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Summary: AU RW. "Do not underestimate what blind loyalty can inspire." The King in the North may be dead but Westeros still bleeds. Tywin Lannister knows that some burnt bridges may need rebuilding and Catelyn Stark is the key. Catelyn/Tywin.
Notes: I hope you all enjoy chapter six. As ever, thank you to my lovely reviewers.
Unnamed visitor: Unfortunately I cannot message you personally but I just wanted to express my gratitude for all of the lovely reviews that you leave! Every time I get a review from you, I am so excited because you are full of such insight - the last review in particular just blew me away because some of the things that you mentioned felt as though you had crawled inside my head whilst also challenging my imagination and helping it to grow so thank you! You've given me so much more inspiration and have expanded this story even further. The next chapter (Chapter Seven) is one that I've only written after reading your review and it helped me to flesh the characters out a little more.
The Lion and the Lady Fair
Chapter Six
The following morning, Catelyn awoke to find the bed empty beside her with cool sheets where Tywin had lain. Val was already bustling around the chamber so Catelyn climbed out from beneath the furs slowly, still tender from the bedding. A sleep shift and richly embroidered, green robe had been laid out for her so she pulled them on before padding out to the solar where she found her lord husband, already dressed for the day and breaking his fast on eggs, bread and ale.
Catelyn dropped into a seat opposite him and picked a piece of comb up, dripping the honey over a heel of bread. She took a large bite, the sticky sweetness running over her fingers.
Tywin glanced up from the parchment that he was perusing. "I see your appetite is returning," he commented.
"A little," she said, knowing well that it was the previous night's activity that had left her famished. She glanced at the parchment in his hand, burning with curiosity but daren't ask about it. Instead, she settled for a neutral topic, "I see Val and Alyce are still my handmaiden's."
"Val is, Alyce is not," he answered. At her raised eyebrow, Tywin elaborated, "Alyce was in the employment of Cersei; I find it helps to give Cersei enough indulgence so that she believes she holds real power. I will not, however, have her spying in my own chambers."
Catelyn took another bite from the honeyed bread and chewed slowly, her eyes trailing once more to the parchment that Tywin had resumed reading. "It's a harvest report," he explained without looking up. "Winter is fast approaching and, even with supplies from the Reach, the country is going to struggle with provisions following the war."
"Well if you hadn't sent Ser Gregor Clegane to burn and pillage the Riverlands then mayhaps you wouldn't be struggling for the harvest," Catelyn snapped caustically.
She began savagely tearing at the bread on her plate, ripping it into chunks without eating it as a storm of emotions raged inside her. The Riverlands had been the second most fertile of the seven kingdoms but the Mountain and his men had reduced half of it to ash — the other half had been destroyed by the rivermen themselves, to spite the Lannister armies and prevent them from benefitting from their lands.
Catelyn finally sighed, deflating. She knew that their marriage was not ideal but continually throwing their past misdeeds at each other would not be beneficial either. Eventually, she said with clear difficulty, "I shouldn't have said that."
Tywin set the parchment aside. "You have never been shy of voicing your opinion before," he said, not unkindly. She flushed, remembering how she had raged not once but twice at him. He continued, "If I wanted a meek wife then I would have taken my pick from any one of those simpering fools in court. I need someone who isn't afraid to give their counsel."
"Even if their counsel differs in opinion to your own?" she asked.
"Do you think good advice comes from sheep who simply nod and bleat your own words back at you?" Tywin asked. "No, I didn't think so. My sources tell me that it was you who convinced Lord Walder to let your son's army cross the Twins, and it was you who treated with Renly and Stannis Baratheon. You are smart and politically competent. I assume because your lord father and Eddard Stark gave you more freedom than most men would allow. You have never been a caged bird, Catelyn, and I would not have you become one now."
It was not lost on her that he had used her given name for the first time without formalities preceding it. "You need me to send the messages suing for peace," she guessed correctly. "And yet I fear that you are putting too much faith in my words. Why should the Northern lords listen to me? I urged them to choose peace once before and they ignored me. I begged Robb to bend the knee and he refused. The Northern lords owe me no loyalty so why should they listen?"
