- Catelyn -
It's been two weeks since she had met her new king and he had been steadily making the army stronger through the equipment he gifted them.
Not to mention, they were all Valyrian Steel!
She can't help but think that her debt to him would never be repaid even if she gave her loyalty and everything that belongs to Tully.
As for the Stark belongings then it is not her choice rather her son if any lived but if not then it is for Sansa or Arya to inherit until one of them bears a child.
It clearly her savior fancy both her and Arya along with the possibility of taking her Daughter Sansa once they save her.
She wonders how much of a burden everything is leading an army from a foreign land. He did bring allies whose names were Jericho Swain and Darius.
The former reminds her of the old Lannister that was a cunning tactician as Swain oversaw the army and led it to victory without any losses.
He was charismatic like her savior and has a way with words that makes Tully and Stark seem like one house.
As for Darius, he was like the mountain yet was more righteous in a way where he encouraged his soldiers even if they were weak and never held it against them for having weakness only reminding them of the possibility of rising to newer heights as long as they did not stop marching forward.
Catelyn knows that her people are in good hands now and the war is near its end.
At this time, she heads to her savior's quarters to tell him she had received a Raven from the Riverrun and is ready to welcome them and join the battle.
Everyone had pointed her toward the riverbank, their voices laced with a knowing urgency. She found the path easily, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs as she pushed through the final curtain of the willow branche but nothing could have prepared her for what she saw.
There, in the dappled light, was Mattias. He was naked, standing in the clear, rushing water, his back to her. The sight was so arresting it felt like a physical blow. Her feet rooted to the earth, her mission vanished from her mind.
Her gaze traveled over the hard lines of his torso, the defined muscles of his arms and back, all glistening and wet. A flush of heat crept up her neck.
She was stunned, yes, but more than that, she was utterly captivated, held in a trance by the sheer, masculine beauty of him. She searched for a reason to call out, to turn away, but found none—her eyes, betraying all propriety, refused to leave him.
A jolt of sheer panic seized Catelyn. This was a grievous error. She was about to retreat, a silent prayer on her lips, when the water rippled and Mattias turned.
His gaze found hers instantly, but he displayed no shock, no rush to cover himself. Instead, a slow, knowing smile touched his lips.
"Lady Stark," he said, his voice a calm, deep current beneath the river's murmur.
"To what do I owe this pleasure?"
The question hung in the air, meaningless. Her eyes, betraying all her training and courtesy, dropped for a single, unforgivable second.
There, clearly visible through the crystalline water, was the full, formidable proof of his manhood. It was thick and heavily shaped, a fact her mind registered with a startling, unwelcome clarity as she compared it to the familiar form of her Ned.
A desert dryness seized her throat. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird, and a flush of heat bloomed across her chest and cheeks.
"Does the view meet with your approval?" he asked, the tease subtle but unmistakable.
The spell shattered. Mortification flooded her, cold and sharp.
"My lord," she stammered, tearing her gaze to the safety of the trees.
"My most profound apologies. I did not mean to... I was told you were here." She took a hurried step back, the need for escape now paramount.
"I—I shall return later," Catelyn stammered, her voice barely a whisper. She took a half-step back, a frantic retreat forming in her mind, but her body felt leaden, rooted to the riverbank. The sight of him had struck a chord deep within her, a resonant, aching note she had long forgotten. It had been countless moons since she'd known a man's touch, and her body, ovulating and responsive, seemed to scream in recognition.
A flush of heat, entirely separate from the sun's warmth, bloomed across her skin. The treacherous thought came unbidden: in the prime of her forties, her vitality was a banked fire, and his gaze was a gust of wind threatening to set it ablaze.
Mattias's voice, smooth as the river stones, cut through her turmoil.
"There's no need for that." A slow, inviting smile played on his lips, his eyes holding a teasing challenge.
"Come, join me. I insist."
The world had narrowed to the space between them. Catelyn could feel the thunder of her own pulse in her ears, a stark contrast to the gentle rush of the river. Her mind was a distant, panicked thing, shouting about consequence and betrayal.
But her body… her body was a live wire, humming with a need so potent it drowned out all else. It had been so long, and the sight of him had stripped her bare of pretense. The choice was no choice at all; her silent, yearning flesh had already surrendered.
"However, if you are at all unwilling, you are free to go." Mattias's offer was a test, and her own silent pause was the failing grade. A flush of humiliation warmed her cheeks. How transparent she must have been.
"I…I'll accompany you, my lord." The submission was a whisper, a final release of tension.
She clung to the first practical thought she could find, a pathetic shield for her capitulation: she would tell herself this was about washing away the dust of the road, a necessary ablution. It was a flimsy lie, but it was all she had left.
