The guards pushed open the carved wooden doors and silently gestured for her to enter.
Catelyn Stark prayed silently to the old gods and the new for strength, then stepped forward.
She could not fight the fate that had been decided for her, but she could meet whatever cruelty was coming with the dignity of the Lady of Winterfell and the daughter of Riverrun.
Waiting for her inside the room was the temporary master of Casterly Rock—Ser Kevan Lannister.
He sat behind a long white weirwood table piled high with documents, a silver wine pitcher, and ornate goblets.
The walls were lined with Lannister treasures: gilded lion statues, glittering jewels, and exquisitely crafted white armor. An empty sword rack inlaid with rubies marked the spot where Tywin Lannister had left his blade before marching to war.
How many good men had died for these cold riches?
Her husband Eddard, her eldest son Robb, her father Hoster Tully, her uncle Brynden, her brother Edmure… and now herself, her daughters, her only remaining sons—were they all to become sacrifices to Lannister ambition?
"Lady Catelyn, I'm glad to see you well." The older, slightly plump knight behind the table spoke gently and with perfect courtesy. "Please, sit."
"I thought prisoners were meant to stand when receiving judgment, Ser Kevan," Catelyn answered coldly.
"This is not a judgment. It's simply a conversation." Kevan slid the wine pitcher toward the center of the table. "What we have to discuss is important and will take time. Sitting will be easier for you. Have I ever given you reason to doubt my sincerity?"
It was true. Tywin's brother had treated her far better than any captive had a right to expect.
She lived in a luxurious room deep inside Casterly Rock. She was free to visit the castle sept. Her meals were excellent. She could read any book in the library tower. The servants remained unfailingly polite.
But to her it was all just a gilded cage.
No matter how lavish the prison, it could not hold a broken heart. No matter how gentle the treatment, it could not hide the fact that she was a prisoner.
She had no appetite. She could not sleep. She had no interest in books.
The castle sept felt like an insult to the gods. The marble statue of the Mother was cold and lifeless. The Father's diamond eyes looked arrogant. The Warrior's golden sword seemed forever stained with innocent blood.
She had wondered countless times whether the statues had all been carved to suit Lannister tastes, but there was no one to ask.
The servants spoke to her only when necessary. Kevan was always buried in work. In a strange way she was almost grateful for the solitude. It let her pray before the cold statues for the dead and beg the Seven to protect those who still lived.
Which was why today's sudden summons had left her heart in chaos.
On the long walk to the hall she had imagined every possible outcome—execution as a traitor, being sent back North as a bargaining chip, or being forced to write to Lysa begging mercy for the bastard on the Iron Throne.
She had no choice. She sat down across from Kevan.
"If you have any complaints about the servants, speak freely. If a maid has been rude or a guard disrespectful, I will deal with it at once."
"No need, Ser Kevan. Your people do their duty and treat me with perfect courtesy," Catelyn admitted calmly.
"My brother would be pleased. He has always valued order in the family and tolerates no mistakes." There was no pride in Kevan's voice, only deep exhaustion and disappointment. "He wants everything to run exactly as ordered—smooth and orderly."
Tywin's brother had not summoned her just to exchange pleasantries.
Everyone knew how sharp and ruthless the Lannisters were. With the Westerlands and half the realm at war, Kevan had far more important matters to attend to than idle conversation.
"In that case, let's get to the point. Lady Stark, every war eventually ends, and marriage is the best way to heal the wounds of war." Kevan lowered his voice, his gaze locked on her. Catelyn could not tell whether the look held coldness or pity. "This war is no different. Only blood ties can bind a shattered realm back together."
"It was Lannister ambition that tore this land apart," Catelyn shot back.
"It was the ambition of the Baratheon brothers and the pride of House Stark," Kevan countered without hesitation. "If you had not seized Tyrion, the war might have been avoided. If you had not made an enemy of Casterly Rock, Lord Eddard would never have been drawn into that plot. Stannis's agents poisoned his mind and brought us to this disaster."
