They stole him. Robb, her first babe, every time his big blue eyes had spilled with water she had been there to wipe them away. Why could she not help him any longer? The stole him away from her. They stole Sansa and Arya, Bran and Rickon, Ned. They stole everything.

Of course; she could not bring the dead back. But that did not mean she couldn't avenge them. Dreams of torturing Walder Frey, Roose Bolton, Tywin Lannister and any other person who had ever hurt her sweet babes. There was a price to pay, a price for hurting Catelyn Tully. She had a reputation for being completely devoted to her family, thinking with her heart not her head, just another pretty face with not much else about her. Her cheeks were tear stained as her eyes fluttered open, a group of men surrounded her.

"Hey, look over 'ere!" A man yelled, Catelyn wasn't sure what was happening. It had all been so dark, but her thoughts had never once settled. "She's finally wake...who would have ever thought Lady Stark would be mine?"

The stench of ale reached Catelyn, she gulped. Dragging herself to a sitting position proved itself to be a challenge, and let her eyes focus on her surroundings. The trees were swaying softly in the wind, and the breeze suddenly caught Catelyn, she shivered. The clothes she was wearing were minimal, no more than smallclothes, the cold attacked her like a dog on a bone. Opening her mouth to speak, the realisation hit her that her throat was to dry to produce a sound. Another man offered his arm, and she gratefully accepted it get to her feet. "Would you like somethin' to drink?" He offered, and Catelyn nodded gently. Her limbs felt sore, like she had been sleeping and was just getting them to work properly again.

She was presented with a small cup of water, and slowly it quenched her thirst. "Thank you." She nodded, very conscious that lots of men were staring at her in her smallclothes. Subconsciously her arms were wrapped around her chest, it was very uncomfortable for her. A flame had helped with the cold, but a chill still went down her spine as the memories of her son rushed through her mind. "Kind sir, may I ask your name?"

"Elden Rivers." The man smiled, Catelyn was grateful that at least one man wasn't staring at her like a common whore. "I believe you are Lady Stark?"

"My husband is dead, so perhaps I am no longer worthy of that title." Catelyn smiled sadly. "I don't mean to be rude, but do you have a change of clothes, I feel I am being less than modest at the moment."

Elden nodded as she blushed, but as soon as he left another man came closer to her. His teeth seemed almost rotten, but he was grinning anyway. Catelyn forced a smile but tried not to speak, she felt that throwing up at the sight of it would be rude. "Mornin'" He grinned. "You know, I av' a better change of clothes for you than Elden could ever get."

"You are kind, but I think one shall suffice." Catelyn replied, breaking eye contact with the man and hoping he would leave her in peace. He was scaring her a little. But he didn't move, he just took a knife from his pocket and sat beside her, a little too close. She gulped. "I appreciate your offer to help though..."The knife went down he back, a first she thought he was trying to stab her, but she felt no pain. The urge to scream was a strong one, but any more attention would be even worse for her. "What...what are you doing?" Catelyn stuttered, wrapping her arms even more tightly around herself.

The man pushed her to the floor and pressed the palm of his hand on her back. She whimpered in fear as he licked his lips. "I'm just givin' you a new outfit." He started pulling her dress up, she struggled to get out of his grip but he was too strong. The other men just stared at her, she pleaded for their help, but they just stared at her.

"Please, get of me, please!" She cried, as he pushed her head down to the dirt. "I made a vow to my husband...I beg of you..."

Her pleas stopped as he pulled the little clothes she was wearing up above her head, and she was frozen against the floor. Her body turned numb, she didn't realise that Elden had returned and was fighting the man off her, she didn't realise that she was being carried away. She didn't realised that she had been raped, until it was all over. All she knew was that Robb was gone, and Ned was gone, and she couldn't find anyone else. "I am so sorry about Ammett, he doesn't know what he's doing..."

"Ammett?"

"Ammett Flowers. He lived in Highgarden as a bastard once, married a girl called Catlina, but she cheated on him and he's hated her ever since. Apparently, you look a lot like her, which is why he...he-"

"He raped me?" Catelyn said without emotion, staring at the floor with eyes like glass. Ammett Flowers She thought, getting the name to stick in her mind. Ammett Flowers, bastard of Highgarden. "I don't wish to be rude, but would you let me sleep? I am particularly tired today..."

