Weddings and Marriages
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire
Summary: They've evaded one Red Wedding, but might step right into another. Arya/Tywin, Catelyn, Robb
For asoiafkinkmeme, prompt: AU (no Red Wedding): The King in the North and his mother receive a message via raven, in which they discover that Arya is now the Lady of Casterly Rock and Tywin Lannister's wife.
Special thanks to Juno_chan, who looked over my Catelyn.
Weddings and Marriages
"Mother."
Catelyn awakens abruptly at the voice and a gentle touch to her shoulder. Despite the chill of the air in her tent, her body is covered in a thick sheen of sweat, as if she was in the midst of some terrible nightmare. The woman blinks rapidly in the bright torchlight and pushes herself up to greet her uninvited guest.
Robb looks weary and worn, his posture very subtly slumps and it is clear he has not slept. Despite her son’s exhaustion, Robb’s features are set and hard, his lips an immovable line, his jaw clenched, his eyes impassive. As Catelyn rises to meet him, still sleep-wary, thoughts slow and hazy, the young man raises a hand to stop her and instead pushes a small roll of parchment into her grasp. She questions him wordlessly - news that keeps Robb awake so deeply into the night is dangerously critical - and the King in the North gladly elaborates. "News of Arya."
At her youngest daughter’s name, Robb fully captures Catelyn's attention and the sleep falls away in an instant. She hurriedly unrolls the letter and leans into the light to more easily read its contents; the script is formal and elegant, the parchment fine, but the writer is unknown. She glances over the words, eyes narrow, and almost drops it from her fingers when she recognizes the contents - it's a wedding invitation, to a ceremony that occurred almost a week earlier, belatedly and mockingly sent to both the King of the North and his mother. It speaks of a marriage between Lord Tywin Lannister, with all of his various titles, and Arya Stark.
"This is. . .impossible." She can barely form the sounds on her tongue. As if Sansa's marriage to Tyrion was not enough! The Lannisters have stolen both of her daughters, well and truly. In a twisted manner, Catelyn feels comfort at the revelation; she's heard no word of Arya in moons, to know that she is still safe - and should remain alive so as long as she is wife to the Warden of the West - offers her some small solace. They will not harm Arya, Catelyn attempts to convince herself, as she's worth more than any hostage as Lady of Casterly Rock. The argument falls short almost immediately; it’s Arya - her daughter would not act the well-behaved, obedient, passive wife and Tywin Lannister is not an indulgent man. He tolerates no slights, as Catelyn knows from her own experiences; the woman cannot suppress her shudder at what he might do to her fiery daughter.
"Perhaps it's a ploy." Robb offers as he acknowledges Catelyn's mixed, delayed reaction, and, more importantly, senses her worry. "You know how Arya is." Aye, she knows - far too well. In Tywin’s hands, Arya is more of a danger to herself than any Lannister sword. Though the words are meant to console, the slight waver in Robb’s voice reveals to his mother that he attempts to convince himself as well. "She would not go through with the ceremony if. . ."
All of Catelyn's earlier relief falls away at the unfinished statement; she knows just as well as he where it leads - she was threatened by force. "Tywin is not a rash man; his every action has a purpose." She offers. No doubt Robb came to the same conclusion, as he seems to have been contemplating the letter's contents since its arrival.
Her mind works rapidly, but discards all ideas and plans while continually returning to one stubborn thought - an apprehension that quickly overwhelms her sense: Tywin fears Sansa will be killed before an heir is produced. The terror buries itself deeply within her and seeks to cloud any rationality. Even as she pushes it down, it persists in making its presence known, an all-encompassing shroud. In attempt to force her mind away from the subject, she returns her attention to Robb, who still speaks intently, as if his vocal analysis gives him a chance to clear his mind.
". . .If he wanted Wintefell, Tywin would have married Sansa, not the Imp."
This could have been avoided, had you only listened, Catelyn wishes to say. They should have traded the Kingslayer sooner.
Robb meets his mother's eyes with an identical frustration; no doubt his reasoning contrasts hers quite thoroughly - if the Kingslayer remained their prisoner this would never have happened. It is impossible for Jaime Lannister to return the girls, Catelyn hears his thoughts as clearly as if they were hers, his release serves no purpose at all.
She does not shy away from her son's cold, worried, angry, distressed gaze. He looks for someone - anyone - to place the blame on, exasperated that there's nothing within his immediate power he can do to help his siblings. She empathizes with him; she’s felt that way every minute of every day since Ned was killed.
"Robb." She is unsure what brings on the revelation, but a sense of dread, almost as deep as the thought of her daughters’ deaths, fills her. "Arya was promised to the Freys." Robb's intake of breath is subtle, but the mother in her knows him well enough to notice it. She had not meant it as an attack, but given their recent distance no doubt he sees it as one. Catelyn knows this is not the time for their discord; there are more important matters at hand:
"Lord Frey may forgive one slight, but he will not forgive two."
