Catelyn sat in her tent praying to the Mother and the Crone. She prayed to them for wisdom and guidance. She was struggling to reason the fact the Lannisters keeping the girls out of the goodness of their heart. Why was Tywin placing such close eye on Arya? The fact that Arya had been alone and running around Westeros; chilled Catelyn's blood. The fact that Arya was saved from torture because Tywin saw she was a girl, made Catelyn relieved, but the fact he was keeping her close was making Catelyn nervous. Ned had never trusted Tywin. Ned had said Tywin's children were a direct result of how he raised them. Why was this happening to her girls?
Catelyn's mind ran in circles and she wondered if she would go as mad as a Targaryen. All the unanswered questions became louder and louder in her mind until she thought she'd go deaf from their shouting.
One of her guards coughed politely and asked from outside if she would see Lord Baelish. Relieved she agreed to see him just from the respite from her worries.
She moved over greet him, taking his hands, and hugging him loosely. "Peter, I am so happy to see you. Please, come and sit. I need to take my mind off my troubles. Sit and talk with me."
Peter sat at the table as Catelyn poured him wine and sat near him. "Cat, have you thought more of what I asked? If I could get just one girl out, which would, you choose? It has been a few days since I first asked. Which girl would you free?"
Catelyn wrung her hands. "They are both my babies. I have struggled with this. I want them both out. I want them to live free. I want them BOTH! I will do anything to get them out."
Peter asked silkily, "Really, Cat? Will you really do anything?" He turned to face her and smiled widely but it did not reach his eyes.
Catelyn nodded, "Anything!" She moved to kiss his lips and found him cold and unresponsive. She pulled back after getting no response.
Peter cleared his throat, "I am sorry, Cat. I had once called you my heart's desire, but I have come to care for another. I would consider marrying her, if I thought her family would allow it. The King said he will gift me with a profitable property because I did him a great service. The woman I marry will have a great home of her own."
Cate smiled through her extreme embarrassment, "I am sure they would be happy to agree for you to join their family. You are a wealthy powerful man with the King's ear. You are quite the catch for any woman."
"Do you really think I would be suitable? Would you agree, if it as your daughter I wished to wed?" He said softly, so she had to lean in to hear his words.
Still extremely embarrassed, Catelyn cleared her throat, "I am sure any family would agree, but it is not my choice to make."
Peter's smile reached his eyes this time and he placed a hand over both of hers that were resting on her leg. "It is good to know that some people think highly of me. Have you picked yet, Cat? Which girl will it be?"
Cate gave him a tragic look and whispered bleakly nearly choking on her words. "Sansa. I pick Sansa!"
"It is good you picked her, Catelyn. We will be able to smuggle her out much easier and can have her married by the time Tywin Lannister could find her. He would not be able to break up a married couple so easily."
"Do you really mean to help me, Peter?" smiled tearfully
"Yes, of course. You will have to write me a letter for her saying she should go with me. She knows your hand writing. I'm sure she'd go if asked her. Tell her you picked her over Arya."
"Of course Peter, if it will make it easier for you, I will." Cate nodded, not wanting to deny her youngest daughter, but if this is what it took to free Sansa then she'd put anything in wed her
"Please, tell Lady Sansa that you agreed for us to wed too." Peter said eyed Catelyn shrewdly.
Cate stood abruptly, knocking over her chair. "Peter! I never agreed to that. She is so young and you are….a man of the world."
"Who better to watch over her and show her the world? If I was going to go against the Lannisters, I would want bonded to the Starks."
"I would marry you. If that is all you wish. We do not have to involve Sansa." Catelyn pleaded.
"Ahh…Forgive me, Cat. You are still a beautiful woman but— you are almost past your prime to give me sons. Sansa is young and beautiful and will bring me years of wedded bliss and many children."
Catelyn blinked and said her voice cool, "To get my daughter away from King's Landing, I will do anything, even betroth her to you."
That brought Peter's smile down a few notches. "Of course Cat, I am glad we see eye to eye. You will have my letter written in the morning. It would be wisest not to tell Robb about this. He will not like we've made this choice."
Cate nodded and agreed. Peter also chuckled as he stood and walked to the tent entrance. "It would also be wise not to ever let Lady Arya know we've done this. It might not go so well for you if she finds out you picked Sansa over her. She does have the EAR to the grandfather of the King. Tywin is very fond of your young girl. He does not mind she looks more like a Stark and has wolf's blood. She will be a formidable enemy for any man when she grows up."
Cate laughed without humor, "You underestimate her. She will be one now, if she finds out. Gods help us both, Peter. She has always hated people who betray."
Peter thought it a joke, "So she has told me already. Good evening, sweet dreams, Cate. I'll wait for your letter in the morning."
Cate watched him leave and then sat abruptly. She poured herself a large Northern Whiskey and gulped it down to wash out the taste in her mouth. Catelyn wondered where she'd gone wrong in this life. Peter, who never failed to boost her confidence, had just called her old and past her prime. She was going to write a letter telling her beautiful sweet girl to go with this man for her own safety and wed him for a bargain of freedom. She had condemned her wilding baby girl to be ward of Tywin Lannister a man not fit to raise stray cats. Filling her cup again Catelyn lowered her head into her hands and wept. Later the letter she wrote for Peter would be stained with her tears.