Author's Notes: Well, this is the last chapter everyone, and it's quite the doozie! There wasn't really anywhere to split it to make it two chapters, so this might be the longest one out of the entire story. A fitting end to this story. Wow, I can't believe I completed my first two ASIOAF fics. That's an accomplishment for me, considering how much I ramble. I want to thank you all for reading! It's been an absolute blast to get emails of your reviews, follows, and favorites. You all have treated me far too kindly.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask and I'll try to PM you back with any answers. As far as sequels go, there probably won't be one. It took me damn near two years to complete this, and it was exhausting. I might produce a one-shot here and there that can be set in the same AU, but trust me, I've written enough Catwin fanfiction to make that confusing. I'd like to personally thank some of the people that I can remember off the top of my head that have been here for everything: jean d'arc, Sigrid Martell, Kit Thespian, Twelve13... Gosh, there are so many more of you! Just thank you all for being with me here until the very end. You all are what make writing fanfiction possible!

Months went by, passing her with such a speed that it was difficult for her to remember what day it was. All she found herself caring about was the growth of her son.

Tyson amazed her with every new day; and Catelyn found herself remembering with each new, little thing he did what it was like to see time pass by watching a child grow. She knew it was a new day when he would laugh and that it was a new month when he rolled onto his belly from his back for the first time. She'd been so excited about that one thing that she'd felt like bursting in on Tywin during a Small Council meeting to tell him, though she had refrained herself.

She suddenly recalled what it was like to watch a child grow instead of die. It stung, bittersweet and hot, but despite the ache in her chest, she could not hold back from loving this boy fiercely. A part of her felt as if she should resent the child. After all, there were times when loving him felt like a betrayal to her other children. How could love this child after losing all the rest? This boy was a part of the enemy, a piece of the man that had plotted her oldest and last remaining son's murder. She should hate it, be cold to it, never look upon it with love or kindness.

But for some reason, that only made her think of Jon Snow; and she would blink those thoughts away and shove them as far from her as possible.

She thought of all the times that Jon, as a very young child, had mistakenly run up to her for a hug after watching Robb do the same. He'd only been two when he'd learned not to do that. Robb would rush inside after playing, hair covered in dusts of snow, and she'd hug him, swing him in the air as best as she could. Jon would come trailing behind him, his normally pale cheeks still rosy from the cold, and he'd tug on her dress wanting to be held as well, and she would… Well, she would always turn away from him, wouldn't she? Never said a word, never exactly told him "no," but she never looked at him either.

His existence had served to remind her of the shame Ned had brought into their marriage, of his betrayal to her. He'd promised her that he wasn't like Brandon, that he would never dishonor her for his own selfish reasons, for the small amount of time they'd had alone together. And yet he had anyways and he'd brought his dishonor to live with them. And then, when she had asked a mere question, he had been angry with her, practically yelled at her, and ordered her to never speak of it again. Oh, how she had cried for days after that. What kind of terrible wife could she be if her husband could not even talk to her or tell her his secrets when she was expected to tell him everything and be completely dutiful?

And when the tears left her, she'd taken her resentment and anger and jealousy out on the boy; and by that, she had simply refused to be his mother. It wasn't expected of her regardless. Ned never once asked her why she did not act warmly towards Jon Snow or why she never hugged him and he never told her to be either. That much was normal. In respect to the boy, once he had figured out that she was not his mother and would never act like his mother, he kept his distance from her as much as possible, not wanting to upset her. Robb had gotten angry with her a few times over it, but a child could not understand the kind of affront it was that Ned had done to her, the kind of embarrassment it brought upon her and their name.

Now… Now she looked at this child, this little boy, Tywin Lannister's son, her son… And she thought to herself that she could be angry with this for ever happening. She could resent Tywin for forcing motherhood upon her again when he'd taken it from her in the first place. She had not wanted to lay with him in bed; she had not wanted to marry him; she had not wanted any of this. Yet he had made it happen. She didn't want this son.

