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Bonus Chapter: The Son of Ice and Fire, An Affair in Winterfell pt.1
🕑 Added 2024-08-24 13:29:42 +0000 UTCThe morning was cold and unforgiving with a thick blanket of clouds obscuring the sun and casting Winterfell in a bleak, gray light. The air was sharp, biting against Catelyn’s skin as she stood at the edge of the courtyard, watching her lord husband prepare to leave. She wrapped her cloak tighter around her shoulders, trying to ward off the chill, but it was a futile effort.The coldness she felt inside was far more piercing, a deep ache that had settled in her heart.
Brandon Stark sat tall in his saddle, his expression as cold and unreadable as the gray sky. He nodded to her in farewell, a simple gesture that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand unsaid words. She returned it with the same measured composure, her face a carefully crafted mask of serenity. But beneath the surface, her emotions churned like a stormy sea, threatening to break free.
She had been taught from a young age to look the other way when it came to her future husband’s indiscretions. It was something every noblewoman was expected to endure—men were like that, she had been told. When they were married, she had known of Brandon’s ways, but she had asked him, pleading with him, to keep his affairs outside their home. Winterfell was supposed to be her sanctuary, a place where she could find solace, free from the humiliation of his dalliances.
For the first few years, Brandon had kept his word, or perhaps he had been more discreet. Either way, she had allowed herself to believe that he had changed, that he had become the husband she needed him to be. But that illusion was shattered the day she caught him with another woman. The memory was still fresh, the image of them together seared into her mind. It had been a bitter blow, one that she had barely managed to recover from.
She had forgiven him then, as she had been taught to do, and pleaded with him once more—not in the castle, not in their home. For a time, things had seemed to improve, but their relationship had grown colder, more distant. They rarely shared a bed since Sara’s birth, and Catelyn couldn’t help but wonder if he had lost interest in her. The thought gnawed at her, feeding the insecurities that had begun to fester within her.
Was she that old?
Had she become hideous in his eyes?
Then four moons ago, the fragile peace she had tried to maintain was shattered once again. She had found him, this time with a serving girl, one of the many who roamed the halls of Winterfell, oblivious to the pain they caused her. He had broken her heart again, as if her feelings meant nothing to him.
The anger that simmered beneath her calm exterior threatened to boil over, but she held it in check, as she always did. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her pain, of knowing how deeply he had wounded her.
Brandon gave one last look, his eyes meeting hers briefly, then turned his horse towards the gates. His men followed, their banners fluttering in the wind, and soon the sound of hooves faded into the distance. Catelyn remained where she was, watching until the last rider disappeared from sight and once she was certain they were gone, she turned on her heel and made her way back into the castle. There were duties to attend to, matters of the household that required her attention. As the Lady of Winterfell, she was responsible for overseeing the daily operations of the castle, ensuring that everything ran smoothly in Brandon’s absence.
But even as she moved through the familiar halls, her mind replayed the events of four moons past, a memory that refused to fade. Brandon with that girl, their limbs entangled in a mockery of the love they were supposed to share. It had taken all her strength to turn and walk away, to leave them to their sordid affair. She had wanted to scream, to lash out, to confront him then and there, but what good would it have done? Brandon would have only offered her the same empty apologies, the same insincere promises that he would change, that it wouldn’t happen again.
No, she would not forgive him this time. He had tried apologizing, offering her words that once might have soothed her, but her heart was stone now. The love she had once held for him was buried beneath layers of hurt and resentment, and she knew it would never resurface.
The pain of his betrayal had cut too deep, and the coldness in her heart grew with each passing day.
She spent the day moving from one task to the next, her mind barely registering what she was doing. She spoke with the stewards, gave orders to the servants, and managed the accounts, all with the same detached efficiency that she had learned to adopt over the years.
As evening fell, she found herself sitting in her chambers. She felt alone, truly alone, for the first time since she had become Lady Stark. But it wasn’t just loneliness that gnawed at her. There was an ache deep within her, a longing that had been left unfulfilled for far too long. She had tried to be a dutiful wife, had tried to bury her needs beneath layers of duty and responsibility, but now, after months of not sharing a bed with Brandon, those needs were becoming harder to ignore.