"They ignored you once before and it cost them dearly. You lost just as much, if not more, than them and yet you are seeking peace, not vengeance. They will recognise that and they will draw strength from that. They will listen to you because you are the only representative of King Joffrey's whom they can trust."
Catelyn was still unconvinced. "And what happens if the lords still refuse to listen?"
"Then it is their folly, not yours," he said before adding, "and certainly not your daughter's."
Catelyn nodded thoughtfully. "By sending the messages, we will hopefully prevent the further destruction of crops and livestock whilst allowing the rivermen to rebuild their livelihoods. As for the harvest itself, I suggest increasing production in the parts of the country where war hasn't struck; the Reach, for example, is still fertile and I hear that the fishing off of the coast of Lannisport is plentiful. We can also import largely from the Free Cities and trade with the Summer Isles. Meanwhile, allow the Riverlands to right itself; the land was rich and fertile once, if carefully tended then it will heal itself."
Tywin fixed her with his cool gaze, testing her. "And where do we get the coin to import goods from the Free Cities or rebuild holdfasts lost in the war? The crown is already in a substantial amount of debt."
"You could raise taxes further," Catelyn said and then hesitated. She struggled with her conscience before finally saying, "And I will write in my message to the River and Northern lords that as well as swearing fealty, the terms for peace also requires them to pay a large fine; the sum of which will depend on their annual income."
Tywin leaned back in his chair, regarding her with something akin to respect. "These were your son's bannermen," he reminded her, as though sensing her moral struggle.
"And they lost the war. All those who lose must pay the price, one way or another."
"…I do therefore solemnly urge that you cease fighting and swear fealty to your true king, Joffrey Baratheon, so that this country may heal.
'In swearing fealty you will keep your lands and titles but will be required to pay a sum of one thousand dragons to the crown so that villages, holdfasts and crops destroyed during the war may be rebuilt. The war cost us much and we all lost much but there is hope for a future; a peaceful future for our Houses, for what remains of our families and for the whole of Westeros.
'Signed, Lady Catelyn Lannister."
Tywin finished reading the message that his lady wife had written that morning, her hand gliding across the page in firm strokes as the sun filtered through the window behind her, catching the thousands of shades in her hair. She'd allowed him to read the message only once it had been finished and he'd given her a curt nod before calling a meeting with his Small Council.
Seated around the table with himself at the head was Ser Kevan, Grand Maester Pycelle, Prince Oberyn Martell, Mathis Rowan, Tyrion, Lord Varys, Paxter Redwyne, Mace Tyrell and Jaime. Cersei, having been dismissed from the Small Council by Tywin, did not sit with them but had insisted on attending the meeting so was placed against the wall. King Joffrey had declined the invitation to attend.
The Queen Regent gave a haughty sniff but conceded, "She may be a traitor but she certainly is an eloquent one."
"Indeed, my lord. Lady Catelyn's words did truly move me: so very clever and evocative," Lord Varys simpered. "I do believe that she may be the only person in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms capable of bringing this war to its final, long-anticipated end."
Cersei bristled at his words and Tyrion shot the Master of Whisperers a bemused smirk.
"So you take their coin, they keep their lands and everyone's happy," Prince Oberyn summarised. "We can go about our everyday business."
"Not quite," Jaime inputted. "Riverrun is still under siege; the Blackfish refuses to relinquish the castle to Ser Ryman Frey, despite his army being encamped outside. They say the Blackfish still flies a direwolf banner from atop the castle. Sybil Spice and her children, including Robb Stark's wife Jeyne Westerling, are also being held within the castle — it may well be that the Blackfish is protecting Jeyne because she is carrying Stark's heir."
Tywin briefly glanced at his brother and closest confidante, Ser Kevan, and Jaime had the distinct feeling that he was missing something. Tywin turned back to Jaime and waved his hand dismissively. "The Blackfish is holding Riverrun to make a point; we hurt his family and therefore he's laying claim to the castle. Let him read Catelyn's message and perhaps he will see sense."
