natural, and I said, you couldn't pay me a cold million to touch one of you shitlickers. Yessir.” He was laughing then, amused in his retelling of some high school escapade that you weren't really paying attention to. Merle could be tasteless at times, and it was of no interest to you, you were enjoying your expensive high and there was no way in hell you were going to ruin it by getting into an argument with someone like him. 

You must've dozed off, because the long, drawn-out yell of your name had your heavy head lolling back up to see Merle a foot away from you. A grin split onto his face and he slapped your shoulder. “C'mon. Got a hot date, wouldn't look too good bringin’ your ass around. Get up. C'mon now!” 

Maybe you should've stuck around, cause he ended up getting a nasty case of gonorrhea from her. About a week later you found out from the man himself, standing in front of the coolers in your local gas station. They didn't sell gas anymore, too expensive, but they didn't lose any customers. 

“Should'a known a bitch that ugly would be crawlin’ with it.” He cursed, hiking up a six pack of beer on his shoulder as he followed you to checkout, his little shadow following behind.

“Told ya. Just didn't listen.” Daryl muttered, swiping a pack of cigarettes to slip into his back pocket. 

“Yeah, well, that's cause you don't know jack shit about women. The hell would I listen to you for?” 

“Even I could've told you that.” You spoke around the SlimJims between your lips as you handed the cashier a crumpled up ten dollar bill. She said nothing about you obviously being underaged and buying a cheap bottle of wine, everyone in town knew about your mother. “That's what you get for being a dick to that poor kid.”

“You talkin' about that-” The noisy chime of the bells above the front door covered his derogatory choice of words. 

“Those men, yeah. Don't know why it's so hard for you to leave people alone.”

“Cause it's America sweetheart, ain't no place for that kind of degeneracy here.” 

You bit back your quip concerning the women he surrounded himself with and looked to Daryl, who was too busy flipping through an obscene magazine to notice.

You weren't the model student after your father left. Most days were spent by yourself in the surrounding woods, fucking around until the buses prepared to leave. On the rare occasion that you had company, it was usually the senior you bought drugs from. He was weird, overly gentle with a very soft voice, something about him extremely off putting. 

Maybe things would've been different if you had been friends with Daryl back in school. He had only gone for a little while, using any and every excuse to get out of that house, even if it did include going from one prison to another. You weren't sure when he dropped out (technically he didn't drop out, he just stopped showing up), but it was right around the time Merle was out of prison. 

They left their father then, moving from couch to couch, and eventually ended up staying with another dealer you were vaguely familiar with. 

“Holy shit, look at you!” Merle whistled playfully after realizing it was you that had just come through the door. 

“The fuck? Merle?” You could barely recognize him. He looked so different from the last time you saw him, hardened by the months in prison. Daryl looked different too, he'd started growing some facial hair and looked a bit larger as well. It had been about a year or two since your last encounter, so it was to be expected. They stood up from the couch they sat on to greet you, Merle offering you a hit from his glass pipe, which you declined. 

“Nah, you know I never liked that shit.”

Merle snickered and held his lighter flame under the glass orb. “Right, right. Forgot you were too classy for crystal. Only the,” he tapped the side of his nostril, “for you.”

You caught up in the dealer's living room, some guy named Jesse, and enjoyed your purchases. You were happy then, for a few reasons. Jesse's shit was a lot better than what you were used to, so you found yourself a new reliable source, but also because you got to see Daryl again. You got to see him laughing, joking, no black eyes or busted lips. You got time with them as they were, before the world changed. 

You found yourself missing that time, watching as Daryl flung dirt over his shoulder into the grass behind him. It was the present, and you were sitting beside the hole he dug, too hungry to help. You'd forgotten to eat breakfast that morning and it was too early for lunch to be ready, whatever it was Carol or Beth had fixed up for the prison members. 

“What do you think Jesse's up to?” 

Daryl squinted against the sun to focus on you, momentarily pausing his digging. “Who?”

“That dealer you guys used to stay with. Beanie guy.” 

“Oh, yeah. Shit.” He grunted and stretched his back, happy for a break from grave digging. “Hell, I don't know. Probably dead.”

“You think? He seemed pretty tough to me.”

Daryl laughed abruptly at that. “Guy was a prick, but he wasn't no ‘tough guy’. Would go straight to usin’ guns instead of fightin’ like a real man.” 

You would never discover the fate of Jesse, but the decision to bring Daryl's mind back to wander in the past did wonders for bringing the two of you closer once again. 

To everyone's surprise, including you, Daryl dealt with his brother's death far better than you had. You'd expected he'd want to leave after that, go live alone and shut out everyone else. He didn't though, he cried a few times, sure, he got distant and chose to only keep you as company, but while you were still angry and grieving, he was laughing and forming bonds with the new group members. 

You weren't too sure why Merle's death had devastated you that much, the two of you weren't exactly best friends. Maybe it was due to the fact that he was one of the only two things keeping you connected to your past life, even though it was awful, it was better than the constant looming threat of being eaten by dead people. As shitty as your mundane life was, it would have gotten better, one day you would've been stronger than your mother and you would've stood up for yourself, put an end to the physical abuse, and if you were lucky you could've been able to leave and find your father and brother. 

Now Daryl truly was the only bit that remained, not counting material possessions. 

The same went for Daryl as well. The difference between you and him though was that the loss of his brother turned into a good thing. He was no longer a shadow of another human, no longer basing his ideals and opinions on said human. While you dealt with the pain by using Daryl as a crutch, he used it to find out who the unbiased Daryl was, abandoning the ‘Merle Dixon’s kid brother' persona. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx

[atopvisenyashill]

do you think petyr ever genuinely loved cat?

i mean that’s kinda complicated just bc it’s like. what even is “love” what qualifies as feeling love. can you call what tywin feels for jaime “love” when all tywin’s love does is make jaime increasingly more miserable and jaded about his life? can you call what alicent feels for aegon “love” when she’s specifically been pushing him towards a fate he doesn’t want his whole life? can you call what joffrey feels for his mother “love” when joffrey is outwardly very derisive of women & wives and clearly thinks cersei is weak and stupid? i would personally say that rhaenyra loves jacaerys but you can't ignore that this is a very selfish, very possessive, one track mind sort of love where jacaerys is not allowed to be truthful with her the way he wants; it's love on her terms only. i personally love to argue that like, viserys i and aegon ii DO in fact love their kids (yes, all of them) despite their deadbeat tendencies but you could call it perhaps a selfish sort of love as well, a love that is more a reflection of oneself than any sort of dedication to their children. i would argue cersei doesn’t particularly LIKE tommen but does love him, and that she doesn’t know a thing about who myrcella really is but does love her, but really, is that love worth a damn in the end when she’s being actively vicious towards tommen for acting like the child he is? i think it all comes down to like, how do YOU define love - is it merely a feeling or is it an action?

for petyr, i think when he was very young, pre-injury, he felt a sort of love for catelyn yes. maybe an immature sort of love, like the way you feel about your high school girlfriend or your college best friend; there’s real, deep, consuming emotion there esp when you compare those feelings to your fleeting crushes of early childhood but it’s not as selfless, not as mature perhaps. i wouldn’t call this an “untrue” love - what’s that line from stand by me, where gordie says that he never had any friends he loved so much as the ones he had when he was 12. i think this is the sort of love petyr & catelyn had for each other. it’s about growing up together, figuring out who you are alongside another person who is figuring out who they are. that’s a connection you don’t get to have at any other point in your life! no one else knows the romantic fantasies petyr had as a child, back when he still BELIEVED they could come true, no one else knows what catelyn was like back when her grief still kept her up at night.

but again, this is a very selfish love. it is a love that disregards catelyn's feelings on the matter, it is a love that turns her into a prize to be won instead of a real woman with real feelings, it is a love in which petyr can justify utterly ruining her life and the lives of her husband and children because he's been ~sleighted~ (no he fucking hasn't, HE NEVER ASKED CATELYN HOW SHE FELT!!). i think like a lot of men in this series, when you get into that "does he love x" question, it's like...what does it matter? in the end, does it matter whether tywin loved his kids? does it matter whether robert and rhaegar loved lyanna? does it matter that viserys loved rhaenyra, that jaehaerys loved alysanne, that hoster loved lysa? i think petyr feels like he really did love catelyn and i think he felt a childish sort of love for her that can only spring from growing up together. but that love was always just as much about proving himself to be just as good as the nobility he served, about being better than brandon stark, about his concepts of masculinity and worth and class. he loves the catelyn that existed in his mind and while i would argue that when they were small, the real catelyn and the imaginary one had many similarities, that love in the end is not enough for him to actually see her as a fully fleshed out woman with her own needs, her own desires, her own dreams, and if his image of her now is bitter it's because she dared to step out of that fantasy he tried to trap her in.

