Catelyn nodded and confidently strode forward. It felt awkward, not scary, but rather strange. The way his eyes lingered on her lacked the usual lecherous intentions. There was warmth in them, a warmth that reminded her of someone.
She sat down and watched Robert do the same before her. "Sansa told me what happened. I hold no blame for you, Your Grace. What that girl did… gods, it was madness. To poison the King and crawl into his bed."
Robert nodded firmly at that description. He'd ruined Sansa, taken her maidenhead. A right that should have only belonged to her husband. He'd stretched her, shattered her, and ruined her.
He hated to even remember that night.
"But…" Catelyn's voice wavered just slightly as her eyes searched Robert's face, her gaze pleading. "I worry for her, for Sansa. I had given my word to Lord Arryn—he's a good boy, gentle-natured—but he expects a maiden bride. If the truth comes out… House Stark's honor may not weather it. So I ask this of you, Your Grace. Take her as your second wife, lawful in the eyes of the Faith. I'm sure the Faith will allow it after Her Grace Margaery's misfortune. Sansa is young, she'll bear you—"
"Gods, no!" Robert bellowed, springing to his feet, his face dark as a storm. Myrcella was one thing. He had no memories of her from before the time before he arrived in Robert's body. But Sansa, he remembered her since the first day. "That's madness, Catelyn! Filthy, cursed madness! She's Ned's, your daughter! I see her the same, my own!"
"Yet you bedded Myrcella." Catelyn countered, back on her feet, walking to stand in front of the King to face him. "If that was no burden on your soul, then this should weigh even less. Her maidenhead is gone by your hand—at the very least, spare her the shame."
Robert, or whatever he was, still felt beholden to Ned's memories more than Roberts. The mind was more Stark, while the brutality was of Baratheon.
He rubbed his eyes and shook his head. "I can't do it, Catelyn. I'll find her a proper lord, full of titles and no sense, one who won't care a whit for her maidenhead. But what you want? That's a fool's errand."
"Why, Your Grace? Just… give me a reason." She sounded desperate, helpless. "She's young, untouched, youthful, more beautiful than I ever was. You… I remember, you once suggested that you and I wed. Is Sansa not a finer choice than I ever was?"
"Seven hells, Catelyn! Don't speak that rot. Don't… don't even breathe it. I'm like her father. By the gods, no! This madness ends now. I won't have it. I can't… Ned would've had my head."
"Ned is gone! He died in your city!"
"He didn't!" He snapped back at her without realizing. "I am not dead, Cat!"
"..."
Silence fell between them. Catelyn looked up at Robert's face, confused by his words.
"Seven hells, I'm done with all of it. I don't—by the gods, I've carried the weight till my back near snapped. My part's played." Robert muttered, like a storm losing steam. "Cat, I didn't die that day. Aye, they took my bloody head—but I woke up in this… this barrel of meat, buried like some hog in a crypt. I don't know what sorcery did it, but I am Ned, your Ned, wearing the hide of Robert Baratheon."
Catelyn's eyes narrowed, her feet retreating. "I… I can understand your disinterest in accepting my request. You don't need to weave such tales, Your Grace."
Robert groaned and rubbed his face annoyingly. Of course, it was impossible to believe him. Of course, it sounded insane. It would to anyone else.
"That night, Cat, our wedding night—you were shaking like a leaf. During our bedding, your eyes were wide, staring at me, scared. Then I said, I may not be the man who was promised, my lady, but I will do my duty with warmth, respect, love, and care. I will never dishonor you. Then I crushed my lips to yours, and by the gods, you melted, eyes closed. I claimed you, you screamed my name, and Robb was made that night—The night Sansa came to be, I spotted a heart-shaped mark on your arse, left side. Kissed it like a man drunk on love. You laughed like summer and climbed atop me, hungry for more."
Catelyn's eyes wavered. The events of her wedding night weren't too hard to guess. She could imagine Robert spying on her and Ned from some hole in the wall. But Sansa was conceived in Winterfell. Robert wasn't there, not even nearby.