"Of course, my Lady."Elden nodded, and left her alone in a little tent he had put up for her. This was one of the few times she wished that Ned had given her a direwolf, for protection against horrid people. Like Ammett. Ammett Flowers. All that came to Catelyn's mind were the heartbreaking memories of Robb's death; he had been so happy, with Jeyne, his new bride. So happy. So unlike how Catelyn's marriage had begun, but happy none the less. Jeyne was a pretty, nothing worth dying for in Catelyn's opinion, but still pretty in a more subtle way. At ten and four, Catelyn had been one of the great beauties of the seven kingdoms. The competition had been almost fierce at the time, as after the Targaryen's were all gone finding a good match got exceedingly difficult. Her little sister, Lysa, was always called the uglier daughter of Hostor, and was never much competition herself, but Cersei Lannister had always been a rival for her. In a sense, Cersei had won, she had married the king when Catelyn was married to Eddard Stark. But Cersei's marriage was not one of love, and Catelyn's was. So really, which of them had won could be debated.

The bed she was given was a little uncomfortable, but better than she had expected considering they had set up camp in a forest. Surprisingly, sleep hit her quite quickly, perhaps everything had been a little much. Ammett Flowers.

On my honour as a Tully.

Tully. Her childhood as Tully had been very enjoyable, playing in the sun with Lysa. Her mother, Minisa Tully, had been caring and meant the world to Catelyn. But when she died everything had turned dark for a while. Once, she had heard a soldier say that Minisa's death with the beginning of the road of insanity for Lysa. The girl had only been little, but had erupted into tears when they saw a body being carried outside, the hair that escaped the blanket covering the corpse looked far too familiar. Catelyn had not shed a tear in front of her family, however, she stayed strong. Lady of Riverrun from the age of nine, she always had to be strong. "Are you emotionless? You're a monster, you crazy bitch! Petyr loves you!"

Petyr loves you.

Petyr loves you.

Those words had been hard to hear. Lysa was a love-struck teenage girl in love with her Father's ward, and Catelyn had let Petyr Baelish be sent away from Riverrun. The boy had professed his love the eldest Tully girl, foolishly, and challenged Brandon Stark to a duel for her heart. Catelyn didn't was a fight. She was to be Lady Stark, and Brandon was dreamy, Petyr had ruined everything. "My Lord, please spare his life..." She had begged. Not because she cared for Petyr at that point, the urge to slap him had been extremely difficult to resist. For Lysa, who was clearly in love with the boy.

Petyr had been banished from Riverrun by Catelyn's Father, but not before getting Lysa pregnant. The young girl's face had lit up with joy as she realised she carried Petyr's child inside her, she thought that this meant she could wed Petyr. She had been so naïve.

"You're a monster, you crazy bitch!" was what Lysa had screamed at Catelyn when Petyr left Riverrun. It had hit Catelyn like a dagger to the heart, but no tears fell for Petyr, or Lysa. Moon tea killed Lysa's baby, and almost her along with it, and it had killed Catelyn to watch her sister in so much pain. They made up eventually, but it took time.

On my honour as a Stark.

The wedding day wasn't how she expected. Brandon Stark was was the first person Catelyn was betrothed to, she remembered how butterflies came from no where every time he stepped near her. How his smile made her heart fly out of her chest, and even Lysa looked upon him with jealousy to begin with. Brandon was amazing, but the prospect of living at Winterfell wasn't something that particularly appealed Catelyn. She was a child of the south, and the North was known for being harsh and cold. After all the time she spent at Winterfell, it had felt like more of a home than Riverrun. Lady Catelyn, my name is Eddard Stark.

I knew what your name was.

I knew.

Of course I knew.

Of course she knew what his name was, her beloved Brandon had just been killed, but Hoster Tully was determined to join with house Stark. Eddard was the next best thing. But Catelyn did not cry, she was not sad at the prospect of marrying him. Focusing on Lysa was her priority at that point, Lysa needed her help. Jon Arryn was an elderly man, and marrying him to a little girl didn't seem fair, did it? Perhaps it was her Father's punishment for sleeping with Petyr. Ned wasn't as tall as his elder brother, wasn't as loud or as charismatic, so the bedding process had been painfully awkward.

Now, just a second with Ned would have been worth the world. A second with her family, with Ned and Robb and Sansa and Arya and Bran and Rickon. Ripped away from her like Cersei had ripped Robert's last command. Cersei Lannister. Cersei Lannister. The say Sansa came into the world was the first time Catelyn had been happy to see Ned, since bringing Jon Snow into the castle. She remembered how they had beamed at the little girl, Tully in colouring but Stark in heart. They had let Robb come and see her, but he didn't want to see Sansa. He wanted to play with Jon Snow.

Jon Snow. Jon Stark.

Why had she been so cruel? He was an innocent child and she treated him like a criminal. It was her fault, for breaking her promise to the gods so long ago, for breaking her promise to the poor, poor little boy. His name should be Jon Stark.

I will trade your boy's life for Robb's.