[shining-m00nlight]

Brothers Pride

This is chapter Two of "It's tragedy that binds us". Ned thinks about how Brandon reacted to their father telling them that Ned would marry Catelyn. It's my dear Theas birthday and this is her gift!! Happy Birthday @ladycatofwinterfell !!!

Here is a link if you want to read the first chapter too.

"Brother!!!" Brandon Stark's voice boomed over the drawbridge of Riverrun. Obviously not caring for etiquette or courtesy, he crashed into Ned to

force him into a hug. Not having expected such an enthusiastic greeting from his brother Ned stumbled back, pulling Brandon with him. The pair of brothers had to try really hard to stay up right and not fall onto the ground in front of the whole staff of Riverrun and the small host of people the Starks had brought with them. If Ned was a person who would easily blush, he was sure he would have.

His brother's hug had surprised him a lot. He was sure Brandon would still be angry with him. He had been when their father had announced that Ned would marry Catleyn Tully instead of Brandon. 

--------------------------Flashback--------------------------

"What? No way am I allowing this!" Brandon yelled at their father after Rickard finished explaining to his sons what he and the new Lady Tully had agreed upon. 

"You will not have to allow anything! As I am your father and the Lord of Winterfell and as such I do not seek your approval but I am informing you about a decision I have made and you two will abide by. And you will do so in a manner fitting to

your station without bringing shame to the family

by yelling about a castel we are guests in!"

Brandon did not seem as if he wanted to heed

their fathers words.

"Well apparently Ned will not be a guest here for long. Rather he will be the Lady of this castel, spreading his legs to bear little trouts for the Riverlands." 

At that Rickard  Stark struck his son in the face. 

"You will not speak such crudness to me boy! You might think you're a man grown but don't you dare forget who I am and who we are! You will not speak about your family in this manner ever again! Not in front of me and not in front of anyone else. Am I understood?" 

Brandon still frowned at their father but nodded.

"This alliance is important for this family! I will not lose it because of your childish temperament or your hurt ego. Lady Tully's brother is dead, her sister not fit to be the Lady of Winterfell so Ned marrying her and staying at Riverrun is how we keep this ally!"

Rickard Stark ended his speech, looking more at Brandon, then at Ned. Brandon looked back at their father, pouting. The slap his father gave him obviously having bruised his ego more than his body. While it was clear he still wasn't agreeing with his father, he apparently had decided it was better to keep his thoughts to himself. Something that truly only their fathers authority could accomplish, Ned thought to himself. 

The Lord of Winterfell now turned to his second son. 

"You, Ned! You will marry the Tully girl and represent our house with pride here in the south! I know you haven't expected any of this but I am confident that you will be fine and make me proud son." 

Ned nodded: 

"I will do my best, father. I will marry Lady Tully as you command." 

"Good! I knew that I could trust you to do the right thing for our house. Lady Tully will be a good wife to you. I am sure of it. She is smart and capable. I l am almost disappointed that she won't be Brandon's wife but she does live by her house's words. "Family, Duty, Honor" and to her it's her duty to stay in Riverrun and to her it's what's best for her family. Which I have to agree with. 

You might not know much about your future bride, son but you know that she will be a good mother to your children and the rest you will learn in time" 

Ned nodded again. If he was being honest he hadn't really thought about his future wife all too much since his father told them the news an hour ago. He had been too distracted by Brandon glaring at him, as if he was personally responsible for the deaths of Edmure and Hoster Tully. 

All of Ned's thoughts were concentrated on Brandon and on trying to figure out what he would do l or say when their father wasn't with them anymore and how he should react. 

Ned was fairly certain that Brandon was not in love with the Lady Tully. The times Brandon and Ned had seen eachother in the years since Brandon and Catelyns betrothal Ned had never heard Brandon to declare deep love and devotion to the young maiden. He had talked about her beauty, that was for sure but he never talked of deeper, more meaningful things. 

On the contrary Brandon's words had often gotten more crude the more he drank and his descriptions became less and less fitting to be used for a lady of a great house. But of course Ned couldn't be completely certain, maybe l Brandon did love her. Which would mean that he would hate Ned forever. 

Ned was just about to direct his thoughts more towards the young women who would be his wife within the next few days when his father spoke again.

"I think everything has been said for now. I shall retire for the night. Tomorrow we will finalize the plans and the agreement and then everything will hopefully go on smoothly till we depart for Winterfell again. I expect of you to behave properly and go to your assigned chambers soon as well. And please remember that Riverrun and especially the Tully family is still grieving a great loss! So act accordingly. Good night boys" 

This time Rickard Stark didn't wait for the reactions of his sons but turned around immediately and left the study the Tullys had provided them with. 

Ned wanted to follow hoping he could give his brother some time and space to calm his nerves but Brandon had a different idea. When Ned tried to step out of the study the older Stark grabbed his arm and pulled him back in. 

"You can't honestly agree to this" 

He wasn't yelling. it was more of a growl. At least he was aware enough that their father was still so close that he would come running back should the shouts of his oldest reach his ear. Probably not hesitating to correct his behavior again in a less than gentle way. Ned tried to stay calm. 

"It is what father decided. There is nothing for me to agree or disagree with Brandon. Father and the Lady Tully made a decision and we must abide by it." 

Brandon grunted:

"The "Lady Tully" ,he said, his voice dripping with condensation, "the day before we arrived she was still Lady Catelyn or even the Tully girl and now she suddenly is "Lady Tully"

"Because she is Brandon. Because her father and her brother died! Or have you forgotten?" 

The look of guilt flashed over Brandons face but it only stayed for half a second then it turned back to spitefulness.

"Oh come on Neddy you can't tell me your honestly ok with Her and father deciding over your future without even consulting you!" 

It certainly wasn't Neds' favorite thing in the world, knowing that once again other people had made a decision affecting his life forever without as much as a word of warning. But he had the feeling Brandon meant that he would have a specific problem with the word "her" in his sentence which Ned couldn't confirm to him. 

Ned did not see what difference it would have made if instead of Lady Tully, one of fathers bannerman would have been the other party not consulting him on his future or wishes for it. The difference would have been his fathers words after making an agreement but the thing Ned would have liked to have been different, his involvement in the negotiations, wouldn't have changed. 

Not that Ned was ungrateful or didn't understand

his fathers decision. It was a good way to keep the alliance despite the tragedy that had occurred. He also wouldn't dare to complain about being married to the beautiful Lady of a great House but for once it would have been nice to at least been asked if he was fine and not just told he would be. 

He could not voice these thoughts to his hod headed brother though. Duty might have been one of the Tully words but Ned also understood its meaning.

"Again it is not my place to question father and it is my duty to marry for our house and listen to fathers commands." 

The small hope that those words would end their conversation died immediately when Brandon, now a bit closer to yelling and Ned's face, spit out. 

"Your duty is to fuck my girl then huh?!" 

Ned was uncertain what he could answer his brother and tried to think of a response. However Brandon didn't even give him the time to say one word before continuing to get in Ned face to complain some more. 

"It is your duty to get what I have been waiting for, l for so long? Oh I'm sure it was hard for you to take on such hard duty, getting to live a nice life here in the south with nothing to do as you have a wife that will be responsible for everything important in the castle and in the Riverlands. Being able to just relax and enjoy your life must have been such a hard thing to have to agree to."