Summary: They've evaded one Red Wedding, but might step right into another. Arya/Tywin, Catelyn, Robb
For asoiafkinkmeme, prompt: AU (no Red Wedding): The King in the North and his mother receive a message via raven, in which they discover that Arya is now the Lady of Casterly Rock and Tywin Lannister's wife.
Special thanks to Juno_chan, who looked over my Catelyn.
Weddings and Marriages
"Mother."
Catelyn awakens abruptly at the voice and a gentle touch to her shoulder. Despite the chill of the air in her tent, her body is covered in a thick sheen of sweat, as if she was in the midst of some terrible nightmare. The woman blinks rapidly in the bright torchlight and pushes herself up to greet her uninvited guest.
Robb looks weary and worn, his posture very subtly slumps and it is clear he has not slept. Despite her son’s exhaustion, Robb’s features are set and hard, his lips an immovable line, his jaw clenched, his eyes impassive. As Catelyn rises to meet him, still sleep-wary, thoughts slow and hazy, the young man raises a hand to stop her and instead pushes a small roll of parchment into her grasp. She questions him wordlessly - news that keeps Robb awake so deeply into the night is dangerously critical - and the King in the North gladly elaborates. "News of Arya."
At her youngest daughter’s name, Robb fully captures Catelyn's attention and the sleep falls away in an instant. She hurriedly unrolls the letter and leans into the light to more easily read its contents; the script is formal and elegant, the parchment fine, but the writer is unknown. She glances over the words, eyes narrow, and almost drops it from her fingers when she recognizes the contents - it's a wedding invitation, to a ceremony that occurred almost a week earlier, belatedly and mockingly sent to both the King of the North and his mother. It speaks of a marriage between Lord Tywin Lannister, with all of his various titles, and Arya Stark.
"This is. . .impossible." She can barely form the sounds on her tongue. As if Sansa's marriage to Tyrion was not enough! The Lannisters have stolen both of her daughters, well and truly. In a twisted manner, Catelyn feels comfort at the revelation; she's heard no word of Arya in moons, to know that she is still safe - and should remain alive so as long as she is wife to the Warden of the West - offers her some small solace. They will not harm Arya, Catelyn attempts to convince herself, as she's worth more than any hostage as Lady of Casterly Rock. The argument falls short almost immediately; it’s Arya - her daughter would not act the well-behaved, obedient, passive wife and Tywin Lannister is not an indulgent man. He tolerates no slights, as Catelyn knows from her own experiences; the woman cannot suppress her shudder at what he might do to her fiery daughter.
"Perhaps it's a ploy." Robb offers as he acknowledges Catelyn's mixed, delayed reaction, and, more importantly, senses her worry. "You know how Arya is." Aye, she knows - far too well. In Tywin’s hands, Arya is more of a danger to herself than any Lannister sword. Though the words are meant to console, the slight waver in Robb’s voice reveals to his mother that he attempts to convince himself as well. "She would not go through with the ceremony if. . ."
All of Catelyn's earlier relief falls away at the unfinished statement; she knows just as well as he where it leads - she was threatened by force. "Tywin is not a rash man; his every action has a purpose." She offers. No doubt Robb came to the same conclusion, as he seems to have been contemplating the letter's contents since its arrival.
Her mind works rapidly, but discards all ideas and plans while continually returning to one stubborn thought - an apprehension that quickly overwhelms her sense: Tywin fears Sansa will be killed before an heir is produced. The terror buries itself deeply within her and seeks to cloud any rationality. Even as she pushes it down, it persists in making its presence known, an all-encompassing shroud. In attempt to force her mind away from the subject, she returns her attention to Robb, who still speaks intently, as if his vocal analysis gives him a chance to clear his mind.
". . .If he wanted Wintefell, Tywin would have married Sansa, not the Imp."
This could have been avoided, had you only listened, Catelyn wishes to say. They should have traded the Kingslayer sooner.
Robb meets his mother's eyes with an identical frustration; no doubt his reasoning contrasts hers quite thoroughly - if the Kingslayer remained their prisoner this would never have happened. It is impossible for Jaime Lannister to return the girls, Catelyn hears his thoughts as clearly as if they were hers, his release serves no purpose at all.
She does not shy away from her son's cold, worried, angry, distressed gaze. He looks for someone - anyone - to place the blame on, exasperated that there's nothing within his immediate power he can do to help his siblings. She empathizes with him; she’s felt that way every minute of every day since Ned was killed.
"Robb." She is unsure what brings on the revelation, but a sense of dread, almost as deep as the thought of her daughters’ deaths, fills her. "Arya was promised to the Freys." Robb's intake of breath is subtle, but the mother in her knows him well enough to notice it. She had not meant it as an attack, but given their recent distance no doubt he sees it as one. Catelyn knows this is not the time for their discord; there are more important matters at hand:
"Lord Frey may forgive one slight, but he will not forgive two."