Chapter Six

There were few sights in Catelyn Stark's life that filled her with as much pride as seeing the wonder in the children's eyes at Riverrun. The grey-white stone walls and blue and red turrets, the deep moat that surrounded the castle, the glimpse of the western courtyard filled with its high-reaching lemon and orange trees… all crystallized in her childhood memories. There was a sandy inlet in a nearby cave that had the best trout in the Seven Kingdoms. A worn settee where she had read aloud by the Lord Tully's desk. A spot under the southern bridge near brimming with blue and yellow wildflowers. All places that she was eager to get to but none quite so much as the inner courtyard, where she could see her family now.

Father, Uncle Brynden, Edmure, and the rest of the household had all gathered in welcome. Edmure looked as hale and hearty as he had been three years ago. He returned his nephew's wave with a wide grin present. Her Uncle Brynden hadn't changed a bit; still grey, steady, and intimidating but with a small smile available for his niece. In comparison, Lord Hoster Tully needed a cane to hold himself up now but he also looked genuinely pleased to see the wheelhouse roll in.

Catelyn wanted dearly to run out and embrace them all but she was the lady-wife of a Lord Paramount now. Instead she soothed a fussy Arya in her arms and stepped outside, orienting herself across from the Tully contingent. Her children flocked about her skirts and Kara positioned herself one step behind her left shoulder. Her father's keen blue eyes flicked across all of them and Catelyn could practically hear him ticking off his reports of grandchildren: Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and one additional girl who bore not a hint of Tully blood.

"These are my children Father," Catelyn announced quietly. She looked him directly in the eyes. "My eldest son, Robb, my daughters, Lyarra, Sansa, and Arya, and my youngest child, Brandon."

Her father didn't flinch once as he surveyed the tired and grumpy children. He addressed Robb first. "Do you know who I am child?"

"Lord Hoster Tully. You're mother's father."

"Aye, and that makes me your grandfather. I am pleased to meet my Cat's firstborn and my eldest grandchild."

Robb smiled back and attempted an almost-perfect bow. "I am pleased to meet you too Grandfather."

To her father's credit, he acknowledged Lyarra directly after Robb. "You are Lyarra then?"

The girl's curtsy was even better than her counterpart's bow. Though the manner by which she ducked her head obscured violet eyes with dark brown bangs. "Yes, my lord."

"Do now bow your head child. You are a pretty girl. Take pride in that beauty," Lord Tully said bluntly. "You shall call me Grandfather as well."

Catelyn released her breath and she was sure Lyarra did as well. Edmure visibly slumped in relief.

The first obstacle having been traversed, the remainder of the greetings passed by quickly. Her father proudly announced Sansa to be every bit Tully, Arya to have more spirit than half of his bannerman, and Brandon to have the strongest grip he could remember from a babe. Her Uncle Brynden shook Robb's hand and kissed Lyarra, Sansa, and Arya's hands in welcome. Her brother gave her a hug, clapped Robb in the back, and then spun Lyarra in the air.

"Me too! Me too!" Sansa had squealed, shyness forgotten. Her red locks were soon flying in the wind.

Catelyn took this opportunity to greet some prominent figures of her childhood: Ser Arwyn, Blacksmith Korfin, Maester Talmud, Cook Bethan, and others. Eventually the Stark party was escorted into the castle which was infused with the scents of freshly baked bread, smoked meats, grilled fish, and sweet treats that Lord Hoster had ordered. Arya looked tempted to fight her way down and crawl to the Great Hall for those mouthwatering scents but Lady Stark insisted on refreshing themselves first. She happily took her brother's arm and let him lead her to the family wing.

"I converted your old room into my personal wine cellar," Edmure informed her.

"That's fine," Catelyn dismissed. "You may sleep in the kitchens while I take your room then."

The room that she was instilled into though soon banished all thoughts of revenge. Lady Minisa Whent's quarters were still decorated in that pale yellow silk and blue damask style that she favored. Tiny bats were painstakingly sewed onto her bedspread, the curtains were parted to bathe the room in sunshine. Even now, Hoster Tully had fresh wildflowers placed upon her dresser.

The only difference were two cribs brought in from the nursery for her youngest daughter and son and an old rocking chair. Catelyn took the opportunity to nurse Bran as the children were bathed and then led them all down to the Great Hall. The dinner was one of the most pleasant ones she had ever had. Her Father was delighted with each of his grandchildren, even sparing the occasional praise to Lyarra, and indulgent in a manner that she had never experienced herself. Even Arya's gleeful mashing of the peas, which would have earned her younger self or her siblings a sharp rebuke, received a chortling over the evident wolf's blood. Edmure was downright offended by the clemency.

This was when he wasn't piling the most juicy meats or ripened fruits onto his nephew and niece's plates though. It warmed Cat's heart to see the easy manner by which Edmund regaled her children with stories- some rather more boastful than she remembered them to be. It was evident that her brother had the makings of a good father in him; it was only his aversion to marriage and string of occasional lovers that kept him from the title.