Brandon didn't seem to see the irony in first accusing Ned in hiding his displeasure at the situation and changing it to accusing him of eagerly wanting it. He just continued ranting. Had Ned paid closer attention to his brother's face he might have noticed the change from anger to something a bit more calculated.

"Though now that I think about it little brother it might become a difficult duty to accomplish for you as I believe pleasing your Lady shall be part of it. From seeing how you interact with the fairer sex I am sure she will be disappointed outside but especially inside the bedroom. Considering she will compare you to me!" 

Ned stood there in silent shocked at his brother's words. Brandon had apparently decided that his words would end their talk as walked out of the room leaving Ned behind. 

Ned still tried to comprehend his brother's words. Did his brother just confess to taking Lady Tully's maidenhead? Surely he couldn't have been this stupid. If their father or worse, Hoster Tully would have found out, they would have had Brandons head. How could his brother have been so reckless?! 

Ned's head began to pain him the more he thought about not just Brandon's words but every word spoken in the last two hours. Slowly Ned's head started to swim and his thoughts overlapped and got out of control. 

In his probably last coherent thought of the day Ned decided it would be best for him to go to bed and deal with everything tomorrow as his father had said before. The next morning he hadn't been quite sure how he had found his chamber but he had been glad he did.

-----‐--‐------------------Flashback End-----------------------

After that day he and Brandon had barely talked. All of their interactions had been short and in the presents of others. The few exceptions were when Brandon would whisper crude japes in Ned's ear, most insinuating that Ned is displeasing to all women by simply standing near them.

Therefor Ned was understandably confused to be

greeted by his brother this way and so he only cautiously hugged him back to welcome him.

"Welcome to Riverrun, brother" 

Ned said as their hug entangled. Then he turned to his father. Though curious to find out what had changed his brother's attitude this drastically, surely time couldn't be the only factor, he could not forget to greet his family properly as was expected of him. He didn't want his wife to think he would scorn duty in the face of family and forget that he represented Riverrun when greeting guests. 

His wife, who had still been standing right next to him when Brandon had crashed into him, was already greeting Rickard Stark. The rest of his siblings standing right beside them. 

On her face a true smile that made her eyes sparkle and could only mean she was already reporting to them how little Robb was faring. Fitting to her eyes, her hair was shining thanks to the sun. 

She was a true beauty, his wife. Brandon had not exaggerated when speaking about it. But Ned had also come to learn that there was so much more about his wife. Things that Brandon either didn't know or didn't think were important enough to tell Ned about. 

Before Ned could further dwell on his wifes many qualities another of his siblings yelled his name and ran into his arms.

[ladycatofwinterfell]

If given the choice, part 4

Summary: One day a strange woman comes to his castle and brings him the promise of a choice. Ned can get his brother and sister back if he so chooses, but of course there is a price 

Posted on ao3 yesterday, now it’s also on here for your convenience. I hope you’ll have a good time reading because Ned certainly isn’t having a good time. So for his sake, please enjoy

There came a knock on the door. He barely heard it, couldn’t acknowledge it. His hands ran over all the drawings before him, shuffling them around, trying to find the best one, the one that was most true to reality. The rustling was the only thing that was heard in the room, that and his breathing. His hands were covered in ink, nothing had been allowed to dry before he pushed it aside and began anew.

The person on the other side of the door tried to open it, but that was a rather pointless pursuit because he had locked it.

“Ned?”

It was Lyanna, of course it was Lyanna. He didn’t have time, he could not waste a single moment. He had to know, he had to remember, he couldn’t forget. Whatever it was she wanted would have to wait.

“I know you can hear me” she said.

That did not mean he wanted to speak with her. He wanted to speak to no one but the grey woman. The one that could bring him home, the one that could give him back the knowledge of what his children looked like.

Again and again and again he had tried to draw them. Tried to get their likeness down on paper so that he would be able to remind himself when he caught himself forgetting. Though no matter how many times he tried nothing looked right. No face he managed to get down felt right, all the children before him were strangers.

And suddenly he found himself with drawings that consisted of four children instead of five. After that the number of boys and the number of girls varied, as did their ages. He wrote names beneath them, but none of the names felt right anymore. At first he had been so sure, but then he had grown doubtful. Which one was it that had which name, was one of them named for Brandon or was that a falsehood? His youngest daughter, her name was Lyanna, was it not? Did he have more than one daughter? He had no idea anymore.

Out, he wanted out of there, the chamber was suffocating, the castle was crushing him. But he couldn’t. He had to know, he had to remember. How else was he to go home? Those children were his home. No, King’s Landing was his home, he had no children. He had children, five of them. No, four of them. No, six of them. No, none of them.

“Are you alright?”

Lyanna’s voice had gone from annoyed to worried. He could see her frown before him as she once again tried to open the door. It was pointless, his attempts were pointless. It was slipping through his fingers even as he desperately tried to hold on.

He heard his own heavy, panicked breathing. Like an animal that had been hit with an arrow but was not yet dead. Freeing from whoever it was that had shot him. Where was safety? Safety was his wife, his home, his family, nights without dreams and hearing children laugh beneath the windows as the played in the snow while he did his work.

He had been forced to open the windows some time earlier, hadn’t been able to stand the heat of the chamber. He couldn’t stand the heat and still he kept putting more wood on the fire in the hearth every time it threatened to die. The wind grabbed at his drawings of children that could be either false or real, spread it out over the floor. One had been swept into the fire in the hearth. He had watched it and almost wept because some part of his mind convinced itself that it was the one that had been closest to the truth. Madness, he was going mad.

“Father” called a boy.

“Yes” Ned replied.

The oldest one, whoever that was. Rickard or Robb or Robert or Rickon. An r, it started with an r. Or a b. Was it Brandon?

“Can you open the door?” Lyanna called.

Ned looked down at his ink covered hands, at the drawings at the table before him. Let his eyes run over the ones that had been swept down onto the floor. He had already lost. He had lost the moment he began forgetting. For some reason that realisation made it easier to breathe, he felt a little lighter. There was relief in being released from the frantic search of something that was already gone.

“Give me a moment” he heard himself saying. “I fell asleep.”

He gathered all the papers, put them in the fire. On purpose that time. He didn’t watch as they crumpled and turned to ash, didn’t listen to the sound of the flames as they devoured the product of his obsession.

He washed the ink off his hands in the small basin that stood by the dressing table. The water turned dark, but his hands showed no trace of what had taken place. Once he was clean and had closed the windows there was no trace of what had taken place, it was behind him.

“Gods, it’s cold in here” was the first thing Lyanna said.

“I fell asleep with a window open.”

It wasn’t that cold, he could have done it on purpose. It drove his wife mad when he opened the windows at night, but sometimes he was too warm to sleep without it.

“Did Jonnel manage to wear you out so much?” she chuckled.

“I’m getting old, apparently.”

“Well, are you too tired to go hawking with your sister?”

“Not anymore.”

After feeling like he would die in the chamber the great moors surrounding the castle were a welcome sight. Leagues upon leagues of open landscape, nothing to stop the wind and the sky was clear above them. After a short conversation they had agreed to wait with the hawking and simply go for a ride instead. Lyanna had been too impatient to wait until everything was in order and so they had simply saddled their horses and trotted out through the Hunter’s Gate towards the open lands.

The ribbon that held Lyanna’s braid together was undone as they galloped over the lands, making her hair whip around her head in the wind. Freedom. She had not become less of a rider with age, she was still as good on a horse as he remembered her to be. It was hard to say where Lyanna ended and her horse began. He fell behind, not much, but enough to make it apparent that he was less of a rider than she was.

They rode until the castle walls had grown small behind them before they stopped. Lyanna’s face was glowing bright as she looked at him with a delighted smile.

“No one rides with me like this anymore” she told him as he came trotting up beside her.

“I could say the same.”

Riding through the Kingswood was not the same. No one galloped with him anymore, there was no open landscape like the the North. There was no place like his home, like Winterfell. How he missed it. And her.

The grief that struck him as he looked at Lyanna and remembered that no one could ride her anymore would have been enough to make him fall off his horse had he not been holding the reins. She was dead. Her smile was gone, never would she gallop through the lands again. It wasn’t real, she wasn’t real.

