Author's Notes: So I'm sorry it took so long for me to post the next chapter. Truth is, I simply hate how you upload stuff on this site.

Disclaimer: Not mine, blah blah blah.

The Winter's Song
Part XIII

She told no one of the pregnancy, save for Tywin. She didn't want any of the ladies of the court to know and she most certainly did not want either of the queens to know either. The moment that Cersei Lannister found out that she was going to be a big sister again would be the moment that the feud between Catelyn and the Queen Regent would explode. Catelyn was sure of it. She could already hear the sneering remarks and the biting comments that would slip out of the blonde's pretty mouth; and Catelyn could not take it, even if they were only in her mind.

Tywin wanted to keep a lid on this anyways. He hadn't wanted anyone to know that Catelyn was with child. Perhaps it was partly to protect her, but she thought it was also to not get his hopes up. Though he hadn't voiced his concerns that much to her, she felt as if she could tell that he was concerned with her progress. Having a child was a delicate situation with him. He'd lost one wife to it; and Catelyn had lost her mother to it. Who was to say that tragedy would not strike again? The thought scared Catelyn more than she could ever remember being scared.

She could remember being worried that something might go wrong during the births of her children with Ned, but she had never been scared for some reason. Ned had been so reassuring. After Robb's birth, which had been the most nerve-wracking since she'd felt so alone, she had reassured herself that she would be fine. Yes, it was true that her mother had died while giving birth for the seventh time, but Catelyn had willed herself not to be scared. Even after losing the second child so suddenly, she'd forced herself to not panic. Now, however, she couldn't help but feel frayed at the edges. She would tug on the sleeves of her dress and go into bouts of sadness and worry.

Catelyn tugged at her dress around her waist. They were starting to get snugger around her middle where her belly was beginning to grow. In another month, she would not be able to hide it. She was going to have to get new dresses made soon. Even if she did that quietly, it would somehow get out or some of the women would notice the new dresses and ask what they had been made for. Everyone here was so nosey; they had to know everyone's business. Catelyn would rather just keep to herself, but it was hard to do that with people pressing their noses in her business day and night. No matter what she did, she felt like she could not get the dress to adjust properly. She looked like she was starting to get fat. Catelyn had only concerned herself with things like that when she had been younger and eager to impress Brandon, but it was grating to hear and see the other ladies of the court titter after her and make comments under their breath about how she was getting older and losing her beauty.

Age leaves no one behind, Catelyn thought somewhat sourly. Gods be good, she was starting to become even bitterer as the pregnancy grew.

She was rubbing her face, already tired from having to deal with a few of the highborn ladies, when she heard the door open and spotted Tywin walking inside from behind her fingers.

"Are you prepared for the feast, my lady?" he asked as he walked up to her.

Catelyn dropped her hands from her face to her side. "As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose," she sighed. Tommen's name day had come upon them. The boy king was another year closer to ruling in his own right, though he was still very much a child of summer. The boy was terribly sweet to her, growing much fonder than she could have ever expected. It both warmed and hurt her at the same time, though he did not know it.

Tywin stopped in front of her. She thought that he might hold out his arm for her, as he sometimes did, but surprised her when he gently put his hands over the bump of her belly. She watched the way a shadow came over his face, dark and foreboding. It always did that when he looked at her these days, as if only bad thoughts could creep into his mind. His jaw was set and his mouth went into a grim line. It was like she'd been marked for death in his eyes, but he didn't want her to be. His hands were warm, as they always were, though they barely touched the little bump.

(It was like he was afraid, but Tywin Lannister could not be afraid. He just couldn't be. That was preposterous.)

Catelyn slapped his hands away. "Stop it," she huffed. He looked up at her sharply, but said nothing, that strange look still on his face. It was enough to drive her mad. She had enough to worry about without having to wonder what was on his mind. He'd grown much quieter with her ever since she'd told him that she was pregnant. It was almost like he was distancing himself from her, though he did not seem to be aware that he was doing it. Biting her lip, she grabbed his hands and put them back on her belly. "I'm not dead yet. Stop looking at me like I am."

It was all too strange. Five months ago, Tywin had more than likely wanted her dead. He had probably thought that things would be easier if all the Starks and Tullys were dead. Now she had his baby in her belly, a legitimate child; and he didn't want her dead. Now she was somehow comforting him when he had never once comforted her. (Or had he, in his own strange way?) No one could have ever predicted that they would be in this situation. She had thought that she would be the one having difficulty with this marriage, but for the first time since the proposal had been brought up, she could see that Tywin was starting to hit a bump in the road.