Improve this "Mattias turned around to let her undress and join her once she was ready. Catelyn stopped him and blush nervously told him she didn't mind as everything including her was his.
He looked at her curvy and voluptuous body despite having five children still remaining beautiful. Catelyn felt nervous then saw that his cock was hardened upon seeing her body."
As Mattias turned, granting her the privacy to undress, a sudden, surprising courage surged through Catelyn's nervousness. Her hand darted out, gently stopping him.
"Please," she whispered, her cheeks flushing a deep, warm crimson.
"There is no need. You may look." She forced herself to meet his gaze, her voice dropping to a hushed, earnest tone.
"What is mine... is yours."
When he turned back, his eyes were not those of a casual observer, but of a man beholding a treasure.
He drank in the sight of her—the generous curves that had borne five children yet retained their lush, womanly beauty, the softness that spoke of a life fully lived.
A fresh wave of self-consciousness washed over her under his intense scrutiny, but it was chased away by a sharp, thrilling jolt as her gaze flickered downward.
There, the evidence of his desire was now unmistakable, his body hardening in clear and potent appreciation of her own.
The river's chill was a sharp gasp against her skin, a fleeting shock that was quickly forgotten as she found her footing on the smooth stones. Mattias had settled against a large rock, a king upon a liquid throne, his expression unreadable. The water lapped at his chest as he watched her.
"No need to be shy," he said, his voice a low murmur that cut through the river's whisper. He gestured, a slow, deliberate motion.
"Come closer."
Compelled, Catelyn waded toward him, the water resisting her every step. When she was within reach, his hand emerged, fingers closing around her wrist with a gentleness that belied his strength. He guided her to turn, then to sit, settling her between his legs with her back to his chest.
The moment she made contact, she felt it—the firm, insistent pressure of his arousal nestled against the curve of her buttocks.
A jolt of pure heat shot through her, so intense it stole her breath. As she leaned back, letting the solid expanse of his chest support her, a profound warmth bloomed where their bodies met, holding the river's chill utterly at bay.
Catelyn felt the silence stretching between them, the soft rush of the river the only sound. Unsure what to say, she finally decided to speak.
"My lord, if I may ask a question?" she said carefully.
Mattias glanced at her, his expression calm. "You may."
"What's it like… in your homeland?"
Mattias paused, the question stirring memories that felt both distant and vivid. "My homeland, huh? Have you heard some of it from Arya?"
"Yes," Catelyn replied softly. "She told me your country chooses its rulers by vote, not by blood."
"That's right," he said with a faint smile. "People decide who leads them. Sometimes it works well… sometimes not so much. But at least they have a choice."
He reached down, scooping a handful of river water and letting it slip through his fingers as he continued. "There are many nations—each with their own beliefs and systems. Some are free, others… not at all. There's a country where a single man rules everything there. No freedom, no voice. People obey because they have no choice."
Catelyn frowned slightly, absorbing his words. "That sounds… cruel."
"It is," Mattias said quietly.
"But it's the reality of my world. Power doesn't change much, no matter the age or the land. Only the tools do."
Mattias sensed the heaviness in her voice and gently shifted the conversation.
"How about you? Is everything alright? Are you still troubled by thoughts of your children?" he asked softly.
Catelyn exhaled, her expression dimming. "I am, my lord. A mother never stops worrying. Even when she wishes she could, just to breathe again. I would trade every burden, every victory, just to hold them safe in my arms once more."
Seeing her tremble, Mattias stepped closer, moved by a quiet empathy. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her into a steady, reassuring embrace.
"M–My lord!" Catelyn gasped, her face flushing as she felt the warmth and strength of his hold. For a fleeting moment, she was reminded of her late husband—of safety, of being seen.
Mattias's voice was low and calm beside her ear. "You've carried so much, Lady Catelyn. But I promise you this—I'll bring your family together again. No matter what it takes."
Her heart ached at his words, both from hope and fear, yet for the first time in a long while… she felt a measure of peace.
Catelyn tilted her head back over her shoulder, her gaze lifting to meet Mattias's—a silent current flowing between them in the river's hush.
His eyes, dark and intent, held hers captive as he leaned in slowly, deliberately. The first brush of his lips against hers was tentative, a question whispered in the space between breaths. Then, as if answering an unspoken plea, the kiss deepened.
His mouth claimed hers with a sudden, hungry urgency, tasting of river water and something uniquely him.
Her lips parted beneath his, yielding as his tongue slid against hers in a slow, possessive exploration.
The world dissolved into sensation: the cool water lapping at their waists, the hard press of his chest against her back, and the molten ache blooming low in her belly as the kiss went on and on, drowning out every thought but the need for more.
Her fingers tangled in his wet hair, anchoring herself as a soft, desperate moan vibrated against his mouth.