Chapter Text
Ned I
When Ned Stark arrived at the Tower of Joy, his heart was a mess of terror and hope.
Terror, because his sister, his sweet little sister, who was wild and cheerful and beautiful, was only five-and-ten and she had been gone for so long, there was no way she wasn't with child, not with the way the Silver Prince had looked at her…
And hope, because what else could he do but hope? Hope that he was wrong, that his sister hadn’t been raped, that she was unharmed, that she wasn’t pregnant…
But, no such luck.
(When he steps inside the room his sister is being kept, the still-warm body of Arthur Dayne lying lifeless behind him, his heart sinks into his legs.
His sister, his wild little sister, is lying on a bed that’s soaked with her own blood, stomach still swollen with pregnancy despite the two - Two! - babes being presented to her by a woman kneeling by her side.
Ned barely spares the other woman a glance, only vaguely noting that her hair is a curly black bush on her head, before he's running to his sister’s unoccupied side.
“Ned…” oh Gods she sounds so weak, so pained, and when he grabs her hand in his she can barely tighten her fingers as her gray eyes fill with tears. “Brother…”
“I’m here,” he rushes, eyes locked on his sister’s pained face. “I’m here, Lyanna.”
“Good,” she breathes shakily, weakly rolling her head to look at the other woman. “Sophia… please…”
“But of course, dear Lyanna,” the woman’s voice is smooth, refined, dark, and Ned is powerless to stop his eyes from looking at the one who spoke.
Green eyes meet his gray, the color of dark emeralds surrounded by full black lashes and set in a beautiful face decorated with dark freckles. The woman is pale, very much like any true Northerner is, and on her head is a bush of black curly hair that seems to care not that it really should not be able to stand so tall in the air.
“Well met, Eddard Stark,” the woman speaks softly, black painted lips lifting into a perfectly demure smile that makes his hairs stand on end. “I am Sophia Addams.”
Ned swallows without conscious thought, staring into that poison green gaze with wide eyes. “Well met, lady Addams,” he forces past his numb lips, cold with a terror he cannot fathom the reason for.
The smile widens and Ned shivers.)
(“How?” he chokes out, looking at the babes in the brunette’s arms, one crowned by white, the other by black, and both with pale freckled cheeks despite the fact one was borne of his sister, whose skin was as flawless as snow.
“I am an Addams, darling Eddard,” lady Addams demurs, smiling around her address of him like it’s her own personal jape. “And the blood of an Addams is stronger than any other. Dear Lyanna knew she would not survive the birth of her babe, and so I offered my blood to her.”
“Your blood?” he says blankly, eyes drifting to the shallow bowl on the bedside table, the inside holding traces of red, and his sister’s cold lips, stained with crimson.
“Indeed,” lady Addams agrees, poisonous eyes gleaming. “My blood.”)
Ned II
The lady Sophia Addams was a true beauty.
With her bouncing black curls, her pale skin dotted with freckles, her dark green eyes that seem to shine, and her lithe and graceful physique, she turned the heads of many a man as she walked gracefully alongside Ned and Howland Reed, looking for all the world like she was gliding over the ground, so smooth was her gait.
Even the twin babes in her arms did little to deter the lustful eyes following her, though the white-blonde of one made many jerk in shock and turn to each other with wide, disbelieving eyes.
Ned himself couldn’t quite believe it either. Couldn’t believe the story the two women had spun for him.
But he did. There is nothing else to do but believe, not when the evidence was shoved in his face in the form of a black haired babe with purple eyes, and a white haired one with green eyes, both dotted with freckles.
Lady Addams was a wonderful mother, doting on her two children like any parent should, carrying them around with pride even when they did not stop their travel for hours and refusing a horse because they had yet to find a steed that would come near the little trio.
The babes themselves were a delight, always happy to give a smile and a gurgle to any who walked past, bringing smiles and fond laughter to both the strangers they passed and he and Howland. Ned himself would freely admit he adored the babes, not only because one of them was his sister’s child, but also because they reminded him of the child waiting for him in Winterfell.
Sophia Addams and her children were truly a joy to be around.