“Not even Robert?” she asked.

“We’re rarely on the roads together.”

He did not always follow on the king’s hunts, and when he did it was nothing like that. Hundreds of men, carriages, trees that kept them from leaving the roads on horse.

“Had I wed him we would have been in King’s Landing together.”

Her smile died down as she said it. What could have been had she not fled it. Had she not vanished and only returned after Robert had been forced to take another bride.

“You would have hated it there.”

Just like he did. It was easy to claim they were very different from each other but in the end they were of the same flesh and blood. Starks they had been born and Starks they would die. Lyanna had already died a Stark. How had he forgotten it again so quickly?

“Do you plan to live the rest of your life in the capital?”

Where else was he supposed to be? Winterfell was Brandon’s and he had served in the Small Council for many years, that was where he had made a life for himself.

“If that will be my fate so be it.”

Winterfell was his home, Winterfell had been his fate. Lord, he was lord. He was not the Master of Law, he was Lord of Winterfell.

“Should you ever resign I want you to write to me” Lyanna said and then she smiled again. “So that I can ride down to King’s Landing and follow you back north again. Then we’ll ride. Promise me, Ned.”

If only she had known what other things she had made him promise her. A little boy with Stark grey eyes that had come with him north instead of her. Dead roses and blood, so much blood. Her hand in his before Howland had made him let go.

“Then we’ll ride” he promised.

It was easy to promise things despite that he hoped they would never be true. That he would be home before it could be his reality. Everything came so easy with her. He had missed her so that his heart ached and suddenly she was with him. And it was all wrong.

Lyanna glanced behind them.

“It looks like we’re getting company.”

He turned his horse to see what she was speaking of and saw two others coming towards them. They were still far away, but he could easily tell who they were. Brandon had a presence that was impossible to mistake for someone else and the fiery hair of the person next to him gave a clue of that it was Lady Catelyn that had come with him.

“It’s like we’re young again” he said.

They must have done it often when they were younger because there was a sense of familiarity around it that would have been comforting if he hadn’t known that he had not spent his youth riding with his family.

“We’re only missing Benjen. Though Brandon said he might be here in time for the feast the day before you leave again.”

“So he rides south with me?”

There was a fortnight until he was set to leave.

“I don’t know.”

He hoped Benjen would ride with him, he saw him so rarely. He was never one of the black brothers that came as far south as King’s Landing to collect those from the dungeons that had chosen the Watch over some other punishment. And Ned rarely came north.

“Look at her horse, by the gods it’s a beauty” Lyanna mumbled, watching Brandon and Catelyn coming closer to them.

Ned recognised that horse, it was the same as she had laid claim to in his Winterfell. The roan mare that had been born a few years after she came to Winterfell. Catelyn was always Catelyn, it seemed. He both hated and loved that.

Lyanna’s own red stallion was no bad horse either, she wouldn’t have ridden it if it was. She had bought it from the Dustins when it was a colt and raised it herself, spent more time caring for it than she cared for herself. He remembered the one she had had when they were children, she would have slept with it in the stables had Father allowed it. She had not changed much.

“You say that of all horses.”

“They’re beautiful animals.”

When they were still it didn’t take long for Brandon and Catelyn to catch up with them. Catelyn was beautiful with her hair windswept and her cheeks flushing red from the chill in the air.

“You don’t mind our company, do you?” Brandon asked.

“Not at all, we’re mostly surprised our high and mighty lord has time to ride with us” Lyanna told him.

“He has time for it because his lady says so” Catelyn informed them.

She gave Brandon a stern look but her face lit up with a smile when he laughed. Ned knew that smile, loved that smile. How glad he was for that she was his friend.

“And I know better than to argue with a Tully” Brandon said.

That was what Ned always told her. She wasn’t only his friend, she was his wife. Remember, he had to remember. Remember how he could jape about her stubbornness, telling her he knew better than to argue with a Tully. His lady wife, his beloved Catelyn, the mother of his children. Children she didn’t know and he didn’t remember.

“Starks” Catelyn snorted.

She urged her horse into a trot, riding past Ned and Lyanna. The rest of them were not far behind and it took only a few minutes before Brandon and Lyanna found themselves in a competition. As they raced towards a lonely tree a bit away from them Ned and Catelyn stayed in a comfortable trot.

“They never change” Catelyn chuckled as they watched them.

He would have been afraid of that they would get themselves killed if it hadn’t been for that he knew they were excellent riders. It was a dangerous pace they kept.

“No, they’re always the same.”

Wolf blood ran through their veins.

“I wish you were here more often. We miss you.”

“I cannot speak for Lyanna, but I miss you, as well.”

King’s Landing was exhausting. From his work to the weather, nothing seemed suited for him. The north was where he belonged, he grew more sure of it with every passing day. Still he remained down south because that was what he had been tasked with. He sat on the king’s Small Council, it was an honour and he gladly did it. He had helped Robert win his throne, it seemed only right he also helped with the kingdom. And his wife was happy there. His own comfort mattered little in the end.

No no no no no. The new Ned came so easily. At first he had immediately realised it as soon as it happened, it took longer and longer for each time. He knew more and more. How much of himself was left and why was he out riding instead of trying to solve it? Why was he not looking for the grey woman? What was he doing? His children, his poor children. And Catelyn.

“Is everything alright?” Catelyn asked.

Catelyn was always Catelyn, even as they were not wed she saw his spirits change.

“Do forgive me, I was overcome with thoughts of work.”

He trusted most people on the council and those he did not trust personally he trusted to handle their positions, he had nothing to worry for when he was away. Still there was some part of his mind that nagged him about that he was necessary. The king was not particularly involved, but he was a force of nature and in certain moods Ned and Jon were the only ones that could talk him out of rash actions. His was the fury. Not that they were always successful. Poor Jon.

“It’s all forgiven” she said. “I understand it is hard to leave it behind. Last time I visited Riverrun I was plagued by nightmares of empty stores that didn’t leave me until I returned to Winterfell and saw for myself that the stores weren’t empty.”

It was very much something he could recognise himself in.

“I’m Master of Law and I still worry for the coffins of the crown.”

“You shouldn’t worry, Petyr is very skilled at what he does.”

Skilled at what he did and a loathsome man. That he had to sit on the same council as Petyr Baelish made him truly consider resigning every now and then, he could not stand him. Every words that came from him was irritating, he believed himself to be so terribly clever.

“If only you knew what debt the crown is in” he sighed.

“I don’t think I want to know and clearly it pains you so let us speak of something else.”

“Like that your husband is currently losing?”

He had glanced at Lyanna and Brandon. Both of them going so fast it was easy to believe they were flying, and still the distance between them grew with every second.

“Against his little sister. Oh the humiliation.”

Even as her voice was dramatic her lips curled into a smile.

Ned was of the opinion that Brandon needed it from time to time. That was Lyanna’s purpose. She always won, no matter what the game was. Especially if it had to do with horses.

“It’s his own fault for competing against her in the first place.”

“A foolish mistake” Catelyn agreed.

They watched in silence as Lyanna reached the lonely tree first, her cheers echoing out over the grounds. The people back in the castle must have heard her. Had they been closer they would have heard Brandon’s curses as well, but that not even Ned could hear. He just knew his brother was putting together a sentence containing every curse he knew. One that Catelyn would have scolded him for if the children had been able to hear it. At least the girl.

As he looked at his brother and sister that had stopped by the tree he saw a flash of grey even further away. He would have taken it for dirty snow had it not been for that it was too warm for any snow to not melt away as soon as it was on the ground. And for that it was moving. A small grey figure that walked slowly towards the castle.

Before Ned could stop himself he had urged his horse into a gallop. He didn’t hear Catelyn’s protests, he knew only one thing. He knew the grey woman, the one that had done that to him. He saw her, she was there, he would make things right. His children, his wife, his home, he would see it again. It would be alright.

He didn’t look at Brandon and Lyanna as he passed them, didn’t hear how they called after him. The closer he got to what he had seen the more sure he grew of that it was her. It was the woman. Wildfire ran through his body, filled his chest. Hope and rage was one.