And it wasn't that their marriage was terrible and didn't work.

It was because their marriage, however absurd, however horrific the circumstances, however much they had despised each other, did work.

"We're going to be late," was all that Tywin said as he gazed at her.

"We mustn't have that," Catelyn quipped dryly, letting go of his hands and rolling her eyes. "What would the court say to the Hand of the King being late to the King's name day feast?"

Though Tywin did not smile or laugh in response, the shadow left his face. She felt a tiny bloom of pride at being able to do that. They left the room without another word and headed in the direction of the Great Hall where the feast was being held; and even though they were not late, the room was already filled to the brim with lords and ladies that had come to celebrate their king's tenth name day.

The moment their king spotted them in the Hall, he jumped out of his chair and bounded over towards them in a hurry. Catelyn did not miss the exasperated look on Cersei's face as the boy ran to them. It matched the look on Tywin's face. No doubt he'd never expected that he would be the Hand to a child, especially one as gentle and kind as Tommen, but there was no stopping the boy. He was a child. A few of the people around them looked quietly amused, but the moment that Tywin caught sight of them, they changed their amused expressions into courteous, nervous smiles.

Catelyn curtseyed when Tommen reached them. "Are you enjoying your name day so far, Your Grace?"

"Yes," Tommen said with pure excitement. "I made sure that no beets are being served during any of the courses." Catelyn could not help but smile at that. He seemed to remember himself suddenly and swelled up, trying to make himself look older. "I thought you might be late, but mother said that you might be too tired to come."

"I would not miss your name day for anything," Catelyn told him with a sweet smile on her face. He smiled too, made a funny little bow even though he was the king and they were below him, and then walked back to his seat at the table next to his mother.

Catelyn could not deny that her relationship with Tommen Baratheon was an odd one, perhaps even more so than her relationship with Tywin. At one point, her son had been attempting to usurp this little boy. They had all thought that Lannisters were cruel and needed to be dealt with harshly, but Tommen was so kind that it shocked her even now. Her own children had been made of harder stuff than him, even Sansa with her dreams. She had loathed Tywin at one point, but it was far too difficult to be angry or spiteful towards the boy king that Robb had been trying to dethrone. He had been shy at first, but when he'd begun to open up to her, it had been hard to keep him at a distance, especially when she was able to see the way that everyone was trying to toughen him up.

Before Tywin could make any muttering comment about the softness of his grandson, Catelyn gave him a quick look and then headed towards her seat with him having little choice but to follow. It wasn't long after they sat down that they were flocked by other people. Everyone seemed to want to speak with Tywin, though not many people were nearly as keen on talking to her. They still shied away from her, as if her ill luck would rub off on them and something horrific would too fall on them. That suited Catelyn well enough. Besides, it was somewhat amusing to sit back and watch as Tywin grew more and more exasperated and irritated with each person that came up to him. Every time he went to take a bite of his food, someone new would come up and want to talk with him, congratulate him, anything.

'Wine, m'lady?"

Catelyn looked ahead to see one of the servants holding a pitcher of wine. She shook her head and he went on to fill Tywin's cup. When she looked around, she noticed that Cersei was looking at her with narrowed eyes. It suddenly hit Catelyn how unusual it was for her to continuously turn down wine when she'd relied on it to calm her nerves during all the other social gatherings like this. Perhaps no one would think anything of it if they did not watch her, but Cersei always seemed to take note of her change in actions. It didn't help that half the handmaidens in the Red Keep were Cersei's spies.

So it wouldn't seem so tense between them, at least not to everyone else that were blissfully unaware of the bubbling hatred beneath the surface of their relationship, Catelyn smiled at the Queen Regent. "You do not seem to be enjoying yourself, Cersei. It is your son's tenth name day. You should be beaming with pride and joy." Catelyn had always felt like that during one of his children's name days. Let them see old age, she would think, but that was from another lifetime ago.

Cersei frowned at the use of her first name. "Neither do you, Catelyn," she said, practically spitting out her name. "You haven't even touched your wine yet. Is something amiss?"

"Of course not," Catelyn replied coolly. "I merely do not take pleasure in the idea of getting drunk at a child's name day celebration."