They were also completely mad.
(“What are their names my lady?” Howland asks one night, a few days travel away from the Tower of Joy, and Ned jerks when he realises he hasn’t asked that. Hasn’t asked for the name of his sister’s child.
Lady Addams gives the lad a smile that is somehow warm despite looking like it should be cold and answers readily.
“Wednesday and Friday,” she tells him, and looks behind her to where she put her children down to sleep. “Oh, dear.”
Ned looks up sharply from his sword, because even though the words are calm as could be, they are not words one spoke without reason. He sucks in a breath.
“Wednesday, darling,” the black haired babe looks up (How, how are they moving, they’re only days old!) to give its mother a gummy smile around the sword hilt in its mouth and Ned is once again reminded of the fact he has no idea what gender the babes are. “Whatever are you doing with that?” lady Addams rises gracefully from her seat, the dark purple of her dress flowing around her legs as she glides towards her children. “That’s the wrong end my darling, see? Nice and sharp.”
“Lady Addams!” Ned roars in horrified shock, unable to believe his eyes nor his ear as the woman instructs her child to put a sharp blade in its mouth!
“Yes, darling Eddard?” she replies absentmindedly, smiling at the white haired babe that is now very interested in the sword in its sibling’s mouth and is grabbing at the blade with chubby fingers. “Is something the matter?”
Ned opens his mouth to tell the madwoman exactly what is the matter, but he freezes, eyes going wide when the woman turns her head to look at him and pins him down with poisonous eyes and a demure smile.
The tent seems to darken.
“I-” he cuts himself off, wetting his lips at the placid gaze of the lady Addams. “Swords are dangerous, my lady.”
“Oh, don’t you worry darling Eddard,” the smile remained the same, but the darkness of the tent lightened. “So are we Addamses.”
There’s a metallic crunch, followed by delighted giggles.
The children have bitten through the steel blade.)
And it didn’t stop at swords.
Lady Addams cheerfully let her children crawl (How?!) around wherever they like when she sat them down, the white haired one, Friday, often leading the way to the campfire specifically, since the black haired one, Wednesday, seemed to prefer the sharpness of steel to the heat of fire.
He didn’t know which was worse.
(“Lady Addams!” Howland comes running out of the small camp when they come back from collecting water, a panicked look on his face, and both Ned and Lady Addams turn to watch him, Ned with a worried frown, the lady with an indulgent smile.
“What is it darling Howland?” she asks kindly, smile widening slightly when her way of address makes the young man blush light pink before he visibly straightens himself.
“It’s your children, my lady!” the Reed answers in a rush, eyes wide and fearful. “They’ve crawled into the fire!”
Lady Addams blinks and it says a lot about how mad the past few weeks have been that Ned doesn’t do much else himself.
“Oh the pour dears,” she sighs, a hand coming up to cup her own cheek with a heavy, sad frown, and Ned cannot stop his head from whipping around to look at her, alarmed. Because in all the weeks he has known her, never once has the madwoman reacted like that to her children’s misadventures. Why would burning be the thing that finally makes her worried when nails, daggers, snakes and toxic plants didn’t? “Their Sire was a Targaryen. They’ll be so disappointed they can’t burn.”
And just like that, all is right with the world.
Ned sighs (He will never admit it was in relief) and gestures for the young man to lead the way. He does so, though with a look of utter confusion on his face.
When they arrive at the campfire the Addams children have apparently claimed for their own, which looks suspiciously big compared to what it had looked like when they left, it’s to the utterly delighted shrieks of children.
“Please, lady Addams,” Howland implores, turning to her with wide, begging eyes. “Get them out!”
Rare is the day a man asks a woman for help. Then again, rare is the day babes crawl into fires of their own free will.
“Whyever would I do that?” lady Addams questions, raising an eyebrow at the Crannogman. “They are having fun, yes?”
The poor lad looks utterly lost.
“Be as it may, lady Addams,” Ned says, taking pity on the distressed Reed. He is the only one of them who seems to have gotten used to Sophia Addams and her madness, if only by sheer exposure, because she terrified the younger man and he did his best to avoid her. “I would appreciate it if you could remove your children from the fire they have claimed.”