She could have turned to Brandon. But the thought of going to him, of seeking comfort in his arms after what he had done, was unthinkable. But that only left her with the gnawing emptiness inside, a void that she didn’t know how to fill.
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Two weeks passed since Brandon's departure, and Catelyn's misery deepened with each passing day. The bleakness she felt seemed unending, a weight pressing down on her chest that she feared would remain for the rest of her life. Even her children sensed the change in her, with Sansa in particular growing concerned. Her sweet, beautiful daughter had decided they should spend more time together, and so they did, spending her free hours embroidering in the solar.
Catelyn looked at Sansa, who was focused on her stitching. Sansa had inherited her beauty, traditionally beautiful, with high cheekbones, deep blue eyes, and thick, soft auburn hair that was lighter than Catelyn's. Her features were delicate, and there was a softness to her expression that Catelyn found both comforting and worrisome.
"Mother?" Sansa's voice broke through her thoughts.
"Yes, sweetling?" Catelyn replied, her eyes on the embroidery she was working on, a tully sigil of a silver trout leaping from a blue field.
Sansa hesitated, her needle poised above the cloth. "I was wondering... about marriage."
Catelyn smiled softly. Sansa was eight and ten now, and there had already been several requests from northern houses for her hand in marriage. But the thought also brought a deep sadness within her. Would Sansa's marriage be like hers—starting like a fairy tale, only to turn into a sad, lonely existence?
"Mother?" Sansa called again, her voice gentle.
"There have been several marriage offers for you," Catelyn said, setting her embroidery aside and looking directly at her daughter. "Several from the houses of the North, and even some from noble houses in the South."
"The South has its advantages—it's warmer, more cultured—but I want what’s best for you," Catelyn added.
Sansa nodded, her hands clasped in front of her. "I trust your and Father's judgment."
Catelyn was about to respond when a thought crossed her mind, something she had considered a long time ago. It was a way to keep her daughter close, to marry her off to a higher station, to someone familiar and trustworthy.
Maekar, her husband’s nephew, her nephew by marriage. A prince of the realm, even if some in the South might not accept it. Brandon had always wanted to keep him in the North.
‘What if,’ she thought, what if they married Sansa to Maekar? Her daughter would become a princess, the wife of the third in line to the throne.
Catelyn smiled at the thought. Maekar was a good man, and he would treat Sansa well. He was kind, strong, and had a sense of honor that she admired. Sansa would be safe with him, cherished even.
"Sansa," Catelyn began gently, "what would you think about marrying Maekar?"
Sansa's cheeks flushed pink, and she looked down, her fingers nervously twisting in her lap. "Maekar, Mother?"
Catelyn touched her daughter's cheek, her smile encouraging. "Yes, sweetling. You could become a princess."
"A princess..." Sansa murmured, her voice filled with awe. "But, Mother, do you think he would want to marry me?"
Catelyn smiled softly as she was about to reassure her daughter when there was a knock on the door.
"Enter," she called out.
A servant entered, bowing deeply. "My lady, Prince Maekar’s banner has been spotted. He will be here shortly."
‘Maekar was here?’ she thought in surprise. He had been at Maekarton for six moons, and his return was unexpected. She rose from her chair, smoothing down her skirts. "Come, Sansa," she said. "Let us go greet him."
They made their way to the courtyard, where the crisp northern air greeted them. The courtyard was bustling with activity as the household prepared to welcome the prince. The familiar banner of Maekar's personal sigil, the three-headed white dragon on a field of black, fluttered in the wind. As they neared, Catelyn could see Maekar at the head of his men, his dark hair blowing in the wind as he rode with ease.
He stopped a short distance from her and Sansa, dismounted, and walked over to them with a wide smile. As he drew nearer, Catelyn found herself seeing her husband’s nephew in a new light. He was much like a younger Brandon, with that same easy confidence, but there was something more to him. He was more handsome, more refined, with an air of authority that Brandon had never quite mastered.
