CATELYN
The entire Keep of Riverrun had been bustling for the past two days, as if a giant hive had been kicked.
Servants scurried to and fro like quickened shadows, the sound of their footsteps echoing on the stone floors. They cleared dust from the crevices of the wood carvings in the great hall, polishing the old shields on the walls until the Tully trout emblem gleamed under the candlelight. The heavy draperies were taken down, replaced with fresher ones that smelled of lavender and fresh spring air, even as the rain fell relentlessly outside. In every wall sconce, fat new candles were placed, all cut to the exact same length, ready to be lit.
They were all so concentrated, so focused on their tasks, not missing a single thing that Catelyn could see. Every surface had to shine, every corner had to be clean. It was a level of activity usually reserved for the visit of great lords.
Catelyn observed all this from the doorway, smoothing the folds of her skirt. Her heart beat a little faster than usual. All this, she thought, as if a king were coming to visit, not just Jaime Lannister, an eleven-year-old boy who happened to be her betrothed. But she knew it was not just Jaime Lannister. He was the heir to Casterly Rock. He was Tywin Lannister's son. And that name alone was enough to make all of Riverrun stand at attention.
"You look beautiful, Cat."
Catelyn turned. Her father, Hoster Tully, stood behind her, a proud smile spreading across his usually stern face.
"You do not look so bad yourself, Father," Catelyn joked, trying to sound lighter than she felt. Her father's face was indeed brighter today than on most days. There was a new energy in him. Like he had just seen the light for the first time in a long while. But on reflection, Catelyn mused, perhaps that was not wrong. Lannister gold could indeed cast a light, could it not?
"Do not be too nervous when Jaime arrives," Hoster continued, patting her shoulder gently. "Just be as you always are. Remain calm and dignified. Otherwise, you might trip over your own gown." He smiled again, trying to ease the tension.
"I am never nervous for things like this," Catelyn lied, or at least, lied in part. "It is just Jaime. We have exchanged many words, even if only on paper. It feels... it feels as if we already know each other's nature."
That was what Catelyn said, and a part of her believed it. In truth, she was quite nervous. A little. Yes. Perhaps very. Her heart hammered in her ribs like a trapped bird. She was afraid. Not afraid of Jaime, but afraid of what judgment he would pass on her in person.
"Of course," Hoster agreed. "But words in writing are always different from words spoken aloud. Writing can be planned, changed, perfected. This time, you must look each other in the eye. And for some people," he paused, "that is the hardest thing."
Catelyn was silent for a moment, absorbing the truth of those words. She took a slow breath. "I am just afraid he will be disappointed when he meets me, Father."
Hoster frowned deeply, his proud expression shifting to one of genuine confusion. "Disappointed? How could he possibly be disappointed to see you? You are my daughter. You are beautiful. Your hair is lovely, even from a distance."
"Jaime must have his own image of me in his head, just as I have an image of him in mine," Catelyn said softly, her voice almost a whisper. "He is a Lannister of Casterly Rock. They... they are surrounded by gold and beauty. I hear his twin sister is the most beautiful girl in the Seven Kingdoms. And it makes me worry... that he will think I am not what he imagined. That I am too... plain."
"And what else would someone think?" Her father grunted, dismissing her worries. "You are Catelyn Tully, of Riverrun. You are perfect. I do not think there is any image in any boy's head that could match the reality."
Her father was always excessive in praising his daughters. So Catelyn just nodded, not arguing further, though her anxiety did not disappear.
A moment later, the sound of small, hurried footsteps was heard in the corridor, and Lysa and Edmure ran up to them, their faces flushed from running.
"Father! Father!" Edmure practically shouted, breaking all rules of decency within the keep. "I saw them! I saw their banners! The Golden Lion! They are at the gate!"
Lysa stood beside him, catching her breath, her eyes wide with excitement.
"Come, prepare yourselves," Hoster said, his voice now stern and full of authority again. He patted Edmure's head.
Her father, Edmure, Lysa, and Catelyn herself walked together to their positions in the great hall for the welcome. Their uncle, Brynden Tully, was not here; he was away somewhere, and Catelyn suddenly missed his calming presence.