Cersei's cheeks turned pink ever so slightly, but perhaps that was because she was on her third glass of wine. While she was by no means anywhere near Robert's level, Cersei seemed to enjoy her red wine. Catelyn had noticed that Cersei drank it whenever she was angry or cross with someone, which meant that she drank it whenever she was in Catelyn's presence. She'd probably done the same with her brother Tyrion. "Perhaps you are trying to watch yourself." Cersei leaned sideways in her seat towards Catelyn and quietly added, "You are gaining a bit of weight, I've noticed. You're getting comfortable with Lannister gold, I see."

The two women stared at one another in stony silence. The look on Cersei's face said everything. She clearly had her suspicions about what was going on, but Catelyn was not going to be the one to confirm them. Catelyn did not want to tell Cersei that she was pregnant – she was somewhat wary of how Cersei would react (she was concerned that Cersei might try to somehow bring it to an end) – but she could not outright lie either. It was like she was afraid of jinxing herself somehow.

Right when Cersei opened her mouth, perhaps to voice her suspicions, a golden hand swept in between them to pick up Catelyn's untouched wine. Both women looked up to see Jaime downing the entirety of the cup and then setting it back down with his good hand. There was a smug look on his face as he said, "I've danced with my sister once tonight. I thought it might be my mother's turn next. Unless" – and here, he tilted his head towards Tywin – "you want to sit next to my father while everyone in the kingdom bores and aggravates him into starting another war."

Catelyn looked from Cersie to Jaime and then glanced quickly back at Tywin, who was busy listening to Lord Mace Tyrell, who looked nowhere close to stopping to even breathe. "That would be lovely, Jaime," Catelyn said, smiling tightly and standing up. Cersei looked fit to bust as Jaime walked Catelyn down to the dance floor with everyone else. She wanted to thank him for disrupting the disaster, but didn't want to be too obvious.

It was only when they began to dance did Jaime lean in and whisper, "She thinks you're with child."

"Does she now?" Catelyn hummed and danced as if his words did not bother her. "Why does she think that?"

"Oh, she has all these fanciful notions and ideas in her head," Jaime replied, shrugging his shoulders. He danced quite well, to be honest. They'd not danced with each other at her wedding to his father. Perhaps he'd been the only man in the room that she hadn't danced with. "You're not drinking wine, apparently you've got a bump or you're gaining weight, our father is acting strange…" He looked at her, searching her face for an answer, but then looked away and spun her about. "She keeps going on about how you're trying to steal the Rock from me, but it's not mine. I care naught for it."

Catelyn furrowed her brow. "You're in the Kingsguard. You cannot be the Lord of Casterly Rock."

"I know that," Jaime said with a light laugh, "but try telling that to Cersei."

They danced for a little bit longer until she felt a hand on her shoulder and a very familiar voice saying, "Do you mind if I take a turn, Ser Jaime? It has been an awful long time since I've danced."

Catelyn froze the moment she heard that voice. It had been a few years since she'd heard it, but the memory came back sharp and clear. He'd always had a smooth voice, one that she had closed her eyes and listened to as a child. He had always had a way with words, even though he had not been particularly strong or brave. Even as a child though, he'd always had his voice. Smooth as silk, deadly as a knife. He had always been so convincing with that silver tongue of his – the same lying tongue she now wanted to rip out.

Jaime must've felt the way that she'd tensed up because he stopped moving; and they both stopped dancing. He got a good look at who was standing behind her when his eyes flickered back to hers. She was looking at Jaime, but she wasn't seeing him. She wanted to tell him to take her back to the table; she wanted to tell him to take his sword and shove it hard in the gut of the man standing behind her; she wanted to tell him to take her back to his father. Instead, she let go of him, slowly, shakily. He let go of her as well, his golden hand falling to his side and his left to the pommel of his sword, as if he knew what was on her mind. He looked like he wanted to say her name or call out to his father or do something, but he remained quiet. Jaime was not the quiet sort.

Taking a deep breath, Catelyn slowly turned around to face the other guest. Her skirts twirled at her feet. The moment she looked at him, one hand instinctively went to her belly, as if to protect the child growing inside of her from the phantom knife that seemed to hang in the air between them. "Lord Baelish," she greeted icily, "I did not expect you in King's Landing when you're supposed to be ruling in the Vale."

