"Well?" I asked Harri as he examined the new material in his hands.
Given the absurd excess of wool I had at hand, I'd finally decided to start making felt. Making the material wasn't difficult; dying it a striking color was.
"I think I can make it work, milady," he eventually replied. "I'll need to soak it longer, and I'll likely need to use a more concentrated dye, but it can be done."
"Excellent!" I praised him. "Let me know as soon as you have some ready," I enthusiastically told him. "I have some things I'd like to make."
"Of course, milady," he nodded.
"Cat?" Ned asked, confused. "What are you making?"
"Oh this?" I asked, gesturing at the table in front of me. "I'm making a hat."
"A… hat?"
"Aye."
"Dare I ask… what are the feathers for?" he asked.
Looking up at him, I gave him a Mona Lisa smile and quipped, "Presentation!"
"Come on," Ned said, a tiny grin tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Where are we going?" I asked, mildly irritated. "Honestly, Ned, it's far too cold to be going outside."
"Just come on," Benjen cajoled, gently nudging me in the back to hurry me along. "You'll love it!"
"Fine, fine, just stop bruising my ribs, you Northern barbarian!" I replied with a chuckle.
Both Robb and Jon were bundled up as much as we could make them. With Robb in my arms and Jon in Ned's, we trudged across the castle grounds into the Godswood. There, in a clearing at a safe distance but within sight of the weirwood heart tree, was a huge pile of firewood, topped by a log longer than Ned was tall and nearly as thick around. Many castle servants bustled around, setting up candles and platters of various foods on tables around the edge of the clearing. Smaller fires were already burning, the flames licking at cauldrons filled with soup, steaming mead, and hot mulled wine.
"This is a Solstice celebration," Benjen explained. "Each year, in the middle of snow season, we come out to the Godswood, light a huge bonfire, drink hot drinks, roast good food, and sing songs. It's a time for friends and family, to celebrate making it this far, and to pray to make it the rest of the way through."
"This was always a favorite of ours growing up," Ned added, a somewhat melancholy smile on his face.
"Just wait until the chestnuts are roasted," Benjen cut in, a bright grin splitting his face.
I hung back as Ned and Benjen mingled with the crowd. Eventually, just as the sun sank below the horizon, the huge bonfire was lit. As the flames leapt into the air, the attendees cheered and raised their mugs. Food was served, chestnuts roasted, hot mead and mulled wine drank, and ancient songs sung. A couple were in an unfamiliar language, the Old Tongue according to Maester Luwin, and beautiful despite their relative simplicity. Everyone was merry and in good cheer; I loved every minute of it.
As the fire burned down, the singing gave way to music, and people began dancing around the fire. The steps were unfamiliar to me (and to Catelyn's memories) but were not particularly difficult. Ned monopolized most of my time, though Benjen took me for a twirl or two. I secretly smiled when I spotted Anna wrapped up in Vayon's arms.
Later, as the fire burned down to embers and coals, I huddled against Ned on a bench at the edge of the clearing. Despite the cold, I was surprisingly comfortable.
"Catelyn," Ned caught my attention. "There is a tradition for this holiday. In honor of it, I would like to give you something."
I looked up at him and cocked my head. "What is it?"
Benjen was suddenly there. He handed a parchment wrapped parcel to Ned, who in turn handed it to me. "This gift is for you."
"Gift?" I asked. I should have known, given how similar this celebration was to Yule in my old life.
"What are you waiting for?" Benjen teased. "Go on, open it!"
I tore through the parchment, and something large and white spilled out. Unfolding it, I realized it was a heavy fur cloak as white as the snow falling around us. The inner side was lined with fleece, and it felt soft and luxurious in my hands.
"It's a cloak, made from the hide of a snow bear," Ned told me, his gray eyes shining in the dimming firelight. "It will keep you warm even in the coldest of nights."
"Ned… this is amazing," I replied. My eyes were suspiciously wet.
"I got you something too," Benjen cut in, thrusting another wrapped present into my arms.
"Oh Ben," I huffed. "You didn't have to."
"Of course I did," he replied with a boyish grin. "It's tradition!"
His gift to me was a pair of tall boots, almost reaching my knees. The inside was lined with fleece, and the tops lined with white rabbit fur.
"Benjen! They're beautiful!" I told him. Rather, I thought they'd be warm and comfortable, but apparently fur and fleece was in style in the North at the moment. "Oh, but… I wished you'd told me about this tradition, Ned. I don't have any gifts for you."
"I wanted to surprise you," Ned replied with a shrug.
"And if you really feel bad about it," Benjen added with a smirk. "You can always give me a gift twice as grand next year!"
Ned, Benjen, Robb, Jon, and I were all sitting around the Stark private dining room. The tables and chairs had been pushed against the wall so that the two children could play on the floor. And Robb and Jon were there too.
Robb, to much encouragement from the two Stark men, was trying to walk the short distance between them. The little tyke was making it about halfway before falling over into one of the two's arms. I was sitting cross legged on the thick wool carpet with Jon sitting in front of me. I was gently guiding him into a standing position, then slowly removing my hands, trying to teach him how to stand on his own.
"Da… da…" Robb babbled in his little baby voice. I looked over and watched my little boy stand up, hold both of his arms out to Ned, and say, "Dada! Dada!"
I gasped. 'His first word!'
"My son!" Ned replied, his voice suspiciously thick. "Come on, Robb!"
"Dadadadada!" Robb babbled. He took one step, then two, and then he was suddenly there in Ned's arms.
The Warden of the North scooped his son into his arms and held him to his chest.
"Did you hear that?" Benjen said, his eyes alight. "His first word!"
"He called me dada," Ned agreed, somewhat in a daze.
"Congratulations… dada," I gently teased him.
Despite my joy, I also felt a bit of melancholy. 'Did Robb call him dada first because I haven't been spending enough time with him?' I wondered. 'Am I… a bad mother?'
I felt a tug at my sleeve and found little Jon looking up at me. His long face, so much like Ned's, solemnly stared up at me.
"Mmm… mmmah… mama," he stated.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Ned go pale. His son, the one that was not also my son, had called me mama. I suspected he was worried about how I would react.
"Jon," I replied to him, equally as solemn as his own baby voice. Then, I gently booped him on the nose. His gray eyes went crossed, trying to look at my finger, and he almost fell backwards. I caught him and scooped him into my chest.
"Mamama!" He protested, but settled after a moment, a grumpy look on his face.
"Now now, Jon," I gently chided him. "Don't make faces like that or you'll summon… the tickle monster!"
Jon's eyes went wide as I held one hand, fingers half curled to make it look a bit spider-like, and let it hover in the air over him. He squirmed and struggled, but it was no use; I was far too big and strong to let him get away.
"Tickle tickle tickle tickle!" I rapidly chanted as I dug my fingers into his ribs. Gently, so as not to hurt him, but firm enough that he broke into peals of helpless laughter.