Cat has treated you wrongly all her life. You and your brother Jon Snow are meant to be bastard children of her late husband Ned, a living reminder that her husband had children with someone else. Now Bran and Rickon are thought dead, Ned is definitely dead, Sansa and Arya are missing, Jon is on the wall. She is with Robb who is King of the North in a war of independence against the Lannisters. The other candidates for the Iron Throne are also closing in with offers, such as Stannis and Renly Baratheon. The situation is nasty all around. The Iron Bank is breathing down all their necks, and it appears that a Targaryen is launching a war in Essos, even as Wight Walkers have been spotted again.

In the meantime, you arrive: in her eyes, not only are you a bastard, but also the exemplification of what a lady should never be--- you have arrived riding a horse, dressed in armor like a man, without an escort, your demeanor too independent, too fierce, too revealing--- like an unladylike harlot and a bastard, not a true lady, much less a Stark. Robb's face lights up immediately: he does not give a fuck, you are his sister, that is all, and his last remaining known one at that.

"Hello, dear." Catelyn greets you, though her smile is tight and does not reach her eyes, and there is a forced warmth in her tone.