A Prince of House Targaryen

Alone in The World

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Catelyn Tully

Robb was about a year old when he said his first word. Catelyn  remembered it well - there's little in the world that compares to  hearing your first child speak for the very first time. She and Ned had  been spending some personal time with their son in her chambers and it  was a relatively warm day. Ned was tossing Robb in the air, making him  laugh in delight, and Catelyn was vaguely trying to read while really  spending more time watching her family; she adored Robb's joyful giggles  but a part of her hated the way Ned tossed him in the air like that.

After  a short while, Ned must have thought that Robb had had enough of the  activity for now and he set him down on the ground in front of some of  his toys. Robb frowned at being put down and reached up his chubby  little arms to his father.

"Papa!" he said impatiently. "Papa!"

Catelyn  looked up sharply from her book, looking first to her son and then to  her husband. She met Ned's eyes, and the look of love and pride he wore  warmed her heart. She did not yet truly feel like a wife to him all the  time, but moments like these gave her hope that their relationship would  improve even further. Right now there was nothing and nobody in the  world but the two of them and their son.

Ned knelt down and picked  Robb up off the ground, tickling him and grinning down at the boy.  "There's a clever lad. He knows his father!"

The pride on Ned's  face proved to Catelyn that this man who she had once thought so distant  and almost cold was indeed capable of great love. His smile softened  the slight twinge of sadness she felt that Ned had been Robb's first  word, not her.

It shouldn't bother her at all, she knew, and she  scolded herself for caring. Yet she wished that he could have said  'mama' first; it stung a little that he spoke first to his father.  Still, she knew it was a silly thing to care about and so she let the  feeling of jealousy go as easily as it had come.

Before Ned had  time to even notice that she had been quiet at first, a wide, genuine  smile pulled at her lips and she rose from her chair to kneel beside her  family.

"Can you say it again, Robb?" she asked, taking one of his small hands in hers.

"Papa!" Robb exclaimed loudly, clearly excited by the praise and attention he received from speaking. "Papa, papa, papa!"

She  and Ned giggled together at their son's antics, and spent the next few  hours grinning broadly at each other as they lavished attention on their  clever little boy who repeated his new word between laughs and excited  babbling.

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Sansa was almost  fifteen moons old when she spoke for the first time, a lot later than  Robb. That hadn't surprised Catelyn; Sansa was a far quieter baby than  Robb had been. Where Robb would have wailed until he was tended to,  Sansa simply whimpered a little. She was a delicate babe, but healthy  and quiet.

She said her first word while Catelyn was showing her  daughter the small sept which Ned had had built for her when she'd first  came to Winterfell. Catelyn was determined that Sansa should know The  Seven just as she would come to know the Old Gods. She had been talking  about the Maid and the Mother when Sansa had started whimpering. Catelyn  looked down at her daughter and saw Sansa's small hand reaching out for  a lit candle, tiny fingers grasping expectantly.