Catelyn was indeed taking the air--sitting in the shade under a large tree, since she still avoided sunlight whenever she could. The Stark mini-compound in Gryffindor felt more like home than anything had since she'd left Winterfell, and though Ned and Robb's condition both grieved and angered her, she was also, in a way, guardedly content to have them with her, injuries and mutilations notwithstanding. At least they were here, and though she still wanted little more than to destroy the Lannisters and all connected with them, she was grateful beyond measure to have so much of her family together again.
She didn't sew or write or read, when she went out for air; she simply sat, enjoying what little she could feel of the air on her face. People very rarely bothered her--the scars on her face were a bit of a deterrent--and she was somewhat surprised to see Camilla now.
"Hello," she said, rising and brushing off her skirt.
"Hi -- no, don't get up, I'll sit. If you don't mind company. Goodness, I knew you'd been married, but no one told me your husband was here. How long has it been?" On the surface it sounded like pleasant light conversation. Inwardly, Camilla was thinking that Silas must have been hiding his heartbreak well!
"Not at all." Catelyn rarely had company, but she didn't grudge it when she did. "Ned only arrived two months ago, at almost the same time as my eldest son." Fortunately, Catelyn had no inkling of Camilla's suppositions about any phantom relationship between her and Silas.
Catelyn had been at Hogwarts much longer than Ned, and so had had more time to get used to modern fashion. Still, she found the sight of bare legs odd, and wondered, not for the first time, how clothing had become as it was now. Even if she wasn't a zombie, she could never even think of wearing such a garment, but then many women here would never dress as she herself did. "I hope you are well?"
"Well, I am, sort of. I wanted to talk to you about that," said Camilla, sitting unselfconsciously on the grass, her scandalously bare legs tucked under her to the side. "About how I am, I mean. But also, how you are. Is it nice having your husband and your son back? Are you still friends with Silas?"
"It is," Catelyn said. "A painful blessing, but a blessing nonetheless. May I assume you saw my husband?"
Was she still friends with Silas...that seemed an odd question. "Of course," she said. "Silas has sworn himself liegeman to my husband and family." The man had to be Ned's age--if not older--and yet he looked on Ned as a father. But then, she'd known for some time that, consciously or not, Silas looked at her as a mother.
Catelyn nearly blinked. While she had heard Ned described as many things--honorable, just, noble--she didn't think she had ever heard anyone outside the family refer to him as 'nice'. Come to that, she wasn't certain she'd really ever heard anyone in the family use that particular word. Ned was very kind to his family, but for some reason 'kind' and 'nice' seemed very different.
She looked at Camilla, curious. "Has something happened with Silas?" Catelyn knew that Silas guarded Camilla as well--his angel, he called her--but surely if something had happened, he would have said something to either herself or Ned. (Then again, Silas had even yet not said a word about his brief forced marriage.)
"Oh, no, he's fine." Camilla, for her part, thought she knew why Silas wouldn't have mentioned his sad breakup to Camilla herself. Silas was a monk. And he thought Camilla was an angel. So he wouldn't want her to know about anything unmonastic (?) he might have gotten up to. She only caught them holding hands that one time, after all, and she hadn't said anything about it. He might not even know she'd seen it.
Camilla didn't blame Catelyn for her choice. Catelyn was married, and since her husband was here now, her place was obviously with him. Also, Silas wasn't especially attractive. Ned wasn't supermodel material either, but he was tall and well-built and had a certain rugged appeal. (Camilla hadn't seen him in his decapitated form, and hadn't given him occasion to try to turn his newly-reattached head
( ... )
"He did in part, yes," Catelyn said slowly. "I am afraid I did not really understand." For her part, she didn't think Camilla had intentionally led him to believe it--Catelyn knew full well that Silas's psyche was sadly damaged in some ways, and she had made no move to disabuse him of his notion because it seemed necessary for him. From what she had seen, Camilla did nothing to either encourage or abuse this belief, and if it helped Silas in some small way, Catelyn saw no harm in it.
"They're a religious thing," Camilla said. "You probably don't have the idea of them where you're from. You know he's a monk -- a member of a religious brotherhood, in the Catholic Church. I was raised as a Catholic myself so I know what he means, and what he expects from an angel. He just sort of decided I was one when he arrived. I guess it's because I was kind to him. I still don't really understand. In the Bible, angels sometimes do take a humanlike form and come down to earth. They're messengers of God and they do errands for God sometimes. I don't know what Silas thinks my mission would be. He's never really said."
Catelyn did have an idea of what monks were--Silas had said that Septons sounded something his own order. There really weren't any equivalents of angels in Westeros, though--at least, not if she went by Silas's description--so she had a more difficult time with the concept.