He raised his voice before she could argue. "I did not summon you here to argue about the past. How the war began no longer matters. What matters is how it ends. Aegon married Princess Rhaenys and ended the rebellion in Oldtown. Daeron used two marriages to finish the war in Dorne. If he had possessed a daughter, perhaps the Blackfyre Rebellion would never have happened…"
"You summoned me to lecture me on thousand-year-old history instead of facing the suffering of today? Ser, you have the wrong person." Anger burned in Catelyn's chest. This ill-timed history lesson felt like an insult.
If she had not been dragged here, she would be in the sept right now, praying—for Eddard, for Robb, for Edmure, for all the dead, and for the living children… Sansa, Bran, Rickon, Arya, even Jon Snow.
Some said her youngest daughter Arya was already dead, but a mother's heart refused to believe it. She had never stopped praying.
Kevan sighed softly, and a bone-deep chill seized Catelyn.
The excessive gentleness, the pointless history lesson, the deliberate pity—all of it pointed to something cruel he could barely bring himself to say, yet had no choice but to carry out.
"This parchment contains a new royal decree. Tyrion drafted it. The king, the queen regent, and the Hand have all signed it." Kevan gestured to the document on the table, his voice frighteningly calm. "It states that all women of rebel houses who have lost their adult male protectors will be placed under the full guardianship of the Iron Throne."
Even if a dragon had landed in the room, she would not have been more shocked.
Guardianship was just a polite word for slavery.
Taking the wives and daughters of traitors as royal property was the same as stripping them of all dignity and freedom.
Not even Black Harren, cruel Maegor, or the Mad King Aerys had ever thought of anything so vile.
This Lannister move would ignite fury across all of Westeros.
Yet Kevan continued in the same even tone, as if discussing the weather. "The queen regent and the Hand believe the Iron Throne should become the protector of these women—providing for their livelihood, safety, and future—and use that power to strengthen the unity of the realm."
"What exactly are you trying to say?" Catelyn fought to keep her voice steady.
"I'm talking about your future—and your eldest daughter's future." Kevan's green eyes were sharp as knives, cold but not without a trace of pity. "King Joffrey has decided that you and Sansa will be married to his two maternal uncles."
The words struck Catelyn like a poisoned blade straight through the heart.
The room fell into dead silence.
Kevan kindly gave her time to absorb the blow, but her thoughts were already spinning out of control.
First she thought she must be dreaming. Then she called on the gods for help. Finally she simply wished the floor would open and swallow her whole.
There was no escape, no hiding place. A wave of nausea crashed over her.
She could already see herself dressed in Lannister crimson and gold, married to the Kingslayer while the whole court smiled and flattered her, her dead family watching from above as she endured the humiliation.
Never. She would rather die than accept this filthy marriage.
"Have some Arbor wine. It might help," Kevan offered, trying to ease the tension.
"Jaime Lannister has no right to take a wife!" Catelyn seized the last straw, her voice urgent. "He is a member of the Kingsguard. He swore a lifelong vow—no marriage, no children, no lands!"
"Then he will no longer be a Kingsguard." Kevan shrugged lightly, as if speaking to a disobedient child.
That single gesture snapped something inside Catelyn Stark.
"Impossible! The Kingsguard's vows are for life. No one has ever broken them!"
"Times have changed, my lady." Kevan's tone carried a bitter edge. "You can ask Ser Barristan yourself. Your wise king has already dismissed him. We will give Jaime every courtesy, but the result will be the same. Everything in Westeros is changing this autumn. You will have to learn to adapt."
"No! Lannister!" Catelyn shot to her feet, rage burning like wildfire. She glared at the knight across from her. "You haven't changed anything. You've only trampled, plundered, killed, and desecrated! You put a bastard on the throne and spit on the laws of gods and men! You will be cursed. The blood you've spilled will cry out for vengeance. The Father will judge you. The Stranger will devour you. Your entire house will die in agony!"
She expected Kevan to explode, to call the guards, to throw her into the black cells.