But she loved him – loved him so much that it made her ache when she was parted with him every night. She loved how he'd wrap his fingers around hers so strongly for a child that it reminded her of Rickon; his wide blue eyes always searching reminding her of Robb; how she could tell exactly what his cries were for just as she had known instinctively with Sansa; the way he crawled everywhere and got into everything like Bran had; and how strangely independent he was for a baby as Arya had been, not needing her touch as much as she wanted to touch him. Sansa and Rickon had both loved to be held all the time, Robb and Bran an average amount of time, but like Arya, Tyson almost seemed content to be by himself. Tywin was pleased with that – said that it showed strength.

Truth be told, Catelyn hoped that when he was old enough to run and speak, Tyson would cling to her as much as possible. She wanted him close by her at all times; she wanted him to love her and trust her implicitly. She tried imagining him as a toddler, but all she could do was picture Rickon the last time she saw him all those years ago and she could not think of anything else after that.

After spending at least an hour getting ready, Catelyn shooed the handmaidens away. She was not so young anymore that she needed other women fawning over her and helping her look pretty. For the most part though, she just wanted some time to herself and her son. Tyson was in his crib, happily and quietly playing with a stuffed lion that had appeared in his crib a few weeks ago. (She knew that it was a gift from Tywin, but she had not brought it up to him, knowing that it would only serve to embarrass him and he would deny it besides. One day, he would not allow their son to play with toys and so she made sure that Tyson could cherish the time he had to be a child now and did not want to spoil it with Tywin.) Her favorite part of the day was sitting down and brushing her hair while listening to Tyson play in his crib behind her.

It had been difficult getting a second crib placed in their bedchamber – Tywin had been against the idea completely – but she had fought with him for a month before he'd relented begrudgingly. And it had been begrudgingly, if only because she'd had the crib brought into their room one afternoon when she knew he would be busy all day. By the time he'd come back to sleep, it had been too late for the crib to be taken away by anyone because he was so tired from the day's activities; and well, she had done some more convincing in the morning before he'd left again. Tyson would only be in the crib in their bedchamber when Tywin was out and he'd be back in before they retired to bed. She'd reasoned that she could have just done it without his permission and he might not have ever found out until months later.

Tywin had given her a shrewd look and told her, "The Lannister name becomes you apparently."

That comment alone had been enough to make her stew for a whole week. She was a Tully. (She had been a Stark.) She would never be a Lannister, not like Cersei, who bore the Lannister name so stubbornly that it stung other people in the face.

Once she was finished doing a simple braid on both sides of her head, keeping most of her red hair down, Catelyn walked over to the crib to look in on her son. Tyson was, as usual, happily playing with his stuffed lion. When he saw her though, he dropped the toy and lifted his arms to her. It was as if he knew that she was the one that needed his comforting touch and he relented to her every morning. She liked holding him because he reminded her of life and happiness and that there was still good in the morning; she felt reassured of everything when he was in her arms. He would always be an independent child, but he knew that she was not so independent from him.

A knock on the door made her turn. "M'lady?"

"You may come in."

Ser Broderick peeked into the room. "The Hand requests your presence. He said the tourney's about to begin and he wants you there."

One of the three handmaidens chosen to watch over Tyson while Catelyn was not with him slipped into the room past Broderick. With great difficulty, Catelyn parted with her son and handed him over to the young girl, a small, mousy-haired little wisp. "Thank you, m'lady," the girl, Marissa, said with a small smile on her face. A tournament was no place for a baby, despite the fact that it was specifically for the birth of their son – or maybe it was for Tywin himself. Catelyn had learned not to care about it as the planning for the whole thing went on. They had both decided that Tyson would only be there half the time. He didn't cry much, but loud crashing noises and screaming were two things that all babies disliked.

Still, she was at least pleased with who Tywin had chose to watch over Tyson. Marissa was her favorite. The girl was endearingly sweet and great with Tyson. She was not afraid to play with the baby or look foolish doing so; once she had walked in on Marissa rolling on the floor with Tyson while he attempted to roll onto his belly for the first time. She had jumped to her feet and apologized, looking so embarrassed, but it had been such a grand and sweet sight that all Catelyn had been able to do was laugh. She had done the same thing with Robb whenever they were out of everyone's sight at Riverrun while Ned was off at war.

