Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and elements from A Song of Ice and Fire belong to George R.R. Martin. No copyright infringement is intended.
Playing "The Rains of Castamere" was an obvious honor to extend to their guest. Playing it a second time was flattery. But when the musician began the song for the third time, it was simply an embarrassment. Catelyn signaled a servant. "Tell Alyn that is enough of that song," she ordered quietly. "There are plenty of others to play."
That done, she looked at Jaime Lannister. She doubted he'd noticed the song even the first time. He was engrossed in the Blackfish's stories about the War of the Ninepenny Kings. That was to be expected, but he was not here to win and be won by Ser Brynden. Catelyn nudged her sister gently. "Talk to him," she whispered.
"I don't know what to say," Lysa whispered back.
"Ask him for his own battle stories."
"I can't."
It was not like Lysa to be shy. But then Jaime Lannister was not like other young men. He was still a boy, only fifteen, but he was the most attractive man Catelyn had ever seen. His blond hair deserved to be called golden and his green eyes brought to mind emeralds. His face was without the smallest flaw and his tall body, while still needing to fill out more, was hard and strong. And his looks were not his only credit. He was reputed to be the finest swordsman of their generation. There could no better match for her sister.
If Lysa would not seize Jaime's attention, Catelyn would do it for her. "Ser Jaime," she called. "You must have fought valiantly in the kingswood to earn knighthood at the hands of Ser Arthur Dayne himself. My sister is dying to hear all about it."
"I did little enough," he said modestly, though he brimmed with pride. "I crossed swords with the Smiling Knight but for a heartbeat before Ser Arthur took over and slew him."
"It was very brave of you to cross swords with him at all," Catelyn said. "He was mad, but they say he was a great warrior."
"I did not go looking to challenge him, my lady," Jaime replied, but the expression on his face suggested otherwise. "The tide of battle threw us together."
"Didn't you kill any of the outlaws?" Lysa asked softly. She quickly dropped her gaze and began to play with her food.
"Some," Jaime answered. "But men of low birth, no one worth speaking of."
Uncle Bryden had spoken to Catelyn about killing once. For him status mattered little to the burden of war. He felt the slaying of common men as heavily as the slaying of noblemen. "Their eyes are the same at end," he'd told her. She wondered if Jaime truly felt differently or whether it was not a matter he wished to discuss so casually. He and Lysa can speak of it when they're married.
Lysa did not seem to have anything else to say to Jaime, so Catelyn spoke up again. "You and your sister are twins, I believe? What's that like, having a twin?"
"I couldn't explain anymore than you could explain what it's like not having a twin, Lady Catelyn. She is half of me."
"It must be difficult being away from her." While Jaime squired for Lord Crakehall, his sister Cersei lived at court with their father Lord Tywin, the king's Hand.
"It is. After I've delivered Lord Crakehall's message to your lord father, I'll be going to King's Landing to see her."
Catelyn smiled. The delivery of the message was a transparent ruse. Lord Hoster and Lord Tywin had been communicating for some time now, plotting the betrothal of their children. Jaime had been sent here so he and Lysa could meet and hopefully become enamored of each other. It won't happen with Lysa batting peas around her plate. A good, lively song was playing. "Let's dance," Catelyn suggested.
She had intended for Jaime and Lysa to dance together, but Jaime reached for her hand. Catelyn couldn't refuse and tell him to ask Lysa instead; that would embarrass her sister. She followed Jaime into the cleared space in the middle of the hall. He was a very graceful dancer, almost sensual.
"You dance beautifully," he told her. "And look even more beautiful."
Catelyn laughed softly, though his compliment made her feel uncomfortably warm. "Thank you, ser. I hope my betrothed shares your view."
"You're betrothed?" He sounded almost disappointed.
"Yes, Brandon Stark and I have been betrothed for many years."
"Ah. Brandon gets the elder and I get the younger, is that it?"
"That's it," Catelyn said agreeably. "So you must ask Lysa to dance."
"As you say."
When a new song began, Jaime dutifully led Lysa to the dance floor. Catelyn sat beside her uncle and watched them. They didn't appear to exchange a single word. "What do you think?" Catelyn asked.
"They're young. Nature will take its course eventually," Brynden replied.
"I don't understand what's wrong with Lysa."
The Blackfish glanced at Petyr and Edmure, who were sneakily filling their cups with more wine than they were allowed. "I don't know. Perhaps it's her moon time."
"That's not it."
Jaime and Lysa returned to the high table, and with no other ladies to compel him to dance, Jaime began to chat with Ser Brynden once more. Catelyn leaned into her sister. "Don't you like him?"
"I like him well enough."
"Well enough? If not for Brandon, I'd claim him for myself!"
Lysa gave her a challenging, almost angry, look. "You want him?"
"Oh, yes," Catelyn teased. "But I can't have him, he's yours."
Something flashed in Lysa's eyes. "That's right, Cat. He's mine." With that, she turned to Jaime and asked him if it was true Casterly Rock was really a rock.
Catelyn was pleased things were finally going well. She left them to become better acquainted and went to dance with Petyr.