Disclaimer: The characters of A Song of Ice and Fire do not belong to me however this story is of my own creation and should only be used when permission has been asked an given. No copyright infringement intended and no profit is being made.
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: In the season of giving, I thought I would gift you all with an early update. I am hoping that you enjoy this chapter and that it has just a bit of everything to keep you hooked: sex, intrigue, betrayal, etc. To those of you celebrating Christmas: Merry Christmas! Enjoy this update from me to you. And to those of you that do not celebrate Christmas, I hope you have a wonderful rest of the week.
A great big thank you to my lovely, lovely reviewers and a huge welcome to those of you that are favouriting/following.
The Lady and the Lion Fair
Chapter Twelve
The first fingers of dawn were creeping into the bedchamber when Catelyn awoke. She lay in Tywin's arms, her back flush against his front, and could almost hear the troubled thoughts that kept him awake. His hand rested on her belly, thumb idly stroking through the material of her sleep shift to where their unborn babe lay. She stretched, curling her toes and arching her back before settling into his embrace once more.
"I did not mean to frighten you last night." It was the closest that she would get to an apology.
"I know," she replied, voice gravelly with sleep. Tywin would not apologise for his temper but nor would she apologise for her honesty.
The door to the solar crashed open with a tremendous bang, slamming against the wall. Catelyn would have been startled if she had not been expecting it; Val, however, was not so lucky. The aged handmaiden upset the pan that she had just swept the hearth into, spreading soot across the floor. Tywin was outlined in the doorway to the Hand's apartments, looking thunderous. He had adjourned Tyrion's trial until the morrow following her testimony and, as lords and ladies alike converged on him, she had swiftly retreated to their apartments. Catelyn had not expected to hide from her husband for long but neither had she wanted this conversation to be in the presence of an eagerly listening audience.
"Leave us," Tywin snapped at Val. The handmaiden rose to her feet, streaks of soot now running along her mottled brown skirt, before hurrying towards the door. She cast a quick, furtive look at Catelyn before slipping out and Tywin flung the door shut behind her. He rounded on his wife, eyes hard and dark as flint, and for the first time Catelyn was truly afraid of him. "What did you think you were playing at?" he demanded.
"Prince Oberyn asked me a question and I answered honestly," she said, attempting reason.
"You may have compromised the trial," he accused.
"I may have given Tyrion a fair chance," Catelyn argued.
Tywin crossed the solar and gripped each of her upper arms tightly. "I will not have my wife make me look a fool."
"Then you should not act foolishly," she snapped, her own anger flaring.
For a moment, she thought that Tywin may strike her. Instead, he spoke through tightly gritted teeth, "You do not seem to comprehend what it is that Tyrion has done."
"And what, pray tell, has he exactly done?"
"HE MURDERED HIS MOTHER!" Tywin thundered. A pregnant pause followed his admission and Catelyn's mouth fell open in shock, the anger melting away. Tywin seemed at a loss before finally composing himself. "King," he amended quietly. "He murdered the king."
Catelyn did not know how to respond. Instead, she said softly, "You're hurting me."
Tywin's fingers slowly unclenched from around her forearms and he backed away before turning, marching towards the door for a hasty retreat.
She took one step towards him but faltered, "Tywin…"
He hesitated, one hand already on the doorknob to pull it open. Tywin inclined his head over his shoulder but his eyes were downcast, refusing to look at her. "You will never publicly humiliate me again."
The warning was cold and irrevocable and it cut straight through her.
When he had finally returned at night, she had lain in the dark and pretended to sleep, feeling craven but unable to face her husband either. Now, she rested a hand atop his on her belly and when his stroking movement did not cease Catelyn grew emboldened.
"Allow Tyrion to take the black."
Finally, Tywin's hand stilled, tense against her. She heard and felt him sigh, the warm puff of breath close to her ear. "Tyrion cannot win this trial," she continued, truthfully. "Do you truly wish him to be executed?"
"He cannot win because he cannot prove his innocence," Tywin told her. "I told you once before that Tyrion had the means, the motive and the opportunity."
A shudder crawled up Catelyn's spine with realisation. "You honestly think Tyrion did it."