"He likes to be fed at noon and have his belly rubbed and…" Catelyn trailed off. Though she never said anything or interrupted her, she knew that Marissa knew all of these things. She was the one that remembered everything. "But you know all of this. I'm being absurd. You are so good with him. Have you any children of your own?"

Marissa ducked her head and rubbed one of Tyson's chubby cheeks. "No, m'lady, I…" When she raised her head, her eyes darted to Broderick very briefly before going back to Catelyn. The look on her face was a mixture of humiliation and sadness. "I cannot." Before Catelyn could say anything or even think to apologize, Marissa continued, "But fret not, m'lady. That's why I work with children, so I am still happy."

"That is very…very kind of you, Marissa." Catelyn felt a little stunned. The idea of being barren had scared her as a young girl, when her betrothal to Brandon Stark had first been announced, but she had not had to worry about that for many, many years; and it had no longer crossed her mind. She loved being a mother. It hurt her to think that this sweet, seemingly innocent girl would never get that chance and was forced to live vicariously through other women and her job.

"Thank you, m'lady," Marissa replied, "but you must be off. Lord Tywin was very insistent when he asked for her. He did not want things to start before you were at his side, hence why he sent for me early."

Catelyn nodded her head and walked to the door where Broderick was patiently waiting. She took one more glance at her son and Marissa. The young girl picked up Tyson's hand and made it look like he was waving goodbye to her. Smiling, she stepped out of the room so that Broderick could close the door and they walked in the direction where the tournament was being held. There was only going to be a jousting and archery tournament, but it would still be a nice event. Young King Tommen had certainly been excited about the whole ordeal at least.

"You cut your hair," Catelyn piped up as they walked outside into the sunlight.

Broderick grinned, his cheeks turning a little red. "It was getting a bit…long. S'hard enough to see out of this helmet as it is; I didn't need my hair getting in the way of the visor too. I'd just run into walls then."

Catelyn laughed. "Well, they did a…lovely job."

"Oh, you don't need to lie, m'lady," Broderick told her, the grin still on his face. "I know it looks awful. Luckily I can wear this ugly helmet to cover up my ugly hair." She laughed again. It felt good to laugh – it felt warm and nice. "That's what I get for letting someone who's been drinking cut my hair. You get what you pay for."

Indeed, you did get what you paid for. Catelyn could attest for that in many ways. Not wanting to let something become serious or fall into sadness, she decided to switch the subject. "You know, Marissa is a very lovely girl."

"I, ah– Yes, she is, m'lady." Broderick immediately looked ahead and waved at the stands. "Oh, look, here already! I always forget how close these things are held to the actual Red Keep."

There was a sly smile on Catelyn's face, but she said nothing about that and instead added, "And it looks filled to the brim."

"Everyone's excited," Broderick told her. "There hasn't been a tourney since, hm… Since King Joffrey's name-day tourney, but it was small and…ah…"

"Not very fun?" Catelyn offered.

The look on Broderick's face told her that her words were an understatement at best, but he nodded his head. "Not very fun at all, m'lady."

They walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence. Broderick stepped in front of her to make a path, but for the most part, he did not need to move people out of the way. People parted for them the moment they realized who was walking behind him. Catelyn did not know if it was out of fear for catching whatever ill luck she might possess or fear of her lord husband's wrath that they might procure, but the smallfolk very rarely bothered her, if at all. She did not know how she felt about their wariness towards her. Back in the Riverlands, she had loved mingling with the smallfolk and had been very well-received as the Lady of Riverrun even at a young age after her mother's passing. The people in the North had been curious folk, but she had found them to be warm and welcoming despite her being from the South. People in King's Landing were entirely different and their moods towards highborns seemed to shift with the wind.

When they finally reached the stand where the Hand, the king, and the queens sat, Tywin stood up from his seat. Broderick bowed and even Catelyn curtseyed slightly. She nodded once to Broderick, who smiled a little and then stepped down from the stage and, despite his gold cloak uniform, disappeared back into the crowd.

"My apologies for being late, Your Grace," Catelyn told the young king.

Tommen did not seem to care in the slightest. "It's okay. No one's ready anyways."