Uncle Brynden took the most sedate approach to meeting the children. He answered all of her son's questions about knights, battles, and valor but spent more time with Lyarra. Catelyn supposed that it was due to her unusual acceptance of her husband's bastard daughter that he wanted to study the girl. She felt it went well regardless. Lyarra was an endearing child; for all of her shy nature and wary demeanor, she latched onto kindness with full enthusiasm and affection. The Lady Stark was certain that her uncle enjoyed having someone listen raptly to his stories.

Catelyn's only complaint could be that her husband, sister, and goodbrother could not attend.

Every pleasure has its end though and soon exhausted yet protesting children were ushered off to bed with promises of adventures tomorrow. The adults reconvened in the personal solar of the Lord Tully, cups of freshly brewed tea in hand. Catelyn restlessly adjusted her position as she waited to answer her family's inquiries.

Lord Hoster addressed the most notable change to date. "You have a newfound tolerance for your husband's bastard, Cat."

"To the best of my knowledge, Ned doesn't have a bastard, Father," Catelyn replied flatly. "However he does have a niece that he's willing to claim as his own."

Lord Tully considered that for a moment and then came to the (incorrect) answer. Catelyn rather hoped this would be indicative of the conclusions other may reach in the future. "Well I find myself even more disposed to liking my goodson then. Though I could have done without Eddard publicly disgracing you by claiming Brandon's bastard."

"He may have done it to prevent any inheritance issues," Brynden suggested. "A trueborn daughter of Brandon would be the rightful heir if someone could get her legitimized."

"That's a good point Brother. Foster the girl in Riverrun, Cat. I shall marry her off to one of my most loyal knights. She shall want for nothing if she gives up all claim to Winterfell."

"No. Brandon died without any children, baseborn or otherwise. Lyarra would only be the rightful heir if Ned and all of our children died."

"The other brother then? He would have been perhaps fourteen when that child was sired?"

Cat winced and shook her head. Despite knowing that this was one of the most secure rooms in the castle, surrounded by walls of thick, unyielding stone, and empty of all but those she trusted most dearly, she lowered her voice. "Ned found Lyarra in Dorne and took her from his dying sister."

Her Uncle Brynden was the first to put the clues together and he paled rapidly. Lord Hoster Tully had to put his shaking tea down but it was her brother that spoke. "You're harboring Rhaegar Targaryen's daughter? Is she trueborn?"

"I'm not sure…" Cat took a deep breath. "We all know of the rumors that Lyanna wasn't kidnapped."

Rumors that were forbidden in Winterfell. Rumors that could send her Ned into a rage whenever he heard them whispered.

"We also know of the Targaryen practice of polygamy," Brynden said wryly. He shook his head. "Hiding the rightful heir to the Iron Throne in his own home? Your Ned has balls of steel, Cat."

"Her Ned is a reckless fool that could plunge this realm back in war," her father hissed back. "By the Gods Cat, what do you think Robert Baratheon will do to your family when he learns of this?"

Her temper flared. "I don't know, Father. Perhaps what he did to Rhaenys and Aegon!"

The venom in her voice made him recoil. Before he could respond, Edmure interjected. "That was out of line, Sister. The entire realm was disgusted by the fates of Princess Elia and her babes. None of us desire the same fate for Lyarra."

"Revealing her heritage would be the same as passing the death sentence," Lord Hoster agreed reluctantly. "Since Eddard has already gone to such lengths to hide her identity, he would certainly fight to keep her alive. We'll need to hide the truth however we can. It's fortunate that she takes after her Stark heritage."

"She does look remarkably like her mother," Uncle Brynden noted. "So how did you learn the truth? Did your husband tell you?"

"Ned didn't tell me. We haven't even spoken of it yet," Catelyn sighed. "Lyarra can't burn."

There was a moment of silence as they processed this and even though her brother gave her a deep, searching look, no one pressed further. "Then her eyes alone will show her Targaryen heritage. Does anyone else have violet eyes that we can link to the Starks?"

"Ashara Dayne was a former… lover of Ned's," she admitted. "They met at the Tourney of Harrenhal with Brandon, Lyanna, and Benjen."

"We'll be pushing it with the dates but a late-term babe born of Brandon Stark and Ashara Dayne will do well enough," Lord Hoster mused. "People would think they uncovered the lie when Brandon's name replaces Ned's, never thinking to question the mother instead."

"Not that many would care to look into a bastard daughter of a far flung northern kingdom," Edmure pointed out. "We wouldn't have even cared if Cat hadn't been supposedly disgraced."

"A small risk of being found out is not the same as having no risk at all," her uncle's voice was somber. "If the truth ever gets out, Robert will demand the girl's head and Ned will call his bannerman before he hands her over. And when the Great Houses go to war, it is the Riverlands that bleed."

"Only one side would expect war to come though. I had hoped to gain your counsel Uncle, on how to best prepare the North for conflict."

"And to fortify the Riverlands as well?" Brynden added slyly. "Nay, don't be embarrassed, little Cat. I would counsel my good-nephew freely for war. Should Lyarra Snow's true identity ever be revealed, you can count on my sword to defend her."