"'Catelyn'?" Cersei repeated, a smirk slanting across her face. "How very familiar."
"And if he doesn't?" Jaime asked, raising his voice before his father could respond.
"Ser Brynden always was a stubborn man," Mathis Rowan said, his eyes narrowed as he recalled how the much-celebrated warrior had refused Rowan's sister when Lord Hoster Tully arranged a match between them.
"If the Blackfish still refuses to release Riverrun then Ser Ryman's forces will storm the castle and take it by force," Tywin finally declared.
"And put everyone to the sword?" Tyrion added pointedly.
"If needs be," his father answered coldly.
Tyrion gave him a shrewd smile, his mismatched eyes glinting. "I am sure your new lady wife will be thrilled."
The Small Council meeting shortly after adjourned and Tyrion left, whistling The Rains of Castamere. Tywin followed the members out to the courtyard where they began to disperse and Prince Oberyn fell into step beside him.
"I believe I owe you a congratulations on your wedding," the Prince of Dorne said in accented tones. "I was sorry that I couldn't attend but, unfortunately, Lannister events do not agree with me. I have to admit that I was surprised to hear that you were marrying again after all these years — and to the wife and mother of traitors, no less. In the brothels they are saying that Lady Catelyn must be quite the impressive woman if she turned Lord Tywin's mighty head."
"Our marriage is a union born from duty," Tywin said coldly.
"Ah yes; Family, Duty, Honour," Prince Oberyn quoted. "Well you destroyed her family so why not bind her with duty? But duty does not keep a woman warm at night, does it, Lord Tywin? Women need passion: it's what keeps them alive, I believe."
"Yes, I did hear that your brought your bastard paramour to court."
"Bastardy is not frowned upon in Dorne; there are far worse crimes." Prince Oberyn rounded on Tywin. "Your dwarf son promised justice for my sister, Elia, and her children who were killed whilst you sacked King's Landing."
"Tyrion is no longer the acting Hand of the King," Tywin stated firmly. "Nevertheless, it appears the gods have answered your request; the princess and her children were murdered by Ser Amory Lorch who is now dead."
"How did he die?"
"He was pushed into a bear pit and mauled to death when Lord Roose Bolton and Vargo Hoat seized Harrenhal," Tywin said unemotionlessly.
"I won't say that I weep for him," Prince Oberyn stated, his black viper eyes narrowing on Tywin. "Many people name 'Lord Tywin's mad dog' as Elia and Aegon's murderer."
"A false account. Eyewitness reports claim that Ser Amory was the sole perpetrator, driven mad with bloodlust. He murdered the royal line as opposed to arresting them, as was my order," Tywin said. "If you wish to question Ser Gregor then you may but I do not know when he will return to the capital."
Prince Oberyn flashed Tywin a white smile, looking even more snake-like. "I have waited nearly seventeen years for justice, I can wait awhile longer."
Catelyn and Sansa sat together on a stone bench in the gardens of King's Landing, Brienne standing guard beside them. The flowers were in full bloom, heavily perfuming the air, but soon they would die as autumn gave way to winter. Sansa had only celebrated two name days when the long summer arrived and although they had endured summer snows in the North, she had no recollection of what a true winter meant. A wall surrounded the gardens, low on their side and merging into the sheer cliff face on the other. Waves crashed upon the rocks noisily below and gulls cried overhead.
Catelyn tilted her head backwards, letting her face soak in the sun's rays and feeling almost peaceful.
"I overheard Tyrion tell one of our maids that you wrote a letter to Robb's bannermen, calling for a ceasefire," Sansa finally said. "He said that the letter was good and he thought the lords would listen."
"I hope so," Catelyn replied simply.
Sansa took her mother's hand within her own and squeezed it. "I think you did the right thing."
Catelyn looked at Sansa and smiled softly but the latter noticed how her mother's smiles rarely reached her eyes anymore, eyes that were always filled with such sadness. Sansa had experienced terrible things but she hadn't witnessed the same horrors that her mother had. That was why she now couldn't leave King's Landing, no matter how many times Ser Dontos urged her to follow his plan.