They stood in a line on the low dais where Lord Tully's high seat was. Catelyn's chest pounded slightly, so hard she was afraid others could hear it. She watched the great doors at the end of the hall, thick wooden doors that were now wide open. There was no one there yet save for two Riverrun guards standing stiffly on either side, their spears held bolt upright. Yet, Catelyn could not tear her gaze from it.
Then, the sound came. The sound of rhythmic footsteps on stone. Not hurried steps, but a constant, confident pace. There were several people, a small party, slightly damp from the rain.
There, leading them, was a tall, impressive man, even in his slightly damp state. He wore shining lion-crested armor, reflecting the candlelight in the hall. His helm was tucked into the crook of his arm. His dark blond hair was quite long, clinging to his cheeks, and his face was stern and slightly wrinkled with fatigue. That must be Tygett Lannister.
And beside him...
Beside him, a little shorter, walked a boy. His hair was shorter than his uncle's, golden-blond. He still looked like a child, of course, he was only eleven. But his face... his face was calm. Very calm. Jaime Lannister.
"Welcome to Riverrun, Lord Tygett Lannister." Her father immediately stepped forward, greeting them with open arms and a host's smile.
"Thank you for receiving us with such hospitality, Lord Tully," Tygett replied, his voice hoarse from the journey. He gave a short nod, a gesture of respect from one soldier to another. "We come as has been discussed."
"Your journey was smooth, I hope?" Hoster asked, a polite pleasantry. Catelyn knew the rain had been pouring heavily lately, so it could not have been smooth.
Tygett shook his head, wasting no time on niceties. "Unfortunately, no. We had to delay and spend the night in several less than pleasant places." He then shifted his gaze from her father, his sharp eyes sweeping over Lysa and Edmure, before finally stopping.
He placed his hand on his nephew's shoulder.
"This is Jaime Lannister," Tygett's voice rang out clearly in the quiet hall. "Son of Lord Tywin Lannister, Heir to Casterly Rock, my nephew, and the betrothed of Lady Catelyn."
The boy, Jaime, stepped forward slightly. He bowed his body a little, a polite and practiced movement. He then raised his head, and his eyes scanned the room, past Hoster, glancing at Edmure, then Lysa.
Then, their gazes met.
His eyes stopped on her. Catelyn held her breath. She saw the most brilliant green eyes she had ever seen, sparkling like diamonds under the candlelight. They were not the eyes of a nervous or shy child. They were calm, sharp eyes.
Hoster Tully nodded, his smile wide and genuine, his eyes shifting from one Lannister face to the other. "This is my daughter, Catelyn," his eyes paused on Cat for a meaningful moment, "this one is Lysa, and my son, Edmure." He gestured to each of his children in turn.
Lysa gave a small, shy nod, while Edmure tried to look as stern as possible, as if he were a guardsman on duty.
Hoster then shook his head, his tone changing to one of sincere sympathy. "It is most unfortunate you experienced such things. The weather has been fickle of late. You must be tired and cold. We will let you rest, then. Rooms have been prepared."
"Gerald, show our guests to their respective rooms." Her father pointed to their steward, a thin old man with a neat white beard. Gerald bowed deeply.
"This way, My Lords," Gerald said, his voice smooth.
Tygett nodded once more to Hoster, a brief acknowledgment of the hospitality. As the small Lannister party turned to follow Gerald, Catelyn noticed Jaime pause for a moment. He looked back, towards the three of them: Catelyn, Lysa, and Edmure. A small smile, not a wide grin, but a calm, genuine smile, touched his lips. He gave a small wave.
It was an unexpected gesture, the gesture of a normal boy. Lysa immediately waved back, and even Edmure, who had been stiff, returned it with an awkward nod. Catelyn could only return it with a small smile of her own, her heart, which had been pounding, now a little calmer.
As soon as they disappeared around the corridor's bend, Lysa immediately shifted closer to Catelyn.
"He is quite fetching, Cat," Lysa whispered, her eyes sparkling. "His hair... And his eyes! Did you see his eyes?"
"I heard he is good with a sword," Edmure added. "Far better than other boys his age. I am going to ask him to train in the yard tomorrow."
"Edmure!" Lysa disagreed, her voice squeaking. "He just arrived, and he is tired! You must let him rest first, it is rude."
