Wow! I can't believe we reached 150 Power Stones, this is my first time, thank you! Here's the promised extra chapter :D
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CATELYN
The morning came with a palpable relief. The sky, which yesterday was grey and gloomy, had now changed to a brilliant, unblemished blue. The sun shone brightly, its light feeling warm on the skin, and the menacing grey clouds seemed to have poured out all their rain and departed.
The air felt so fresh, as if the storm had cleansed the entire world. When Catelyn took a breath, she could smell the scent of damp earth, freshly cut grass, and the fragrance of flowers from the garden. It felt pleasant and satisfying.
After a light breakfast filled with polite conversation, Catelyn resumed her duties as hostess. "Last night we only explored the interior of the castle," she said. "Now, I will show you something far more beautiful."
She brought Jaime to her mother's private garden, Catelyn's favorite place.
It was here that life truly burst forth. Last night's raindrops still clung to the flower petals like tiny diamonds.
"The roses are in bloom," Catelyn said, her voice softening. She approached her favorite rose bush, the one with deep red blossoms. "After being pelted by the rain for so long... are they not very strong, My Lord?"
She observed the flowers in every detail, touching their dark green leaves gently, careful not to be pricked by the thorns.
Jaime stood beside her, observing. "Roses are indeed strong, I think," he nodded, his voice sounding contemplative. "They are also often used as an example for a woman."
"Because of their beautiful color and shape?" Catelyn asked, still looking at the flower.
"Because of their beautiful color and shape," Jaime agreed. "Their bright red color... it stands out. It makes a person unconsciously shift their gaze to it, because it is the most striking thing amidst the green of the garden."
He paused for a moment, then continued. "And once they do, they look deeper. They see the intricate shape of each petal, layer upon layer. It represents... well, I suppose some call it love, or affection, and tenderness."
Jaime reached out a hand, his own finger tracing the edge of a petal without touching it. "And then," he added, his voice a little softer, "the thorns. They symbolize that besides being beautiful and complex, a woman is also capable and has the strength to defend herself. To protect her own honor."
Catelyn turned to him. She had heard a similar expression from a book, but not exactly like that. Hearing it spoken aloud, with such conviction, felt different.
She nodded. "You know a great deal about flowers, it seems, Lord Jaime."
Jaime chuckled, a light sound that made Catelyn smile. "I observe often. This world is full of things worth noticing, if only we are willing to take the time to see them. Even the smallest things can hold deep meaning."
Suddenly, he moved. With a quick and careful motion, he took hold of the rose stem, deftly avoiding its thorns, and plucked the most fully bloomed red rose.
"Like this flower," he said. "Many see it only as a fleeting beauty, something that will wilt. But it is proof of resilience, is it not? After the storm that tried to tear it apart, it still blooms this morning."
He offered the flower to Catelyn.
Their fingers touched for a moment as Catelyn took it. The stem was still slightly damp. "And every petal, every thorn, tells a story," Jaime continued, his eyes on Catelyn, not the flower. "A story of survival, of growing, of becoming something beautiful despite the challenges." He smiled faintly. "I think that is a lesson we can take from many things around us."
Catelyn held the rose carefully, its sweet fragrance wafting up. Her heart beat a little faster.
"Speaking of lessons," Catelyn said, changing the subject before her cheeks could blush. "Why did you build a school? It is a very... new idea. I imagine it will be opposed by some lords."
The wistful expression on Jaime's face disappeared, replaced by a sharpness.
"They can try," Jaime said flatly, his tone cold.
Catelyn was a little surprised by the change.
Jaime then continued, answering Catelyn's first question. "People think I build them for charity. For enlightenment. That is... partly true. But the main reason? I build them to build loyalty."
"Loyalty?" The answer surprised Catelyn. It sounded so... calculated. From their previous conversations, Jaime had sounded poetic and kind-hearted.
"Loyalty is the most valuable currency, Lady Catelyn," Jaime explained. "Right now, those in the school are the children of prosperous merchants and artisans. Merchants are the ones who will drive the kingdom's economy."
He looked into Catelyn's eyes, as if explaining a war strategy. "There, when they learn and become more successful... they will always remember who gave them that opportunity. They will remember the service of House Lannister. Their loyalty will be ours."
He paused for a moment. "Moreover... in the school itself, we ensure they learn history. Our history. A very long history... and of course," a faint smile touched his lips, a smile that did not reach his eyes, "a little bloody."