Tywin did not answer and a strange emotion stabbed through her: pity. She was thankful that she faced away from him so he did not see the emotion play across her face. Tywin resumed stroking her belly soothingly and it would have been ever so easy to slip back into sleep, lulled by his gentle caress. "Then offer him mercy," Catelyn pressed insistently. "Let Tyrion confess to his crimes and send him to the Wall."
Tywin scoffed, "I highly doubt Tyrion would agree to a lifetime of celibacy whilst defending the realm from grumpkins and snarks."
"He will if it would keep his head attached to his shoulders," she said shrewdly.
His second lack of response caused Catelyn to shift, turning her body so that she lay facing her lord husband. They were so close that she could feel his warm breath on her face each time he exhaled. Tywin did not look as self-assured as usual: a frown was etched between his brows, his mouth downturned and his eyes troubled. Catelyn reached up a hand to cup his cheek, his whiskers coarse against her scarred hand.
"You would have me bend to Tyrion's will?" he accused.
"No. I would have you bend to mine."
Catelyn caught Tywin's lips in a sultry kiss, pressing her body more firmly against his and her hand on his cheek holding him in place. Her breasts pushed against his chest, the nipples puckering with arousal through the material of her shift. A languid passion built between them as their tongues duelled lazily. Tywin wore nothing and she could feel his cock stiffening against her, making her body thrum with anticipation. He rolled Catelyn beneath him and took each of her hands in his, lacing their fingers together and raising them above her head as his mouth thoroughly devoured hers.
Catelyn wrapped her legs around Tywin's waist, allowing the shift to fall away and gather at her hips. The head of his cock brushed against her womanhood and they each moaned at the contact. She dug her heels into Tywin's backside, a wordless demand, and he thrust forward, burying himself in her tight sleeve of heat. His mouth swallowed her cry. Catelyn squeezed her thighs tighter around his hips and they rocked together, already building a steady pace.
Tywin's mouth slanted over hers hungrily as he pressed their clasped hands further into the mattress, turning his knuckles white. His wife lay cocooned within their arms, her eyes bright with desire in the early morning gloom, lips swollen from his kisses and tendrils of hair curling against her sweat dampened forehead. Desire had not been something that he had expected from Catelyn; aside from the more obvious difficulties in their marriage, he was also of an age with her father and had therefore assumed that attraction would not come easily but she was looking upon him now as if that was not the case. His ego stroked and soothed, Tywin moved with fluid assuredness.
With a slight angle of her hips, Catelyn could ensure that Tywin's body brushed against the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her womanhood with each thrust. She was already so achingly close. "Tywin," she gasped and it was a plea, a prayer and a promise all rolled into one.
She cradled Tywin between her thighs as he pinned her body to the mattress, driving into her. Catelyn's gasps lengthened into needy cries of pleasure as she unravelled. Her convulsions milked Tywin's cock and he thrust deeply once, twice, three times before spilling hotly inside her.
They lay conjoined, gasping for breath. Tywin brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the knuckles before releasing his grip. Catelyn stretched her stiff fingers; since the assassination attempt had left her hands marred, she had lost dexterity in some of the fingers and found that they seized if clenched for long periods of time. Tywin pulled himself out of her and rolled off until he sat on the edge of the bed. He pressed his hands into the mattress on either side of him, head bowed, and she could see that the muscles in his back were taut. Catelyn readjusted her sleep shift and disentangled her legs from the furs before crawling to the edge of the bed and kneeling behind her husband. She pressed the palms of her hands into his shoulders, kneading the tense muscles.
Tywin groaned in appreciation, mumbled incoherently and relaxed beneath her ministrations. At length, he finally spoke, "I will allow Tyrion to join the Night's Watch."
Catelyn felt the corner of her mouth curl upwards in the ghost of a smile. "Thank you," she whispered and kissed his whiskered cheek.
Tyrion had barely slept but lay awake on his cot, staring up at the ceiling. He did not know how long this trial would last but hoped it continued for a while — he was rather fond of his head being attached to the rest of his body. Keys jangled in the door a moment before it was swung open and his uncle stepped inside. Ser Kevan looked upon him coldly and Tyrion realised that here stood another person convinced of his guilt.
The dwarf pulled himself up to sitting, his little legs hanging off the edge of the cot. "Have you come to tell me that all is forgiven and I am free to go?"
