Author's Notes: Wow, how evil of me to give you all such a short, little chapter – barely nothing and in the middle of the wedding – and then leave for Ghana for three weeks and then New York for another week. That was kind of a bitchy movie. Oops.

Disclaimer: GRRM owns all of these characters and also my soul.

In the Lion's Den
part viii

Before she knew it, Tywin had taken her by the arm and was leading her out of the sept. She was a married woman again. The thought made her feel dizzy. Perhaps Tywin took note of it, because he gripped her arm tighter, though he didn't shoot her a look of concern. She closed her eyes as they walked, letting him lead the way. If she could just pretend that she wasn't here, if only for a moment, if she could pretend it was Ned leading her by the arm…

When she opened her eyes again, they were entering the great hall. Catelyn had lost sense of everything: she had no idea of mapping. The Red Keep was large, and she didn't feel like keeping track. She didn't feel like doing much of anything, but she didn't want to let that on. That was weak. That was…

What is the point? a voice whispered in her mind. Your love is dead; your children are dead. Who must you remain strong for?

Herself, she had to remain strong for herself. For the memory of her husband and children; for the memory of her father; for the North and the Riverlands; and for all of Westeros to see that a Lannister could not break her will or spirit.

Tywin pulled a seat out for her at the table, which she sat in, and he sat down next to her. Neither of them had said a word since the ceremony; they had barely looked at one another since then. People gathered in the room and the festivities began. There was food and music and dancing and wondrous things. People were laughing and cheering and making toasts. This was the wedding she had dreamed of as a child; it was the wedding she'd thought to have with Brandon Stark. The wedding that had never happened had finally happened, seventeen years later. It was going to be a mix between Northern and Southern traditions, she recalled. Northern weddings were more formal, intimate, and refrained while Southern weddings were loud and boisterous. There had been no bedding at her wedding to Ned; and she hoped there would not be one tonight.

"You do look very beautiful, Lady Catelyn," Tywin suddenly said. His voice was low, as if he did not want anyone else in the room to hear him.

Catelyn looked over at him. She tried to put on a brave face, or even a blank one, but she was tired. The day's events, though they had flown by her, had also exhausted her emotionally. "Thank you, my lord."

He tilted his head. "Will you not call your lord husband by his name?"

"Will it matter?"

A burly man with curly brown hair and a bushy brown and white-spotted beard approached their table and bowed deeply. "Lady Lannister" – it took her a second to realize that the unknown man was talking to her, and the name stung her like a hot blade – "would you do me the honor of dancing with me?"

"I'm sorry, my lord, I…" Catelyn struggled to speak. All she wanted to do was lie back in bed. "I do not know your name."

"Lord Mace Tyrell, Master of Ships on the small council."

Catelyn realized that she knew no one in King's Landing but the Lannisters. As the wife of the Hand of the King, she should be more acquainted with whom he worked with, but she had been locked away for more than a month. She had no idea who she was surrounded by, though she knew quite well that they were all as poisonous as snakes. Part of her wondered if she should even try to learn these people, but deep down she knew that she would. If she was going to survive – and she would, if only out of spite – then she would need to know exactly who she was dealing with. If they thought her simple, they thought wrong.

"I'm thankful, my lord, but you should ask my lord husband if you may dance with me," she finally said.

When both Catelyn and Mace looked at Tywin, she saw that he looked somewhat pleased, though he also looked irritated as well. She could see that Mace Tyrell's being here was making him uncomfortable or at least agitated. "I believe the honor of my lady wife's first dance should be with me. Should she want to dance with you afterwards, then I'm sure she will."

He held out his hand to her, and she placed her hands in his. Smiling demurely at Mace, she nodded to him and then walked to the center of the hall. It had been some years since she had actually danced, but once they began to move across the floor, the steps came back to her easily. It was as if she had been dancing just yesterday. Tywin was more graceful than she had expected. She wondered when the last time he'd danced had been for him, but decided not to ask, at least not now.

"You look happier than your daughter did at her wedding." The words, chilling as they sounded, were not meant to scare or harm her. They weren't even misplaced. Strangely enough, she could tell that Tywin meant them as a compliment, though she didn't think it a very good one.

"Sansa was a child filled with hopes and dreams, despite all the horror around her." Her tone was soft and light, but it hurt her to speak of such things. She wondered if Sansa, where she was, was capable of having hopes and dreams anymore, or if her time in King's Landing and the sudden loss of her family had swept them away from her forever. "I am no child."

"Do you not hope or dream anymore, my lady?"

Catelyn looked him in his green eyes. "I dare not."

They danced in silence for a while. Once the song was over, they stopped and people clapped for them. She was able to feign these emotions easier than she thought. She wondered how badly it had hurt Sansa when she had been in this position. It must have been nearly unbearable for her, but she had survived. People had always thought that Sansa was weak, but Catelyn had known her daughter better. She may have had much of the South in her, as Catelyn had, but Sansa was still born of the North and she had still been a Stark through and through.

While Tywin returned to his seat, Catelyn danced with Mace Tyrell. He wasn't that good of a dancer, preferring to ramble on about this or that. She paid him little attention, choosing to nod her head and make noncommittal responses that complimented him, which seemed to please him. Once that was done, she danced with a few more people, all of whom introduced themselves to her very courteously. There was Garlan Tyrell, who spoke of her daughter and how he'd gallantly tried to make Sansa feel better at her own wedding. Paxter Redwyne danced with her as well, before he had to return to his ships. One of the Kingsguard knights that she didn't recognize or care to remember danced with her, though his name was Kettleback.