The lady sighs, as if he’s doing her a great disservice, but compiles, gliding past the panicking (And frankly useless) Reed to stand in front of the raging fire, an indulgent smile on her face.
“Come out now children,” lady Addams never raises her voice above a soft, demure purr, and yet it can be clearly heard despite the roar of the flames. “You’re scaring darling Howland.”
The shrieks of delight turn petulant and lady Addams raises an eyebrow.
“Oh?” Ned can barely keep himself from doing like Howland and taking a step back. “I suppose I’ll just have to go get Rickard all on my own then.”
The name makes Ned flinch just as it makes the shrieks stop and two small bodies tumble out of the pyre, covered in soot and completely naked.
Lady Addams isn’t fazed by her children’s lack of clothes, only chuckling fondly and leaning down to welcome the babes in her embrace, uncaring of the soot staining her purple dress with black.
“There you are,” she smiles at the giggling babes, poisonous eyes loving. “Have fun?”
The babes babble, all gummy smiles and waving hands and cheerful laughter.
Well…
At least he knew their genders now.)
(“Who is Rickard?” he asks her later, when the babes have been washed free of soot and clothed once more.
The name still makes him flinch, makes him imagine what his Father’s final moments must have been like, full of fear and agony.
“My oldest child,” lady Addams answers readily, smiling when he looks at her in surprise. “Darling Rhaegar only wanted me in his tower, so I told Rickard to wait in the swamps of the Neck for me to return.”
“How old is he?” Ned asks, curious about this child named after his Father.
“Four,” she tells him, eyes glittering with mirth. “But don’t you worry darling Eddard. My dear Rickard-”
“-Is an Addams,” he finishes, thinking back on all the swords and knives that have met their end at the jaws of her youngest children. “I’m starting to understand what that means.”
Lady Addams just smiles.)
Ned III
By the time they reached the Neck, the twins had grown teeth.
(“Lady Addams?” Dolla, a young girl they had picked up in one of the villages along the way, begins, glancing at the babes on the tent floor gleefully trying to stab each other with the small knives their Mother had given them once they started walking (Ned has long since realised that, when it comes to an Addams, one must expect the improbable or never know anything but surprise and horror.)
“Yes, dear Dolla?” the lady inquers, looking up from where she was embroidering something for the children with a suspiciously wet looking red string.
(Hadn’t one of the more unsavory villagers, the one that looked at the Addams children with strange eyes, vanished shortly before they left?)
“Say, 'ow ol' are the babes?” lady Dolla asks, only showing a brief flash of worry when little Friday throws her knife so hard at her brother it would have caused some serious damage if it had hit. Thankfully, Wednesday rolls out of the way just in time and it buries itself in the tentpole instead.
She was already getting used to the violent nature of the Addamses.
“Oh, just a few moons,” is the answer, and Ned realises that yes, it’s only been about two moons. And the children are already walking.
Addams blood. That’s the only explanation.
“But, m'lady,” lady Dolla frowns, narrowing her blue eyes at the twins. “Why've they got teeth?”
“They’re Addamses dear,” is all the explanation she gets, a demure smile forming on black lips. “Of course they have teeth.”)
Lady Addams was smiling when they started moving through the swamps, Wednesday and Friday giggling freely in their Mother’s arms, little hands coming up to catch the insects that fly past them and then stuffing them in their mouths.
Somehow, while he was, by now, mostly comfortable with the Addamses fascination with violence, the fact they seemed to enjoy eating strange and often disgusting things still turned his stomach.
But when he had once seen little Wednesday eat mushrooms that would kill a fully grown man with nothing happening, he couldn’t really ask them to stop for any reason other than his own comfort.
Well, that, and the comfort of Howland and Dolla, who were looking particularly green at the sight of a babe happily devouring all manner of bugs.
And it was then, about two days travelling into the swamps of the Neck, they finally met Rickard Addams.
(When Ned and Howland come back from hunting, there are five people in the camp instead of four.
