Author's Notes: WOW. Okay, sorry. The way I update my fics are really weird. I post them all in the same document and upload them. Wow, I was poo.

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

In the Lion's Den
part ix

Stupid woman, she thought to herself viciously. She'd taken into account how horrible the wedding would be, but she had not once thought about what would happen after the wedding came to an end. Despite the fact that she was no longer a blushing maiden, the marriage would still need to be consummated in order for it to be valid.

When they reached his (their) room, Tywin let go of her so he could open the door. For a wild moment, as Catelyn stood there gripping her fingers tightly, she closed her eyes and entertained the idea of running away. She wouldn't get very far, but if only for a small moment, she would be free as she ran down the halls. The thought of them dragging her back, kicking, screaming, pleading, crying… It was too much. As she felt Tywin pulling her into the room, she knew that she would never be free, truly.

This is what Arya must have thought was marriage was, Catelyn thought to herself dimly, being trapped in a cage.

"Here, take this."

Catelyn opened her eyes and saw that Tywin had poured her a glass of wine. She frowned at it somewhat suspiciously, but took it anyways, muttering a thank you under her breath. The urge to down it crossed her mind very vividly, but she only sipped on it. She felt like she needed the whole bottle, even though it was bitter and strong.

Tywin regarded her carefully over the rim of his glass. "You've not been with anyone since Eddard Stark?"

"No," was the crisp response Catelyn gave him. When he said nothing further and continued to look at her, she sighed. "I've only ever been with him."

"You kept your maidenhood while betrothed to Brandon Stark?" Tywin let out a small chuckle. "How shocking. I heard the only man to rival him in whoring was Robert Baratheon."

"Your son Tyrion outdid them both, from what I heard."

The slightly amused look from Tywin's face faded away almost immediately. Mentioning his youngest son had been a mistake. He was not exactly proud of having a dwarf for a son, much less one known for drinking and mucking about with whores – especially now that he was on the run and accused of murdering the king, his own nephew. Tywin set his glass down. "You'll be given freedom more than most prisoners in all of the Seven Kingdoms, but I will not tolerate any insubordination from you. Whether you like it or not, you're my wife, and you will act accordingly."

He stepped closer to her, and she set her empty glass down next to his. Be brave, she told herself, steeling her nerves, but she was not expecting the sudden gentle touch of one hand on her cheek and another on her waist, pulling her to him. Tywin Lannister was many things, and gentle was not one of them. Out of all of the things he could have done, perhaps this was the one action that startled her the most, and she jumped, stumbling back away from him, her eyes widening in panic. It was his touch that did the trick. It was the first intimate thing to happen while they were completely alone. He hadn't even kissed her during the wedding ceremony. He hadn't showed her any sort of affection or care while in front of everyone, except for dancing with her once and holding her hand while they walked.

No, this moment was theirs and theirs alone.

"You could have done worse," Tywin pointed out. "You could have been married off to someone much worse than me."

Catelyn shook her head, tried to say the word "no," but her lips could only wrap around it and fail.

"Lord Walder Frey actually wanted to take you as his wife, as his payment for his hand in your son's murder."

"No!" Catelyn cried out, swiping the glasses and the jug of wine off the table. They crashed to the floor loudly, wine spilling all over the wall and seeping to the floor into a red rug. She was acting so stupidly, like a child throwing a tantrum, but a wave of anguish rolled over her and it was almost too much to bear. When she shut that out though, all she was left with was rage. When she finally took a deep shuddering breath to calm down, she began to panic. She expected a guard to rush in or for Tywin to slap her for her "insubordination," and she hastily shot him a glance, only to see him just watching her. "Forgive me, my lord, I did not…" She had to be proper; she had to be strong. If he saw her like this, he would know he had won. "I did not mean to…"

But some lies, however small they seemed, were too big to be said aloud.

It felt like ages before he spoke. "I wondered when you would finally break." But no, she didn't break. He didn't know what breaking was if he thought this was it. "Perhaps break is the wrong word," he added, as if sensing her thoughts, "but I did not think it would take you this long to…finally be honest with your emotions in front of me."

If she were truly honest with her emotions in front of him, she would've thrown the glasses at his face. She would've attacked him. She would've done everything in her power to hurt him. But for a moment, she wasn't angry at him. She wasn't even angry at herself for allowing herself to cave into her grief. She was just so angry at everything. And it was then that she realized something. The only time she felt alive was when she was angry. Her days were blurry with grief, but the moments when she felt bursts of anger were so clear and vivid; it was startling. If she did not want this marriage to consume her, if she didn't want Tywin to be the end of her, then she would have to let her anger burn through her blood. She would not be the quiet, simpering wife; she did not think that he would want that anyways.

"Then let's be truly honest with each other in this very special moment," Catelyn said, raising her eyes to finally meet his. "I know what must be done, and I am truly loathed to do anything. I'm sure you know that." She walked away from him, catching her reflection in the mirror, as if to gage her own face. You must be as hard as the North. "It will be done, of course. I have no illusions about this marriage. All I ask is that I am not degraded, not in public and not in private. Surely you can afford the decency of not treating me like a whore when you have need of me."

"A man should treat a lady as a lady," Tywin said, seemingly agreeing with her, "and a whore as a whore. You're certainly not the latter, and I wouldn't treat you as such, but you are my wife."

"And a wife has her duties, of course. Eddard put a child in my belly on the night of our wedding before I even really knew him. I know my duties." Catelyn picked at the strings of her dress, pulling and fingering them almost absentmindedly. It felt more like armor to her than any shield ever could. "That does not mean that I have to enjoy it," she said as she turned on her heels to face, "or make sure you enjoy it."

The dress, which had hugged her thin body so tightly throughout the wedding that she could barely breathe in it, slipped down her shoulders and into a puddle at her feet. She stepped out of it, still in her small clothes, and delicately kicked her shoes to the side. Though the war had run her thin, she'd had five children and the slight curves and body to prove it. She wasn't the blushing maid with creamy pure skin with no lines or stretches, but she didn't care. She had always been proper and dressed appropriately, but she'd lost her insecurities about her body the moment she'd given birth. There were so many other things to be concerned with. At thirty-seven, she was no sprightly young woman that could hop in and out of bed with a giggle. She was no gorgeous wanton thing.

But none of that seemed to matter to Tywin. He hadn't said a word or even made a move since she shed the dress, but she could see the desire in his green eyes plain as day.

Finally, he stepped up to her. Again, she wanted to run away and scream, but she didn't. She was fire. She would not back down from this. She was not weak. Even when he touched her, his rough hands sliding on skin that very few had ever seen, she did not flinch, though she wanted to. Even when he pulled her smallclothes away, she did not jump or cry or step away. She made sure to meet his eyes and let him know just who he had married. But when he ran his thumb delicately across her breast, she could not stop the sudden gasp from slipping from her or from digging her nails into his sleeve. It had been so long since anyone had touched her so intimately, and it had alarmed her a lot more than she'd thought it would.

A small smile appeared on his face, faint and dangerous. Tywin leaned into her, his body against hers and his mouth so very close to her ear. "I find it very difficult to believe that I wouldn't enjoy this and perhaps, just maybe, you might as well."

Catelyn smiled. "We'll see about that, now won't we, my lord?"