A cold shiver ran down Catelyn's spine, even though the sun was shining warmly.
'The Rains of Castamere...' Catelyn remembered.
It was not just a history lesson. It was a warning.
They walked in a slightly awkward silence after that. Catelyn was still thinking about his words. Jaime's explanation about the school... so cold, so calculated, coming from the mouth of a boy who had just spoken so poetically about a rose. It was a confusing mixture. The rose in her hand suddenly felt a little heavier.
As they arrived at a crossing, they saw Lysa and also Petyr Baelish.
Lysa smiled brightly upon seeing them, waving enthusiastically. "Cat! Lord Jaime!"
Petyr, standing beside her, also smiled. But the smile did not reach his eyes. It was a sharp, assessing smile, and Catelyn saw his eyes go straight to the rose in her hand, then shift to Jaime, before finally landing on Catelyn.
"Cat, you are carrying a beautiful rose," Lysa said, her eyes sparkling.
"Lord Jaime plucked it for me," Catelyn said, feeling her cheeks grow slightly warm.
Petyr raised his eyebrows slightly, his smile not wavering. "A very courteous gesture, My Lord."
Lysa giggled, her eyes shifting between Catelyn and then Jaime. There was a clear, playful smile on her lips. "How romantic... Lord Jaime, perhaps you should also sing a song for Cat. She adores music."
Jaime's cheeks, which had been pale and calm, visibly reddened. He gave a small cough, averting his gaze for a moment. "Uh... truthfully, My Lady, I also just plucked that flower on reflex. And believe me, my voice is not good enough to be heard."
"I doubt that," Lysa said disbelievingly, still teasing him. "A man from the Westerlands ought to be able to sing."
"A man like Lord Jaime prefers to play with his sword, Lysa," Petyr spoke up, his voice smooth and calm, cutting off Lysa's teasing. "Is that not right, Lord Jaime? Practice in the yard is more interesting than harp strings."
Jaime looked relieved that the topic of conversation had shifted. "Right! Absolutely right. A sword is far more understandable."
"Then you really must train with Edmure!" Lysa clapped her hands once. "He was talking about you all last night, 'Jaime the master swordsman', 'Jaime this, Jaime that'. Petyr, meanwhile, prefers to be in the library, reading large, dusty books."
"Reading is a good thing," Petyr said lightly.
"About Edmure. Perhaps later," Jaime said. "After... after I am more settled in."
"Yes, at the moment I am showing Riverrun to Lord Jaime, Lysa," Catelyn said gently, trying to take back control of her tour.
"In that case, let us walk together!" Lysa immediately agreed. "Honestly, this weather makes me so spirited after being inside for so long because of the rain. I was bored!"
Without waiting for an answer, Lysa pulled Petyr's arm and began to walk beside Catelyn and Jaime. The previously quiet tour now became much livelier. Catelyn showed the way, pointing to several watchtowers and explaining their history, and every so often Lysa would interrupt with a silly story about a guard who fell asleep or the time Edmure tried to climb that wall and fell.
"Here," Catelyn said, guiding them to another wide garden, this one more open than her mother's rose garden. "This is where we spend time when we are bored inside."
She pointed to a stone bench under a large oak tree. "Sometimes we will just sit on that bench, looking around or into the distance where there are mountains and the blue sky. Sometimes, that alone is enough to calm the mind."
"True," Petyr said suddenly.
His quiet voice made Cat turn to him. He was staring at the bench with a wistful expression.
"I still remember when we sat there," he said, his eyes shifting to Catelyn, "just the two of us. Perhaps two years ago? You looked so sad that day, and did not want to talk about it, Cat. I did not know why, but when I cheered you up with a silly song about a frog, you seemed to get better."
Catelyn immediately remembered the incident. Of course she remembered. It was the anniversary of her mother's death. She was so emotional that she did not want to talk about it with anyone. That was why she was not playing with Lysa and Petyr as usual.
But Petyr had approached her. 'It is lonely without you, Cat,' he had said. And Petyr then told childish jokes and sang in his out-of-tune voice until Catelyn finally laughed through her tears.
Catelyn nodded slowly, suddenly feeling very awkward. She did not want to discuss it further, especially in front of Jaime. Why would Petyr bring that up again, here, now? They came here often. Together. With Lysa and Edmure too, even her father and Uncle Brynden! To talk about it as if it were just the two of them... it felt like there was a specific intention. It was Petyr's way of saying, 'I know her better than you do.'