"Silas often keeps his own counsel," Catelyn mused. "I think he perhaps needed to believe you to be an angel. His faith is his shield." It kept the outside world out, she thought, but it also kept certain aspects of himself in. Part of why swearing his allegiance to the Starks seemed to be so good for him was, Catelyn knew, because it gave him structure--there was someone to tell him what was and what was not all right.
"I think so too. It seemed to help him. I didn't want to tell him he was wrong -- it might upset him."
Upsetting a giant monk who'd been trained as an assassin did not strike Camilla as a good idea.
"There are things angels do, and things they don't do. And I might be about to do something that they definitely don't. And if I do, I won't be able to hide it from him. It's sort of a public thing."
"What is it, that an angel should not do but that you cannot hide?" Catelyn had no idea what might be forbidden to a divine being--they were divine, after all. Then again, so far as she could tell, neither of the faiths in Westeros were much like anything here.
Camilla hesitated. Suddenly it all seemed very personal, and therefore difficult to talk about. Her habitual circumlocutions served a real purpose: they kept things at a cleaner distance.
"I'm not sure if it's an immediate concern," she said, though it was, more or less. "I'm not sure how to actually go about it. When Ned asked you to marry him, how did you go about answering?"
Catelyn actually blinked. To her it was an exceedingly odd question--every one of the nobility of Westeros was given into arranged marriages, so the idea of asking and answering was not something she'd ever even considered. The smallfolk often married where they wished, but to her mind such a way was extremely unusual.
"Our marriage was arranged," she explained, aware on some level that it was not the norm in this time and place. "So I suppose I cannot say." She turned inquisitive, pale-filmed eyes to Camilla. "Has someone asked you?"
"... Oh." Camilla hadn't expected that. It had been an arranged marriage? How very awkward. "I think if marriages here were arranged, I'd never get married." Because it would be Charles who did the arranging, and he never would arrange such a thing. "Was it very difficult for you?"
She didn't sew or write or read, when she went out for air; she simply sat, enjoying what little she could feel of the air on her face. People very rarely bothered her--the scars on her face were a bit of a deterrent--and she was somewhat surprised to see Camilla now.
"Hello," she said, rising and brushing off her skirt.
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Catelyn had been at Hogwarts much longer than Ned, and so had had more time to get used to modern fashion. Still, she found the sight of bare legs odd, and wondered, not for the first time, how clothing had become as it was now. Even if she wasn't a zombie, she could never even think of wearing such a garment, but then many women here would never dress as she herself did. "I hope you are well?"
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Was she still friends with Silas...that seemed an odd question. "Of course," she said. "Silas has sworn himself liegeman to my husband and family." The man had to be Ned's age--if not older--and yet he looked on Ned as a father. But then, she'd known for some time that, consciously or not, Silas looked at her as a mother.
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It would take someone who normally spent time around Henry Winter to consider a man as reserved as Ned Stark 'nice' on such abbreviated acquaintance.
"I was looking for you, and Silas told me where to find you. He's what I needed to ask you about, really -- Silas, not Ned."
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She looked at Camilla, curious. "Has something happened with Silas?" Catelyn knew that Silas guarded Camilla as well--his angel, he called her--but surely if something had happened, he would have said something to either herself or Ned. (Then again, Silas had even yet not said a word about his brief forced marriage.)
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Camilla didn't blame Catelyn for her choice. Catelyn was married, and since her husband was here now, her place was obviously with him. Also, Silas wasn't especially attractive. Ned wasn't supermodel material either, but he was tall and well-built and had a certain rugged appeal. (Camilla hadn't seen him in his decapitated form, and hadn't given him occasion to try to turn his newly-reattached head ( ... )
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"Silas often keeps his own counsel," Catelyn mused. "I think he perhaps needed to believe you to be an angel. His faith is his shield." It kept the outside world out, she thought, but it also kept certain aspects of himself in. Part of why swearing his allegiance to the Starks seemed to be so good for him was, Catelyn knew, because it gave him structure--there was someone to tell him what was and what was not all right.
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Upsetting a giant monk who'd been trained as an assassin did not strike Camilla as a good idea.
"There are things angels do, and things they don't do. And I might be about to do something that they definitely don't. And if I do, I won't be able to hide it from him. It's sort of a public thing."
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"I'm not sure if it's an immediate concern," she said, though it was, more or less. "I'm not sure how to actually go about it. When Ned asked you to marry him, how did you go about answering?"
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"Our marriage was arranged," she explained, aware on some level that it was not the norm in this time and place. "So I suppose I cannot say." She turned inquisitive, pale-filmed eyes to Camilla. "Has someone asked you?"
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