Lost to the Stranger
Chapter 1.
They called that place "The Palace", and she had been reassured repeatedly that it was all her domain now. Above ground, atop the mountain that nested Casterly Rock, the magnificent construction of white polished stone could be seen as a lighthouse from the Sunset Sea, and she was now, supposedly, its keeper. As the liaison for peace, she had proven herself valuable and satisfactory. As the Lady Lannister in Casterly Rock, she awaited –divided between dread and hope- for the man who now named her and who would father her future children.
What she felt wasn't simply defeat. It was the gradual loss of every aspect of self, and the scrambling struggle to rebuild the faintest semblance of personhood, to which she would protect with all her might. She had been a wife, and was stripped of that when her man was deprived of his head. She had been a mother of five, and now all she nurtured was grief. She had been a woman with a guiding heart, and that broke, leaving only the ghost of it on her chest.
The solace found in silence had been widely discussed. The isolation was critiqued. Every small habit scrutinised. Decisions contested, orders resisted. She was promised her war had ended, but why did she still battled?
Lost to the Stranger, they had said.
She saw the colour on the road. Banners against the blue sky, crimson as the bloodshed they represented. The -now ever so familiar sound- of a thousand strong cavalry covering ground cast her back onto memory –her newfound enemy- quickly crushed back onto the depths of her consciousness. No space for past foes when she could already see the current ordeal quickening his ride towards her.
Had she ever known him? –she wondered- When did she last see him? As a young girl, it must have been. Back, before the time when she was a Stark. But she knew –in her bones- that it was him. The man who now decisively covered ground on her direction, up the gentle slope towards Casterly Rock. And he now could also see her, distinguished, dressed in blue, long coppery hair flowing lightly in the wind. He brought his horse to a hold, still far away enough from her that he'd have time to make sense of the lady, but her placid, empty and emotionless face told him nothing, as he climbed the steps that led to the entrance of his ancestral home.
Now, with no more than a foot separating them, Tywin Lannister had to look down to stare at his new wife's face, who held his gaze unwaveringly. Her proclaimed beauty wasn't unfounded; her strength of character was just being further proven to him, as her unsettling silence reinforced his sister's words.
"Not mad, but maybe lost to the Stanger." –Genna had said, as his proxy on that marriage, as the one who had to pick up the pieces after the disastrous Red Wedding, as the one who mashed together the crumbles of the woman who now stared at him as a riddle to be sorted.
-We didn't meet before. –she said at last, challenging the rumours that she was unable of uttering words.
-Not in many decades. –he agreed.
-And yet I have been named your wife for half a year.
-As the Faith allows, and as is customary if occasion demands among nobility.
-I never heard your vows, as you never heard mine.
-This marriage is valid, Lady Catelyn. –he declared, imagining that she had been festering in her thoughts for a way to avoid the inevitable.
-To the Law and the Kingdom. But not yet to the Gods.
And she finally curtsied, making her way back inside the castle, as the Western Court observed the interaction with baited breath, dying for the chance to hear the words exchanged between the couple and to make sense of his puzzled expression.
-She no longer cries herself to sleep. –Genna told him, when they finally could be alone- Her ways are very rigid, but she is always kind.
-She looks well. –he said, serving his sister with wine.
-We have been through a lot. –Lady Genna informed, receiving the glass from her brother's hands- From the moment she was pried away from her son's dead body until now… I am still unsure if she won't jump out of the cliff, or if she won't cut your throat on your sleep.
-Makes things interesting.
-If you at least had something for her.
-Who says I don't? -he sipped his wine, losing himself in wonder, thinking of reports about a direwolf guarding a fireheaded little boy- You served me well, sister. –he declared finally- You have served The Seven Kingdoms very well.
-I will accept the praise I deserve. –she smiled, forcing Tywin to remember their lady mother- But she was the one to fix things, with her diplomatic ideas and words. And she is the one who needs to hear your flattery. If you wish to have the woman by your side, and not only to hold her claim.
Catelyn had dutifully prepared him a feast, to celebrate his arrival. Tywin came to discover that his court was made vibrant, content, prosperous. That morale was high, natural for victors, and that his new lady had part on creating that. And people listened to her few and intentional words, she made sure to be heard. He quickly concluded that she had dominated every corner of the palace. And she had only been there for a few moons.
