Chapter Text
He still thinks of her as Brandon's.
Ned knows how silly it is, especially when she is cradling their son against her chest, smiling and singing to Robb with a lightness which Winterfell has not known in so long. But every time he sees Catelyn, every time she turns her face up for a kiss or he reaches for her, Ned cannot help but think of his big brother, of the man whose place he was forced to take in every measure. Sometimes he even imagines he is going to wake up and find it has all been a dream, that Brandon has wed Catelyn, that Lyanna wed Robert, that Benjen is still racing through the wolfswood instead of serving on the Wall.
Ned likes Catelyn Tully - my wife, he reminds himself - but she still doesn't feel like his.
* * *
Her stomach is so big, she cannot see her feet, and Ned finds himself watching her now more than ever.
He was fighting a war when she carried Robb, and it feels like another lifetime when he remembers his own mother carrying Lyanna and Benjen. Ned waits to see her become clumsy or complain about the added weight of the child, but Catelyn seems to bloom with this pregnancy, with this spring child growing inside of her. If anything, she becomes more pleasant with pregnancy, and it makes Ned feel ashamed he is not more gregarious, more like his siblings who were always so talkative, who always knew what to say and how to say it.
Ned has always been a man of few words, but he wishes he had the right ones to give Catelyn. She deserves kind words, this woman who accepted the hand the gods dealt her without ever complaining about the unfairness of it all.
There's more North in her than she thinks, Ned decides as she lets Robb place his little hands upon her stretched stomach.
* * *
She is clearly exhausted after the birth, but Ned does not think she has ever looked more beautiful. Her red hair (he so loves her hair) hangs loose over her shoulders, her cheeks are still flushed, and, when she grins widely and proclaims they have a daughter, Ned knows in that moment he truly loves Catelyn Tully.
His hands shake a bit as he accepts the baby, staring down into a face which is a replica of Catelyn's, and, when Ned looks to Catelyn, she is still smiling.
"I love you," he blurts out, the first impulsive words of their marriage, and Ned wonders if he should have waited, if there is a proper way of telling a woman that you love her. He idly thinks Brandon would have known but pushes the thought away as quickly as it comes.
Her smiles becomes softer, almost secretive, as she replies, "I love you." Patting the bed bedside her, Catelyn waits until he has sat beside her before pressing a kiss to his whiskered cheek.
"I think we should call her Sansa," Catelyn says, stroking the baby's cheek, and, for the first time since saying his vows, Ned knows with certainty this is the life he is meant to have.