Petyr Baelish smiled. It was a handsome smile, charming as ever, but it only managed to make her feel dirty. "I'm not the ruler of the Vale," he pointed out in a voice that was practically cheerful. "There is Robert Arryn, the Lord Protector of the Vale, and Lysa as well." Yes, of course, how could Catelyn ever forget her dear sister Lysa? Her own sister who had turned her away from her home in the end, but accepted Petyr, the man that had betrayed them both, right back into her bed. It stung more than Catelyn could say. "I could not miss the king's name day; and I have business to attend to here before I return to the Vale in a week."

You should return to the Vale now before I have you killed, was the first thing that came to Catelyn.

Her entire body was tense and a wave of nausea rolled over her. She hadn't felt like this since her wedding to Tywin. Still, she could not let him see that his presence had shaken her, even though she felt faint. "You're a very busy man these days, my lord," she said, her words stiff and distant. "Surely you do not have time to waste at a party."

"I have time for one dance, Cat." Petyr held out a hand to her, gentle and warm, as he had always been. He'd been like that when he'd lied to her face as well about whose knife had been wielded to kill her son. He'd been like that when he'd lied to her Ned's face about being on his side and helping him. She was sure he'd worn the same smile that no longer reached his eyes completely when he'd betrayed Ned as well.

Catelyn looked at his hand and then his face and then took a small step away from him, nearly bumping into Jaime. I trusted you, she wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come out of her mouth. She tried desperately to hide the looks of accusation from her eyes, tried to keep her face from paling, tried to hold herself together even though she felt anger and despair come over her again so viciously. It was true that she hadn't felt like this since her wedding. Strangely enough, she hadn't expected to ever feel like this again.

"I–" Catelyn knitted her brow together and gripped the material of her dress tightly where her hand lay splayed across her belly. Petyr would kill this child too if it meant being able to get what he wanted, just as he'd allowed Ned to be killed. He had told her that she meant so much to him, and yet he had lied and played the game so that she was in this position now. Yes, she had been the one to kidnap Tyrion Lannister, but Petyr, her Petyr, her childhood best friend, the boy who had been like a brother to her, the silly boy who had loved her, had been the one to trick her and make her feel stupid and guilty. "I cannot, Petyr, I–"

Her legs felt wobbly underneath her. When she turned away from him, it was too quick, making her feely dizzy. But when she reached out to grab Jaime's arm to steady herself, she felt cloth instead of his armor; and the green eyes that she met were not Jaime's, though they were still flecked with Lannister gold. She went completely still, gripping his arm tightly, the blood rushing from her face even more as her skin paled.

"Catelyn," Tywin said, her name like a breath of air coming from him. She was suddenly able to breathe again; and the air swooped into her lungs, nearly making her choke. Though she was able to hide it for the most part, Catelyn could not keep the distressed look from flashing in her eyes. The look on his face spoke of concern at a volume that was far too loud to be seen in public for him. He put a hand on her elbow to steady her further, never taking his eyes away from her face. "You look unwell. You're pale and shaky."

"I am fine," Catelyn insisted, looking down at the ground. "I-I think I danced for too long with Ser Jaime and ate too little during the day so far."

It was a weak lie, one that all three men listening would be able to see through, but she didn't care. She didn't care about anything at the moment. All she wanted right now was to get away in one piece before she reached for the dagger at Jaime's side and plunged it through Petyr's throat.

"I am sorry, my lord," Petyr said, sounding so bloody genuinely grievous. "I did not mean to bother your lady wife."

"I'm sure you meant no harm," Tywin replied, but there was an edge to his voice that Catelyn could not help but notice. He put his other hand on her arm, turning her to guide her through the crowd. Jaime stepped back away from them. He must have signaled for his father to come down the moment she'd turned to speak with Petyr. "Come now, perhaps you should lie down for a bit before returning to the feast."

"Cat," Petyr suddenly said. She could not stop herself from turning her head to look at him, but she wished that she had. There was an apologetic expression on his face, one that she thought did reach his eyes, one that she thought he might have actually meant, and that hurt her more than one that he did not. He didn't need to say the words for her to know what he was thinking: I'm sorry for everything. But that only made her stomach turn even more. "Feel better, my lady. You should be able to enjoy yourself."

Catelyn nodded her head, muttering, "And you as well, my lord," before turning back around and allowing Tywin to lead her away from the dance floor and up the stairs. They passed the table where Cersei was watching them carefully and left the room as calmly as possible. She hated the way a few people's eyes were on them, but she ignored them as best as they could. Let them watch us, she thought. What will it matter? If there should be some sort of new gossip about her, then so be it. The words of these petty people were nothing compared to the pain she had felt upon seeing Petyr. I will never trust anyone here like I did him. I'll never trust anyone again.