Ser Kevan ignored him. "You are losing this trial. Cersei wants your head and at least one of the judges is inclined to agree with her. I have a message from your father: confess to your crimes, plead for mercy and he will allow you to join the Night's Watch."
Tyrion gave a short bark of laughter. "A very fine jest, uncle, except I believe I have heard this one before and the punchline ends like this: be promised mercy, confess on Baelor's steps and then have your head cut off regardless." The laughter died and Tyrion fixed his uncle with a hard stare. "Do not think me a fool like Ned Stark. I am wiser, savvier and handsomer than he."
"Tywin did not order Eddard's execution, nor would he order yours once mercy has been granted," Ser Kevan countered.
"Lord Tywin the Merciful," Tyrion proclaimed regally. "Yes, that does sound correct, does it not? It was mercy that tore down Castamere and slaughtered every man, woman and child; mercy that arranged the murder of an opponent at a wedding; mercy that gave a grieving mother the choice between a marriage bed or the executioner's block."
"You will not walk away from this Tyrion," Ser Kevan warned him. "If you somehow win this trial then the mob will tear you apart the moment you step out of the Red Keep. If you stay then Cersei will have you murdered in your sleep."
"Such bleak prospects for the innocent. Why should I trust my father's word?"
"It was not your father who suggested the Night's Watch as an adequate punishment. He was persuaded by another."
Jaime, Tyrion thought but another name passed his lips, "Lady Stark."
Ser Kevan inclined his head in affirmation. "Lady Lannister," he stressed, "has appealed to her lord husband on your behalf."
Tyrion eyed him suspiciously. "Why would Father agree to anything that she asked of him?" Their marriage was one of political strategy, not love. Yet Tyrion recalled how his father had looked upon Lady Catelyn during Joffrey and Margaery's wedding feast, a softness to his expression as the singer crooned about red maidens. Realisation hit Tyrion and he gasped, "By the gods, do not tell me Father loves her!"
"Love may be a strong word but Tywin has certainly grown to care for Lady Catelyn," Ser Kevan agreed. "I have only ever known your father to be swayed by one other person: your lady mother. As Hand to the Mad King, it was widely known that Tywin truly ruled the Seven Kingdoms but it was lesser known that he was ruled at home by Joanna."
Tyrion frowned, he could not imagine his father being ruled by anyone; not Kings, not Gods and certainly not by a woman. Tyrion spoke more to himself, musing, "Uncle Gerion once told me that the best part of my father died with mother."
Kevan nodded solemnly. "I would agree," he said before adding, "but recently I have seen glimpses of the man he once was. Tywin may seem hard to you, Tyrion, but he is only as hard as he has had to be. Our own father was weak. He was openly mocked by his bannermen; 'The Toothless Lion', they called him. He sullied the Lannister name with his softness, his weakness in stamping out defiance and by allowing his mistresses to openly steal from him. Tywin restored House Lannister until it became a name to fear once more. You know yourself that The Rains of Castamere is more than just a song. Tywin has done more for this family than any other; he has done more for the Seven Kingdoms than any other. He ruled for twenty peaceful and plentiful years and received no recognition, honour or even gratitude for it." Ser Kevan fixed Tyrion with a hard stare. "Now you have a decision to make. Do you think Tywin would have been so easily swayed if you were not his and Joanna's child? The Wall will offer you opportunities, more so than if you remain here. It appears you have four choices: the block, the mob, Cersei or the Wall. Choose wisely, Tyrion, for only one ends with life."
Ser Kevan marched from the cell and Tyrion was alone once more until Podrick would arrive to dress him for the day. He did not know what was more confusing: Lady Catelyn's determination to spare his life; his father actually listening to her plea; or his uncle's display of warm, brotherly love.
The Great Hall was a bustle of activity when Catelyn entered on Tywin's arm. Many people eyed them with raised eyebrows, whispered into their neighbour's ear and then swiftly looked away when Tywin fixed them with his ruthless glare. Catelyn bit the inside of her cheek to suppress her amusement, instead focusing on looking contrite and thoroughly-scolded.
They walked the length of the hall, head's held high amidst the whispering. At the base of the dais they parted, Tywin trailing his hand down to her fingers, squeezing briefly, and then releasing her. He ascended the steps and she walked towards the gallery where the other witnesses were already converging, having been told that they would spend the entirety of the trial together. A second arm, more slender and lithe than Tywin's, slipped through the crook of Catelyn's elbow. She prepared a warm smile for Sansa however it faltered upon finding the Queen Regent.
