Women are supposed to be soft-spoken proper and homemakers and Rhaella Lopez was everything but she was fierce, loud, blunt and deadly. Her family had never been able to accept her but the FBI loved her it was her home, the only place other than the...
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Catelyn Tully sat in one of the many dining rooms of the Wolves' Den, as the palace had so aptly been named. She watched as a young servant girl guided her youngest daughter into the hall. Arya's hair was styled in an unfamiliar braided pattern, one she had seen the Queen wear on her more relaxed days but had never bothered to learn the name of. She was surprised at how long her daughter's hair had grown. No longer thin and frail, it was thick and wavy, cascading down her back.
Unlike Arya's usual attire, today she wore a dress of grey with a silver belt around her waist. From her neck to her upper shoulders, another silver accessory—like armor—rested over the slate-grey gown that flowed elegantly as Arya walked. The modesty of it was striking, and for the first time in a long while, Catelyn felt a sense of comfort as she watched her daughter.
"Arya, you finally look like a lady," she said, her voice bright with eager pride.
Arya, however, only frowned and didn't respond. This caused Catelyn to pause, her eyes narrowing as she really took in her daughter. Arya was no longer the little girl Catelyn had scolded so freely in years past. She had grown, and it was clear that she disapproved of her mother's comment—yet she didn't seem interested in engaging with her forceful attitude just yet.
Soon, Sansa entered the room, her hair styled similarly to how Princess Elia used to wear it before her death. Catelyn assumed it was a style from Dorne. Sansa's gown, much to Catelyn's horror, bared her chest. Even with its long sleeves and southern design, it was something Catelyn despised. Her face grew pale when she noticed the slit in the gown, but she said nothing as Sansa sat down.
"Mother," Sansa greeted, offering a bright smile to Arya. "I see you wore the gown."
Arya nodded before turning her gaze back to Catelyn, who seemed lost in thought.
"Sansa, your gown is..." Catelyn began, but before she could finish, Sansa cut her off.
"My husband's least favorite," Sansa replied smoothly. "He despises it. He was quite upset when he realized we wouldn't be matching today, as I normally wear Dornish clothing."
Her words were clear, and Catelyn felt a shift in the conversation.
"Arya, the gowns you've been wearing recently..." Catelyn began again, her tone critical.
Arya raised an eyebrow. "What of them?"
Catelyn frowned. "They're inappropriate."
Arya smirked in response. "Shall I tell the Queen you find the original dress of her ancestors inappropriate?"
Suddenly, Catelyn felt trapped. She swallowed her pride, realizing that she had no ground to stand on. "No, you do not. But about your engagement—he is your cousin, Arya."
Finally, Catelyn found a topic she could control. Sansa scoffed and leaned back in her seat.
"And what of it?" she asked with a casual tone. "He is a Targaryen of the North. The children Arya may eventually bear would be Lord of Driftmark and Lord of Dreadfort. Neither would have to be a second son."
Catelyn paused, her mind working through her daughter's words. She knew Sansa was right, but the idea of it made her uneasy. Arya, however, didn't seem to care. She simply smiled.
"I am happy with the arrangement," she said. "So is Father and Robb."
Catelyn was effectively silenced. Finally, Arya spoke again. "Bran's betrothed is a wonderful girl. Have you met her mother?"
Catelyn paused, looking at Sansa, who was also nodding in agreement.
"Ah yes, Princess Shireen. Such a darling girl," Catelyn replied, though her voice trembled slightly.
The realization hit her like a thunderclap. The girl with grey-scale would marry her son. Arya, sensing her thoughts, continued.
"It's a shame that few see past her scars. She's such a beautiful, kind, and intelligent girl."
Catelyn's heart clenched. She knew how people saw Princess Shireen, but her daughters seemed to accept her, and that made it all the more difficult for Catelyn to voice her concerns. Sansa added to the conversation.
"Bran adores her. They study together in the library. Father and Lord Baratheon agree that Bran would be Lord of Storm's End if he marries her."
That was it—the perfect match for her son. He would be a lord. Now she just needed to find a suitable match for her youngest, and every one of her sons would have a solid position. The thought lit up her face, and she felt an excitement building inside her, unaware that both her daughters had cleverly played her into complying.
Now they had to address the obvious rumors.
"The Queen is furious with the little Hightower green stunt our good sister attempted. Apparently, someone at the small council meeting asked if we Starks were truly loyal to the throne," Arya remarked with a smirk.
Catelyn paused and lowered her head, taking a sip of her wine. "We are loyal to the crown and will continue to be. No need to be concerned with those stories."
The rest of the dinner passed quickly. As her daughters left the hall, Catelyn remained behind, staring into the fire. There was a new ruler, a new dynasty rising. Perhaps it was time for her to follow the trends, as the other ladies did, and accept the changing tides.
Robb Stark looked at his wife, who had been behaving herself for the past few weeks. Her gown was discarded, and she was submerged in the tub. For weeks now, since his sister and father had spoken with him, his wife had been more willing to share their bed—though it wasn't just for sleep. Robb couldn't deny that he enjoyed it, though she always tried to hide the sounds she made. It seemed she had listened to the Septa too much for his liking.
He assumed she was pregnant, as she had missed her moon's time and was still drinking the teas and wines his sisters had sent. He was tired, frustrated, and annoyed with her. He didn't love her, and her attitude only made things worse. Fortunately, the Queen had provided a way out. Lady Olenna had not objected, as she had apparently secured a suitable lady for her grandson through the Queen.
Robb slipped quietly out of the bedroom and made his way into the streets, heading toward the whorehouse without care for being seen. However, when he arrived, he sighed, turned around, and bumped into a young woman. She watched him with wide eyes, and then, without a word, turned and walked toward the Royal Palace. She guided him inside through secret passages.
"Lady Arya was worried that you'd harm your image," the woman said, her tone amused. "But it seems she didn't need to worry."
Robb sighed, sitting down as he watched her speak. "Your name?"
The woman smiled. "Jeyne Westerling."
Robb's eyes widened in recognition. "Why are you here and not with your father?"
Jeyne laughed and sat next to him. "I am the Queen's Lady-in-Waiting."
The two unexpectedly talked deep into the night before slipping off to their respective palaces. Neither knew that, at that very moment, the Queen and Arya were reading a report of their meeting with bright smiles before burning the papers.
Authors Note
Hey, I know it's late, but I was debating whether I should follow the book ship or the show ship. In the books, Robb Stark married Jeyne Westerling. The show replaced her with Talisa. Jeyne genuinely loved Robb however she was betrayed by her mother who worked with the Lannisters. She remained unmarried for two years, mourning his death. So I think she and Robb deserve happiness.