His horse had barely slowed down as he flung himself off it’s back, so close that he could reach the little woman. And so he did, he reached out to grasp her cloak, filled with the sweetness of victory. Only for his fingers to wrap around empty air.

There was no one there. A piece of grey fabric was on the ground before him, but that was all. A moment earlier he had seen her, she had been standing just before him. So close he could touch her. And then she was gone. He hadn’t even blinked, she had just vanished.

She had been there, he was sure of it. It hadn’t been his mind playing tricks in him, she had been there. Witchcraft. Sorcery.

“What are you doing?” Lyanna called.

He looked up to see her coming towards him. Brandon was still by the tree, probably waiting for Catelyn to catch up.

“I mistook this for a person” he answered.

He hadn’t been mistaken, he couldn’t have been. It was impossible to just see such a thing.

“The wind must have made it move” Lyanna said.

She climbed off her horse, leading it over to the grey fabric on the ground.

“I bet it came from the castle” she continued.

“Yes.”

How could she have just disappeared? Why was she showing herself in the first place. He had never seen her before, she had said it was irreversible, why come back? What was her purpose? He understood so little. All he knew was the emptiness in his chest, his defeated mind.

“What are you looking at?” Brandon shouted.

Ned crouched down to look at it closer and as he held it up it became obvious that it was a cloak. A quite small cloak, could have been made for a child. Except for that it didn’t belong to a child, it belonged to a very small woman.

“A lost cloak” Ned shouted back.

“Not more exciting than so” Lyanna muttered.

He brought the little cloak with him as he sat up on his horse again, turning back to Brandon and Catelyn. He had something of hers, he knew she was there somewhere. He just had to find her. Which in itself would not be an easy task, but he could do it. He just had to remember.

In a slow pace they began making their way back to Winterfell. For a moment he had worried for that they would find it all strange, but none of them seemed to think twice. It could have been like Lyanna said, it could have been the wind moving the cloak.

“How come you didn’t bring the children?” Lyanna asked.

“They have their lessons” Catelyn said. “That’s more important.”

“Did they agree with you?”

“Do you think we told them?” Brandon said. “That’s the first thing about children, you tell them only what’s necessary and leave out the rest.”

“Like that you’re going for a ride while they learn history.”

“Exactly” Brandon nodded. “You are quite ready for motherhood, little sister.”

Lyanna just laughed.

She had a child, didn’t she? A boy, a little son. He hadn’t perished alongside her. Though she had never been allowed to be a mother to him. That belonged in his reality. What a sad reality it was. Still that was where he belonged, what he longed for. He wished she could have lived, wished Brandon could have lived.

“Children are a blessing from the gods” Catelyn smiled. “I hope you’ll know the joy of it one day.”

The joy of children. Telling them stories in front of the hearth, teaching the boys how to hold a sword, watching them play in the snow.

“For the sake of our house, please know the joy of it” Brandon said dryly. “I cannot be the only one furthering our bloodline.”

“I am doing what I can” Ned sighed.

It was hard to know whether the problem was with him or his wife. Possibly both of them. There were ways to figure it out, he had little interest in them. The maesters we’re doing what they could, giving Barbrey varies teas and herbs that would make it easier to get with child. Nothing worked.

“Our bloodline I can further, but the name will be lost” Lyanna said. “It was lost the day I was wed.”

She had not been very happy about being wed to Willam Dustin at first. Brandon had had enough of Lyanna’s defiance one day and when Lord Dustin lost his wife he had arranged the betrothal. Ned still remembered the letter she had written to him, the fury. She had escaped Robert, she hadn’t been able to escape a second time. She spoke of going back into hiding, but she had yet to do so.

“Your husband is a good man” Brandon said.

“Yes, his seat is not far away from the Rills” Lyanna said. “I am quite content.”

Ned had heard his sister was a frequent visitor of the Dustins’. There was no house in all of Westeros with a finer herd of horses.

“With that being said I have my child already” Lyanna said in the softest voice he had ever heard.

She leaned down and laid her arms around the neck of her horse.

“My sweet Sunset, Mother’s precious boy.”

The gods gave and the gods took. They had apparently taken her sanity.

When they were back at the castle Ned discovered he no longer had the cloak. He had been holding it in his hands and then suddenly it was gone. He would have noticed if he dropped it. Was there magic in her clothes? How had he not noticed it disappearing? Though he had had it. The others must have forgotten about it because they didn’t ask about that he was suddenly empty handed.

“I’m quite hungry” Lyanna said as they had left the horses in the stables.

Of course she had first given the poor stable boy that took Sunset from her a vivid description of what would happen with him if something was to happen to Sunset. And Brandon had after that with irritation told her that she couldn’t threaten the staff of his household.

“Lyarra and Jonnel should be in the hall taking their midday meal” Brandon told her. “Go eat with them.”

“Will you not join me?”

“I should get back to what I have to do.”

Brandon looked at Catelyn. She had remained with the stable boy Lyanna had threatened, standing by the stable entrance and talking to him.

The way Brandon looked at her didn’t escape him and judging by the sly smile on Lyanna’s face she wasn’t unaware either. At first Ned couldn’t say why seeing his brother’s eyes on Lady Catelyn made his chest heavy. It didn’t become easier when he remembered.

That was his wife, Lady Catelyn was his wife. She should have been wed to Brandon, but he had died and instead she became Ned’s wife. He had to remember, he couldn’t forget like that. He had to remember Catelyn, his Catelyn, the mother of his children. His beloved lady.

“Leave the poor woman alone” Lyanna said.

“It’s my wife.”

She was Ned’s wife.

“Well, Ned, the one of my older brothers who isn’t a whoremonger, would you like to eat with me?”

He had just lost what little appetite he had.

“I’m not very hungry, and I was planning on going back to my chamber to write a letter to my wife.”

There was a fortnight until he was leaving Winterfell and the way home would take at least another fortnight. It was long until he would see her again, he wanted her to have a letter.

“I hate both of you.”

She turned before any of them could respond to that and began walk towards the Great Hall.

Ned nodded towards his brother and made his way back to the keep. He had almost reached the doors when he saw a grey figure disappear around the corner. He didn’t have time to fully see her, but he saw the end of her cloak. He would have recognised that cloak anywhere.

Whatever reason had brought him to the keep was gone from his mind in the blink of an eye, all he knew was that he had to get to her. That time he would catch her. She wouldn’t get away another time.

He couldn’t hear anything but his own heartbeat as he quickly walked towards the corner of the keep, rounding it. She had nowhere to go after that, he would see her.

Though all he saw as he let his eyes run over the courtyard was people who belonged there. Guards and staff. No one in the same shade of grey, no one short enough. Two children ran past him, not taking notice of him. He took another few steps, but she was gone. He had been only a few seconds behind and still she had escaped him. If she had ever been there. Had he simply imagined it? No, no he hadn’t.

Once again defeated he returned to his chamber. As he entered he remembered he had meant to write a letter for his wife and sat down to do so. Beneath the table was a drawing he had missed to throw into the fire earlier. He meant to make up a fire and destroy it as he had the rest but made the mistake of looking at it.

Six portraits of children looked back at him. Four boys and two girls, all with names beneath them. Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon and Jon. He didn’t know who they were, their faces were unfamiliar. How strange. He studied them for a long time, looked at every detail of the faces he had drawn. After that he couldn’t bring himself to burn them, so he put them in a drawer instead. Avoiding their eyes without ridding himself of them entirely.

He wrote the letter to Barbrey and brought it to Maester Luwin so that he could send it to King’s Landing with a raven. As Luwin took it he gently asked about how Ned was feeling, if rest had been what he needed. He did feel better. He knew he hadn’t been feeling so well that morning, but the ride had made it better.

He must have spent longer than he thought writing his letter, the sun had disappeared behind the inner wall when he exited the maester’s turret. The sun coloured the sky a beautiful orange, it looked like it was aflame. As he looked up at the top of the western wall he saw a silhouette against the colourful sky. At first he thought it to be one of the patrolling guards, but it didn’t take long for him to realise that the person was too small. Even as he stood in the courtyard below and looked up he knew. And that time he had no chance of reaching her before she was gone.

