Author's Notes: I forgot to post this chapter, oops. I'm terrible at updating this fic. Thanks for reading! 3 I think there are just two more chapters after this one.

The disgruntled look on Cersei's face would quite possibly sustain Catelyn for the rest of her life. No one told her of how the Queen Regent had reacted once she'd heard the news about Catelyn's successful birthing, but Catelyn liked to imagine that it hadn't been a happy one at all. Even now, a week later, Cersei refused to look at the babe and seemed fully intent on pretending he didn't exist at all. Catelyn was fine with that; she preferred that Cersei stayed as far away from her child as possible. The Queen had harmed one of Catelyn's children; she would not have the chance to lay a finger on this one. Catelyn would make certain of that.

"Can I hold him?" Tommen asked, glancing from his mother to Catelyn.

"No," was all Cersei proclaimed, as much venom injected into that one syllable word as possible.

"Of course you can," Catelyn told him sweetly, "but you must be careful."

Tommen nodded his head enthusiastically. "Oh, I will."

As Catelyn picked up Tyson from his cradle, Cersei said nothing. She merely folded her arms across her chest and glowered. This was the child that had possibly stolen Casterly Rock from her. It would have fallen to her had Tywin not had another heir, most like. Catelyn knew that complicated things and made life even more dangerous for her son. She wasn't a fool to think otherwise. Cersei Lannister did not suffer competition lightly. Still, Catelyn acted like nothing bothered her as she gently placed Tyson in the young king's arms.

"Make sure to support his head," Catelyn instructed.

It was a sweet picture: the little blonde king cradling a baby boy in his arms. Tommen looked down in awe at the child; and Catelyn could see him mouthing words to the baby, probably things like, "hello," and "how are you?" and "my name is Tommen." All sweet, innocent things, just as he was, even if he had come from something not-so-innocent at all. Catelyn wondered, not for the first time, how such a boy could have come from two people. He reminded her of Edmure so much sometimes that it hurt.

"He's so little," Tommen whispered. "And he's my uncle, even though he's just a baby, just like Uncle Ser Jaime?"

Before Catelyn could say anything, Cersei stepped forward, placing a hand on her son's shoulder. "Yes, just like Uncle Jaime."

Catelyn did not even want to bother opening that door. She kept her mouth closed and her eyes on the boy king. There were some doors that were better left closed; and that was definitely one of them.

"I've never held a baby before," Tommen added. "I was the baby of the family."

"Never?"

Tommen just shook his head.

Catelyn felt a bit stunned. All of her children had held a baby, even Rickon, who had been allowed to hold the month-old babe of one of the handmaiden's. Robb had held all of them and he had always been happy to do so. He'd been so proud to be a big brother, smiling wide and eyes shining whenever he saw his new sibling for the first time. She would always remember the look on his face when he'd first seen Sansa. He'd been four, small and curious as ever. Ned had let him inside their bedchambers and Robb had rushed to the bed only to tentatively crawl on top of it to be with her. "She looks like me," he had said. And then, a serious look had come over him, one that should never cross a child's his age, and he'd added, "I'll be the best big brother ever. I promise. I won't let anyone hurt her."

Catelyn wondered if Robb had remembered that promise when he had made the decision to not trade the Kingslayer for Sansa and Arya, if the memory had burned him when he'd heard of how Sansa had been forced to marry Tyrion Lannister, as it had done her.

"I wish Myrcella was here," Tommen said as he handed the baby back to Catelyn. He wore a sad look on his face, though when he glanced at his mother, the look went away just as quickly as it had come. "Tyson looks just like her dolls that she played with all the time when she was little."

"Tommen," the Queen Regent said, "I believe it's time for your lessons."

The boy deflated. "But Maester Pycelle smells."

"I'll have none of that," Cersei said, and Tommen immediately stopped any protests. One of the Kingsguard, Ser Osmund Kettleback, appeared at the door and escorted King Tommen from the room, leaving the two women alone.

