Date: 2007-07-06 10:49 pm (UTC)
Catelyn's own hands were cold, as was her cheek--in certain ways she could pass for truly alive, but in others she could not. She was as grateful for Arya as he--one by one, all her children were finding their way here, and whatever their form they were still hers. Even her hatred for the Freys could not outweigh the odd sense of relief she felt, in spite of the surface horror of the situation.

"You are here," she said, half to reassure herself that he was real. "You, and Arya, and Sansa, and Jon." She had not seen Jon since her Sorting, but she had softened immensely toward him--he was of home, and he had been looking so well after Arya. One by one they were all finding their way here, and if some of them were broken, it was no matter--they were together, and that was what counted.
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