Author's Notes: Thanks for reading, the follows, and the reviews! You've all been so patient with me. I really at terrible at updating on here. I just don't like the system much and then I forget. Honestly, my FMA fics have been the ones to remind me to keep posting. At any rate, this is the second to last chapter! Woo!

"He's a plump, little thing," Jaime noted upon inspecting the boy. "I've always found it remarkable how…defenseless children look at this age."

Catelyn shifted Tyson in her arms. He reached out in an attempt to grab at Jaime's nose, but fell short by a few inches. "Well it is a good thing then that this is one of the most protected children in the Seven Kingdoms." It could be said that Tyson was almost just as protected as King Tommen, with the exception that Tywin had found better men in the gold cloaks' ranks than the men in the Kingsguard.

The smile on Jaime's face was genuine, if not a little jesting. "And to think, I was once like this, just some little…blob, couldn't even hold a finger, much less a sword. Gods, he's small. I don't think even Tyrion was this small when he was born."

He stopped, blinking slowly as he looked at the child, and then straightened his posture. Out of everyone, Jaime was the one most likely to talk about Tyrion. Tywin rarely ever brought him up and Cersei was intent on pretending she didn't have another brother besides Jaime. Even Tommen seemed wary of bringing him up, if only because he did not want to upset anyone. She was once again reminded that this child, her child, had replaced Jaime's brother in their father's eyes. Though only a few days old, Tyson would take what should have been Tyrion's birthright. Once again, it struck her to ask him how he felt about all of this, but she knew that he would only deflect.

"He will grow up strong and brave," Catelyn said as she laid Tyson back in his crib. She would make sure of it. He would be fierce and proud and kind-hearted and quick. He would live to an old age, wise and far beyond his years even at his deathbed. He would outlast her and everyone would remember him: a lion, a Lannister, but so much more.

"I have no doubt about that, my lady," Jaime replied. "If he grows to be anything like you, he will be a force to be reckoned with. And with the great Tywin Lannister as his father…"

It didn't need to be said.

Catelyn sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "I still think having a tournament for him is a bit absurd and extravagant, even if it's a small one. He won't remember it."

"Perhaps it isn't for Tyson then," Jaime replied. He shrugged his shoulders, his armor clinking slightly as he did so. "Maybe it's more for my father. After all, this is his first child in over two decades. A son, a new heir, might just be his greatest triumph in the last twenty years of his life."

"Besides winning the War of the Five Kings?"

Catelyn fixed the Lord Commander with an emotionless gaze, but it was enough to make him look away. She didn't care if it was rude or caused embarrassment. It had taken her over a year to come to where she was now; and she wasn't going to let her past bring her down anymore. The hardships and loss she had faced would be overwhelming for most, but she had somehow managed to survive. She had let her past become her; and she refused to tiptoe around it with the very people that had caused her this grief.

"I would say that being married to my father has sharpened your claws, my lady," Jaime finally said, "but I know better than that. You've always been a sharp one and quick to cut when provoked." Catelyn raised an eyebrow. While some may have found what Jaime said to be rude as well, it didn't phase her in the slightest. "Maybe you were a wolf for too long."

"You forget, Ser Jaime," she replied, wearing a light smile, "I'm a trout – and trout do not have claws."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Jaime peered at the child again, almost timidly. She had watched the way he interacted with Tommen. It was always so hesitant, like he didn't know what to do or who to be around the boy king. When she had attempted to get him to hold Tyson, he had balked, telling her that he hadn't held a baby since Tyrion had been born. She had realized then, quite sadly, that Jaime had lost more than most people realized. "This little one is going to be fierce indeed, especially if he is anything like his mother."

Jaime left her at that, stating that he had Lord Commander business to attend to. She knew that he still felt conflicted about it – the way his lips would quirk slightly and how his eyes would dart to the side. Did he feel as if he did not deserve the title? He was the Kingslayer, after all. Or maybe it had to do with his missing hand. It had been over a year, but still she caught him trying to use his right hand, only to stop.

"My lady?"