"A true knight should be able to fight at any time," Edmure whispered stubbornly.
"But he is not a knight," Catelyn cut in, her voice calm, ending their argument.
Both her siblings looked at her.
"Not yet," she added softly.
...
The feast that night was the most lavish held at Riverrun in many months this year. The room, which usually felt a bit drafty, now felt warm and comfortable, shielded from the storm that still howled outside. Hundreds of candles burned brightly, their light reflecting off silver plates and goblets. Musicians played cheerful tunes in the gallery, though Catelyn barely heard the music.
Roast chicken was served while still hot on the high table, its skin golden-brown and crisp. Thin wisps of steam rose from the meat, visible even among the candlelight. There was also seasoned fish, venison pie, and large bowls filled with vegetables.
Catelyn sat straight, her back erect. She took a piece of beef drizzled with melted butter and mushroom sauce. She cut it slightly, a small, neat piece, and then ate it. She chewed slowly, unhurriedly. The meat was tender, smooth, and tasted very good on her tongue. Every movement was measured. This was not just dinner; it was a performance. She had to show that Riverrun, while perhaps not as wealthy as Casterly Rock, did not lack for good food like this.
Jaime, sitting across the table next to her, close enough to talk, but far enough to feel formal, seemed completely at ease. He had changed into a dark green velvet doublet.
"I saw the rivers flowing all along the way on the journey," Jaime said, his voice clear and audible amidst the din. He was not speaking to Catelyn specifically, but to the table in general. "They are beautiful and radiate warmth, even though the weather is cold. The fish can be seen, even the smallest ones."
"You must try to catch them!" Edmure exclaimed, unable to hold back any longer.
Jaime looked at her brother, and Catelyn saw something in his eyes, not annoyance, but genuine amusement. "Fishing? I enjoy fishing at Casterly Rock with my friends," Jaime replied in a light tone. "But fishing requires fair preparation and takes time. I suppose a hurried journey, chased by a storm, is not the right time to stop and cast a line."
Edmure nodded seriously, as if listening to a lesson from a master strategist. "Makes sense, makes sense. Later then, when the weather is better. You can come fishing with me. I know the best spots."
"Edmure," Hoster laughed from the end of the table, his laughter booming. "My apologies, Lord Jaime. My son is indeed very enthusiastic when he meets new people."
"It is no matter, Lord Tully," Jaime laughed in return, his voice smooth and sounding mature for his age. "To be honest, I am also interested in fishing here. The rivers look much more alive than at our home. Perhaps if there is free time later, Edmure can guide me."
Edmure practically beamed with pride, but he managed to stop himself from cheering, perhaps remembering he had just been interrupted by his father. He just nodded enthusiastically.
The conversation then turned to more serious matters, shifting to the men at the table: Jaime, his father, and Lord Tygett.
"You are right about the weather, Lord Tully," Tygett said, his voice hoarse. He was clearing a plate of pork. "The road in the north... it is more like a swamp than a road. We lost one supply wagon because its wheel broke in the mud."
"Ill news," Hoster frowned. "I will send men to see to it after the storm abates. The rain this year has been very heavy."
"Your nephew seems to have borne the journey well," Hoster continued, turning his gaze to Jaime with a friendly, appraising look. "A squire's training at Casterly Rock under you must be hard, Lord Tygett."
Tygett gave a short nod, his expression remaining hard as stone. "He learns quickly. His tasks for me are handled without complaint." He glanced at his nephew briefly. "He will be a good knight."
Catelyn watched Jaime just give a small smile at the praise, not looking arrogant at all.
"That is good to hear," Hoster said sincerely. "And how fares your twin sister, Lady Cersei, Lord Jaime? And your youngest brother, young master Tyrion?" It was a polite question, the kind expected of a host to his guest.
Jaime replied. "Cersei is well, Lord Hoster." There was a brief, almost invisible pause. "And Tyrion grows strong. He has started walking everywhere within the Rock, keeping the nurses busy."
Hoster smiled wider. "Children are like that. Edmure here was the same, always running before he could properly walk."
Her father then turned to Catelyn, and suddenly all eyes were on her. "And I must say, Catelyn has greatly enjoyed your correspondence, Lord Jaime. She says you tell very interesting stories."
