Chapter 9
I am a woman wed once more, she thinks as yet another Westerland lord bends to kiss her hand and congratulate her. She had barely gotten used to widowhood, barely resigned herself to the empty space in her bed, and now she was a wife again, and the space was to be filled.
I must look to the future and the living, not to the past and the dead.
She directs another false smile at another insipid court 'lady' and takes a sip of her wine. Arbor gold, and my husband drinks Arbor red. What a fine pair of Lannisters we make.
Catelyn forces herself to swallow the mouthful and then sets the goblet aside. Drinking herself into her cups will not delay the inevitable of this night, only make her look foolish in front of her new household, and bring ire to her lord husband.
She resists the childish urge to pick up the goblet and start drinking again, heavily, and scans her eyes across the hall. A troupe of players begin a lively jig and several dozen of the wedding guests pick up the invitation to dance, and when a singer starts belting out the words to The Rains of Castamere to the same tune Catelyn cannot help but look to Lord Tywin to see his reaction. She had thought to catch him out on his pride, to give herself another sword to swing at him, but he looks at the dancing guests with thinly disguised distaste and, she thinks, boredom.
Perhaps they are not so unlike as she had thought.
He sees her looking at him, catches her eye, and then signals to the musicians to play something else. He stands and offers her his hand, a hand that bears a ring of its own, Cat notices, although his is gold and hers is silver.
"Would you like to dance, my lady?" he asks, and what can Catelyn do but slide her hand in his and let him help her to her feet, down the steps of the dais, and onto the floor.
She is not surprise to learn that he is a good dancer, but she is surprised when he holds her tightly but gently against him and bends his head to whisper in her ear "I'm sorry."
Catelyn freezes for a moment but recovers swiftly. Her hearing is just fine and her ears aren't deceiving her, and she knows him better than to think he will say it again.
Still, it is something, and that something brings a little more life into her eyes, and a little more sparkle into her false, dead smile.
The dance ends and he bows and she curtseys and they walk arm in arm back to their seats.