Catelyn took hold of the hand that Tywin had held out for her and sat down next to him. She was watching the knights walking around when she heard Cersei ask, "And where is that darling son of yours? This is all for him, after all. Should he not be out here?"

The first thing that Catelyn thought was, Tyson is as far away from you as he can be in this godforsaken place.

What she said out loud though was, "Tyson is with the maids. Loud noises can cause a baby to lose hearing. I thought it best if he was present for the archery tournament and not the jousting. Archery tends to be quieter as a whole." He wasn't even one year-old and already things were expected of him and Cersei was looking down on him. It aggravated Catelyn to no end. Cersei did her best to ignore Tyson's existence, only to make snide remarks about him when it suited her. "I expect you to know that, having had three children yourself."

"I suppose you would know since you had five children," Cersei snipped back, "except for the fact that they are all dead now, so I suppose you did something wrong." When Catelyn turned her head around to glare at the other woman, all Cersei did was smile sweetly. "Let us hope that things prove different with this child."

Catelyn gripped her lord husband's hand tightly, if only to keep herself from standing up and slapping Cersei in the face. "Are you threatening your little brother's life?"

Cersei's face turned into a snarl. "He is not my brother. He's a–"

"Enough." Tywin's voice settled over the stage, its firmness silencing everyone. "I will not tolerate this bickering, not here, not now, not in public. This tournament will start and I will hear no more of this."

Catelyn gave Cersei one last sharp glare before turning back around and forcibly relaxing in her seat. No doubt Cersei was fuming in her silence, but she paid the Queen no mind. She would focus on this tournament even if it bored her to tears. The tournament began as Tywin willed it; and Catelyn forced herself to pay attention, though she lost focus halfway through. This was for her child, for her husband, and in a way for her, but she could not find it in herself to care that much. She'd been to plenty of tourneys before and they were all the same in the end.

Near the end of the tournament, Tywin leaned in to whisper, "You do not need to worry about Cersei concerning Tyson. She would not dare do anything against him."

"Are you so certain of that?" Catelyn replied, not looking at him but keeping her eyes on the knight that had just won his joust. "In her eyes, Tyson has stolen Jaime's right to Casterly Rock."

"Jaime lost that right when he foolishly decided to join the Kingsguard," Tywin told her, sounding vaguely irritated, "and again when he refused to leave its service. The Rock is Tyson's by right and he is my son. If she were to harm him…"

Catelyn looked at him finally. "Would you punish your own daughter?"

"Yes," Tywin answered her without any hesitation.

A strange feeling coursed through Catelyn. She knew without a doubt that Tywin was not lying to her. He would protect their son, even if it meant protecting him against his own blood. It was a cold concept, but one she knew that he was wholly capable of. Tywin Lannister was not a man like any other and he did what was best for the Lannister name as a whole and not just for himself. Catelyn knew that first hand; and she hoped that as a Lannister by blood, Cersei would know that as well. Certainly Tyrion Lannister had.

Once the first round of jousting ended, Tywin walked Catelyn back to the castle where they would have lunch. Queen Margaery followed behind them, listening intently as Tommen talked about some of the day's more shocking events, while Cersei trailed in the back with two members of the Kingsguard looking even sourer than before the tournament had first started. The whole time, Tywin kept his and Catelyn's arms entwined, as if keeping her close to make sure she didn't suddenly attack Cersei or perhaps to protect her. No one dared to even look at her at Tywin's side. It was a strange thought, realizing that she was intimidating to other people, if only because of whom her husband was.

They entered the castle and went to the room where they would all be having a late lunch together. Marissa entered the room with Tyson in her arms, flanked by Ser Broderick and another gold cloak. She handed the baby to Catelyn, who thanked her, and the three left.

"Can I sit next to you?" Tommen asked her.

Catelyn felt touched. "Of course, Your Grace."