He had constant and detailed reports on her, and they had corresponded frequently, so none of it was a surprise. But it was, however, still something to behold. Everyone was kept at arm's length, and she truly had no friends or anyone to trust. She was closest to Genna, but even that relationship was the one between captor and hostage. And people had opinions aplenty about her, but dared not to sing her anything but praise.
Tywin observed the brimming hall through the glass doors, now refreshed after the road, dressed on his usual best, made aware by his steward that his lady wife was ready to join him. Catelyn had on a different kind of Lannister garments. Not the cut or silhouette he was used to see, that was common among the ladies, but undeniably Lannister. The heavy plum fabric was embroidered with gold, from the collar through the fitted bodice, opening wide down the skirts, along her slim arms with tight long sleeves.
She left everything to his imagination, but he had never witnessed such elegance before. Her neck was long, exposed by her hair worn high. She had just enough jewellery, with a matching set of ruby encrusted earrings and necklace. Tywin extended her his hand, pleased with what he saw, noticing delicate rings on the hand she awarded him with.
-You are really easy on the eyes, my lady. –he said, now locked back on her gaze, guiding her hand to his lips.
-So people say. –she commented.
-You disagree?
-It is a shell, Lord Tywin. –she stood next to him, taking hold of his arm- Is all that's left now.
Tywin distracted himself with the things and the people who made that place home, whilst his wife kept amazing him with small things, as if she had known him for many years. That night had been catered to him, to his taste and pleasure. From the fest served, to the wine on his cup, the people on his table and his most liked nobility in attendance. He suspected that Dorna, Kevan's wife, was responsible for such detail, but learned from her that it wasn't the case.
-She is your wife. She may be a mystery to you, but you aren't to her. This… -Dorna looked around the hall- isn't something done between strangers. You are married for half a year, Ty. –she smiled- And even if you haven't bed her yet, she is the lady of this castle and the West, as you can see.
Catelyn walked around alone, one hand always holding the other, exchanging pleasantries with the guests, displaying a soft smile on the elegant face. Some people extracted a soft chuckle from her, some still held some resentment from who she had been, but she was unbothered. And everyone seemed to know that she wasn't to be touched, never a hand extended to hold and kiss hers, and when it happened, a quick glance was enough to dissipate the awkwardness.
-She knows what she is doing. –Dorna declared- She needed some support, yes. But from the moment she arrived, she left no doubt in anyone's mind of who she really was. I wondered how would she cope, married to you without your presence, unconsummated, a rebel and former traitor of the Kingdom. How would people take to her. I worried, delayed my leaving, but it was really no need.
She had taken over his Great Seat and passed rulings mere days after her arrival, any resistance met with punishment, any valid issues addressed accordingly, plights and needs met with kindness and generosity. Tywin knew how she managed all that. He had known and trusted it all along. The same way she had taken over northern hearts, with which she controlled the Riverlands, was the same way she had used to seduce his own nobility. She knew what she was doing, as she had been born and raised for it.
He was looking forward to get to know the woman whose council, if taken seriously, would have quite possibly costed him the war. And who was now, back at his side on the dais, asking for the attention of the room, forcing Tywin to hold his breath as he was most unsure of the words she wished to say. Her hand rested on his shoulder, as she stood next to him, smiling pleasantly.
-A night is most well spent among one's people, as I am sure my Lord Husband will confirm. –he looked around, raising his glass in accordance- Tonight we Feast in name of Peace, as we welcome back home the man responsible for it. –Catelyn looked at him for a moment longer than necessary, as he found himself staring at her with a half-smile.
If people were to suppose what had been happening between them, if people were to doubt them as a unit, or to wonder about the nature of their bond, she dissipated that as she leaned over him, lightly holding his face, as her lips kissed his forehead. People cheered and applauded, as the uncompromising Lord Tywin, the one incapable of warmth, stared at her with a proud smile, as she took back her seat at his side, turned on his direction as he leaned to confide something on her ear.
-The game you are playing… -he whispered, aware of her tactics, surprised by its effectiveness, enraptured by her ways.
-Is the wining one. –she interrupted him.