A small, young boy looks up at the two men when they walk into the camp, poison green eyes staring at them from a pale (not pale, white, like fresh snow or new bones or a bloodless corpse), freckled face framed by wavy black hair.
Rickard Addams has his mother’s green eyes and freckles, much like his sister Friday, but his face…
He has the face of a Stark, long and solemn.
“Welcome back darlings,” lady Addams greets, smiling that demure smile that always puts his hairs on end. “Meet Rickard Addams, my oldest.”
The boy nods solemnly, Stark shaped green eyes meeting Ned’s own before moving back to his siblings, who were perched in their mother’s lap while he was on the ground.
The twins, of course, immediately try to stab the boy in the neck, a knife on each side.
But like Ned has come to expect of any Addams, undeniable Stark blood or no, the boy simply reaches up to grab the two little arms and stop them in their tracks, solemn expression never once wavering.
“Can I stab them too, Mother?” three moons ago, Ned would have been horrified by such a question, asked with a seriousness no one could misinterpret.
Now, he was just wondering why the little Addams even asked.
“Wait until they can run, dear,” lady Addams says to her son, reaching a hand down to pat his thick black hair. “That way, it’ll be more fun for all of you.”
The boy nods, before turning to him once again, staring him down with piercing eyes.
“You look like Father,” the boy declares, and Ned suddenly can’t breathe.
“That’s because darling Eddard is your father’s brother, dear,” lady Addams’ smile doesn’t diminish even as she declares to all in the camp that she has borne Brandon Stark a bastard son.
Ned’s nephew (His nephew, Brandon wasn’t lost, he’d had a son, he had two nephews.) blinks slowly, narrowing his eyes and humming.
“The boring one?” he asks and Ned has to choke back a laugh and the first of many tears.
“Oh no dear, darling Eddard isn’t boring at all,” his nephew’s mother tells her son cheerfully, lifting him up into her lap and placing him right on top of his siblings. Literally. “Why, just yesterday he helped Wednesday stab a lizard-lion!”
Of course that would be what truly endeared him to his nephews’ mother.
Honestly, Addamses.)
Little Rickard was a solemn boy, quiet and serious in a way more similar to Ned himself than to the boy’s father, who had been as wild as wild could be, filled with Wolf Blood and the spirit of the North.
He looked very much a Stark.
But there was a reason he was an Addams and not a Snow.
(“Did you have fun while I was away, my dear Rickard?” he hears lady Addams ask her son as they once more resume their journey to Winterfell.
“Yes Mother,” came the calm reply, the boy’s voice as emotionless as it had been every other time he spoke.“I found a man-eating plant and multiple plots of nightshade and wolfsbane. The plants tasted good and Cleopatra was good at disposing bodies.”)
(“Did you love my brother, lady Addams?” he asks one night, when they’re just about out of the swamp, delayed by a day because little Rickard wanted to take a clipping of the various deadly plants he had found during his stay in the Neck. Including the giant, unnatural looking vine covered plant he had named Cleopatra.
“Darling Brandon?” it sounds like a question even though they both know it isn’t, and the woman turns to look at him with solemn eyes. “I suppose I did, darling Eddard, but not in the way you are thinking. Darling Brandon was a close friend and I treasured him while we raised my dear Rickard,” lady Addams raises a hand to put it on his cheek, forcing him to look into her poisonous eyes. “But I did not love him like most women would their lover. I cared for him and knowing I will only ever see him again if he wishes to join a Reunion upsets me greatly, but I was not in love with him.”
“I see,” he says blankly, confused at this so-called ‘Reunion’ the woman mentioned and what it could mean, but dismissing it in favor of another question. “Why did you sleep with him then?”
Her serious look turns amused.
“Surely you are not so green, darling Eddard,” she says, her eyes glinting with a mischief Ned had only ever seen in her twin babes. “You brother was a very handsome, very charming man. However was I to resist when he came to me with a black rose and asked to share my bed for the night?”
Ned can feel himself blush, and it only deepens when the woman pats his cheek.
“Also, his cock was of excellent quality,” she continues, and laughs out loud when he starts sputtering.)