Budding with excitement, Tommen switched seats with Margaery Tyrell, who seemed more than happy to oblige to the king, even if it meant she now had to sit next to Cersei. Tommen scooted his chair closer to her, so that he could play with Tyson as their food was being brought in. Catelyn could tell that it frustrated Tywin somewhat to see the king behaving so childishly, but Catelyn cared not. As far as she was concerned, despite the crown and title, Tommen was a child; and though he was not her own, she was determined that he savor the rest of his childhood that he had left. Robb hadn't had that chance the moment he'd bore the crown as King in the North and he had been many years older than Tommen.

Lunch was a short affair. Catelyn ate quickly so that she could focus on Tyson while everyone else talked about what had happened so far. There was some speculation as to who might be named Queen of Love and Beauty. Cersei seemed confident, though Catelyn secretly thought that Margaery would be the one to win the prize. The Tyrell girl shined brighter than almost any other person in King's Landing, to the point that even Catelyn had grown to admire her. No doubt Margaery Tyrell was playing the game, but she was undyingly sweet and polite at all times that it astounded Catelyn at times. She could learn a thing or two from the younger girl, if she actually cared to charm people at court.

Cersei was the first to decide to leave. She apologized, stood up, and headed towards the door but stopped when she was standing next to Catelyn. For a moment, she said nothing, merely looking down at Tyson, and then said, "He looks like a Lannister." She tilted her head. "But I would still be careful, if I were you."

"It's nice to see that you are so concerned about your new baby brother," Catelyn replied coldly, "but the same could be said for you. It is a dangerous time to be a Queen."

It looked as if Cersei was about to respond when she glanced at her father. Catelyn did not have to look at her lord husband to know that he was wearing a disapproving look. It was enough to silence Cersei. She bid them good day and then swept out of the room in a fury, one of the Kettleback brothers following her. Catelyn was able to relax in her chair again and looked down at Tyson. Despite Cersei's remarks and vague threats, he was happy and none the wiser to her stress. Margaery left soon after, saying that she wanted to see how her brother Loras was doing after the first round of jousting, Tommen following her eagerly. He adored the Knight of Flowers as many young boys did. That left Catelyn alone with her husband and son. The room was quiet, despite having a baby in it.

"You look happy," Tywin abruptly stated.

Catelyn glanced at him. "I suppose I am."

"I haven't seen you look like this in, well…"

"Ever?" Catelyn turned her attention back to her son. His eyes had remained bright blue, just as she'd known they would. Cersei was right when she'd said that Tyson looked like a Lannister, but he had strong Tully eyes that reminded her of Edmure. She desperately wished that her brother could see his nephew, but she knew that he could not leave the Rock after having his own child. "I don't think I've felt like this in a very long time."

"I must admit that I was…concerned that the pregnancy and having a child would push you further into depression," Tywin told her, leaning back in his chair and looking over her carefully.

As Tyson wrapped a chubby hand around one of her fingers, Catelyn smiled faintly. "It did – when I first realized it. I was afraid to tell you – afraid of your own…happiness towards it." She almost rolled her eyes. The day Tywin displayed happiness would be a strange day indeed. "When I realized I was with child, I felt like I'd betrayed everyone I had ever loved, but now I…I know that's not true. How can it be, when I love him so much?" She looked at her husband again. "I don't know if I deserve it or not, but Tyson does feel like a second chance. If the gods willed for this to happen, then I should not forsake it."

"We have found ourselves in a very unique and strange situation, my lady," Tywin sighed, "one that proved more fruitful and better than I could have hoped for."

"If you had so little hope for the future of this union, then why did you push so hard for it?" Catelyn asked, almost dryly.

"I had a hunch that you might be worth it in the end," Tywin answered. "And I was right. You were the right choice."

Catelyn rolled her eyes. "I'm very glad to have been a good decision on your part."

"You should know that you mean more to me than that, Catelyn," Tywin told her. This time, she knew what was in his voice – she recognized it instantly – and it made her stop and stare at him.

She felt like she could barely breathe. "Tywin…"

The door burst open, making Catelyn jump, which startled Tyson and made him start crying. Catelyn was too busy trying to calm Tyson down to see who had come in so abruptly. Tywin stood up, his mouth pressed thin, looking more than ready to berate whoever had interrupted them, but when she glanced at him for a moment, she saw his anger slack for a moment.