-Just don't forget yourself. –he warned, not comfortable at the fact he wasn't the one making the moves.
-No need to feel threatened, my lord. –she retorted, pulling away slightly, her fingers playing with his, as she stare back into his soul- It is a look that doesn't suit you.
Catelyn didn't eat much and barely drank, spending the rest of the night next to her husband, acting involved with him, when at the same time her words assured him of the opposite. Smoke and mirrors, she had said. Smoke and mirrors on that regal pantomime.
-You made them like you. –he commented, as another couple from his nobility approached their table to relay onto them best wishes and gratitude for the end of conflict.
-Lost to the Stranger is what is said of me behind my back.
-Not as often, anymore. –he promised- As I have told you in my letters, people in the capital truly believe we have worked together to end the war.
-That I conspired against my son? –she asked, slightly more animated, with a light frown between her eyebrows- That I betrayed my blood?
-No. That is not the narrative. Never was.
-I know you placed the blame on Walder Frey being scorned and Roose Bolton's ambition of the North. But I was there, and I know this to be of your doing.
-Those were not the orders.
-Why does it matter to you what I believe in? –she asked, and for the first time on that feast, her face expressed something other than enacted platitudes.
-Because it does matter. Because your loss brought us here. That event made this peace attainable.
Tywin saw as her eyes drifted and her expression changed. Her intense gaze was gone, the piercing eyes who inspected his soul were glazed over. The hand that held his trembled and he saw the broken woman people gossiped about. She had done a magnificent job at unifying their front, and he was now jeopardizing it by speaking of things that no longer mattered, by bringing back themes that would only hurt. He leaned over her, covering her face with his, planting a kiss on her cheek, as he scrambled to dissimulate his inaptitude. People were observing them, he knew. And he had no right of removing from her the sense of stability se fashioned for herself.
-Can I accompany you to your chambers? –he asked, suggesting she needed to rest, his closeness only indicating to her that he had other intentions.
But she didn't answer.
-Catelyn, look at me. –he asked, with a smile, pretending all was well, more urgent and worried- Is time to leave now.
And as sent by the gods, certainly watching them as a hawk, Genna appeared, talking rapidly and excitedly about many nothings, snapping Catelyn back to herself, taking her by the hand and suggesting they all needed some fresh air. Tywin saw as Catelyn's chin quivered as she fought to open a smile, as she stood up and followed Genna. And as she left he felt a snag and a bothersome heaviness on his chest.
-What did you do? –Dorna asked with a smirk, as if Tywin was a badly behaved boy.
-Did people notice?
-Too much wine has been served already. –her smile was comforting.
-I think it might be time to retire. I did, indeed, travelled for days.
-I am not looking forward for the road, I will tell you as much.
-Kevan misses you. And the Tower of the Hand could do with your care. –Tywin declared- And I apologise, as I come back to find a peaceful home and send you away to the cesspit that is King's Landing.
-You earned your rest. –she held his arm for a second- And maybe tonight… -she stopped herself- Maybe you should sleep by yourself.
He heard her plight as the one from a woman in behalf of another. That marriage had gone unconsummated for that many moons, what would be another night? And he also reminded himself that she was young and rested, and he wasn't.
-How is she? –Tywin asked, finding himself in front of the chambers he was informed belonged to his wife, from where Genna had exited looking somehow frazzled.
-You cannot be thinking of this… - she whispered, mildly exasperated.
-I am thinking of nothing. –he said- I am too exhausted to think. But I must know. Did I upset her?
-Our mere existence upsets her. Do not kid yourself, brother. That is a battle you are not ready for.
-I am not intimidated by her antics. –he declared.
-You shouldn't. –she looked worn out and tired- But do not accuse me of not warning you.
Her door opened abruptly, startling Genna. Catelyn stood there, looking at him on her night garments, unaffected by his presence. She politely bid Genna a good night, and thanked her for her help, prompting her to leave. And now, Tywin realised he was, indeed, intimidated.
-My Lord Husband. –she said, acknowledging his presence, walking inside, leaving the door open to him.
Tywin wondered what would be his best course of action, but for starters he indeed needed to act, as it was unacceptable to cower from a creature that was his property.