Once the king was gone, Catelyn turned around to place her son back in his cradle, completely ignoring the other woman, her attention solely focused on her child. He was a quiet baby, quieter than even Sansa had been. Sometimes it scared her how quiet he was; she'd be stricken with fear that he had stopped breathing and would rush to check, only to find him sleeping soundly or waving his arms at the toys hanging above him.

"You're nothing but a glorified prisoner," Cersei spit out, "a whore that my father could whelp an heir on."

"Well, if I am a whore, then having a son to be the heir of Casterly Rock is no small feat," Catelyn replied, turning around to face the other woman. There was a cool look on her face, nothing to betray her anger or disgust. Now that she had had Tyson and Maester Varden had given her a clean bill of health, so to speak, she did not have to worry about Cersei stressing her. Stress no longer deteriorated her health. In fact, Catelyn almost welcomed this onslaught, had been preparing for it the moment she'd given birth to a boy, ready to strike back with just as equally sharp claws.

A mother will do anything to protect her young.

Cersei sneered. "You're not even a highborn now. The Tully name is no better than a bastard's."

"Perhaps you forget," Catelyn said with a small smile, not a hint of warmth in it, "I married your father. I'm a Lannister now."

"You will never be a Lannister," Cersei hissed, stepping forward, "and neither will your son be."

Catelyn did not move, say anything, or even blink; she stood her ground, the smile still on her face. It only served to infuriate Cersei even further. What was Cersei Lannister compared to Lord Tywin? If she was not intimidated by him any longer, then Cersei was nothing. There was no chance that Cersei would make her back down now. She had been in the lion's den for too long to be afraid of anyone. It had been nearly a year to the day that she had married Lord Tywin; and Catelyn had made herself stone a long time before that.

When Catelyn showed no hint to budge or back down, Cersei snapped, "Your son is just a consequence of war, an afterthought, nothing more; and you are the spoils," and then stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

The noise was enough to startle the baby; and he began to cry behind Catelyn. She sighed and picked him up again, soothing him in her arms. Almost immediately, he quieted against her chest. Looking down at the quiet child, Catelyn could not help but think of Cersei's words. They were poison, she knew, but rang true on some level. Losing her children had been noted down as a consequence of war, but gaining this son could be as well. She would never have had him had the War of the Five Kings been waged, had she not been pressured into this marriage to settle any petty rebellions in the Riverlands and the North.

But how could such a peaceful child be a product of a violent war?

The door opened and in walked Tywin, looking somewhat…tired from the day's activities. She knew better than to ask him about his day. He'd been dealing with the small council all day, most importantly with the new Maester of Coin, seeing as how Petyr was now in the Vale. Things were not going well. The coffers were depleted and owed him more gold than most Westeros people would ever see. "How is he?" Tywin asked.

"Well," Catelyn answered, "Maester Varden checked him earlier this morning and said that he's perfectly healthy."

Though he did not change his expression or demeanor, Catelyn thought she could see the relief in his eyes. His last child had come out deformed with a smart mouth and killed his mother in the process. To hear that this birth had gone near perfectly was good news to anyone and while she knew that he had to be happy on some level, he never showed it outright.

"And you?"

Catelyn glanced up. "I'm fine, my lord. Tired, still sore, but I am well." She gave him a little smile. "Would you like to hold your son?"

Tywin looked at the child in her arms, a rather apprehensive look on his face. She wondered not for the first time how he had been when his other children had been born. No doubt he had refused to hold Tyrion, but he had probably been proud when Jaime and Cersei had been born. Had he held them when Joanna was tired? Had he looked down on Cersei and remarked what a beautiful daughter he had? Had he smoothed down Jaime's hair and felt a glow of pride at his seeing his heir? What kind of father had he been before he had been robbed of Joanna? Or had her death changed anything concerning his views towards his twin children and parenting styles?

"No, I do not think it would be best," Tywin finally settled on.