"Sorry to interrupt," the intruder said. Catelyn recognized the voice as Jaime and turned around in her seat to look at him, still instinctively trying to calm Tyson down without looking at him. "I just received urgent news."

"What kind of news?" Tywin demanded.

"News for your wife," Jaime replied.

Immediately Catelyn and Tywin connected eyes. She stood up from her seat and held Tyson out for Tywin to hold. He gave her an almost startled look, telling her that he did not particularly want to hold their son, but she pressed Tyson into his father's arms anyways and then walked over to Jaime. She did not have time for Tywin's distant parenting skills.

"From where?" Catelyn asked, sounding calmer than she felt. It had been a long time since she'd received any letters, not since the birth of Edmure's daughter at the Rock. Tywin had allowed them to correspond every now and then. He'd known how happy it had made her to speak with her little brother and it had made things easier after the pregnancy.

"The Eyrie."

At this, Catelyn took a step back and furrowed her brow. "What news for me could possibly come from there? Lysa is dead, so unless Robert…"

"Your nephew is fine, my lady," Jaime told her. Though he may still be alive, Catelyn was unsure whether or not Robert Arryn would ever be fine after the murders of his father and mother and whatever else kept him sickly. Jaime had seen Robert when they had been in King's Landing, but she was almost certain that Robert had grown worse after returning to the cold Eyrie. "It is…something else."

"What is it then?" Catelyn felt herself bubbling with energy that she hadn't felt since she'd realized that she was going into labor with Tyson. It was almost too much to handle. "Jaime, tell me."

Jaime did not look away from her, not even to look at his father, as he said, "Apparently, information concerning your daughter Sansa has come up. It appears as if…well, it appears as if there is a possibility that she is alive and in the Eyrie."

It took everything in Catelyn not to collapse. She swayed slightly, but Jaime grabbed a hold of her arm and guided her over to the chair. Though he tried to convince her to sit, she shooed him away and instead held onto the back of the chair, lost in thought. Sansa? Sansa was alive? That would mean… She glanced at Tyson in Tywin's arms. Tyson was not her only child, her last chance at redemption. There was… There was more hope than she could have hoped for. She breathed heavily, as if all the air had been sucked out of the room, and tears filled her eyes.

"Sansa, oh…" Catelyn turned to her husband. "I have to see her."

"This may not be true," Tywin warned her.

"I have to see for myself!"

Tywin took a deep breath and looked at his oldest son. When Jaime walked over to him, Tywin handed him Tyson. For a moment, Jaime hesitated, standing there awkwardly holding his baby brother. He'd done his best to avoid holding the child, but now he could not avoid it. "Leave us. Take him to the maids." Jaime moved Tyson around in his arms and cast Catelyn one last unreadable glance before he strode out of the room. Almost carefully, Tywin walked over to her and then put his hands on her arms. "Do not get your hopes up about this. There have been sightings before."

"This feels different," Catelyn told him. "You saw the look on Jaime's face. I know that there have been so-called sightings that you haven't even told me about, but he felt the need to rush in here unannounced to tell me. I have to see for myself. I…I have to…"

At first, Tywin said nothing, just looked her in the eyes, and then he pulled her into his arms and rested his chin atop her head. "Then I will go with you."

"But you have your responsibilities and duties here."

"And I have my duties to my wife and any remaining children of hers," Tywin added, putting a finger underneath her chin so that she would look up at him in the eyes. "You are mine and I am yours. I said the vows, same as you. We will do this together."

Catelyn had never felt right about whatever it was between her and Tywin – she had struggled and fought with it – hated it and beleaguered against it, but now she knew that she could no longer do that. Tywin was her husband and she was his wife. Their marriage would never be perfect, would never be clean, would never be empty of hate and resentment. She would never forgive him for what he'd done. But in a strange way, after Tyson's birth, upon hearing this news about the possibility of seeing Sansa again, Catelyn felt like she could conquer a world with him, or at least just Westeros. She could not explain how things had changed so drastically in a matter of a year and a half, but they had and it had been an excruciatingly painful journey, one that she would not wish on her enemies.

But she was different and he was different and they had changed each other, for the better. That was what a marriage was about, was it not?