"You raged like a storm over Jon, but your fire cooled, and you forgave me. That night, we made Arya, and I had you till dawn. Not a wink of sleep between us—Seven hells, you wore me out! You tried something wicked that night, took me in your mouth. Cat—look at me, damn it. I'm still Ned, though this cursed shell says otherwise. Some god's cruel jape. I wanted to marry you, I suggested it back then, because I am alive, only duty-bound to the throne, not Winterfell."
Catelyn stumbled slightly and fell back into the chair. She gulped, looking exhausted. "H-How… It sounds absurd."
"I know that. My existence is more absurd, Cat." Robert said and walked to the side. He grabbed his dagger and took it out. With ease, he crushed it and squeezed it into a ball.
"I can't die, Cat. Call it a curse, call it what you will. Lop my head off, burn me to cinders—I'll still be breathing. Each cut makes me tougher. Strong enough to kill three bloody dragons, Cat. With these hands!"
"You had the chance to tell me… in King's Landing, or even in Winterfell. Why didn't you? Why keep it from me then?" Catelyn asked, slowly starting to believe that absurd story.
"Because I couldn't believe it myself. Me, Eddard bloody Stark, stomping around in Robert's fat skin? It's as mad as it sounds, and I lived it."
"Then why now?"
"Because I've done my duty. Patched up the bloody realm. Given it two strong sons. I've never said this to a soul, Cat, but I won't lie to you now." Robert paced closer to her and got down on his knees beside her chair. With an unsure right hand, he caressed her ashen face. "You haunted my thoughts, time and again. Winterfell did too. The life I should've had. I wore the crown as Robert, not Ned… but gods, with you, I wish I were Ned still."
Catelyn's eyes grew emotional, and she found herself nestling her face into his large palm. She finally felt like she understood why his gaze felt so familiar. It felt absurd how easily she was starting to believe his story.
"What happens now?" She asked.
"None in the realm will believe me or you if we told them this absurd story. But I've no need to dance for their approval. Cat, I want you back, the way it was, when I had you close. At my side. I want to feel like Ned again, damn it… I want to feel like I'm home."
Catelyn reached with a hand and caressed his face just as he was. Her slender fingers caressed his beard, and her thumb hovered over his lip. The more she listened, the more she started to believe it.
It made the most sense. Why was Robert so quick to come to save Winterfell from the Ironborn? Why was Robert so crushed by what Sansa did? Why did Robert rush to stop the Wildlings? Why did Robert ask her to marry him?
"Ned… You're… my Ned?"
Robert nodded, feeling her warm hand on his skin.
"Ned… You're… home."
She leaned in, slow and trembling. Her lips brushed his, like the first night of their wedding. Soft and delicate, barely a kiss at all, more like a breath of plush velvet on velvet. Her mouth tasted like tears and longing.
He answered it with a low groan, a primal ache from deep inside. He couldn't say he never dreamed of her like this, in his arms once again.
His jaw clenched as if holding back years of want. His big hands rose, landing heavily on the waist of her gown, bunching the fabric in fists. He kissed her fiercely, eyes shut tight. He could feel her again. Catelyn, the only woman he ever truly burned for. The only one he'd thought he'd lost forever. And now she was here, in front of him, breathing life into a body he once was furious at.
He still felt duty-bound to Margaery and the life he'd built in King's Landing. But that night, he felt like being a little selfish.
The kiss deepened, slow and messy. Her tongue met his, searching, rubbing shyly against his thicker one. She tasted the difference, tasted him. His tongue was stronger now, more aggressive, more possessive, but behind it was still the man she knew.
Their mouths moved like they were discovering each other again, and heat bloomed between them, thick and suffocating. Every inch of fabric started to feel like a cage, something their carnal need wanted to shed as quickly as possible.
He still loomed over her even as he knelt, her head still level with his chest. Her fingers trembled as they threaded through his hair. Despite her own height, there was over a head of difference between them now. She'd always been tall for a woman, but his size made her feel slight.
"You are my Ned," Catelyn mumbled as she pulled her delicate lips away. Tears slid from her eyes. "That kiss… I can never forget."
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