Lady Catelyn sits beside you, combing back your long reddish black hair. Catelyn enjoyed these moments, combing her only 5 year old daughter before bed. When she finishes, she takes your hand and tucks you into bed.

"Mama," you call out before she can leave and she turns, giving you a soft smile as she does.

"Yes, sweetling?"

"Tell me about your wedding with Papa again."

"Again?" She sighs in mock exasperation, "alright."

You cheer and move to make some space for your mother. She describes the rowdy feasting, the solemn ceremony, the moment when Eddard had placed the Stark cloak on her shoulders.

"I wonder when I'll get married."

"That's too soon to say, (Name)."

"I know who I'm going to marry," you giggle.

This causes one of Catelyn's eyebrows to raise, "and who might that be?"

"It's a secret!"

"Oh dear."

"You have to guess, Mama!"

"Is it Theon?"

You made a face and shook your head, "ew!"

"Then who," she smiles at your mirth

"Jon!"

All traces of happiness leave her face, "no."

"No?"

"No, (Name)," she attempts to compose herself, "you can't marry Jon."

"B-but why? Jon's always so nice to me! He-"

"(Name)," your mother interrupts you, "please, trust me, you can't marry Jon."

Your childhood mind is baffled at your mother's words, the intensity of it. But you manage to force yourself to nod. She kisses your head and whispers 'goodnight'.

Sleep doesn't come to you easily.