She felt her breath catch as she watched him, so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn’t even hear his greeting.
It was Sansa who brought her back to the present, tugging gently on her arm. "Mother," she whispered.
Catelyn blinked, realizing with a start that Maekar was standing before her, a teasing smile on his lips.
"Are you daydreaming, my lady?" he asked, his tone light and playful.
Catelyn flushed, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Apologies, Maekar. My thoughts were elsewhere," she admitted, trying to laugh off her embarrassment.
Maekar chuckled. "It's good to see you, Lady Stark. And you, Sansa," he added, nodding to Sansa, who blushed and curtsied.
"And you, Maekar," Catelyn replied, her voice steadying. "Winterfell is always brighter when you’re here. Please, go and rest. You must be tired after your journey."
Maekar inclined his head, his gray eyes softening as he looked at her. "Thank you, my lady. It’s good to be home."
As Maekar turned to leave, Catelyn’s gaze was fixed on him, her heart still beating faster than it should, the world around her becoming clearer and more focused. What was happening to her? She couldn’t deny the small thrill that ran through her at the thought of having him near, and the realization unsettled her.
What are you thinking, Catelyn? she chastised herself. But the thought lingered, and she knew that things had changed, even if she wasn’t sure how or why.
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As darkness fell Catelyn, Sansa, and Maekar found themselves seated in a private room within Winterfell having dinner. Maekar was in the middle of recounting a recent hunting trip to Bear Island, describing in vivid detail how he had tracked and brought down a large bear.
Sansa listened eagerly, her eyes wide with admiration as she hung onto every word. "And then, just as it charged, I managed to get a clean shot with my spear," Maekar said, his voice filled with excitement.
Sansa leaned forward, captivated by the story. "You are so brave, Maekar," she exclaimed, her voice filled with awe.
Catelyn watched them, a smile playing on her lips as she observed how well Maekar and Sansa were getting along. It warmed her heart to see the bond forming between them, yet there was also a strange pang of jealousy that she couldn’t quite understand. Why was she feeling this way? Her gaze lingered on Maekar, taking in his strong features, the way his eyes sparkled with life as he spoke. He was so much like Brandon, yet there was something more—something that made her feel like a wide-eyed girl again, the way she had felt when she first met Brandon all those years ago.
She realized that she felt better than she had in months. The weight of her earlier worries and sorrows seemed to lift slightly in Maekar’s presence, and she found herself enjoying the evening more than she expected. But the jealousy that stirred within her, a jealousy of her own daughter, left her feeling uneasy. Why should she feel jealous of Sansa’s attention? It was irrational, and yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling.
Sansa's voice pulled her from her thoughts. "Mother, isn’t it wonderful for Maekar to bring me these gifts?"
Catelyn blinked, realizing she hadn’t been listening. "What gifts?" she asked, her tone betraying her momentary distraction.
"These gifts, Mother," Sansa repeated, her face tinged with worry as she held up a large fur cloak, the rich fabric glistening in the firelight. "Maekar had this made for me."
Catelyn forced a smile. "Oh, that’s wonderful, dear," she replied, her voice softer now, though her mind was still preoccupied.
Maekar smiled, noticing her distraction but choosing not to comment on it. "I didn’t come empty-handed for you either, my lady," he said, his voice warm and kind. He reached into his tunic and pulled out a small box, which he handed to her.
Catelyn’s eyes widened slightly as she took the box from him, her fingers trembling just a little as she opened it. Inside was a hair brooch made of a stunning blue diamond, the stone catching the light and shimmering with an otherworldly beauty. The brooch was intricately designed, the delicate metalwork framing the diamond in a way that made it look as though it were a drop of purest water, frozen in time.
"It’s beautiful," she murmured, her voice filled with genuine awe. "I’ve never seen anything like it."
Maekar smiled, clearly pleased with her reaction. "We found these blue diamonds while mining recently," he explained. " I remembered you mentioning how much you loved these kinds of brooches. So, I had one made especially for you."