The King in the North. A cluster of words that should never have been spoken. He was just a boy, never supposed to be a King. War had crept it's way into his life, stabbing him in the back until it bled to much. Every drop of blood, every betrayal, every innocent man murdered at the hands of Walder Frey was an innocent man too many. What could she have done, to save him? Kept him from the twins, sent him to Winterfell like she was punishing an infant? The boy needed to make mistakes to learn, but some mistakes are to severe to learn from. When you die. You betrayed me, Mother.

You betrayed me.

Mother.

How she wished Robb could have know about her freeing the kingslayer. He would have never understood the lengths she was willing to go to in order to free Sansa and Arya, her precious girls, two pieces of her ever decaying heart. If slaying every Lannister living would have gotten them back, then she would have done it with her own hands. Lannister...

Tywin Lannister.

What a brilliant idea. Would Tywin Lannister have her killed if she turned up at court? She was a traitor of the crown. A beautiful traitor of the crown, nonetheless, the mother of the North who's daughter was a member of court. Her daughter. The memory of when that was new came rushing back. The first time Sansa had called Catelyn 'Mother' was something she remembered as clearly as the day just passed. Every one of her children had called her 'Mother' for the first time, and each moment had reserved it's place in her memory. Robb would never call her Mother again. At this rate, no one would ever call her Mother again. She needed to find Sansa, and Arya if she was still alive. Her sons may be gone, but if there was one thing she had learnt after all this time, it was that women were just as strong as men, if not stronger.

A son for a son.

Her sons were all gone now. Rickon and Bran were still small children, her little Rickon had still toddled through Winterfell when Theon Greyjoy had killed them. And Bran, her Bran, the boy who fell from the tower. He was a cripple, but Catelyn loved him no less, she sat next to him for months with barely any sleep and no appetite for food. Her appetite was something that still hadn't returned, at nine years she had eaten every cake she could get her hands on, now the sight of one repulsed her. All she wanted was to be snuggled up in bed with Ned, Sansa and Robb sat on the floor of her bedroom, and the others in bed with their parents. You're not going to leave me, are you Mother?

You're not going to leave me.

Leave me.

That was what Sansa had said when Catelyn had been pregnant with Arya. Pregnancy was never something that Catelyn particularly enjoyed, the sickness and the swollen feet were never much joy. Sansa had been so convinced she would die in the childbed, so mature about the situation from such a young age. But the feeling of having a child growing inside you was something a man could never understand, perhaps one day Sansa would feel it too. With Tyrion. The Imp.

The fear of dying in childbirth had only been an issue when expecting Sansa and Robb, because that was when she didn't completely trust him. After that, she knew Ned would take care of them well, so her presence wasn't as vital. The comfort Ned had given her during her pregnancy with Arya, he had made her calm and comforted, like everything was going to be okay. There was no longer any time to feel calm and comforted, Ned was gone. A new son had risen, in Catelyn's mind, and with it a sense of revenge was brought.

She woke up with a start, her dreams of her family had left her sweating with tears still wet on her cheeks. Ammett Flowers. The name rang in her head like a nursery rhyme sung to children. Ammett Flowers. She stepped out of the tent, the only light was coming from the moon, it was almost refreshing against her pale skin, she smiled. But the smile turned dark. Ammett's tent was just to her left, she could have smell the stench of ale from his skin from a mile away. Her feet were bare but it didn't bother her, it felt good to fell the grass shoots against her skin. Inside, there was a sword, a dagger and some armour thrown across the floor very messily. At first, Catelyn picked up the sword. It was heavy and didn't feel right, it was uncomfortable to hold so she neatly put it back on the floor. The dagger, on the other hand, was much nicer, she tossed it in the air a few times as she found the right balance.

Ammett's eyes flashed open as he felt Catelyn's hand brush through is hair, her hand was over his mouth like she was comforting a terrified child. "Ammett, isn't it?" She asked, receiving a firm and terrified nod. "My name is Catelyn Stark, daughter of Hostor Tully of Riverrun, and widow of Lord Eddard Stark. Look in my eyes. Do you see that? Because it's the last thing you'll ever see.

The dagger slid across his neck so smoothly that it seemed she was icing a cake, the blood poured out onto her hands and she wiped them on his smallclothes. She left his tent, the dagger still firmly in her left hand, and picked a horse from the few that were tied up against a tree. The horse made a gentle noise as Catelyn brushed through it's mane. "I'll call you Visenya." Catelyn told it quietly. "Arya was going to call her direwolf Visenya, but settled on Nymeria instead. I always thought Visenya was prettier."

The Lady rode off into the night, her destination was King's Landing. Sansa. She thought. I'm coming.

Would anyone like this as a story? Please review...:)