FIC: Warmth (Ned/Catelyn) for redcandle17
Recipient: redcandle17
Title: Warmth
Rating: All Ages
Pairing: Ned Stark/Catelyn Tully
Word Count: 1811
Summary: Ned and Cat share a tender moment early in their relationship after Cat worries about her role as Lady of Winterfell.
The firelight cast soft shadows on stone walls as she sat at her dressing table, the illumination barely brightening the polished glass and her reflection within. The set of her shoulders was still rigid, Catelyn noticed, even in the dimly-lit and imperfect reflected image. She could feel the warmth that filled the room just barely, buoyed as it was by the hot springs below, bolstered by the crackling fire, but only faintly on her skin, as ephemeral as the condensation collecting on the thick glass windowpanes. Deep down, she felt, her bones were frozen, never to thaw. Her thick, unbound hair was still faintly damp as well, drying only slowly. She remained perfectly still beneath the heavy fur robe piled about her shoulders, unbent beneath its weight. She longed to embrace herself, to rub warmth briskly into her flesh, but she remained still as the heat of the room reddened her cheeks but did little to ease her bone-deep ache, and nothing to ease her worry.
Winter is coming. The Stark words, so full of foreboding, had not prepared her for this despite their truth. For these northern men, there was nothing unusual about the cold. As the season had come on them, they had spoken easily of how it the signs portended a cold not so cruel. They claimed animals of the Wolfwood would know if the winter would be a hard one and plan accordingly. Even the more reserved of her lord’s men had sought to reassure her that she would weather the season’s turn easily, for she was a Stark now, and mother to one as well. This might not ever truly be her place, as it was her husband’s, and now her son’s, but she had found welcome here. She had won a quiet respect for her manner and shouldering of household responsibilities, and there was an easy tolerance for the sept that Ned had raised for her within Winterfell’s walls. She was strong, but today she has shown unpardonable weakness. What would Ned think about her ridiculous display?
Pressing her lips together, she rose to her feet and winced a little as her feet burned and prickled. They were bare and pale against the stones. A servant might have fetched dry shoes, or even warm slippers if she had asked, but she had retreated to her rooms alone. Catelyn had no desire for a gossiping maidservant to see as she shrugged off her wet cloak, stiff with ice, as well as her boots and any of her outer layers exposed to the wet snow. Beneath the heavy robe she wore only her shift, now, having stripped away everything else in haste while her fingers still were stiff with cold. She did not yet feel warm, in truth, but she needed to pick up the clothes strewn between the door and the fireplace and hang them to dry. With one hand knotted in the fur robe, holding it closed at her chest, she picked up her cloak and draped it by the fire, and then went for her dress, sodden and damp, with an expression of distaste. So intent on her task was she that she heard nothing from beyond the door until a hinge creaked softly. Catelyn startled as the door opened, unbending and straightening immediately as she dropped the dress once again.
“Eddard, I…am so glad to see you returned home,” she said softly, standing as proudly as she might, half-naked and cloaked in a heavy robe of bearskin held tightly across her breast. His return must have been recent indeed. Snow still dusted his dark hair and slowly-melting damp glistened on furs and leathers as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, hanging his long gray cloak by the door. His thin face was serious, even somber. It suits him. He is only twenty and one, and yet so much older than his years.
“How fared the hunt?” She forced warmth into her tone, and it was not as difficult as she feared, despite her discomfort - she was relieved that her husband was home, even as she was embarrassed, wary of what he would say. Certainly he would have heard upon his arrival of her foolishness, even if no one was so crass as to tell him directly.
“The hunt? Well enough, we can replenish some stores, but, Catelyn…I am glad to see you, too. Are you well?” he asked solicitously, his dark brows drawn together with concern. Clearly, someone had apprised him of her embarrassing turn. She was proud when she did not look away or flush.
“Very well, of course. Though even a trip of a few days makes me miss you. Robb will be glad to see his father. He asks for you often, and even Old Nan’s stories are not enough to distract him for long.” He almost smiled, then, and his features softened, but still he crossed the room to her, hesitating only a moment before gently gripping her upper arms through the thick robe.
“I will go to him in the nursery, but it’s you I wanted to see first, Cat.” He touched her cheek with the back of his hand, very softly. His hands were not particularly warm compared to her skin, but it was he who frowned at the touch. “You’re cold.”
