Catelyn pulls the needle through the cloth, forming another red stich in the fishes' outline. She was making a blanket for a baby. Not hers- She'd only been married two moons, though she had her suspicions. It was for Edmure, as his wife was with child. The baby wasn't due for three moons, unless it came early, but still…

Subconsciously, she shifted closer to the fire. The light was fading, but it was also getting colder as winter settled over Westeros.

You were right, Ned. Winter has come.

The last six months had been difficult for her. Well, things hadn't been easy since Ned's death, but they had been worse since the Frey's betrayal and her marriage to Tywin. She hated him for his role in the murders at Edmure's wedding, and also for the war, but he wasn't a bad husband, he had not mistreated her. He was at a council meeting, she knew, but would come soon, to join her for supper. He was not Ned, but she enjoyed his company.

She finishes the outline of the trout, and changes her thread to sliver, for the details. As she finishes the eye of the trout, she hears the door, and sees Tywin enter.

"Lord Tywin,"

"Catelyn. Shall we?"

She smiles. "Of course, my lord," She answers, setting the blanket down and coming to join him at the table. They dined together most nights, being joined by the Queens and Tommen occasionally. They talk over the meal, about this and that. Nothing important, really, though sometimes they discuss politics. Today, though, Tywin brings up something different.

"Your brother and his wife have reached Casterly Rock."

The news wasn't unexpected, as he was sent there after the Siege of Riverrun. She hoped that he could now have a quiet life with his family there, even if he was a hostage.

"And they are being held..."

"As befits their rank."

"My uncle's not been found?"

"No."

That was inevitable, she knew. Brynden had escaped Riverrun in the night-Edmure had helped, Ser Jamie had said- and he was now in hiding. She wasn't sure why she asks, truly, as she hopes that he'd found somewhere safe. She hopes he was well.

After they finish, she returns to her chair by the fire, and resumes her embroidery. He sits opposite her.

"May I write to my brother, my lord?"

He eyes her carefully, with a slight suspicion that makes her bristle. "Why?"

"Do I need a reason? He is my brother. We haven't have contact for six months."

"Don't tell me you haven't been apart for longer."

"Neither of us were prisoners. Nothing stopped us from writing." She points out, not missing the bitterness in her voice. From the look he gives her, neither does he.

"There is, however, another reason."

"There is. This blanket, which I hoped to send to his child."

"Which isn't even born yet."

"Travel times. And the babe may come early."

He laughs. Shortly, but a laugh all the same, and she feels strangely proud. "Are you always this difficult to argue with?"

"Ned always said you shouldn't argue with a Tully and expect to win," She gives a sad smile, then realises what she just said and busies herself with her work. An uncomfortable silence settles over the room.

He laughs again. "I see what he meant. And to answer your question, yes, you can. As long as you do not attempt any treason."

"Why would I do that? I have no wish to endanger either my life or our agreement."

Or Edmure's, if it comes to that. I do not want him paying for my actions.

She suppresses a shudder, and quickly puts that thought from her mind. She finishes the blanket, folds it and places it on the table. It was getting late, so she would write the letter in the morning. Now, though, she has a duty to perform.