the brother and the betrothed

It starts because Brandon’s cruel and Catelyn’s curious and Ned—sweet, noble Ned—is always a little too easy to lead.

The night is thick with summer heat. Riverrun echoes quiet. The betrothal is fresh, the blood still warm from handshakes and alliances and too much wine.

Catelyn slips into Brandon’s chambers in nothing but her shift.

Ned is already there.

She gasps—more surprise than scandal—and Brandon just grins, half-lidded, wolfish. “He was waiting for me,” he says, like it's normal, like this is nothing. He’s got a cup in hand and a challenge in his gaze. “Looks like he’s been thinking about you, sweetling.”

Ned won’t meet her eyes. Not really. Not until Brandon steps behind her, palms her hips through the linen, and says:

“Let him look.”

She should leave. She should slap him. She should tell the old gods and the new to take the both of them straight to hell.

Instead, she exhales. Loud. And then—she lifts the hem of her shift.

Ned looks like he’s been struck. He swallows hard. Brandon laughs, mouth pressed to her neck.

“That’s it,” he croons. “Let the poor boy see what he’s been dreaming about.”

Catelyn bites her lip, sways her hips a little. The thrill tastes like madness. “Is this wicked?” she asks, almost shy.

Brandon hums. “Of course. That’s what makes it so good.”

She hears the rustle of fabric. Ned’s hands are clenched in his lap. She can see the outline of him, hard and straining. “You want her?” Brandon asks him, blunt as steel.

“Bran—”

“Don’t lie. You watch her.” He nips at her ear. “She likes it.”

Ned makes a sound—half-groan, half-prayer.

Catelyn turns. Walks slowly to Ned like she’s sleepwalking toward fire. Sinks to her knees.

“You want me?” she says, voice too soft, too sure.

“Yes,” Ned rasps, and it’s not a confession—it’s a *collapse.*

She unties his breeches. He’s hard already, flushed and leaking and twitching like even this is too much. She wraps one hand around him, slow, deliberate.

“Tell me what to do,” she whispers.

Ned chokes. “I—I can’t—”

But Brandon’s already there, behind her again, smug and burning. “Put your mouth on him, Cat. Let him fuck your pretty lips.”

She obeys.

Ned gasps so loud she almost laughs. His hands hover, shaking, unsure if he’s allowed to touch. Brandon murmurs, “Grab her hair,” and suddenly Ned’s got a fistful of auburn and he’s thrusting slow and deep.

Catelyn moans around him.

Brandon kneels beside them, watching his brother come undone. “She’s good, isn’t she?” he says, fingers playing along her spine. “Pretty little thing. My sweet betrothed.”

Ned tries to pull back, shame flickering. “I shouldn’t—”

Brandon growls. “Don’t stop. Not until she gags on it.”

She does, tears prickling her lashes, drool on her chin, cunt clenching around nothing. She pulls off with a gasp and turns to Brandon, flushed and feral.

“Take me.”

He doesn’t hesitate.

He rips the shift. Throws her on the bed. Fingers her open with two thick fingers, fast, wet, practiced. “Greedy thing,” he mutters. “Dripping like you’ve never been fucked before.”

She laughs, wild. “Never like this.”

He flips her on all fours, spreads her open. Ned watches from the edge of the bed like he’s witnessing a miracle—and a sin.

Brandon glances back. “Get behind her.”

“What?”

“Hold her open for me.”

Ned’s breath hitches. But he does it. He kneels behind her, spreads her cheeks with trembling hands. And Brandon sinks in.

Catelyn screams.

It’s filthy. It’s raw. It’s so wrong that it feels like being blessed.

Brandon fucks her hard. No softness. Just sweat and slick and her voice breaking on his name.

“You watching, Ned?” he grits out. “Watching how wet she gets when I ruin her?”

Ned moans like he’s the one being fucked. His cock leaks untouched. His hands are shaking.

“Touch yourself,” Brandon commands. “You don’t get to come unless I say.”

Catelyn sobs. “I want you both.”

Brandon stops. Pulls out. “Then you’ll have us both.”

He flips her, lays her flat. Nods at Ned.

“Put it in her mouth again.”

Ned hesitates.

“Now.”

He obeys.

She takes him in again just as Brandon pushes into her cunt. Both ends. She’s choking and whining and full. So full.

They move together. Brandon pounding into her from below, Ned cradling her face, fucking her mouth slow and deep, like worship.

“She’s ours,” Brandon says, voice low and vicious. “Look at her. A Tully girl. Noble. Untouched. And now—fucked stupid by both of us.”

Catelyn comes with a wail, shattering like glass. Her whole body convulses. She bites Ned’s cock by accident and he whimpers.

“Let him come,” she slurs.

Brandon grins. “You hear her, little brother? Give it to her.”

Ned jerks once, twice—and spills down her throat with a cry like he’s breaking.

Catelyn swallows it all. Smiles, dazed. “Good boy,” she purrs.

Brandon loses it. Buries himself to the hilt. Grunts her name into her skin as he fills her up.

They collapse in a heap. Sticky. Spent. Breathless.

Catelyn sprawls across them like a cat in heat.

Brandon strokes her hip. “Still think you’re too good for the North?”

She laughs. “I think I’m going to marry the wrong brother.”

Brandon smirks. “You already did.”

Ned turns scarlet.

And still—doesn’t move.