Why was she taunting him? What was it she wanted? If she never meant for him to talk to her, to reach her, why show herself to him at all? He looked up at her, she looked down at him, and he felt a shiver running down his spine.

“Are you coming to have supper with us, Uncle?”

In the second it took to look at Lyarra and back up at the wall she disappeared. It was so easy to convince himself of that it hadn’t been real, that she had never been there at all. Still he couldn’t do it. She had been there, she was watching him.

“Yes” he told his niece.

She had a book in her hands, must have come from the library tower.

“What are you reading?” he asked.

“Stories from beyond the Wall. And I’m not reading it yet, I haven’t started.”

“Once you’re finished you’ll have to tell me your favourite one.”

“I’ll give it to you as we break our fast on the morrow.”

Had she been a man she could have studied at the Citadel, she had a good head on her shoulders.

Lyarra already had a story to tell him as they had their supper. He had returned to his chamber to change into clothes that smelled less of horse before going to the Great Hall to eat with his family. She made it very clear that she had only read two so far, but that she liked one better than the other and so wanted him to hear it. How she had managed to read two while just bringing the book back to her chamber Ned had no idea. Neither had her brother. He did, however, have an insult for her. Which resulted in that Lyarra took her mother’s cup of wine and emptied it over Jonnel’s head. In the end both children were sent to their rooms and Catelyn looked incredibly tired. Despite that he was there so rarely it felt familiar to Ned. Though not in a comforting way.

He had trouble falling asleep that night, and didn’t really know if he wanted to. There was something about it that made him uneasy, it felt dangerous. He knew he had to remember, he couldn’t forget, what if he forgot more while he was asleep? But what was it he was forgetting? Nothing felt right anymore. He longed for something as he was alone in the darkness, there was a piece of him that was missing. As he was with his family he was distracted by them but as he was alone it became obvious that something was wrong.

Catelyn, it struck him. And his children. His home, his Winterfell, the one where he was lord. Lyanna and Brandon, weren’t supposed to be there, they had been gone a long time. Or maybe it had been just a few years. Or maybe they were alive. If he slept he would understand even less, he was sure of it. And he couldn’t forget, he had to remember. It was of outmost importance that he remembered what it was he longed for, what it was that he was missing.

He wondered if Barbrey was already asleep in King’s Landing. If Robert was with his queen that night or if he had found someone else to share his bed. Surely Jon would be able to hold him somewhat calm, surely Jon would keep the Small Council running as it was supposed to. He didn’t know why he worried, it wasn’t the first time he was away.

In the end he was too tired to keep his eyes open and drifted off to a sleep that was full of vivid dreams. Children, a woman with red hair that came to his bed, a large stone chair that called for him to sit it. It could have been a good dream, it wasn’t.

So ended his second day.

[claymoresword]

Come Out And Haunt Me

Cersei Lannister x Catelyn Tully Stark

Summary: When her raven goes unanswered, queen Cersei Lannister decides to pay the Starks a visit herself.

Wordcount: 2.4k

Disclaimers: omegaverse, alpha!cersei, omega!catelyn, cheating, angst & fluff, robert baratheon does not exist

Note: hi! so i initially only planned to post this on Ao3 but I've decided to share it here as well

honestly not sure what this is i just had a random burst of energy one night and decided to write it lol

to all 2 of you who clicked on this, welcome! hope you enjoy <3

The parchment clutched tightly in her hands, Catelyn skims the letter once more. As though dwelling would make a difference to the words already etched into the page.

An egregious insult.

Nine years; Catelyn had been forced to wallow in the harsh and cold North. Nine years and she had just managed to find a sort of peace amidst her sorrow.

Ned no longer insists on sharing her bed and her children, aside for Rickon, have all outgrown her attention.

She is finally comfortable.

Perhaps even happy.

Now the queen intends to summon her to King's Landing– like a dog.

The alpha is as bold as she is cruel.

I am not meant to be Hand any more than Cersei is fit to be queen.

Catelyn traces the crimson seal with the pad of her thumb, a war raging within her.

It is a cruel jape, even after everything, she still yearns to be in the alpha's presence once more.

To thread her fingers through golden curls, look upon delicate features in which time has certainly only made more beautiful.

Catelyn scoffs at her own feebleness, she harshly wipes the tears that have already began drying upon her cheeks.

This is all folly.

The omega allows her eyes flutter shut for a moment; she banishes Cersei from her mind.

Wringing the letter in her hands as she rises from her seat, Catelyn storms towards the hearth, eventually feeding the crumpled parchment to the fire.

Cersei Lannister; ever delicate and enchanting. The worst person Catelyn has ever met, once the love of her life.

This is what it has come to; for all of her sins, the Gods see fit to mock her.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

A month has come and gone since the queen sent a raven, and Catelyn is content with the knowledge that Cersei has taken her silence for an answer.

She will not go to King's Landing. She cannot set eyes on the queen once more– for the omega is certain she will not survive it.

"Brandon Stark! How many times must I tell you? No climbing." Catelyn exclaims, she watches her son descend clumsily from the roof.

Bran appears unfazed by his mother's warnings, as always. A genial expression covers his features; the careless joy of a young boy.

"I just saw hundreds of people riding down our road." The boy exclaims amidst a grunt, hoisting himself off the parapet before finally landing on his feet in front of his mother. "I saw a large wheelhouse, with horses.. and men in armor."

"It must be your uncle Benjen and his men who have come to visit your father again." Catelyn decides, but her son pays her no mind as he continues.

"They were carrying crimson banners, with a lion–” Catelyn's expression falls at his son's words. Suddenly she senses a gnawing in her belly, as though she might wretch.

"What did you say– about the banner?" The omega asks as she grabs her son by the shoulder, urging him to look up at her.

"It was crimson, with a yellow lion." Bran repeats as he stares at his mother.

"–Lannisters." Maester Luwin emerges, overhearing their exchange. "Is it possible the queen has come to Winterfell?"

The man asks as he searches Catelyn's expression; she has gone quiet, all colour drained from her face.

"My Lady.." Maester Luwin then attempts to coax a response, with a light hand on Catelyn's forearm.

It restores Cat to her senses just enough to muster a single sentence. "Please, inform my Lord husband. Tell him, the queen is on her way."

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Catelyn smooths out her gown for the dozenth time, not having been given much option or time, she was forced to don a dark blue gown, one that her Lord husband often insists match her eyes.

Although the dye on the fabric has now faded, and the sleeves wrinkled– but it matters not. Most of her dress remains covered by her sheepskin cloak.

Nearly all of her dresses always are. The weather in the North does not warrant beauty, only practicality.

Catelyn breath catches in her throat as she observes the queen's approach. Cersei leads the assembly on a gold and white palfrey, she halts infront of the gates before dismounting her horse with grace.

It is no secret that the years have since done its work on them both. The queen is no longer the young woman she had served at court, the same way Catelyn is no longer a girl of ten and five.

Cersei wears a few wrinkles around her eyes, yet, her beauty remains as ethereal as Catelyn remembers it to be. More than anything, the sight of the alpha makes her ache; she has no choice but to focus her gaze elsewhere.

“Winterfell is yours, Your Grace.” Ned declares after placing a chaste kiss on the back of the queen's hand.

He remains kneeling on the ground as Cersei studies him. She regards him with a piercing emerald stare before instructing him to rise.

“I hope you can forgive my sudden attendance, I have rather urgent business with your wife.” The queen avows, not appearing to be sorry at all.

Whilst Ned is visibly taken aback by Cersei's declaration, any doubt or query he may have on the matter– he keeps to himself.

The Lord of Winterfell steps aside as the queen swiftly turns her attention towards his wife.

“My queen.” Catelyn greets the golden haired woman with a curtsey. The omega only manages to hold Cersei's gaze for a heartbeat before once again, willing herself to look elsewhere.

The alpha moves to reach for Catelyn's hand, but as though just only recalling the importance of propriety, she stops herself.