Catelyn felt her cheeks flush. She had not expected to be pulled into the conversation like this, especially after the topic of his siblings. She looked down at her plate, wishing she could disappear.
Jaime turned to her, his brilliant green eyes looking directly into hers, just as in the welcoming hall. "And Lady Catelyn writes beautifully, Lord Hoster," Jaime said calmly, his voice not faltering in the slightest. "She described Riverrun so well, the rivers and the gardens within... I feel as though I already knew this castle even before I arrived here."
Catelyn's cheeks, which had only been warm, now felt scorching hot. It was a very specific, very personal compliment, yet spoken with such confidence in front of everyone. She looked down at her plate again, not knowing what to say, but her heart was pounding for a reason entirely different from nerves.
It was not just a pleasantry. He had listened, or rather, read, what she had written.
She glanced at him from beneath her eyelashes. Jaime was already back to listening to her father and Lord Tygett, who were now discussing the price of timber and patrol routes on the border. But Catelyn could not stop thinking about his words. They kept echoing in her mind.
...
The supper finished quickly, the servants clearing the plates and leftover food with a quiet, commendable efficiency, as if they were ghosts gliding between the tables.
Once the last wine goblet was lifted, her father stood.
"Lord Tygett, there are some border maps I wish to show you," Hoster said, his voice sounding overly casual. "About those patrol routes we discussed earlier."
"Of course, Lord Hoster," Tygett Lannister agreed, his expression remaining stern.
Then her father turned to his younger children. "Edmure, Lysa. Petyr must be lonely in the Maester's tower all day. Why do you not go and see him?"
Lysa immediately brightened. "A splendid idea, Father! Come on, Edmure!" Edmure, who would have preferred to stay and listen to the soldiers' chatter, just grumbled but still followed Lysa, who was already running lightly out of the hall.
And then... silence.
The hall that had been bustling now felt empty and vast. There was only Catelyn and Jaime.
Yes, they had been left alone. This was her father's arrangement, Cat knew it. As subtle as a warhammer. He wanted them to have time alone, to 'connect'. And now, under the gazes of the guards pretending not to watch at the end of the hall, Catelyn had to be a hostess to her betrothed.
"Would you... care for a short walk, My Lord?" she asked, her voice sounding more formal than she intended.
Jaime turned to her, that small, polite smile returning. "A fine idea, My Lady. The feast was warm, a little fresh air would be a relief."
They began to walk, side by side, down the wide corridors. Catelyn stood beside Jaime, and she realized with some surprise that they were almost the same height. She was two name days older than him, a small fact that felt ridiculous, and she knew in the future she would be overtaken. A boy's growth was always like that. It was inevitable.
Up close, Jaime smelled pleasant. Not a sharp perfume, but something clean and fresh, like wildflowers in summer after rain. He walked with a straight back, like a soldier, a legacy of his uncle's training. However, Catelyn could see the tension in his shoulders, and the way he occasionally glanced at the walls instead of at her. He was nervous.
Strangely, that realization made Catelyn herself calmer. At least she was not feeling it alone.
"This is the solar," Catelyn explained, her voice now more confident. They passed a room with an open door, inside which were looms and several plush chairs facing a cold hearth. "We ladies, usually sit here in the afternoons. Whether to embroider, share a laugh, or... well, talk about gowns and feasts."
"That is good," Jaime nodded, this time he glanced into the room, not at the wall. He was not looking at Catelyn's eyes, but he was listening. "Everyone should have a room like this, a place to... lower their defenses. We men, we usually do more in the training yard."
"Training to be a knight," Catelyn said, trying to make conversation as they continued down a quieter corridor. "Is it pleasant?"
She expected a short answer, yes or no. But Jaime smiled. "Pleasant? Yes, I suppose. Of course, it is loud there. My friends are always shouting, either from landing a blow or from being hit. It makes the atmosphere lively and not boring. There is always something happening."
"And you, Lady Catelyn," he asked in return, "do you truly enjoy embroidery? Or is it just something you do because... it is expected?"