Catelyn looked up to see that Lord Varys had peeked into her room. During her year here, they had only had a few interactions with each other. Varys was always unendingly polite to her – and while she refused to trust someone with the nickname Master of Whisperers, she knew that he was genuine in his politeness and kindness. It was strange. Out of everyone in the Small Court, she would have expected Varys to have betrayed Ned, but she knew now that Petyr had been the snake in the grass all along.

"Lord Varys, to what do I owe the pleasure of a visit?" Catelyn said, sitting down in a chair. "You do not normally come to the Tower of the Hand."

"I must admit; my visits here have lessened quite a bit with the change in Hands, but I felt it would be disrespectful if I did not come to congratulate you personally." The smile on his face was apologetic. This man was certainly dangerous, more than many gave him credit for, if only because he was rather endearing in a strange way. His kindness was unfaltering, though suspicious as well. "I sometimes wonder if it was wrong of me to not visit more often. I know that you may not desire my company, but it must get lonely here for you."

Though she did not want to admit it, he spoke the truth. "It's been a year and still most people of the court fear that I might taint them with some of my…bad luck." Catelyn smiled, not bitterly. She hated most of the people here and found them to be false. She preferred having less company than the company of people that hid behind fake smiles and laughs. "They've yet to learn that what happened to me was neither bad luck nor contagious."

"You have truly handled yourself with more grace than could ever have been expected, Lady Catelyn." Varys sat down in the chair across from her, his hands folded into his sleeves like they always were. "I admire that, truly. I don't think many people, if any to be honest, could do what you have done."

"And what is it that I have done?"

Varys gave her a knowing look, as if telling her that he was quite aware that she knew what he was speaking of. Nonetheless, he entertained her: "Making bed with your enemy, literally, of course. I'm sure you never allow yourself to forget what the Lannisters have done to your family, but someone that didn't know you would not sense it in you at all. It's surprising. There was talk around the Red Keep for months…"

"Oh? I did not realize people spoke of me while I was not present."

Varys chuckled. "That is all people seldom seem to do here. It leaves me terribly busy. I, too, was curious. Your late husband, Lord Stark… He was a good man – a virtuous man who refused to lie or betray what he felt to be right. I admired that about him – but I also recognized his damnation from the start. King's Landing… It's not a place for men like him."

"No," Catelyn replied, turning her eyes to the fireplace, "no, it's not. It's meant for men like Lord Tywin."

"Indeed it is," Varys agreed. "And I wondered… I wondered how you would turn out. I knew little about you, save for a few details that everyone knew and whatever I'm almost positive were lies from Lord Baelish. I thought you would be much like Lord Stark – honorable, true, and too forgiving." He sighed, giving her a strange look. She didn't know how to describe it, except that it almost made it look as if he was…sad. "I was wrong."

"Wrong?"

"Do not misunderstand me, my lady," Varys continued. "You are filled with more honor than most knights and you are most certainly true – but you are not forgiving. People seem to believe that you have forgiven and forgotten, but I know that to not be true. You will never be able to forgive Lord Tywin, no matter how much you love your son or care for your husband."

'Care for your husband,' she repeated in her head. It was disconcerting to hear the words come from another person's mouth. It was even more disconcerting that she did not jump to protest the words. Only a year and already I have lost myself.

"Nor should you be expected to. What was done to you and your family was a tragedy." That was an understatement to say the least, but she said nothing in return. "But you have risen far from the ashes; and I suspect, your success is fueled by your desire for revenge. The best strike against your enemies would be to flourish when they want to see you fail." Here, a little, secretive smiled appeared on Varys' face. "But things become more difficult when the term 'enemy' begins to blur."

At this, Catelyn bristled. "I beg your pardon, my lord?"

The look on Varys' face suggested that he knew all of her deepest, darkest secrets. "It's becoming harder to tell when the act ends and the truth begins, isn't it?"

"Tell me if I'm mistaken, but this does not sound like a congratulation," Catelyn told him, "more like an accusation."

