Author's Notes: After posting and writing a million FMAB fics, I remembered that I hadn't updated this one for a minute. My bad!

In the Lion's Den
Part XVII

Gold. Cream. Red. Swirls of colors. Blurry colors.

No, they were walls, not just colors. No, not walls, ceiling – she was looking at the ceiling, painted gold and a cream color, red curtains in her view. She blinked, her vision coming in clearer, and she realized that she recognized the ceiling. And the curtains – her eyes went downcast and she saw the curtains hanging on the golden bedposts.

She was still in her bedroom in the Tower of the Hand.

"Tywin?" Her voice sounded like sandpaper to her own ears, her throat raw and dry.

"Cat, it's me," a male voice said, a face swimming into view. "It's your brother."

Edmure hovered above her, slipping a warm hand into hers and smoothing her hair down with his other hand. There was so much concern in his blue eyes. He had dark rings under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept for days.

Catelyn smiled tiredly. "It seems as if our positions have been switched."

"Well, I'm your brother," Edmure replied, smiling despite himself in return. "It's about time I took care of you instead of you always taking care of me. I have slacked on my duties terribly."

"You're my baby brother," Catelyn told him. "I'm always going to take care of you."

"I'm not a baby anymore though," Edmure said with a laugh. When he stopped laughing, he just looked at her; and she could see the relief written all over his face. "Don't scare me like that, okay? I…I don't think I could handle losing you as well."

Suddenly, the events of what she last remembered came rushing back to her and her heart started to race wildly. Her throat closed up and her lungs seemed to seize in her chest. Immediately she tried to sit up. Edmure tried to ease her back into lying down, but she pushed his hands away from her and she sat up, throwing the thick blanket away from her.

Tears welled up in her eyes. "My baby–"

"Is alive and well, still kicking in you," Edmure finished.

Catelyn lifted her hands to her face, pressing her palms against herself, as if she could hold everything in. When she had thought that she was losing the baby, she'd remembered what it had felt like to lose Robb, to lose all her children. Losing another one that hadn't even had the opportunity to live would have devastated her. She hadn't been sure that she could survive it. She had forgotten what true helplessness felt like; living in King's Landing, with Tywin, had gotten too comfortable. That night was like a strike from the gods, punishment for growing too comfortable with her situation, reminding her of what pain she should have felt.

"Edmure, I–" But she couldn't speak. She couldn't do anything. For a moment, she looked past her brother and she saw her husband standing in the doorway, looking pristine and clean cut as he always did. Her eyes locked onto him. Edmure noticed and glanced back. He still visibly blanched at the sight of Tywin and shrunk away from her, back into the chair.

"I require a moment with my wife."

Immediately, Edmure got out of the chair, but it looked like he didn't even stand up. "Yes, my lord." His shoulders were hunched, his knees bent, and he slunk out of the room hastily, casting a quick glance back at her before ducking out of the room where guards surely awaited him. She wanted to call him back, but she wanted to be alone with Tywin as well. Things needed to be said, explained, aired out. A lump sat in her throat as she watched him shut the door and then slowly walk towards her, his boots thudding on the floor with each step. He kept his eyes on her the whole time and she returned his gaze, though she felt the strange tinge of shame at her body nearly failing her.

When Tywin reached her, he looked at her for a moment before turning to look out the window.

"My lord," she greeted, her voice shakier than intended.

"Maester Pycelle said it was a false labor," Tywin stated. Every word was devoid of any sort of feeling, his explanation clear and clinical. Ned wouldn't have been like that. He would have been at her side when she woke up, held her hand, kissed her on the forehead as Maester Luwin gently explained what had happened. Still, she appreciated Tywin's preciseness. Too often men thought of women as weak and tried to soothe them with sugarcoated words, but she had never been one for that, never once liked it or wanted it. "Brought on by stress."

"Stress," Catelyn repeated, her lips pursing.