“So are you, husband,” Catelyn replied, her firm voice surprising even herself. She slipped one of her own hands out from the folds of the robe and gripped his calloused hand in hers. That touch was comforting, and the tension began to ease from her frame.
“Not for long. I’ve returned to hearth and home, and my beautiful wife and warm fire.” Ned’s free hand gently smoothed a lock of her unbound hair, pulling it forward over her shoulder and threading his fingers through the strands almost reverently. Unmindful of the damp that clung to his clothes, Cat leaned close, resting her cheek against his chest with a sigh.
“We could get closer to the fire, rather than stand just inside the doorway,” she murmured quietly, closing her eyes.
“I have all the fire I need, just here,” Ned replied. His fingers coiled in her hair and gently tilted up her head as he bent down to kiss her. It was not a demanding kiss, but tender. She felt the cold give up its grip on her a little more as she returned the kiss just as warmly. It was such a gentle moment that she gasped in surprise as Ned bent down and pulled her firmly into his arms, picking her up easily with a swiftness that took her breath away. He strode across the room to the fireside, settling her in her chair while he shrugged out of his fur-lined leathers down to his shirtsleeves before pulling her to him once again, settling them both on the rug just before the fire, his arms settled firmly around her.
“But you should be warm. I did not take an ice bath today, after all.” She flushed then, deeply, turning her head away abruptly.
“Ned, I am so sorry I looked foolish. I only wished to oversee everything in the grain stores and take an accounting with Maester Luwin’s assistance…”
“And you have nothing to apologize for,” Ned said, cutting her off. “It was the fault of those who knew better. In truth, my dear wife, you have half-convinced all of Winterfell that this could not be your first true winter, by virtue of your incredible competence with all of the practicalities of the keep.” He kissed her temple gently. “And yet you would not have known that particular water tub only has an oiled leather cover so that the smallest pot boys and kitchen girls can open it without fear of falling in while wrestling a cover heavier than they are. I’m sure it looked just fine to sit on.” She made a choked sound and buried her face in her hands, overcome with embarrassment at her husband’s gentle tone. His arms tightened around her gently. “Cat, what’s wrong? I promise it’s all well. Garred is beside himself for not warning you, and Maester Luwin is only afraid you might fall ill. Don’t cry…”
At his almost bewildered tone, she lifted her head so that he could see that she was crying - she was weakly laughing, stifling it with a hand across her mouth. Oh, Ned…
“But that is just it, Ned. I wasn’t about to sit.” She blushed sheepishly. “I was stepping backward out of Garred’s way so he could help me step up the stairs…and I tripped. I fell,” she lamented, hiding her face in Ned’s shoulder with a soft giggle. “It was ridiculous. I was ridiculous.”
“You are the lady of Winterfell, and in no way ridiculous,” he said firmly.
“Luwin and Garred had to pull me out, one by each arm, Ned. I dripped all over the storeroom and slipped twice scrambling up the stairs like a half-drowned...” She trailed off before she finished the sentence, coughing to cover another surge of embarrassment. But she saw her husband’s lips twitch toward something that might have been a smile anyway.
“That is not what I was told. Garred said you very admirable through it all. Most lady-like.” Ned leaned close and whispered softly in her ear. “He also said it figured that it wouldn’t be a little water to upset a Tully.” Cat couldn’t help it - the comment made her laugh anew, pulling the robe up over her face, half amused, half mortified.
“He didn’t!”
“He did,” Ned confirmed, kissing the top of her head. “I promise you, Cat, the folk here love you better than they love me, I think. You have nothing to worry about save many sincere inquiries after your health for the next fortnight, I should think.” Mollified, she leaned more comfortably into her husband’s embrace, enjoying the feel of his fingers combing through her loose hair.
“I am fine, but I will accept them with all good grace,” she chuckled. Lulled by their comfortable entwined touch and easy silence for a few moments, she realized finally that the cold at the heart of her had drained away. The thick, furred robe now felt heavy and even hot.
“Warmed to the core, now,” she said, stretching a little and shrugging back the robe to fall on the rug, her heart racing a little as Ned took the opportunity to pull her even closer against him, stroking her back through the thin shift. She flushed, but no longer with embarrassment. Between the fire, and her husband, she fairly burned.
“I’ll make certain of it,” Ned said solicitously, pulling her close for another kiss and gently laying them back on the thick rug.