Instead he simply looked at her calmly, showing no anger at all.
"I understand your pain—more deeply than you realize. I will pretend I heard nothing just now." Kevan's voice remained perfectly calm. "Return to your seat. You need to know exactly which two of my nephews you and Sansa will be marrying."
"I will not listen to—"
"Sit down!" For the first time since the meeting began, Kevan raised his voice. The command was absolute.
Catelyn obeyed before she could stop herself.
"Ser Jaime will marry you." Kevan spoke each word with deliberate weight. "This will finally bind the Westerlands and the Riverlands together. Your children will rule these lands and bring a prosperity never seen before."
"Children?!" Catelyn gasped, her breath catching. "If you think I will bear the Kingslayer's child—bear the son of the man who murdered my husband—you are even more of a fool than a stableboy! I would rather kill myself than—"
"You needn't worry about that. We will take precautions." Kevan's tone grew even firmer. "Your daughter Sansa, of course, will not become queen. A king should not marry the daughter of a traitor. But she will marry my other nephew—Tyrion Lannister. He is clever and resourceful, and now enjoys great trust. His future is bright. He will make a suitable husband."
The room spun.
Catelyn finally understood that her own pain was nothing compared to what awaited her daughter.
Her Sansa—gentle, kind, dreaming of marrying a true knight—was to be given to that twisted, vile, malicious dwarf. That monster whose hands were soaked in sin.
It was the ultimate humiliation for Sansa and the cruelest torture for House Stark.
Anger, shame, and despair left her speechless for a long moment.
Kevan kept praising Tyrion's virtues, but Catelyn could only pray in silence that this nightmare would end.
The gods remained silent.
"Ser Kevan, in the name of the Mother's mercy and the Father's justice, I beg you." Catelyn set aside every scrap of pride and pleaded through tears. A mother's instinct overrode everything else. "Spare my Sansa. She has never wronged the crown. She deserves a bright future. She should marry an honorable, noble knight—not… not that dwarf!"
What would her husband, her father, her sons think if they could see her kneeling and begging before the enemy?
Would they condemn her for shaming the family, or would they understand a mother's desperation?
Men would never understand the bone-deep terror that gripped her now.
"She is the daughter of a traitor. My nephew is the king's uncle, the queen's brother, and the Hand's brother." Kevan's voice was ice, offering no room for argument. "This is the best match she can hope for. Even minor lords in the Crownlands will no longer accept a Stark daughter. Tyrion may have his flaws, but marrying a highborn girl will help him settle down."
"You don't understand anything—"
"I hope you will act sensibly." Kevan cut her off. "Lord Tywin gave me very clear orders, and I must carry them out. From today onward, carefully chosen guards will follow you at all times. They are honorable men and will not harm you, but they will prevent you from doing anything foolish. The maester will examine you regularly. Your meals will be handled by trusted hands. Your maids will never leave you alone."
Catelyn fell completely silent.
"You may be thinking you can refuse the marriage at the sept, that you can get rid of any child, that you can quietly murder Jaime." Kevan read every thought on her face, his voice cold. "Abandon those ideas now. You will be watched around the clock. There is nowhere to run."
He paused, as if struggling with himself, then delivered the final, most vicious threat.
"There is one more thing, Lady Catelyn. Your daughter Sansa is in King's Landing right now, under the protection of Ser Jaime… that is, your future husband." Kevan's eyes bored into hers. Every word felt like an icicle driven into her heart. "Jaime is willing to protect his future stepdaughter—not Eddard Stark's daughter. Think carefully. Once she loses that protection, what do you think King Joffrey will do to her?"
That single sentence shattered every last shred of Catelyn Stark's resistance.
She finally understood that inside the lion's den of the Lannisters, she had no choices, no dignity, and no hope.
She could only become a pawn in the lions' game and watch helplessly as her daughter was thrown into an abyss from which there was no return.
The gods were silent. The earth offered no answer.
And her suffering had only just begun.