Of course she was stressed. Of course. The urge to laugh crawled inside her, her gut clenching as she held the laughter in. The love of her life was dead; all of her children were dead; her House was in ruins; her brother was a captive; and she was living and sharing the bed of the man who did this to her. Of course she was bloody stressed.

Instead of saying these things, all of which Tywin already knew, Catelyn closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Then perhaps I should keep my distance from your daughter."

"This is no joking matter, Catelyn," Tywin told her, almost harsh, and looked at her sharply. There was a coldness in his eyes that caught her off guard.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You don't think I know that?" Folding her arms against her chest, she glared at him, determined to not get upset. "This is my child – the only child I have after bearing five – and my body almost failed me. Don't talk to me about this not being a joking matter because it has been a long time since I have laughed. And you speaking to me like this is not helping matters, so I suggest you stop berating me or feeling angry towards me for something I could not help."

In a matter of seconds, the look on his face softened. It wasn't much, but just enough for her to notice. "Perhaps I should have taken you to Casterly Rock during your pregnancy. Things would have been…easier for you there."

"My place is at my husband's side," Catelyn said softly, looking down at her bump, "and I am not the type of woman that likes to be tucked away."

"Nor would I want you to be," Tywin replied. Taking a breath, he reached out and touched her belly with his fingertips, slowly spreading his hand until his palm was flat against the swelling bump. "I thought I was going to lose you."

"And your new heir," Catelyn added, somewhat dryly.

When Tywin flicked his eyes to hers, the air went right out of her chest. All she could do was gaze up at him. There was something very different about the look he was giving her right now, something very raw in his eyes that she had never seen before. He leaned down and kissed her on the top of her head. "You must rest," he said as he pulled away.

"I just woke up," Catelyn protested, throwing the blanket and trying to move.

The hand on her belly stiffened, though he did not push it against her; and she stopped moving. "Rest."

"I'm not going to be treated like a child," Catelyn told him, leaning back against the pillows.

"And I will not treat you like one," Tywin replied carefully. She gave him a look, but said nothing. "Tomorrow, we will go out to the gardens. I know how much you like them; and it will not be long before the flowers die when winter comes upon us. But today, I want you to rest. We need to be careful."

Catelyn bit her lip. "Just this once."

"Just this once, I promise." When Tywin made a promise, she was more than certain that he always kept them. Words were wind, but some wars were won with words. "And it might be best if you and Cersei are kept apart." She smiled a little at that. Tywin sighed and frowned. "I'm taking a trip to the gates to see how the rebuilding is going, but I'll be back before you sup. I'll have your brother sent back in."

Before she could say anything, Tywin began to walk away. "Thank you," she called out. He turned around to look at her. "You didn't have to let him stay, so thank you."

Tywin said nothing. He just nodded his head and then walked out the door. Catelyn sank further into the bed, taking a moment to take relief in the brief respite of loneliness. She didn't want to be alone, but as she closed her eyes, she tried hard to focus on the life inside of her. It was still beating, still breathing, still living. Where her hands were, she felt warm. She remembered when she'd first stepped into this room, and she had never felt so cold. No winter in the North had been more bitter or colder than how she'd felt that day. And now that winter was finally coming, warmth spread all throughout her body, to her toes and fingertips, from where his hand had been and where he'd kissed her on top of her head.

"Another month," she whispered to herself, to the baby, rubbing her belly gently. Another month and she would have a family again in the eyes of society. She would love this child fiercely. She would protect this child even if it meant her life. Anyone in the world could threaten this child, and she would kill them. She had failed Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Rickon. Though their deaths had not been by her hands, she could still feel their hot blood on her hands.

But she would love this child. She would watch their child grow old, fall in love, marry, have children of their own. It would be difficult. King's Landing had a way of stifling any happiness and squashing true goodness out of a person, but she would not let it happen. Tywin would try to harden their child, as he had done his three children before, but even if it meant protecting the child from their own father, she would do so with grace. She would not fail.