The day and its cold was quickly forgotten for them both.
Title: Warmth
Rating: All Ages
Pairing: Ned Stark/Catelyn Tully
Word Count: 1811
Summary: Ned and Cat share a tender moment early in their relationship after Cat worries about her role as Lady of Winterfell.
The firelight cast soft shadows on stone walls as she sat at her dressing table, the illumination barely brightening the polished glass and her reflection within. The set of her shoulders was still rigid, Catelyn noticed, even in the dimly-lit and imperfect reflected image. She could feel the warmth that filled the room just barely, buoyed as it was by the hot springs below, bolstered by the crackling fire, but only faintly on her skin, as ephemeral as the condensation collecting on the thick glass windowpanes. Deep down, she felt, her bones were frozen, never to thaw. Her thick, unbound hair was still faintly damp as well, drying only slowly. She remained perfectly still beneath the heavy fur robe piled about her shoulders, unbent beneath its weight. She longed to embrace herself, to rub warmth briskly into her flesh, but she remained still as the heat of the room reddened her cheeks but did little to ease her bone-deep ache, and nothing to ease her worry.
Winter is coming. The Stark words, so full of foreboding, had not prepared her for this despite their truth. For these northern men, there was nothing unusual about the cold. As the season had come on them, they had spoken easily of how it the signs portended a cold not so cruel. They claimed animals of the Wolfwood would know if the winter would be a hard one and plan accordingly. Even the more reserved of her lord’s men had sought to reassure her that she would weather the season’s turn easily, for she was a Stark now, and mother to one as well. This might not ever truly be her place, as it was her husband’s, and now her son’s, but she had found welcome here. She had won a quiet respect for her manner and shouldering of household responsibilities, and there was an easy tolerance for the sept that Ned had raised for her within Winterfell’s walls. She was strong, but today she has shown unpardonable weakness. What would Ned think about her ridiculous display?
Pressing her lips together, she rose to her feet and winced a little as her feet burned and prickled. They were bare and pale against the stones. A servant might have fetched dry shoes, or even warm slippers if she had asked, but she had retreated to her rooms alone. Catelyn had no desire for a gossiping maidservant to see as she shrugged off her wet cloak, stiff with ice, as well as her boots and any of her outer layers exposed to the wet snow. Beneath the heavy robe she wore only her shift, now, having stripped away everything else in haste while her fingers still were stiff with cold. She did not yet feel warm, in truth, but she needed to pick up the clothes strewn between the door and the fireplace and hang them to dry. With one hand knotted in the fur robe, holding it closed at her chest, she picked up her cloak and draped it by the fire, and then went for her dress, sodden and damp, with an expression of distaste. So intent on her task was she that she heard nothing from beyond the door until a hinge creaked softly. Catelyn startled as the door opened, unbending and straightening immediately as she dropped the dress once again.
“Eddard, I…am so glad to see you returned home,” she said softly, standing as proudly as she might, half-naked and cloaked in a heavy robe of bearskin held tightly across her breast. His return must have been recent indeed. Snow still dusted his dark hair and slowly-melting damp glistened on furs and leathers as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, hanging his long gray cloak by the door. His thin face was serious, even somber. It suits him. He is only twenty and one, and yet so much older than his years.
“How fared the hunt?” She forced warmth into her tone, and it was not as difficult as she feared, despite her discomfort - she was relieved that her husband was home, even as she was embarrassed, wary of what he would say. Certainly he would have heard upon his arrival of her foolishness, even if no one was so crass as to tell him directly.
“The hunt? Well enough, we can replenish some stores, but, Catelyn…I am glad to see you, too. Are you well?” he asked solicitously, his dark brows drawn together with concern. Clearly, someone had apprised him of her embarrassing turn. She was proud when she did not look away or flush.
“Very well, of course. Though even a trip of a few days makes me miss you. Robb will be glad to see his father. He asks for you often, and even Old Nan’s stories are not enough to distract him for long.” He almost smiled, then, and his features softened, but still he crossed the room to her, hesitating only a moment before gently gripping her upper arms through the thick robe.
“I will go to him in the nursery, but it’s you I wanted to see first, Cat.” He touched her cheek with the back of his hand, very softly. His hands were not particularly warm compared to her skin, but it was he who frowned at the touch. “You’re cold.”