Ned IV
When the walls of Winterfell could finally be seen, Ned couldn’t help but push his horse into a gallop, knowing from experience that the lady Addams and her children would somehow be just a step behind him and Dolla, who had taken Howland horse when he parted from them at the Neck.
His wife (Gods, he had almost forgotten that he was married.) and son were just a few hundred yards away. He was allowed to be impatient.
(“My Lord,” his Lady wife greets, pale lips spread in a small smile, Tully blue eyes warm in a way he hadn’t expected and her red hair hanging freely down her back. “Welcome home.”
“My Lady,” he nods to her, dismounting his horse and swiftly making his way towards her. “It is good to be home.”
His wife’s smile widens just slightly, and then she is shifting the bundle in her arms to show him. “Your son, My Lord,” she tells him, eyes glittering with pride.
Ned looks down, seeing Tully blue eyes and auburn hair set in Stark features, and feels love swelling within his breast immediately.
“My Lady…” he breathes, smiling warmly when the woman readily hands his son over to him. “You have given me a treasure.”
His Lady wife blushes, smile widening with happiness, and he finally believes that maybe, hopefully, he would be able to find love with the woman that should have been his brother’s wife.
And speaking of his brother…
A tug on his coat makes him tear his gaze from his son to look at his brother’s, Rickard’s poison green eyes glued on his little cousin.
“Uncle,” his Lady wife stiffens, turning wide, shocked eyes on his Addams nephew who barely spares her a glance before locking eyes with Ned. “May I hold him?”
Ned chooses to ignore his wife’s questioning gaze for the moment, instead looking into his nephew’s eyes while he debates what to do.
He has seen Rickard with his siblings, has seen him handle them with all the care he has come to expect of an Addams, has seen him throw them into lakes and toss them at wild animals and turn the knives they chewed on around so they bit at the blade.
But he has also seen him be gentle with both them and Dolla, has seen him solemnly carrying one of the babes for his mother on the rare occasions she actually became tired and help Dolla with them when they fussed and skewer bandits that came too close to them was a protective glare.
The lad cares for his family, in that special Addams way Ned has slowly come to appreciate over the moons he has traveled with them.
And Ned’s son is Rickard’s cousin.
“Aye, Nephew, you can,” he agrees after some thought, kneeling down to put the babe at a better height for the lad to hold, smiling when the boy’s eyes light up when he sees his little cousin. “But remember Rickard, my son-”
“-Is not an Addams,” the lad finishes, eyes once again glued on the red haired babe, hands flexing at his sides like he wants to snatch the young boy out of his arms. “I know. I’ll be good.”
The fact the boy can’t stop his nose from wrinkling in distaste at the word ‘good’ really shouldn’t make him so amused, but it does, and he continues smiling as he hands over his son and shows his nephew how to hold non-Addams babes.
(Addams babes can lift their heads from the moment they are born. Ned doesn’t understand how that’s possible, but lady Addams just smiles whenever he asks.)
Once he is sure his nephew has a good grip and won’t drop his son, he rises from his crouch and finally turns to his glaring wife.
“My brother’s child,” he explains, withholding a flinch at the betrayal that flashes on his wife’s face. “Rickard Addams. His mother-” he swallows and Catelyn must see something in his eyes because her face softens and she places a hand on his forearm. “His mother was being kept with Lyanna.”
“Your sister…?” she pauses and he closes his eyes, holding back the tears.
“Gone,” he lets the grief swallow him for a moment before opening his eyes to look into his wife’s sad Tully blues. “She was dead when I arrived.”
“I see,” she doesn’t try to comfort him beyond squeezing his arm and for that, he is grateful. He has no desire to cry in front of his men. “And the boy’s mother?”
“She lives,” he tells her, lips quirking. “She is… rather hard to kill.”
“Darling Eddard, why must you torture me so?” his Lady wife jerks in surprise, moving her eyes from Ned to the approaching lady Addams, gliding over in her purple dress with a babe in each arm. “Reminding me of my difficulties with meeting Death. How dare you.”
“Truly, how dare I,” he japes as he turns around to smile at the woman, taking a step back to stand by his wife’s side. “Welcome to Winterfell, lady Addams.”
