Work Text:
Catelyn started forward, reaching her hand out to the young man who had been revealed to be her nephew. Not a bastard at all.
She would try for her lord husbands sake to heal a house divided for she was the one to divide it. She had drawn lines in the sand forcing them to pick sides. It was the hill she chose to die and that choice now left them all open and vulnerable. Because if family could not trust family in this trying time they would surely fail. She was resolved to fix this because it was the right thing to do for the sake of the realm.
"Jon," His name caught in her throat.
He turned toward her. She didn't see malice in his eyes even as she searched for it, even though she was more than deserving of his irre. He looked at her as if seeing nothing, as if after everything life had thrown his way in such a short time, all he could offer was a tired resigned indifference.
"Lady Catelyn,"
"My Lord...?" The question hung in the space between them. Since the reveal she and interacted with him precious little and wanted to know if that was coincidences or by design.
There was a glint of something in his eyes and then it was gone as quick as it had arrived.
"Do you have a question M'Lady?"
"In this new world that you are building, it seems as if everyone shall play a role. All resources are being exploited." He lifted a brow as if to state that wasn't a question. She continued, " I would like to know… What I mean to ask is, what is my role to play in all of this? The ground is ever shifting. I would like to know my place. Where do I stand?"
"What kind of mother were you to me?" Catelyn started at his words, "It is a simple question Lady Caitlyn. What kind of mother were you to me?"
When again she could not find a reply he barreled on.
"The answer is not one," There was no emotion in his voice as he said this, which was more than telling because Jon had always been an emotional child; prone to long bouts of melancholy, brighten bursts of joy, and a seething anger which rarely showed its face. He didn't do this non expression.
"But at this time there are more urgent matters to attend to, than to dwell on the poor and petty actions derived from a woman's wounded pride. I was a child," Hurt reflected in eyes she knew well, which had so often turned throughout the years to her in sorrow or yearning, looking for something she never offered him. Was kindness so expensive, she reflected. " I was no more to blame for the perceived sins of my parents than your children could be blamed for Lord Stark's or your own."
Catelyn blanched at his statement but the boy was not done and continued. He let out a measured breath seep through his teeth but other than that he was a picture of collected, cool and clam. He had grown so since she had last seen him. He wore his self-assurance well. Knowing where you came from had never seemed so important to her until she saw how much it changed Jon.
"I do not hate you." he seemed utterly resigned and worn thin, this was a balm to her soul she did not deserve. He looked so old in that moment as if a lifetime of troubles had finally caught up to him.
"It would be easy to hate you; but I do not. For Lord Stark and for him alone I shall strive not to be cruel, where you did not. But I do not owe you a kindness and while you will not receive malice from me, I will not go out of my way to show you care. I am not so evolved it would seem, nor do I show such an aptitude for forgiveness. You have given me nothing and that is all I owe you. Though your family is my family, so live your life. I have nothing left to say."
With that he turned and left. There was a tension in his shoulders that would often appear whenever he realized she was present. He could not hide all of his tells, or maybe in her years of watching him in her quest to prove that he was just as power hungry and dangerous to her children as all basterds were rumored to be, she had come to know him in these little ways.
But in all of those years she had only seen kindness in the boy; gentleness, quiet compassion, a fierce sense of justice, and steally resolve. But she was blind to it all, because how could he be good when he represented the very thing she hated most about her life, most about her beloved husband. His existence was an affront to her good name. It had cost her much to bare his presence, but what had it cost him to bare hers.
She was left with the turned back of a child, in hindsight that had been merely a kind boy, and he had grown up and become a good man. Who was this person she thought she knew? She had judged him, and she had judged him wrong.
She uttered lowly under her breath to the empty corridor a single word, "Sorry,"
Apologies do not often cover or erase a multitude of sins. She could not turn back time and be the mother he had so longed for. He was now a man grown, he did not need her. Her remorse was not welcome for it felt sour in the face of a of all of history between them. One apology did not wash away a life time of bad-blood. Blood was thicker than water.
He would not absolve her of her guilt. He owed her nothing and what she could give him he did not desire. She had bargined with the gods to save him, but she had not kept up her end of the deal. What a cruel or befitting twist of fate that he would grow up an come to be revealed the most powerful man im Westeros. Her regret fixed nothing. It was all too little and far too late.