A flush of gratefulness spread across her chest and she bowed her head. "Thank you Uncle."

"I would swear the same but I fear that war may come regardless of your niece's blood," her father added darkly. "You may not have heard of this in your isolated castle Cat, but ravens rarely bring glad tiding anymore. Those damn Greyjoys grow bolder every day and they're still a distraction from the news south."

Catelyn scowled at the mention of the Ironborn raiders. As the most common victim of their raids, there existed little goodwill for House Greyjoy in the Riverlands. Still his other words… "South?"

"Everyone knew Robert would be a leach and a drunkard. It hardly mattered when Lysa's husband ran the kingdom but even Jon Arryn can't contain his excesses," Hoster Tully snorted. "Not when his appetites are whetted by Lannister gold. A Lannister in the Kingsguard, a Lannister on the throne, a Lannister for a Maester… it's a miracle he hasn't signed the kingdom away to Lord Tywin already!"

"Don't be too optimistic Father. It's more likely that the Iron Bank will get its due and convert us all to Bravossi," Edmure said disdainfully. "How does he even run up a deficit with Littlefinger around to triple the revenue streams?"

"Petyr Baelish works for the King?" Catelyn was astonished. "Little Petyr?"

A sour look crossed Hoster Tully's face at the reminder of his former ward. Catelyn supposed that he had yet to forgive the boy for challenging Brandon Stark to a duel for her hand.

"Petyr is the King's Master of Coin. No doubt Lysa's hand was involved in that decision," Edmure snorted. "I only hope that she takes moon tea regularly before the family has an actual bastard to deal with."

Catelyn stared at her brother. "...I am confused. Does Lysa have a lover?"

"Were you blind to that torrid love triangle between Lord Tully's daughters and his poor ward?" Her brother mocked. Then Edmure's face slackened. "Wait, did you truly not know? Petyr loved-"

"Edmure!" Lord Tully said sharply. "That's enough. Your sister doesn't need to know."

"Doesn't need to know what?" Catelyn looked around and saw her brother and uncle hastily avert their eyes. "Father?"

"It doesn't matter Cat," Lord Hoster said firmly. "It happened a long time ago."

"Is this why you don't trust Petyr?" Catelyn frowned when the men stayed stubbornly silent. "Fine. Keep the information to yourself then. We have more important matters to discuss."

'Not to mention that I can piece together enough of it on my own. A love triangle between Petyr, Lysa, and myself? I certainly never encouraged it, so Petyr must have thought himself in love with me while poor Lysa became enamored with him. And now the two are possibly entering into an affair in King's Landing? Under the nose of Jon Arryn? What in the Maiden's name could Lysa be thinking?'

"You know, with such an unstable regime, there may be the opportunity for-" Lord Hoster began.

"No!" Catelyn swiftly ended that line of thought. "We are not placing Lyarra on the Iron Throne, Father! I do not welcome war and neither will Ned; it remains a last resort if her identity is ever revealed to the world."

"If that is your wish then," her father conceded. "We shall take a defensive approach to this."

"Winterfell and Riverrun need to be fortified," her uncle drew the focus back. "Give me a day to review the current situation and then we may sit down to discuss it."

"Men trained, garrisons filled, blacksmiths and bowyers acquired," Edmure made a face. "At least the Ironborn give us an excuse to build up our ships."

"There is a great deal to be accounted for. It would assist us if Lysa was aware but I would recommend not informing her. Her loyalty is to her husband now and Jon Arryn is the King's Hand."

"I agree," Catelyn concurred. She felt mildly conflicted about hiding the truth from her own sister but even she could not deny that she considered herself a Stark foremost now. "Shall we rejoin this discussion tomorrow?"

"It would be for the best. I am not as young as I once was and some rest would do me well. Good night, my little Cat."

"Good night, Father, Uncle, Edmure." She rose from the seat and pressed a kiss to her father's brow. The Tully-born daughter knew that she could trust him to help her in this time of need.

As she made to leave, a hand on her elbow drew her back. Catelyn looked back to see her brother, an uncommonly grim expression on his face as he led her to a deserted corridor. When they were standing below a faded weaving of some river lord of old, he turned to face her, ocean eyes darkened.

"You're my sister and I love you to pieces," Edmure said quietly. "But I have to know. Will Lyarra be safe with you?"

Catelyn flinched. "Where is that accusation coming from Edmure?"

"You tried to burn your husband's bastard, didn't you Cat?" He nervously ran a hand through reddish brown hair the exact shade her own. "No, don't bother answering. I can see the truth in your eyes. I won't tell anyone but if you can't promise her safety, then I will insist that Lyarra be fostered here."

She bit her lip as the familiar feeling of guilt and anguish rose up to choke her. "It was temporary madness, Brother. I will regret it for the rest of my life."

"Answer my question. Does she need to be fostered here?"

"No. No, I'll keep her safe. I'll treat Lyarra as one of my own. I swear it."

Edmure released a breath and offered her a sad smile. "I truly hope you will Cat."

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