Cersei leaned in close, her tone conspiratorial, her smile sweet but her eyes flashing dangerously. "I hear that congratulations are in order." Catelyn felt as though someone had replaced the blood in her veins with ice. Cersei gave a chuckle and continued, "Oh there is no need to look quite so shocked; did you truly think Pycelle would keep your little secret to himself? I admit that I am rather impressed: you are certainly carrying out your duty as my father's little wife very well but do not think for one moment that my father feels anything for you," she said coldly. "Tywin Lannister is not capable of love. An heir is what my father needs and when you are no longer useful, you will be replaceable."
"Thank you for the advice, your Grace," Catelyn said sweetly, "I am sure that your marriage to Robert Baratheon made you very knowledgable of a wife's limited usefulness."
Cersei's lips pinched together. "Be sure to take care of yourself Lady Catelyn, that is my future brother or sister that you carry and we all know how precious family can be."
The two women parted, Cersei to sit amongst the Kingsguard and Catelyn beside Sansa. Her eldest daughter was frowning at her but Catelyn gave her a fixed, bright smile. Thankfully, the trial started before Sansa could question her mother on the conversation with the dowager Queen.
The second day of the trial began much the same as the first with Tywin, Prince Oberyn and Mace Tyrell taking their respective seats, Tyrion being brought in before the three judges and the High Septon praying for justice.
Justice, Catelyn thought, such a strange ideal in King's Landing.
The first witness of the day was Lord Varys, perfumed and powdered, who rubbed his hands over each other whilst he spoke, telling the court of his 'little birds' overhearing a private conversation between Tyrion and his sellsword, Bronn, about Tommen being a better suited King than his elder brother. Catelyn glanced at Tyrion and saw the look of deep betrayal cast across his face before he carefully schooled his features into an unreadable mask.
The Spider continued to further damn Tyrion by producing documents that had been diligently filled in with notes, dates and details of conversations that had occurred. He confirmed all of the witness accounts that had happened thus far, except for those from the day of the wedding itself.
Varys gave an infuriating little giggle. "In truth, my lords, I do not know whether Lord Tyrion murdered his nephew or not," he said and there was a murmur at these words; the court had become accustomed to Lord Varys knowing things that no other person could possibly be privy to. "But," he continued calmly, "it was widely known that Tyrion despised King Joffrey and a quick poisoning is much more practical than a widespread rebellion led by a dwarf."
Varys left and Tywin called for the next witness. A side door opened and the herald announced, "Ser Dontos of House Hollard."
A man was brought in wearing a filthy undershirt and breeches, a goldcloak on either side of him and his hands bound in fetters. His grey hair was tangled and thick with grease. He squinted in the light and his face was a sickly, grey pallor as though he had not been in the sun for a long time. Ser Dontos was also taller and thinner than he had been at Joffrey's wedding. Sansa gave a quick start but Catelyn held onto her wrist and stilled her daughter's quick tongue from saying something incriminating.
Hunched and shuffling, the imposter was led to the base of the dais. He began in a rasping voice, "My name is Ser Dontos of House Hollard. I was a knight but shamed myself on King Joffrey's nameday. The good Lady Sansa, who was betrothed to King Joffrey at the time, begged the king to spare my life so he made me his personal fool, often asking me to provide entertainment in his private chambers."
"What kind of entertainment?" Prince Oberyn asked, his snake's eyes glittering with amusement.
"Juggling, jokes, sleight out of hand tricks..."
"Oh, the boring kind," Prince Oberyn said, lounging back in his chair, disinterested. A few of the sillier women in court tittered, eyeing the Prince of Dorne coyly.
"Lord Tyrion arrived in King's Landing to act as Hand of the King the same day as King Joffrey's nameday and shortly afterwards, he approached me and asked me to spy on the king. He wanted to know what his plans were, his habits, who he spoke to, who he trusted... I spied on the king, told Tyrion what he wanted to know and was paid well for it."
"You do not look as though you were paid well," Prince Oberyn commented, eyeing his filthy shift.
"I spent my money in the taverns," Ser Dontos said and there was much nodding in court. "Lord Tyrion then tasked me with befriending Sansa Stark and gaining her trust. I left a note for her, telling her to come to the Godswood and once there I promised to take her home."