Cersei is not given a chance to do much else before her wife falls in next to her.

Taena smiles brightly as she envelopes Catelyn within her embrace, without much warning. “Cat, it's been far too long!” The Myrish woman exclaims.

Catelyn feigns a smile of her own, out of courtesy, she embraces the queen consort in return.

“You are just glowing.” Taena states as she breaks away to look at her. Catelyn soon feels a hand upon her cheek.

The omega wears a bashful expression; one that is just as contrived as the other woman's attempt at a compliment.

She gently pries Taena's hand away from her face. “You are far too gracious.. you look well yourself, Your Grace.”

Taena sighs, as though she wishes for Catelyn's words to be true. “Oh, please, I look a fright.”

“We have been travelling for weeks.” She adds, and the glare Taena throws at her wife calls attention to the barely concealed asperity within her tone.

Yet, Cersei only smiles in return, no doubt her way of retaliating to Taena's grievance is to simply ignore it entirely.

She addresses Ned instead. “My Lady wife and I hope to lay in a proper bed tonight.”

“Of course, Your Grace. We have rooms enough to accommodate you both.. and your children, if it please you.” Ned states curtly as he ushers the queen through the gates.

“Good, I look forward to seeing your castle.”

═══════════════════════════════════════════

After a busy morning, Catelyn had decided to lock herself away in her solar for the remainder of the day. In truth, aside for a desperate solution to escaping the queen and her lady wife– solitude was also the only way Catelyn could avoid Ned's incessant questioning.

Of course his confusion is warranted, and her husband means well, to be sure, Ned always does– but Catelyn cannot stand to lie to him anymore.

-

As the lady of Winterfell sits by her window, she manages to get a view of Bran and Arya, currently playing in the yard; their direwolf pups by their feet.

The queen’s children have since joined them. Tommen and Myrcella are no doubt every bit like their mothers, both with emerald green eyes of the Lannisters and olive skinned like their Myrish mother.

The sight of their children playing together strikes Catelyn as something that was painfully ironic. In fact, it was nearly amusing, in a rather bleak way.

Lost in her thoughts, the omega fails to hear the latch on the door behind her.

The oak doors open, and soon shuts. It is only when Catelyn notices shuffling behind her that she turns around to inspect the cause.

“Are you hiding from me?” Cersei asks. with her question, she tilts her head slightly. The same way she used to when they were mere children together.

The sight unsettles Catelyn in a way she does not care to acknowledge. She scrambles to her feet, hugging her robe around her slender frame.

"Your Grace. I- no, I'm just not well." She tells a half-truth and she prays for a miracle.

Catelyn hopes, stupidly, that the other woman will decide to leave her alone, without much interrogation.

"Are you ill?" Cersei asks, as expected, approaching her.

The alpha's tone of genuine concern only makes Catelyn want to weep, but she shakes her head, forcibly suppressing the urge. "It must be something I ate." She lies.

"Oh, then you must rest.” Cersei suggests in response, a smirk tugging on the corners of her mouth.

The omega's brows furrow at the sight. She mocks me. Catelyn observes.

The lady of Winterfell decides she no longer possesses the will for feigned courtesies. All she has the strength to do now is stare at the other woman, unamused.

This works to unnerve the queen slightly, as though thrown off balance, Cersei clears her throat.

The alpha averts her gaze before resting her hand on the hilt of her longsword, assuming a confident stance once more.

“Have you given any thought to my proposal?” Cersei finally states it plainly, and Catelyn scoffs in response.

The alpha possesses just enough audacity to appear confused by the other woman's reaction. “What?”

“Stop that. Don't pretend as though you have given me a choice.” Catelyn hisses, and she watches as Cersei opens her mouth to retaliate, but she swiftly cuts off the attempt.

“If that was true, you would not be here.” Cat challenges and Cersei merely shrugs, unconcerned yet dignified.

The queen always does so in a way that managed to make others seem small, inconsequential.

It was infuriating.

“Come to King's Landing, serve as my Hand.” “and you should take Sansa, our daughter will do well in the capital.” Cersei renders aloud as she advances forward.

Now standing close enough that Catelyn can smell the lavender oil in her hair.

“Such beauty shouldn't stay hidden up here.” Cersei continues, reaching up to caress the omega's cheek.

Catelyn stiffens and then sighs involuntarily against her touch. Once again she feels the urge to weep, to scream. The omega wants to lean in and kiss the other woman, to feel her warm embrace.

Instead, she slaps her hand away, bristling. “Don't. do not do that.”

“and don't call her your daughter.. as if you have ever been a sire to her.” She mutters, a scowl covers Catelyn's features as she tries to slip past the alpha.

Although Cersei quickly catches her by the arm before she can go far at all, forcing a proximity between them once more.

"You know that I regret– I regret how it all ended between us.” The queen utters, her voice low, only for Catelyn to hear.

The sincerity in which Cersei speaks her sweet words does nothing to douse the rage within her.

Years of longing and wanting for a woman that has no regard for her honor, no respect for her feelings. Cersei has been nothing if not careless with her; with her heart.

Catelyn does not believe a word the alpha says– she cannot allow herself to.

“Do you?” She challenges, her jaw clenched in anger.

“Nine years without a word from you.. not so much as a raven.” She adds with a raised voice, though Cersei appears entirely unfazed by it, this time her arm slips around Catelyn's waist.

“Don't touch me.” She tries, attempting to wriggle out of the alpha's hold, but it is no use.

"I missed you.. I wanted to write to you, I truly did.” Cersei reveals, cupping the other woman's cheek once more.

“I just thought–”

“What?” Catelyn provokes, unsatisfied.

“You thought what?” Despite herself, she feels her eyes begin to well with tears.

“You told me you loved me... I gave myself to you, and then you chose her.”

Cersei own expression shifts at the other woman's declaration. She wipes away the omega's tears with the pads of her thumbs tenderly.

“I had no choice.” The queen insists, her tone gentle and sincere– almost vulnerable.

“I assume you are happier.. with your husband.” Cersei alleges, and Catelyn feels the urge to laugh in her face.

“How could you possibly think that?” She questions, and Cersei acknowledges the mistake she had made, at long last.

“Forgive me.. I never meant to hurt you.” The queen articulates, threading her fingers through auburn locks.

Catelyn allows herself to lean into the other woman's touch, her brows still furrowed as she speaks. “Well, you did. You broke my heart.”

The omega attempts to shove Cersei away once more, but still, she refuses to budge.

The alpha is stronger, and far more determined.

“I know, I am sorry.” The queen says again, this time she boldly kisses the shell of Catelyn's ear.

As the omega continues to try and fight out of her hold, Cersei kisses her again, this time further down, her tender lips meeting her jaw.

Catelyn shivers at the sensation, just as instinctively, she rests her hand on the nape of Cersei's neck.

“I'm sorry.” The alpha mutters once more as she kisses the corner of Catelyn's mouth.

This time, she does not fight the urge. Catelyn turns her head, capturing the other woman's lips with her own for a real kiss.

As their mouths moved against each other with aching familiarity, Cersei's hand shifts to the small of the omega's back, causing the other woman to lean further into her.

They kiss for what feels like an eternity; only breaking apart when both their lungs clamour for air.

Catelyn's face burns from the intensity of the moment, she soon wraps both her arms around the other woman properly, concealing her face in the crook of Cersei's neck.

“I despise you.” The omega mutters, almost petulantly.

Cersei merely lets out a light chuckle at that. A kind of acceptance and forbearance; a quality she truly only finds less of a challenge to display around Catelyn.

“I know.”

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Another Life

Pairing(s): implied/referenced Rhaegar Targaryen x Stark!Reader, Ned Stark x Catelyn Tully, Robert Baratheon x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: canonical character death, illegitimacy, cat actually loves jon in this story, drabble, short, robert and cersei actually like eachother

Words: 1269

Lyanna watches Jon from atop of the courtyard's parapet, her eyes crinkling with pride as she watches Jon best Theon Greyjoy at the dance of swords. Every victory Jon made resulted in him outgrowing the label of bastard. He was so much more than a bastard of Winterfell. Not even Catelyn saw him as such. Many were so shocked when the news came that Ned had brought back his bastard one day. In fact Cat had shown up at Winterfell by his side as he held the infant in his arms, for she was one of three that knew the truth about Jon Snow.