"Thank you, Maekar," she said, her voice steady but filled with gratitude. She was genuinely surprised and impressed by his thoughtfulness.
As she looked at him, she felt her heart beat faster, a warmth spreading through her that she hadn’t felt in a long time. The emotions she had buried deep within her were slowly resurfacing, and she found herself wondering, for the first time in many years, what it might be like to feel truly cared for again.
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Over the next few days, Catelyn found herself catching glimpses of Maekar more often than she had anticipated. It seemed that wherever she turned, he was always there—engaged in training with the Winterfell guards, his shirt discarded as he practiced swordplay. She would watch him from a distance, her gaze lingering longer than it should, noticing things she knew she shouldn't. The flex of his muscles as he wielded his sword, the way his dark hair clung to his forehead with sweat, the powerful movements of his body as he effortlessly subdued his opponents—all of it made her heart quicken, stirring feelings she hadn't experienced in years.
In the quiet moments, alone in her chambers at night, her thoughts would begin to betray her. She would think back to the days when she was first married to Brandon, how he had consumed her thoughts, filled her dreams with passion. But those days were long gone, replaced by disappointment and betrayal. And now, Maekar had stirred something within her that she had thought long dormant. She would lie in bed, her body restless, her mind filled with images of Maekar—his hands on her, his lips claiming hers, his strong body pressed against her. The intensity of her desires shocked her, leaving her breathless and ashamed.
The shame would come quickly after, washing over her in waves. How could she think of such things? Maekar was her nephew by marriage. The very idea was a betrayal of everything she held dear. But no matter how much she tried to push the thoughts away, they would return, stronger each time, until she could hardly look at him without feeling a flush of heat rise to her cheeks.
Two weeks passed in this way, with Catelyn finding it increasingly difficult to maintain her composure around Maekar. She would catch herself staring at him during meals, her heart racing when their hands brushed in passing, her thoughts filled with desires that brought nothing but guilt. She felt trapped in her own mind, a prisoner to her wants and needs that she could not fulfill. And all the while, Maekar remained oblivious, focused on his duties, unaware of the turmoil he had caused in her heart.
As the days went by, Catelyn could feel her resolve weakening. The more she tried to resist, the more powerful her feelings became. She knew she was walking a dangerous line, but she couldn’t help herself. The loneliness, the frustration, the longing—it all built up inside her until she felt like she might burst.
One particular night, unable to bear the weight of her desires and guilt any longer, Catelyn decided to seek solace in prayer. She needed guidance, forgiveness for the sinful thoughts that plagued her mind. She needed the strength to resist the pull of emotions that threatened to consume her.
Pulling a thick cloak around her shoulders, she quietly left her chambers, careful not to wake anyone. The castle was silent, save for the distant howling of the wind. She walked with determined steps through the dimly lit corridors, her breath visible in the cold as she made her way to the small sept.
The sept was located at the far end of the castle, tucked away where few ventured. It was a modest structure, built for her by Brandon after his brothers had insisted he do so, a gesture meant to make her feel more at home in the North. The rest of Winterfell’s inhabitants adhered to the old gods, and the small sept often stood empty, a quiet refuge from the bustling life of the castle.
As Catelyn approached the sept, the cold seemed to deepen, the wind biting at her exposed skin. The night sky was overcast, the clouds thick and dark, obscuring the moon and stars. The courtyard leading to the sept was deserted, the bare branches of the trees swaying gently in the wind, casting eerie shadows across the snow-covered ground.
Catelyn pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders as she approached the small sept, the cold night air biting at her skin. The walk had been long and lonely, her thoughts heavy with the burden she carried in her heart. But now, standing before the sept, she hesitated. She noticed something odd: the doors were open slightly, not closed—a curious detail, given how rarely the place was used.
As she reached for the handle, intending to seek solace in prayer, a soft, muffled sound caught her attention. She froze, her hand hovering just inches from the door. The sound came again, faint but unmistakable—moaning. Her heart began to race, a mixture of fear and curiosity surging through her. What could possibly be happening in the sept at this hour?