Catelyn was surprised by the question. It was a sharp question. She thought for a moment. "I like it," she said honestly. "It is like painting, I suppose. We can form something we want there, create an image from nothing. But the difference is," she paused, searching for the right word, "we can hold it. The thread, the cloth. It feels more real to me. More... permanent."
"Like a sculptor," Jaime agreed quickly, and this time he turned to her. "A sculptor takes a formless block of stone and sees something inside it. It takes focus. Patience. Just like your needle."
They walked in silence for a moment, Catelyn thinking about that comparison.
"You, what do you enjoy, besides the sword, Lord Jaime?" Catelyn asked.
"As you may already know from my letters, My Lady, I enjoy reading." He gave a soft chuckle. "A lot, actually. It broadens one's horizons. Makes the world feel larger."
"The stories you tell are indeed interesting," Catelyn nodded, remembering the strange tales of sailors and islands inhabited only by children. They reached a stone archway that led to a rather large balcony, overlooking one of the rivers. "This is one of my favorite places."
They stepped out. The night air immediately hit them, cold and damp. "Usually, we can see the stars here. A pity the clouds are blocking them tonight."
"But the air feels fresher," Jaime said. He walked to the stone railing and took a deep breath, as if he had just come out of a stuffy room.
"Indeed. It is calming here," Catelyn agreed, standing beside him, keeping a polite distance. "That is one of its advantages, too. You can hear the sound of the river."
Silence enveloped them for a moment, filled only by the sound of the rushing water below in the darkness. They both held onto the cold stone railing, damp with mist.
Catelyn swallowed. This was her chance. Now or never.
She looked at Jaime. His figure was visible in the torchlight from the corridor behind them. He looked older than his age.
"Lord Jaime?" her voice sounded hesitant.
He turned to her.
"Am I... am I as you imagined?"
Jaime raised an eyebrow, genuine confusion clear on his face. "Pardon. I do not understand. What do you mean?"
Catelyn took a deep breath, gathering her courage. She would be honest. "I will be honest, I was worried... you know, My Lord. Your letters... your stories... they are incredible. And your reputation... You are a person who seems destined for great things and has everything. The face, the skill in combat, the cleverness... it is already famous throughout the kingdom thanks to your 'paper'."
She looked down at her hands gripping the stone. "Compared to me, who just stays here in Riverrun, playing with my siblings and learning to embroider... it feels like heaven and earth."
Jaime looked thoughtful, very serious, and hesitated for a moment. He did not immediately laugh or deny it, which made Catelyn even more nervous.
Then, he shook his head. Slowly.
"In truth," he said softly, his voice nearly lost to the sound of the river, "you are far beyond what I imagined."
Catelyn raised her head, looking at him. "What?"
"From the letters," Jaime continued, his eyes now looking straight into hers, and Catelyn felt she could not look away. "I already knew that you were a good woman. I knew you cared for your family. You often told stories of Edmure and Lysa."
"But," he paused, "when I saw you tonight... in the hall, at the feast... I saw it with my own eyes. You do not just care for them. You love them. I saw the way you calmed Edmure when he was too excited, and the way you smiled at Lysa. And that... in my opinion... is the most important thing in a Lady. Far more important than 'paper' or cleverness."
Catelyn was stunned. It was not the answer she expected. "Is that... so rare? Is that not what family is supposed to do?" House Tully's words are Family, Duty, Honor, Catelyn thought. It was a natural thing.
Jaime looked into the distance for a moment, at the darkness over the river. A bitter, ironic smile.
"You know my brother, Tyrion, do you not?"
"You mention him often in your letters," Catelyn nodded softly.
"Family is supposed to love and protect each other," Jaime said, his voice quieter now. "But when someone looks inside you and finds an imperfection... or something they did not expect... it becomes very hard to do that. No matter if it is family or not."
He turned back to Catelyn. "To be honest, My Lady. My father and my twin sister, they despise Tyrion. Even if Cersei has begun to tolerate him lately, the hatred is still there. So yes, in my opinion, loving family for what they are... that is the most important, and rarest, thing in the world."
He smiled at her, but this time the smile was a little sad. "But that means, you must be strong, too. Be prepared. And do not be disappointed when you begin to see the worst parts of them."
Catelyn nodded slowly, digesting his words. The night wind blew her hair, making her shiver slightly in the darkness.
...
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