Catelyn went from man-to-man, reaching the point where she stopped trying to remember their names. Oh, how she laughed at their jokes, smiled at their compliments, and spoke generously on their courtesies. She could almost believe that she was enjoying herself. She didn't think for one second that any of these people actually thought she was happy (with the exception of a few highly thick-headed ones), but as long as she pretended, no one could say otherwise. One older man had offered his condolences on her marriage, not on her children's deaths, and she'd tilted her head and asked him what he could ever mean. If she hid her pain from the world, then for a night, it wouldn't exist.

Catelyn turned around, almost ready (almost happy) to dance with her next partner, when she came face-to-face with another knight from the Kingsguard. "And you are?" she asked warily. She'd heard tales about the knights of the Kingsguard since her time here. Kettleback was one of the new members, but a few tales of the old knights had disturbed her.

The knight bowed. "Ser Meryn Trant, my lady."

Catelyn's entire body froze. "I know you," the words came, though she could not recall saying them. "I was told of how you beat my helpless daughter, at the king's request." Her sweet Sansa – her daughter's smiling face came to her unbidden. A dark shadow fell across her face and Ser Trant turned red. "What an obedient and honorable knight, you must be."

"I did what my king told me to do, my lady," Trant said in a low, dangerous voice. "And if the Hand tells me to do the same–"

"You'll do no such thing to my good-mother." Jaime Lannister stepped in between them, taking hold of Catelyn's arm. She suddenly realized that she'd raised her hand, as if ready to strike the man before her. "And if you even think of it, I don't know who would have your head faster: me or my father." He started to steer her from the dance floor, taking her away from Trant, who looked both shocked and furious. "You must be exhausted from all this dancing. I'm sure you need to rest and a drink."

"I…yes, of course." Catelyn lowered her hand to her side. Jaime let go of her, nodding to her, and then turned around to watch the crowd as she returned to her seat next to Tywin. Looking and feeling a little dazed, she sat down, not noticing that he was looking at her. Had she been paying attention at all, she would've noticed that he'd been watching her carefully the entire time, even while talking with other people.

Without warning, she felt a hand touching her cheek. She jerked her head to look at Tywin, and his fingers tangled in her hair. His face was blank and his eyes even more blank, but she thought she could see something beyond all that, something that might be concern or at least mild interest in what had just happened on the dance floor.

"One might expect happiness during a wedding or perhaps sadness on your part," he said to her, "but anger is not something I was expecting to see from you."

Her eyes flittered to Ser Meryn Trant, who was dancing with a blushing young lady.

Tywin followed her gaze. "A knight does what his king orders him to do."

"A knight is supposed to protect those that need protecting. My daughter was one of those people, and he beat her." Catelyn felt a burst of anger explode in her chest. She felt like standing up and screaming; she wanted to pick up her goblet and toss it at the man. She felt like collapsing to her knees and pulling her hair out. "He's a man grown and he beat a little girl, in front of everyone. And for what reason? Because his king told him to?"

Tywin pulled his hand away from her cheek. Her skin seemed to burn where his hand had been. "Now you know the dilemma of a knight in the Kingsguard." He looked out to the crowd again. "If you're worried, I won't have them beat you should you displease me. I doubt you'll do that."

She snapped her eyes back to Tywin. "How can you be so sure of that?"

"Quite easily," Tywin said with a small smile. "I know what you value the most."

Family, duty, honor. Had she always been this easy to read?

The wedding came to an end just as suddenly as it came to begin. Catelyn had not left her seat at the table after that, although Tywin had gotten up to talk to a few people. More offers of congratulations have been given to her, more comments on her beauty, more sideways looks than she could handle. She had been close to pushing herself to her feet so that she could sweep out of the place, her hands gripping the edge of the table tightly, when Tywin appeared next to her and held out his hand. Her eyes traveled from his hand to his face suspiciously.

"Unless you want to stay, my lady."

Catelyn took his hand and stood up. As they began to walk away, she realized that the amount of people in the hall was starting to dwindle. She'd stopped paying attention completely, picking at her food and sipping on her wine. The people that were left were more or less drunk and the knights that had remained to guard them.

One man nearly toppled at her feet, stomping them both short. "And what about the bedding, my lord?" he said through hiccups, grinning broadly. He reached out, fingering the sleeve of her dress, before she could pull away from him. "This one's had five children, I hear, so she must be hiding something quite good under that gown." The look he gave her was enough to make Catelyn blush as red as her hair.

Tywin stepped in front of her, in between the man and Catelyn. There was a sudden change in the air around him and in the way he was standing. She had not realized it before, but Tywin had an incredibly commanding presence about him. "I'll have no such thing," he snapped. "And if you dare touch my wife or speak any degrading comments about her again, I'll have you thrown in the black cells for a month." She thought Tywin might actually smack the man, but there was Jaime again, dragging the man away to be thrown out of the doors. A wave of dizziness flew over her as Tywin led her out of the hall.

It was only until she realized they were heading towards the Tower of the Hand that she began to tremble.