With a trembling hand, she pushed the door open just a crack, peering inside to see what lay beyond. The sight that greeted her sent a shockwave of surprise and arousal coursing through her. There, in the sacred space of the sept, was Maekar, his back against the stone wall, his breeches pushed down to his thighs. Kneeling before him was a servant girl who she recognized as Serena, her head bobbing eagerly as she took his thick, hard cock into her mouth.
Catelyn's breath hitched, her eyes widening . She knew she should look away, but she found herself captivated by the scene unfolding before her. She pressed herself against the door, her heart racing as she watched, unseen.
Maekar's hands were tangled in the girl's hair, guiding her movements as she sucked him. His hips thrust forward, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "That's it, you little slut," he growled, his voice low and husky.
Serena moaned around his shaft, her eyes watering as she struggled to take him deeper. Maekar chuckled, a dark, lustful sound that sent a shiver down Catelyn's spine. "You like that, don't you?" he said, his voice dripping with desire. "You like choking on my cock, feeling it fill your throat."
Catelyn's hand fluttered to her own throat, her fingers tracing the delicate skin as she imagined the sensation. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her body responding to the scene before her despite her best efforts to remain unaffected.
Maekar's grip on the girl's hair tightened, his hips moving faster, his cock sliding in and out of her mouth with wet, sucking sounds. "Fuck, you're good at this," he groaned. “ Can't wait to feel you tight cunt around my cock”
The place she held most holy in the castle was being defiled. She should be angry but she felt no anger. All she wanted to do was watch.
Maekar, his cock still hard and glistening with the servant girl's spit, pulled her to her feet and spun her around, bending her over the stone altar. The girl gasped, her breath hitching with anticipation as Maekar lifted her skirts, revealing her bare, rounded ass.
"Spread your legs," Maekar commanded, his voice rough with desire. Serena complied, her thighs parting to reveal the wet, swollen folds of her cunt. Maekar gripped his cock, positioning himself at her entrance, and with a single, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside her.
Serena cried out, her back arching as Maekar began to move, his hips driving his cock in and out of her with forceful, rhythmic strokes. Catelyn watched, her heart pounding, her body aching with a need she could no longer deny. Her hand slipped beneath her own skirts, her fingers finding the damp heat between her thighs. She bit her lip to stifle a moan as she began to rub herself, her eyes never leaving the sight of Maekar fucking the servant girl.
Maekar's hands gripped the girl's hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he pounded into her. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the sept, echoing off the stone walls, accompanied by the girl's breathless moans and Maekar's low, guttural grunts.
"You feel so fucking good," Maekar growled, his voice strained with effort and desire. "Your cunt is so tight, so wet.” He breathed in her ear.
“You love this, don't you? You love being fucked like a little whore. You like defiling your lady’s sept," he whispered, making their act even more forbidden.
Serena whimpered, her body trembling as she pushed back against Maekar, meeting his thrusts with her own eager movements. Catelyn's fingers moved faster, her breath coming in quick, desperate gasps as she rubbed her clit, her body tensing as she chased her own release.
Suddenly, Maekar stopped, his body going still. Catelyn's heart leapt into her throat as she realized he had heard her, her soft moans betraying her presence. She froze, her hand still pressed against her cunt, her body trembling with unfulfilled desire.
Maekar turned his head, his eyes scanning the shadows, a frown creasing his brow. "Who's there?" he demanded, his voice sharp.
Catelyn's heart pounded in her chest, panic surging through her. She knew she had to leave, and had to flee before Maekar discovered her. With a soft, strangled gasp, she turned and ran, her skirts swirling around her as she hurried from the sept.
As she fled through the dimly lit corridors of the keep, her body still aching with need, Catelyn knew that she had crossed a line, that she had given in to a desire that she could not afford to indulge. But even as she berated herself for her weakness, she knew what she had witnessed would haunt her dreams and fuel her darkest fantasies.
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Part 2 in an hour or two.