They were halfway to the Tower of the Hand when Catelyn stopped, forcing Tywin to come to a stop as well. She pulled away from him and leaned against the wall, putting one hand on her forehead to cover her eyes, the other still resting on her little bump. There seemed to be so much hanging in the air between them and yet neither one of them could say anything. What could be said, after all? Petyr's betrayal of her late husband had enabled Tywin to take Ned's place as the Hand of the King. It had been Petyr's careful manipulations that had enabled House Lannister and House Tyrell to come together in order to seal the Iron Throne's victory. It had been Petyr himself that had brought the Vale to their side. He was a good asset to have, one that Tywin would never dispose of until it became clear that he could not be trusted. His poor, little wife's feelings meant nothing.

Tywin was gazing at her closely, but he kept a few feet in between them. "Catelyn…"

"I've heard the rumors going on about him," Catelyn said, closing her eyes from behind her hand, "how he took mine and Lysa's maidenheads." A grim smile escaped her. "He's only being half-truth, but I once was told that a half-truth was a whole lie. He didn't take mine, but I know that people think he did. I don't much care about that. I really don't care about something that happened another lifetime ago, during a different war." She dropped her hand to her side and leaned her head back against the wall. "But everyone also knows what he did – how he betrayed Ned Stark for the Iron Throne, like a loyal, little servant. And if I hear one person speak about it while he is here, I will have their heads."

"Are you sure about that? I have only known you for half a year, and you do not seem the violent vengeful type."

"Well maybe I am," Catelyn snapped, opening her eyes and glaring at her lord husband. "Maybe I'm tired of being the only one calling for peace when all everyone ever seems to want is war. Maybe I'm tired of watching everyone I love die while their murderers get everything they ever dreamed of. Maybe I'm just sick and tired of all the fake smiles and pleasantries and-and everything." She bit her lip and glanced at him, feeling weak and foolish, something she loathed feeling and looking like in front of Tywin. She knew he couldn't stand things like that; and yet he looked at her placidly, soaking in her thoughts and words. "I don't want to have to stand there and look that lying scum in the eyes and remember that it was me that he tricked – me that acted so stupidly and trusted him so blindly – and then smile and thank him for his kindness, but I know that I'll have to. That's all this place is: looking in the eyes of people you hate and thanking them for the knife they put in your back."

She thought that Tywin looked like he wanted to pull her closer to him, but he couldn't do it. Because he too had been someone that had stabbed her in the back – he had stabbed her in the heart and twisted until she could barely bare it any longer. And after he had done so, she had been expected to thank him for his mercy, for allowing her to live, for bringing her into his family so graciously.

In the end, no matter how well he treated her or how he made her feel warm again or like a human being, someone worthwhile, even though he had given her a second chance at being a mother, he'd also helped take away all of that in the first place. Because he still held the knife at her throat as Edmure's life hung in the balance. Because he still held the knife in her back and would never be able to pull it out completely, even if she was carrying his child and heir now.

"I need…" Catelyn shook her head and pushed a strand of hair out of her face. "I need some time to myself. I will return to the feast shortly."

Gods, Tywin looked like he wanted to hold her against him – like he wanted to tell her that she was wrong – like he wanted to comfort her. It was moments like this one that confused her the most. She was only in this situation because of him and yet she both wanted and loathed comfort from him at the same time. It shouldn't have been possible. Just as she both loved and hated this child growing inside of her. (But no, she could never truly hate the child, because he or she was a part of her now and always would be, just as Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Rickon had been before.) She wondered if he felt just as conflicted as she did; and if he ever felt angry and content with himself when he held her against him.

"I will send Ser Broderick to retrieve you before the presents are given," Tywin told her instead of saying the thousands of things that he could have said. Part of Catelyn wanted to scream at him to be honest with her. She just wanted him to open up about how he felt – if he wanted and didn't want this and these feelings at the same time. He was open with her on occasion, but never completely, and she wanted that. She was desperate for it. They were going to have a child together; and there were nights when she felt so alone except for when he was beside her and that shouldn't have been right or possible but it was. She felt safe around him – protected from all harm – and yet he was the greatest danger of all.

All Catelyn could do in the end though was nod her head and meander back to their bedchambers, lost in her thoughts, as Tywin watched her go.