"I beg your pardon then, my lady, for that was not my intention at all. What I meant to do was give you comfort. I'm sure things have been very confusing, difficult, and lonely, but you should know that what you've done in the past year is remarkable. Few people have your strength and will. It's also refreshing to find someone that can't be bothered with pettiness." Varys stood from his seat, suddenly wearing an apologetic expression. She could see now just how much of a master manipulator he was. With Varys on one side and Petyr on the other, Ned had stood no chance. She should have begged him to stay in Winterfell, instead of believing he could do more good in King's Landing. He'd belonged at her side, not Robert's, as selfish as that sounded. She also knew that Tywin would not fall victim to these charms as Ned had. He was made for this game.

(And strangely enough, it appeared as if now, after all that had happened, she was too.)

Catelyn did not really know what to say. This was perhaps the longest time she'd been in Varys' presence on her own. It startled her that he could know so much about her that she had just now started to grudgingly accept. "I will take your words as a compliment then," she settled on.

"Thank you," Varys said, bowing slightly. He started for the door, but stopped after opening it and turned back to face it. "And I'm certain that the love you bear for your son will carry you even further. A mother's love and will to protect her children is a magic that even I can admire."

Once she was alone, Catelyn stood and walked over to the crib again. So often she found herself coming back to Tyson, just so she could look at him. She'd reach down and touch his fingers, wiggle his toes, run a thumb over his cheeks. More and more she found herself amazed, practically entranced by the child, her child. He was her miracle, her saving grace. She knew that now. She'd lost everything, but at least she had him now. He looked up at her now with his bright blue eyes; and she saw a solemn gleam in them that was far beyond his age and reminded her so much of Ned. It was as if he had contracted her grief while she had carried him inside of her.

"You'll be happy," she promised him in a whisper, grasping one of his little fingers. "You'll be happy and smile and laugh. I swear it to the Old Gods and the Seven."

That night, she crawled into bed earlier than normal. A part of her had felt empty and lonely without Tyson's crib in the room. For the first few months of all her children's births, she and Ned had brought their cribs to sleep in their room at night. It felt wrong to be parted with them for such a long time when she'd carried them with her for nine months. However, Tywin had made a point of keeping Tyson in his own bedroom. Servants or handmaidens would hear the child's cries in the night. He didn't want the boy to become too dependent on either of them – didn't want him to be weak – but she knew that he was already too strong and willful for that.

Catelyn was still awake in bed when Tywin came inside. He was quiet as he undressed. She could hear his clothes rustle and his movements around the room, but she didn't look over at him. Instead, she felt the weight of his body on the bed and then there was nothing but the sound of his breathing.

Both of them lay silent for a while until Catelyn spoke, "Did you check on him, my lord?"

There was another pause, but then– "Yes." The way he said it was almost begrudging, as if he didn't want to admit to having gone and checked on his son before going to bed. She knew that he checked every night though. It had become a ritual to him, almost like a reassurance that helped him sleep sound at night.

"You shouldn't feel embarrassed or ashamed that you worry about him," Catelyn told him. "It's only natural."

"I'm not worried about him," Tywin said. "I'm merely checking his progress."

In the dark where he could not see her, Catelyn smiled slightly. "Checking his progress, I see." She rolled over so that she was lying on her right side and facing him. "It must feel strange to have a child again after so long when you never once expected one before." He said nothing and did nothing, still staring up at the ceiling. "It feels strange for me too."

"I killed one son and gave you another," Tywin suddenly said, sounding very distant and far away.

Catelyn pulled away from him, caught off guard and stung by his words. They were true though. She had told herself them time and time again in the past week, but this was the first time he had ever said them aloud, at least to her. She wondered if he talked to anyone else here on an intimate level. She had Ser Broderick to speak to at least, but who did Tywin have? He'd told her on more than one occasion that he trusted no one here in King's Landing.

"It sometimes amazes me that you haven't tried to kill me in my sleep yet," he mused.

"I thought about it," she admitted quietly.

Finally, Tywin looked over to her. "You have been very good to me, Catelyn, when you had no true reason to be. This could have – should have – remained a cold and distant marriage, but you've proven… You've proven to be a better person than I anticipated."

Catelyn didn't know what to say in response. A part of her wanted to ask why this had come up, but a part of her didn't have to ask. She knew. The answer was asleep in the room next to theirs.