“It is wonderful to be here,” she says earnestly, smiling at his wife even while her children almost hit her face with the knives they're waving around. “The weather is truly dreadful, darling. The children have frostbite!”
“So they do,” his Lady wife looks horrified and Ned is reminded of the fact he has become immune to Lady Addams and her macabre ways. “My Lady, allow me to introduce lady Sophia Addams and her youngest children, Wednesday and Friday,” for all her horror his Lady wife is highborn, and she courtesies lightly for the strange lady, a brittle smile on her face. “Lady Addams, my wife Catelyn of House Stark, formerly of House Tully.”
“Well met, dear Catelyn,” he has also gotten used to the woman's complete lack of social niceties, as his wife’s scandalised expression reminds him when she hears what the other woman will now forever call her. “Darling Eddard has told me much about you on our trip.”
“He has?” his wife asks, surprised, and Ned raises an eyebrow at the lady.
“But of course!” lady Addams declares cheerfully, smiling demurely all the while, and Ned sighs, moving his eyes heavenworth. “Oh hello dear, who is that you’re holding?”
“My cousin,” Ned blinks, looking down at where Rickard has wandered over to his mother and is now showing her Ned’s son with solemn pride. “He is very small.”
“That he is my dear,” the woman agrees, smiling at the babe, while Wednesday and Friday lean out of their mother’s hold to babble at their brother’s cousin. “You have a beautiful child dear,” the last part is directed at his wife, who is startled but gives the woman a smile all the same.
“Thank you, lady Addams,” his wife nods, bending down to accept her child back from the solemn Addams boy and giving him a warm smile when he pats his cousin’s head gently in farewell. “Your children are beautiful as well.”
“Yes, they’re lovely,” she sighs forlornly, and Catelyn stares. “If only they were grotesque monsters like darling cousin Lurch. Stitches and infected wounds, bubbling skin,” she sighs again, this time wistfully and Catelyn stares. “Oh well.”
“There’s time yet, my lady,” he reassures, smiling as he gestures behind him. “Come, let us go inside. There are hot springs in the castle.”
“But I want to see Wednesday’s fingers fall off,” Rickard says petulantly and sure enough, the little boy’s fingers have gone blue.
His wife gives him a horrified look.
He just gives her a helpless smile.
“Oh, there goes the first one,” does she truly have to sound so delighted about her son’s finger falling off?
Addamses.)
Once everyone had been cleaned (With Rickard reportedly attempting to drown his siblings in the bath while they tried to bite his nose off.) and fed (Somehow, Wednesday’s finger was back where it belonged.) the Addams family were given a room to sleep in near the family wing, with Dolla getting the smaller room next to it, and a promise to figure things out the next day.
All in all, it was a good day.
(“She is mad!” his wife hisses furiously under her breath, watching lady Addams feed Wednesday some kind of bubbling concoction she had pulled out from under the table while Rickard tries to strangle Friday with the scarf a well meaning maid had given the babe. “They are mad!”
“They’re Addamses,” he tells her, raising an eyebrow when Wednesday's little fist hits the spoon his mother was using to feed him and the ‘food’ falls on the table, burning a hole straight through the wood. “That’s just how they are.”
“Mad?!” she hisses, flinching when the twins work together to push their older brother’s head into the bowl of bubbling black.
“No,” he denies, lips quirking as he borrows a word he has heard Lady Addams use a number of times. “Just a bit kooky.”)
Ned V
Life in Winterfell with the Addams Family was… interesting.
(“My lady?” a maid questions unsurely, drawing a hum and a glance from the lady Addams. “Are the children… well?”
“Of course they are,” the woman gives the maid a mildly confused look. “Why wouldn’t they be?”
The maid glances at the ground, where the children are playing with the man-eating plant clipping the had taken with them from the swamps of the Neck.
Said somewhat small plant has its vines wrapped around all three children’s necks.
“No reason, m'lady,” Dolla cuts in, holding up a tray of tea with a smile. “Tea?”
“Poisoned?”
“Nightshade, m'lady.”
“Ghastly. Give some to the children.”)