After her mother and Tywin had left their wedding feast the previous night, Sansa had stolen away to the Godswood where Dontos was waiting for her. She'd told him that she couldn't leave King's Landing anymore and he'd argued that she must.
"My friends will keep you safe, sweetling," Dontos had sworn, his breath smelling of sour wine. "Trust in your Florian."
"You promised to take me home but I have no home to speak of. My mother is here now," she had said. "Don't you see? I can't leave her."
"Once you are away from here and in a safe place, my friends will be able to get your mother out too but you must come first."
Sansa had shook her head. "I don't believe you. When they find me missing Joffrey will torture my mother or worse to find out where I've gone."
Dontos had tried to soothe her with further promises but she'd ducked away from his advances and ran, vowing not to return to the Godswood alone again. She had trusted in Dontos, telling him about the Tyrell's plan to marry her to Willas and he had betrayed that trust by telling someone else who had told the Lannisters. How could she believe that he would keep her safe when it was because of him that she was married to the Imp?
A flurry of activity brought Sansa back to the present as a group of harried looking seamstresses passed, each carrying a bundle of materials as Lady Olenna berated them for their poor selection. Catelyn shook her head in mute appeal.
"I am getting quite tired of weddings," she admitted.
"Hopefully Joffrey and Margaery's will be the last," Sansa said.
They sat in companionable silence but Sansa could feel how bittersweet the moment was. As one of five children, Sansa had often competed with her brothers and sister in vying for her mother's undivided attention and now it was hers completely but at what cost? She would have given anything in the world to return to Winterfell for just an hour or so where she could be teased by Robb, bicker with Arya, play 'Maidens and Knights' with Bran or scold Rickon for letting Shaggydog play too roughly with Lady. She would have curtsied prettily to father and let mother brush her hair. They would have been happy and her mother's smiles would have reached her eyes. The thought left a deep ache inside her and she rested her head upon her mother's shoulder.
Their solitude was broken by Jaime Lannister who walked over to the them with a bundle under one arm, his gold hand glinting in the sunlight. He greeted them each in turn before addressing Catelyn, "My lady, if you would allow me a few moments with Brienne."
"Of course." Her tone was cool but, Jaime thought, less unforgiving than usual.
He led Brienne away from Catelyn and Sansa, closer towards the wall that overlooked Blackwater Bay. The sun glittered on the surface of the water, reminding Jaime of Casterly Rock and the Sunset Sea. He lay the bundle that he carried on to the top of the wall and pulled apart the wrappings. The Valyrian steel shimmered in the sunlight, the red woven through the steel drinking in the light whilst the ruby eyes of the lion's head pommel blazed dangerously.
Brienne stepped closer, admiring the longsword hungrily. "Valyrian steel, how—"
"It's better if you don't ask. My father commissioned this and one other to be reforged from the sword of a past enemy but," he held his gold hand up, "I have little use for it."
"You will learn to fight with your left hand," she told him earnestly.
"Even if my right hand grew back I would still not want this sword," Jaime told her seriously. "I have enough blood on my hands, real and gold, without using the sword of an enemy slain by my house. I want you to take the sword."
Brienne's sapphire eyes widened in surprise. "I can't do that."
"Yes, you can," he insisted. "You deserve this sword far greater than I do. I demand that you take this sword and use it to protect those that you serve."
Brienne glanced to where Catelyn and Sansa sat, enjoying a peaceful respite from the turmoil that their lives had become. She turned back to Jaime. "I heard tales of a Valyrian greatsword once; a mighty sword that accompanied a mighty house. Its name was Ice."
"All the best swords have good names," Jaime told her. "Ice was a good sword but this could be a great one. I have a name already picked for it, too."
"If it's going to be The Wench…" she began warningly.
Jaime chuckled. "No, not The Wench although I like your thinking."
"What then?" Brienne asked curiously.
"Oathkeeper."