Sansa turned very pale and gave a small moan, heard only by Catelyn, "How does he know?"
"I do not know," Catelyn muttered but she fixed Tywin with a blazing glare. Tywin was the only other person who knew of what had transpired between Sansa and the real Ser Dontos; she suspected that following the discovery of Ser Dontos' body he had seized the opportunity of finding a replacement and using him to further implicate his son.
"Lord Tyrion gave a silver hairnet to me and told me to give it to Lady Sansa, telling her that it was magical and could take her home. In truth, the stones in the hairnet contained poison and whilst pulling silver stags from behind the ears of the wedding guests, I slipped one of the stones out from her hairnet. During the feast, King Joffrey was sparring with his uncle about fighting the dwarves, I lifted Lord Tyrion's hand above his head and declared him the King's Champion: this was when I transferred the poison to Lord Tyrion who then put it in the king's chalice."
A buzz of noise filled the hall as many people remembered Tyrion's hand being lifted by Ser Dontos and Tyrion's guilt was therefore further proved. Tyrion had stood up in the dock, but the effect was very limited as he looked no taller, and was shouting to be heard over the noise.
"That's a lie!" Tyrion continued to shout as the rest of the throne room fell silent, the court listening raptly and with sickening excitement.
"Tyrion," Tywin warned, "if you speak without leave again you will be gagged." Tyrion gnashed his teeth together, glaring up at his father but said no more. Tywin seemed to think for a moment, his face troubled before finally saying in a tired voice, "Very well, Ser Dontos. You will be charged for the role you played in the king's murder and may the gods spare your soul." Ser Dontos was led from the throne room and Tywin finally looked at Catelyn. She eyed him beseechingly but his green eyes flicked away without revealing his thoughts. "Bring forth the next witness."
The doors to the throne room opened and a lithe woman with liquid eyes and ebony hair walked down the centre aisle. Catelyn vaguely recognised the woman despite the fact she was not a woman at court. The woman did not look at Tyrion but Catelyn saw the way her goodson's eyes followed her, heartbreak written so clearly across his face.
This time, the herald did not call the name of the witness and silence followed her to the dais.
"My name is Shae," the young woman announced, "I was first the maid to Lollys Stokeworth and then to Lady Sansa when she married the Imp. I was also the Imp's whore." A muttering broke through the court but Shae continued, "I did not want to be, m'lords, but the Imp made me. I was to wed a squire but at the Green Fork the Imp arranged it for my betrothed to fight in the van and then took me for himself. He brought me to King's Landing where he first locked me in a house, visiting and taking me whenever he wished, before finally making me work in the castle — he said the thought of us being caught by his sister, the Queen, or by his father excited him.
'Lord Tyrion wanted the throne for himself. After fucking me, he would talk about how he planned to kill the entire royal family — starting with King Joffrey — until he could seize control. I was so scared. His first move was to approach Lady Sansa through Ser Dontos; he hoped that if Ser Dontos could get Lady Sansa out of King's Landing whilst he poisoned the king then her brother, Robb Stark, might bend the knee to him and name the Imp as the leader of the Northern army in gratitude. Lord Tywin then ordered that his son marry Lady Sansa but the Imp refused to lay with her, knowing that her brother would want her unspoiled. When Robb Stark was slain, Lord Tyrion formed a new plan: he would still murder King Joffrey and spirit Lady Sansa away but then marry her to another lord who could help him to overthrow the royal family.
'Lady Sansa did not know that she was being used and, when Ser Dontos tried to convince her to leave during the wedding, she refused and stayed with her lady mother. By then it was too late for the Imp who had already poisoned the king, as he had said he would that morning whilst he fucked me. Often, he would tell me to call him King Tyrion but sometimes it would be my giant, my giant of Lannister."
The Kettleblack brothers were the first to start laughing, clutching their sides as they guffawed. Others soon joined in until the room was a single gale of laughter but Catelyn did not find it funny, nor did Sansa who's eyes had filled with angry tears of indignation. Tyrion was stood and shouting again, his voice rising above the swell of laughter.