His Lady wife was slowly warming to the Addams’ and their oddness, especially when it became clear the small family adored their son Robb and made sure to keep their more deadly tendencies to a minimum when he was present.
(“There you go darling, that’s it,” lady Addams purrs at her son, little Wednesday softly patting his cousin with a look of intense concentration on his face. “Darling Robb isn’t like us, so you need to be gentle with him.”
Friday wobbles over, white hair in utter disarray and teeth bared in a wide smile. She holds up a bloody hand, babbling all the while she swings the snake in her fist around.
“Good job my dear!” she praises, lifting the girl into her lap with a smile. “That darling little fellow would have swallowed our Robb right up!”
“And Cousin Robb can’t fight it on his own,” Rickard tells his sister seriously, green eyes hard. “He’s Family, but he’s not an Addams. We have to keep him safe.”
“Well said nephew,” Ned agrees, smiling at his confused but not concerned wife.
“Indeed,” lady Addams nods, showing her daughter how to peel the skin of the snake off. “It would be terrible if darling Robb died before experiencing his first infection!”
“Lady Addams!”
“Terribly sorry dear Catelyn, but a good blood infection every now and then is always good for you.”
“Blood infection kills people!
“I know! Marvelous, isn’t it?”)
Lady Addams was also surprisingly insightful when it came to matters of the heart. Especially when one considered the fact she freely admitted her first and only love would always be the Stranger.
(“You’re falling in love?” lady Addams says one day when they’re breaking their fast, looking at him and Cat with surprise that quickly turns to joy. “Oh how splendid! When’s the wedding?”
“We are already married, lady Addams,” Cat tells her with tolerant amusement, smiling fondly.
“One can never have too many weddings my dear Catelyn,” the lady waves off, almost jabbing Friday in the eye with a spoon. “And certainly not when your first one was arranged. And please, do call me Sophia, no friend of mine shall call me ‘Lady Addams’.”
“Very well, Sophia. Do continue to call me Catelyn.”
“But of course dear Cat, whatever else would I call you?”)
Many of the maids feared lady Addams and her odd family. Sophia, with her demure cheerfulness and love of violence and death. Rickard, who liked playing with ropes and poison and only smiled when he was trying to kill his siblings. Wednesday, Ned’s little nephew who had his Sire’s eyes and loved all things sharp and pointed. And Friday, the little girl with white-blond hair and her mother’s eyes who liked eating hot coals and sleeping in the fireplace.
Ned should have been horrified by them, just as most of Winterfell’s population was. Like Cat had been when she first met them.
But underneath their love of death and their violence was a family that loved each other more than most would be able to comprehend. Beneath the strangling ropes was a fierce older brother who protected his siblings with everything he had. The sharp object got put aside whenever the youngest boy wanted to play with his fragile cousin. The fire was left behind in favour of time spent in her mother’s lap and by her twin’s side.
The Addams Family was shocking, odd, mysterious and honestly terrifying, but they were also loving, protective and kind in their own special way.
And for that, Ned had no problem naming them an official House of the North.
Besides, the other Houses of the North needed to be kept on their toes.
(“You would name us a House?” rare is the day Ned gets to see Sophia shocked, but he just smiles at her surprised eyes.
“Yes, I would,” he confirms, leaning forward to barce his forearms on the table. “I have no doubt you do right by the people of your lands, nor have I any doubt that you will never betray me.”
“Darling Eddard, you flatter me so,” Sophia purrs, smiling demurely even while her eyes glint with something he cannot name. “Our coat of arms shall be a spider against a purple backdrop covered in silver webs.”
“Done,” he nods, not at all surprised that she doesn’t question if he is sure. Sophia was never one to question the decisions of those she respected. “And your words?”
“Why, they will be what they have always been,” she says, the demure smile turning dark without moving, the fire shivering in the hearth and the shadows lengthening.
“Which is?” he prods, unbothered by the change in lighting as he had once been.
He’s not lying when he says he has no worries of the Addams Family ever betraying his trust.
Demure turns to sharp.
“We Gladly Feast on Those Who Would Subdue Us.”)