"Why did you never mention that incident?" Lysa frowned, looking confused and a little jealous at being left out.
"Because at the time, Catelyn looked like she wanted to cry," Petyr answered casually. "It would have been embarrassing to talk about."
"So why are you talking about it now?" Lysa looked confused.
Petyr smiled, his typical small smile. "It slipped out."
Catelyn knew it had not slipped out.
They then continued the tour, and although Jaime and Catelyn kept chatting until midday, discussing horses and falcons, it felt as if something had changed. The conversation no longer felt easy and private. Petyr Baelish, with his one small story, had stepped between them.
...
Catelyn walked the familiar stone corridors alone. The tour had ended, and Jaime had gone to his uncle's chambers, Ser Tygett, to discuss something "important". Petyr and Lysa had also gone in another direction.
This silence gave Catelyn time to think. Her hand still held that single red rose. She lifted it, inhaling its fragrance again. Sweet.
She thought of her betrothed again. Since last night, she felt she had gotten to know him better, but surprisingly, at the same time, she felt as if she did not know him deeply at all. He was like a book written in two different languages.
On one hand, there was the poetic Jaime, who could see resilience in a single rose and speak of beauty in a way that made her heart flutter. There was the protective Jaime, who spoke of his brother, Tyrion, with such sincere sadness and love.
Yet on the other hand, there was the heir to Casterly Rock. The cold emotion as he described the school was still clear in her mind. 'Building loyalty'. 'A history that is a little bloody', spoken with full conviction.
Then their conversation about family last night, on the balcony. His warning... "be prepared, and do not be disappointed when you begin to see the worst parts of them."
Jaime and she would become family if they were truly to marry.
Was that why he spoke of it last night? As a warning? Was he warning her about Tywin, or Cersei? Or... Catelyn stopped walking for a moment. Was he warning her about himself? Everyone had their own worst parts, and he, the golden lion, surely had them too.
She shook her head, trying to banish the thought, and resumed her stride. She turned a corner...
"Petyr!"
Catelyn startled, her hand clutching the rose so tightly that a small thorn pricked her finger. She had not heard him approach. Petyr stepped out from where the shadows gathered.
The hall here was quiet, illuminated only by pillars of light from the high windows. The midday sun created a sharp contrast between light and dark.
"Cat." Petyr's face was partially obscured by shadows, making it hard to read.
"Petyr, by the seven, do not do that again! You startled me!" Catelyn took a breath, trying to calm her pounding heart. "What is it?"
Petyr looked at her, and on his face was a complicated emotion. A mixture of sadness, jealousy, and something sharper. His eyes were fixed on the rose in Catelyn's hand.
"You... you have felt distant lately," he said.
"What do you mean? I am always near you," Catelyn frowned, confused. "We live under the same roof."
"Not that." Petyr's voice trembled slightly, the tone he always used, like a sad little boy in need of comfort. "Since you were betrothed to... him... to Jaime Lannister. You are always gone. You rarely spend time with me, or Lysa, and Edmure."
"It is because I have many lessons," Catelyn said honestly, though it felt like an excuse. Her lessons as a Lady had indeed doubled since the betrothal was announced. "I am not a child anymore, Petyr. There are things I must prepare for."
"But, can you not spare some time? Even just a little?" Petyr stepped forward, out of the shadows and into the light. "You always avoid me whenever I approach you. Every time I try to speak with you alone, you are always... busy."
Catelyn reflexively took a step back. "I am not avoiding..."
"See?" Petyr said, his voice now full of hurt. "You are doing it again."
He stopped, his hands clenched at his sides. "I... I miss you, Cat. I miss when we used to play together, share stories, or even when I sang silly songs for you."
Guilt pricked Catelyn. She had been avoiding him a little. Their conversations felt different lately. Petyr always tried to bring up the past, while Catelyn had to think of her future.
"Petyr, we are still friends," she said softly. "We can do those things another time. But now..."
Catelyn then changed the subject. She could not handle this right now. She could not handle Petyr's emotions on top of her own confusion about Jaime. "So if you will excuse me, I would like to go to my chambers. I am... tired."
She did not wait for an answer. She walked past him, her skirts rustling on the stone floor.
Catelyn did not look back, but she could feel it. She was leaving Petyr behind, standing stock-still and alone in the middle of the empty hall, trapped between the pillars of light and shadow.
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We will move to King's Landing in the next chapter. :'p You can read chapters 32-50 early at Patreon.com/Daario_W