Heartache nibbles at her heart when she recalls fifteen years prior. She remembers her sister (y/n). The fever of her cheeks as she held her newborn son in her arms. But she wasn't faring well. Birth rendered her near lifeless, allowing her to slip slowly away into the Stranger's arms. It was only a matter of time. She refused to leave the Tower of Joy, understood her fate as well as her siblings and sister-in-law did. (y/n) had just been content with the fact that she'd birthed a healthy baby boy.

"Jon." Her watery eyes turn up to Lyanna. "His name is Jon."

After Rhaegar's closest friend. Jon Connington was the one to deliver the note to Winterfell, ensuring it fell into the safe hands of the young Warden of the North himself. He'd been instructed by his revered lady, Princess (y/n) Targaryen.

The name was a slap to the face. A year prior to the birth of her son, (y/n) had supposedly been kidnapped by Rhaegar Targaryen who was supposed to marry Elia Martell the following day. Both up and vanished without a trace. Lord Rickard Stark was beside himself with grief and agony that they stormed to the capital to demand answers from King Aerys himself. Lord Rickard and his heir Brandon accused the king of hiding the location of Rhaegar and (y/n), said that she was to be returned immediately and the prince punished. But Aerys didn't take kindly to the slander they were slewing against the crown. He had them executed.

Ensuing blood shed consumed the Seven Kingdoms. Rhaegar appeared only on the battlefield with his own men. They fought against not just the king, but Ned and his own allies which included Storm's End. No sign of (y/n) nearby.

After Robert Baratheon killed Rhaegar and the regicide of the Mad King by the young lion Jaime Lannister, there was still no clue as to where (y/n) could be.

Robert, though it was Jaime who slew the king, secured the Iron Throne for himself. That meant Lyanna would be queen as she was engaged to Robert. She refused.

When Ned implored her to marry Robert, she gave him the tongue lashing of the century but it did the job in shutting him up. He couldn't force Lyanna to do something she didn't want to. That lesson was learned in childhood. If she desired to stay in the North then she would stay. Slighted at first, it didn't take him long to choose another bride. Cersei Lannister. A beautiful couple. Lyanna was happy that Robert even seemed to be truly smitten with the golden haired girl. They couldn't keep their hands off of each other.

Or so she was told. She couldn't attend their lavish wedding, not when her sister was still out there somewhere.

Day and night she worked in searching for (y/n). Northmen scattered across the vast land took part in looking for her.

They'd nearly given up.

And then Jon Connington delivered a letter in (y/n)'s handwriting.

She and Rhaegar had eloped. Rhaegar couldn't marry Elia Martell, he didn't love her but there was absolutely no way that Aerys would let him marry (y/n) Stark. Even (y/n) had kept her love for him a secret from everyone in her family.

Getting married as soon as they could. They had a short honeymoon for the war started shortly after. Jon Connington was entrusted with (y/n)'s safety, and though he wanted to be with Rhaegar on the battlefield, he held (y/n) in high regard. He agreed without much hesitation.

Soon she discovered she was pregnant. The pregnancy wasn't going well for her. She was constantly sick and weak. She didn't have long.

In her note, (y/n) specifically wanted Lyanna, Ned and his new bride to come. Only them. They were not to tell anyone else. Cat was loathe to leave her own baby Robb but knew how important this was for Ned and his family so of course she agreed to go. Leaving Robb pained her.

Jon was but a week old by the time they arrived to the Tower of Joy. The Sword of the Morning himself stood guard at the tower's entrance.

The babe was healthy. The same couldn't be said of his mother.

She was gaunt, so gray. This wasn't the sister Ned and Lyanna grew up with. Her smile was still the same though, even if it was a little strained. To each of them she spoke to, having the other two wait.

All of them, including Jon Connington and Arthur Dayne were to take this secret to their graves.

(y/n) died two days later.

"I know that look."

Lyanna jolts at Ned's voice, ripped from her melancholic memories. She presses her lips together. Ned grew into a fine lord. A horde of children filled the halls of the castle. Among them was the boy they thought their bastard brother. "Sometimes I can't help but think about her when I see him. He has her big, sweet eyes."

Ned nods. "He does." He rests his forearms on the wooden rail and looks down into the courtyard where Jon swung his sword in the way that Arthur Dayne had shown him that morning. Off to the distance was Jon Connington watching with a close eye. Theon and Robb are trying it out as well.

Jon was thriving. No one caught on to the truth of him. Never even breaching the surface. Many asked who the mother was since Ned agreed to claim fathership over him.

Bittersweet for the siblings watching their nephew grow up without his real mother and father. It was better this way. (y/n) wanted her son to grow up in the north opposed to the death and discrimination he might receive from being raised in the capital. Not just that, but Robert Baratheon was now entirely against the entire Targaryen line. He was already trying to locate the missing Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys with plans to execute them if they're ever found. Children. It was insane that his queen was supporting the king's search for them. His claim to the throne was in danger as long as there was even one Targaryen left alive. And unfortunately Jon was included.

That day his sister died, Ned swore to her that he would protect Jon with his life; even if that meant protecting him against his own friend he thought of as a brother. Lyanna, Ned and Cat had spent sleepless nights speaking about the possibility of Robert finding out about Jon. Their voices hushed, only the quiet flame in the fireplace bore witness to the secrets being discussed.

They would never allow the secret of Jon's parents to become public knowledge. (y/n) entrusted Jon's life to them and they would not disappoint her. They would defend the boy with their life and take his secret to the afterlife.

[fawnnbinary]

i need to know more about your oc axel, please n thank you!!!!!!

!!!AXEL MENTION!!!

So Axel actually isn't my oc, he's my boyfriend's!! (@goodgoblinguy) I'm so glad you asked about him though Red, here are some Axel Facts:

He's gay and trans! Yippee!!

He's a neurosurgeon!

He has two husbands! (my ocs, Asher and Theo)

He's autistic!

He only has one leg!

He's descended from fae and can shapeshift! (he had a lizard form named Brandon and a cat form named Bunny)

He collects bugs and has some as pets!

He grew up on a farm in Georgia!

via bumblebee himself: "Ough he's a lizard boy. He's helping Asher find lizards under rocks. Showing Asher the best salamander creeks"

here's his tag on my blog if u wanna see drawings and posts abt him: x

[kifkay]

Platonic! Tecna x Timmy headcanons

Tecna and Timmy do try at a relationship, but quickly figure out that being friends is better for them.

Tecna comes out as aromantic shortly after.

They refer to each other as “Twins” for shits and giggles.

They play video games together a lot. Surprisingly, Timmy is the more laid-back, "shoot shit and explore" type of player, while Tecna is a known rage-quitter and can be really intense when playing. They mostly play over the phone.

They go into Magix for a “maintenance day” which is just a self-care day they repackaged into a different label.

They have similar roles within their respective groups -- the strategists, the logical thinkers, the calm ones -- and they often commiserate on that together.

Tecna oftentimes feels guilty for not being able to support Timmy "as well" as he does, or offer Timmy the "correct solutions" to his problems, given that she is generally ill-equipped with anything requiring EQ.

Still, their main problem is communication. At their core, they are very similar: both are emotionally repressed and extremely private, if for different reasons. It's hard for Tecna and Timmy to have frank, emotional conversations with each other that go beyond venting -- but it's something they work on after rescuing Tecna from Omega.

Timmy finally confides in Tecna about his parents and his self-worth issues, while Tecna tells hims of her future – her duty to Zenith, – and that she doesn’t truly want to fulfill it.

Tecna and Timmy are virtually raising a cat together. His name is Byte and they hope to name each kitten in the future litter “Bitt” with an appropriate number (like “0001” for the first kitten, “0010” for the second, etc), once the cat has kids.

Tecna and Brandon are probably the only ones who met Timmy’s grandfather personally, before he passed.