A day had passed, Clara had her own carriage to ride in while Tywin rode on horseback.
Of course.
She was working on her latest embroidery project, trying to mimic the embroidered vines on her dress, except using green for the vines and red roses for the flowers. She had brought all different colors of thread, she knew that she would finish this project in about three days. She wondered what she would decide to do next, perhaps a lion to honor her new house.
The carriage she was in definitely came from King's Landing, the furnishing was colored in the Baratheon colors of yellow and black. She could see there was a carved stag in the dark wooden door, the Baratheon sigil.
Clara wished she had more time to say goodbye to the other maiden Freys she spent many hours of the day in lessons with, but she was rushed out of there as quickly as possible. They were the reason she had any sanity left, otherwise she would have went as mad as a Targaryen.
Stitch by stitch, Clara's project was coming along nicely, she wished she had enough fabric to make a gown using that pattern, she'd do that in King's Landing, there would be finer thread and fabric there. Then she remembered, being wife of the Hand, she could just have something like that made for her.
She smiled to herself, imagining professional seamstresses making her extravagant silk dresses instead of having to do so herself. While she loved sewing, it eventually became less leisurely after several hours a day making patterns assigned to her by a septa.
Clara put her work down after several hours and started reading one of the several books her septa provided, most of them being about how to be a good wife, as if Clara hadn't been learning that since the time she could walk on her second nameday.
There was a sharp knock at the carriage door.
" We are to set camp for the night, my lady." A nameless squire announced before the carriage door was opened. The nameless squire offered Clara his hand to help her up, and she accepted like any good lady would. The squire escorted her to a tent, where inside she found her betrothed. She stopped dead in her tracks, the realization that she belonged to him just sunk in.
He didn't dine with her last night, too busy, but she was told they would dine together tonight. Her feelings betrayed her, leaving her with parted lips and a rather frightened expression. Clara's realization was too much for her to create a facade.
" My lord." Clara finally managed to utter out sheepishly.
" My lady." Tywin replied. Clara looked down at her feet in embarrassment, she felt like a fool for letter her emotions get to her. " Well, don't just stand there, sit down." Tywin commanded. The suddenness of it made Clara jump, a little squeak of fright exiting her parted lips. She scrambled to the chair directly across from Tywin and sat down, smoothing out her skirts and trying desperately to make herself look presentable.
" You are excused." Tywin said to the squire, who left the tent quickly, as if it were a relief to be away from Tywin Lannister, which it probably was.
They were served a sort of beef stew, complete with lentils, carrots, and potatoes. Clara was starving, though she dare not speak up about it before dining hours commenced, that would be improper of her. The pair ate in silence until Clara couldn't bear it anymore and tried to make conversation.
" This soup is lovely." Clara said, it wasn't a complete lie, but on most occasions she wouldn't have called something like this lovely.
" Is it?" Tywin responded. Clara almost frowned, but thought the better of it. The pair went back to their silent eating for a minute or so before Clara tried her attempt at making conversation again.
" Well, I do suppose the soup could have used a little bit more lentils, but times are bad, spices are hardly anyones priority." Clara said.
" Indeed, times are bad, but they have drastically improved now that Robb Stark is no longer alive." Tywin replied. Clara sighed quietly, she did not need to hear any more tales of death and violence, she had enough of that yesterday.
" Thank the gods." Clara muttered into her soup spoon before letting the warm broth slip between her lips.
" You are talented at facades, my lady." Tywin spoke.
" I did not mean that appraisal to the gods in sarcasm."
" I know, I was not talking about that just then. I can see your talent, do you know why?" Tywin asked. Clara shook her head. " Because I have only met a few other ladies who were able to thank the men that beat them."
" That's just part of being a lady, my lord." Clara replied. " To accept your punishments, and remember what you're grateful for."
" Tell that to my daughter when you meet her."
" I don't want to lose my head." Clara said shaking her head, knowing the queen regent's reputation. Tywin let out a short laugh.
" Yes, my daughter is overly temperamental, and you shall be victim to it." Tywin spoke honestly, might as well tell Clara what she would be in for at King's Landing.
" I have a feeling that I'll be hiding from the queen regent quite often."
" I would not avoid her, actually. Avoiding her would be in vain."
" Then what do you suggest I do, my lord?" Clara asked.
" Endure her as everyone else in King's Landing does."
" Then I shall endure her." Clara finally noticed her wine goblet, picking up and raising it, she looked at Tywin. " To the future?" Clara said as her proposed toast. Tywin picked up his goblet and nodded, making Clara smile. " To the future." She said with more assurance, they took a drink of the bitter red wine, Clara coughed. " Pardon me, my lord, I am not accustomed to drinking wine without it being watered down."
Tywin didn't answer, he just looked at his goblet and back up at Clara, as if telling her she was forgiven.
The rest of the meal was silent, occasionally they would exchange looks, Tywin mostly watched how her hand trembled, making it hard for her to use her spoon. She was smart to fear him, but he could not have her this frightened, especially on their wedding night, it would only complicate things, and possibly stress her into a miscarriage when she was with his child.
But at the same time, if even for a second the girl thought he loved her, that would bring along a plethora of complications.
After supper, Tywin escorted Clara to her tent, noticing how no one dared look at them. Clara noticed this too, she was used to people gawking at her, so this was a change indeed, and it made her feel powerful, she couldn't help but curve her lips into a smile.
She was left to ready herself for slumber, not a kiss on the hand or a goodnight from Tywin, as she expected. Her handmaidens undressed her hair and helped her out of her gown. Clara shrugged her nightgown over her head and crawled into bed, dreams of King's Landing filling her head.