Catelyn just rolled her eyes. "How does that even make any sense? You either don't want to hold your son or you do. There is no 'best' reason behind it." She held out their son to him and gave him an expectant look. "Hold him. He is your son, your heir; he should know his father's touch before any other man's."

Tentatively, looking as if holding his son was the last thing in the world that he wanted to do, Tywin took the baby boy out of her arms. At first, he held the child too awkwardly for her taste, so she gently corrected him, moving his arms and hands until the baby was held safely and securely. It was obvious that he had not held a child in a very, very long time. She doubted that he'd ever held Tyrion, out of spite and grief; she also doubted that he'd shown any warm feelings towards his nephews or nieces or grandchildren when they had been born. Slowly, Catelyn backed away from him, so that he was left standing in the middle of the room with their son. She'd been somewhat worried that babe would start crying the moment he left her arms, but he remained silent in Tywin's, just looking up at him with those baby blue eyes.

"See," she said, a somewhat proud smile on her face, "it's not so bad. I think he likes you."

A ghost of a smile crossed Tywin's face. She could see it. She knew that she could see it as he looked down at his son.

And it was in that moment that young Tyson started to wail like he was being attacked.

Immediately Tywin looked uncomfortable. Catelyn rushed forward and Tywin practically shoved the baby back into her arms. She pressed him against her, rubbing his back and cooing at him, until the baby slowly but surely quieted. Once he'd completely piped down, she set him back in his crib. When she turned back around to face her lord husband, she wore an apologetic (yet slightly amused) look on her face.

"I'd forgotten how loud they could be," Tywin muttered.

"He will get used to you in time," Catelyn reassured him. "Once he gets used to your touch, he won't cry like that."

"Cersei cried for hours until someone gave her attention," Tywin pointed out, practically to himself. She could just picture a little blond girl crying for attention until a maid or even her mother came to see what the problem was. Lysa had been the same way. The moment their mother would come into her room, she'd quiet down and ask for a bedtime story. Edmure never cried for their mother as a baby. He had always cried for her, his big sister. "And I was certain people in Pentos could hear Tyrion's wailing."

Him talking about his past, about his children, especially Tyrion, was a step in a direction that made Catelyn nervous. She was not sure of where they were going. It was intimate, talking about their pasts. She rarely talked about hers. It was difficult when he was the man that crushed her past. Her children were dead, save for Sansa, who was still nowhere to be found a year later. Still, it affected her whenever he talked about his past. She wanted to know more, though she kept telling herself that she didn't, but she couldn't contain her curiosity. Of course she never asked him questions, but there were times, like now, that he'd let slip something small and seemingly insignificant that made her think over and over again.

Tywin grasped her hand, lightly so, but it was enough to bring Catelyn's eyes to his. "Did Maester Varden tell you when it was safe to lay together again?"

Despite herself, Catelyn blushed slightly at his forwardness. "Anxious to get another child on me?"

"It has been over seven months," Tywin told her, a hint of frustration in his voice. "I have…missed you."

Catelyn took a sharp intake of breath and looked down at their tangled fingers. "Then it shall be eight. The birth was a success, but it was not without its difficulties. He said it would be best to be patient and take things slowly, lest I want to risk injury." She paused, gnawing on her bottom lip, a habit she had just started to notice. She could not ever remember doing that before coming to King's Landing. But there were times when she chewed her bottom lip raw and her handmaidens would fuss over her. "I thought that a son would end any of your needs of me. I thought…"

"That I would send you away once you provided me an heir?" His voice was almost gentle, something she knew that Tywin Lannister was not, but it was enough to make her look up at him and let him know that he was correct in his thoughts. She nodded her head, almost imperceptibly. "You mean more than that to me, my lady. And you may be the only person in King's Landing whose company that I enjoy."

It was hard describing how relieved she felt in that moment, hard describing how she could even feel relieved, so perhaps the feelings were better left unsaid or perturbed at all.