“So are you, husband,” Catelyn replied, her firm voice surprising even herself. She slipped one of her own hands out from the folds of the robe and gripped his calloused hand in hers. That touch was comforting, and the tension began to ease from her frame.
“Not for long. I’ve returned to hearth and home, and my beautiful wife and warm fire.” Ned’s free hand gently smoothed a lock of her unbound hair, pulling it forward over her shoulder and threading his fingers through the strands almost reverently. Unmindful of the damp that clung to his clothes, Cat leaned close, resting her cheek against his chest with a sigh.
“We could get closer to the fire, rather than stand just inside the doorway,” she murmured quietly, closing her eyes.
“I have all the fire I need, just here,” Ned replied. His fingers coiled in her hair and gently tilted up her head as he bent down to kiss her. It was not a demanding kiss, but tender. She felt the cold give up its grip on her a little more as she returned the kiss just as warmly. It was such a gentle moment that she gasped in surprise as Ned bent down and pulled her firmly into his arms, picking her up easily with a swiftness that took her breath away. He strode across the room to the fireside, settling her in her chair while he shrugged out of his fur-lined leathers down to his shirtsleeves before pulling her to him once again, settling them both on the rug just before the fire, his arms settled firmly around her.
“But you should be warm. I did not take an ice bath today, after all.” She flushed then, deeply, turning her head away abruptly.
“Ned, I am so sorry I looked foolish. I only wished to oversee everything in the grain stores and take an accounting with Maester Luwin’s assistance…”
“And you have nothing to apologize for,” Ned said, cutting her off. “It was the fault of those who knew better. In truth, my dear wife, you have half-convinced all of Winterfell that this could not be your first true winter, by virtue of your incredible competence with all of the practicalities of the keep.” He kissed her temple gently. “And yet you would not have known that particular water tub only has an oiled leather cover so that the smallest pot boys and kitchen girls can open it without fear of falling in while wrestling a cover heavier than they are. I’m sure it looked just fine to sit on.” She made a choked sound and buried her face in her hands, overcome with embarrassment at her husband’s gentle tone. His arms tightened around her gently. “Cat, what’s wrong? I promise it’s all well. Garred is beside himself for not warning you, and Maester Luwin is only afraid you might fall ill. Don’t cry…”
At his almost bewildered tone, she lifted her head so that he could see that she was crying - she was weakly laughing, stifling it with a hand across her mouth. Oh, Ned…
“But that is just it, Ned. I wasn’t about to sit.” She blushed sheepishly. “I was stepping backward out of Garred’s way so he could help me step up the stairs…and I tripped. I fell,” she lamented, hiding her face in Ned’s shoulder with a soft giggle. “It was ridiculous. I was ridiculous.”
“You are the lady of Winterfell, and in no way ridiculous,” he said firmly.
“Luwin and Garred had to pull me out, one by each arm, Ned. I dripped all over the storeroom and slipped twice scrambling up the stairs like a half-drowned...” She trailed off before she finished the sentence, coughing to cover another surge of embarrassment. But she saw her husband’s lips twitch toward something that might have been a smile anyway.
“That is not what I was told. Garred said you very admirable through it all. Most lady-like.” Ned leaned close and whispered softly in her ear. “He also said it figured that it wouldn’t be a little water to upset a Tully.” Cat couldn’t help it - the comment made her laugh anew, pulling the robe up over her face, half amused, half mortified.
“He didn’t!”
“He did,” Ned confirmed, kissing the top of her head. “I promise you, Cat, the folk here love you better than they love me, I think. You have nothing to worry about save many sincere inquiries after your health for the next fortnight, I should think.” Mollified, she leaned more comfortably into her husband’s embrace, enjoying the feel of his fingers combing through her loose hair.
“I am fine, but I will accept them with all good grace,” she chuckled. Lulled by their comfortable entwined touch and easy silence for a few moments, she realized finally that the cold at the heart of her had drained away. The thick, furred robe now felt heavy and even hot.
“Warmed to the core, now,” she said, stretching a little and shrugging back the robe to fall on the rug, her heart racing a little as Ned took the opportunity to pull her even closer against him, stroking her back through the thin shift. She flushed, but no longer with embarrassment. Between the fire, and her husband, she fairly burned.
“I’ll make certain of it,” Ned said solicitously, pulling her close for another kiss and gently laying them back on the thick rug.
The day and its cold was quickly forgotten for them both.