"MY LORDS!" he bellowed until the court settled down, his face red with mingled embarrassment and fury. Tywin's hand rose and the hall fell deathly silent once more. "I wish to confess," Tyrion said in a hoarse voice. Catelyn felt the relief spread through her, silently urging him to confess and plead for mercy. "I am guilty. So very guilty but not of the crime that you think I committed. I am guilty of being a dwarf, of besmirching my family's good standing and that is something that I can never be forgiven for, is it not, Father?"
"You are not on trial for being a dwarf," Tywin's tone was flat.
"Am I not?" Tyrion asked incredulously. "I have been on trial for being a dwarf every day of my life. Not only am I a dwarf, but I am the dwarf son of Tywin Lannister. Hear me now: I did not kill Joffrey… but I wish that I had." He glared at Cersei, looking as monstrous as many people claimed him to be. "I wish that it had been my hand that slew your vicious brat and furthermore," he turned to address the rest of the court, his tone ringing, "I wish I had enough to poison to kill all of you. Every smirking man, every simpering woman and every single lying whore! I should have let Stannis Baratheon kill your men and rape your women. I am innocent but I will find no justice here: I demand a trial by combat."
Catelyn closed her eyes in earnest as his words rippled across the hall.
"You have that right," Cersei spoke up, her green lioness eyes glittering and the first smile since Joffrey's murder passing her lips. "The crown names Ser Gregor Clegane as its champion."
Tywin looked furiously upon his youngest son. "Do you have a champion?"
"Not as of yet," Tyrion answered, "but I am sure that I can find one."
"I would not be so sure of that," Cersei answered sweetly. "The Mountain and the Dwarf; the minstrels will enjoy themselves immensely singing about how this one ends."
Catelyn sat at her dresser, unwinding the braids that her hair had been plaited into. Once her hair hung loose, she picked up the dragonbone comb and dragged it through the locks until it shone like spun copper. A lone candle cast a halo of light around her whilst long shadows inched across the walls.
She and Tywin had spent a strained supper together. His brow had been dark and furrowed as he sat brooding and Catelyn had not known what to say to ease the tension. Finally, Tywin had spoken, "Sansa's maid or Tyrion's whore or whoever she is must have been listening to my conversation with your daughter the night of Joffrey's wedding, to know about Ser Dontos and the poison. Undoubtedly this was Cersei's grand finale." Catelyn could not prevent the surprise from showing on her face and Tywin caught it. "Do you truly think I would have set my son up so splendidly after offering mercy?"
"I did not know," Catelyn had admitted quietly. "Why did Cersei not attempt to implicate Sansa, or even myself? It is no secret that she bares us ill-will."
"I believe that in this instance, Cersei thought pinning the entirety of the blame on Tyrion would be more valuable than attempting to spread the blame," he had explained. After pushing his food around the plate for a few moments he had abruptly stood up. "I must call a meeting with the Small Council. We will need to discuss the trial's outcome and arrange the trial by combat. I do not know when I will return." He'd gestured to the food on the table. "Ensure that you eat something."
He had then left, briefly acknowledging Brienne who was guarding their apartments, and Catelyn had truly attempted to eat a full meal but her appetite was as non-existent now as it had been before she fell pregnant. Her night had been spent being bathed by Val, who had taken one look at the bruises that marred her upper arms, tsked and then scrubbed her clean with more gentleness than usual. Catelyn had dismissed the handmaiden some time ago and settled at her dressing table to work on the tangles in her hair.
Catelyn sighed, returning to the present. It was getting late and exhaustion was creeping over her again; rising early, carrying the babe and the excitement of Tyrion's trial was taking its hard toll. She hummed tunelessly as she gathered her hair in one hand and brushed through the ends. The candle flickered and she eyed it wearily, noting no breeze within the room.
The back of Catelyn's neck began to prickle and she set the comb down slowly, noting the tremble of her fingers. In the looking glass she could see nothing behind her but the shadows in the corners of the room left her feeling eerie. She was going to turn around when a large, black ball of fur leapt up onto the dresser and startled her.
"By the gods!" Catelyn exclaimed, clutching at her chest as the black cat with one tattered ear hissed at her and then dropped out of sight, slinking from the room. Catelyn laughed at herself but the laugh caught in her throat when she saw a flash of steel mirrored in the looking glass, held by a figure stood half in shadow. Cold fear gripped her as the figure spoke in a calm, familiar voice.
"Please, my lady, it would not bode well for you to scream."
