JAIME | CATELYN
Death. So much death.
The numbers were written in black ink on the paper that now felt so heavy in Jaime's hand. Fifty lives lost in vain. Men, women, and children. All dead: trampled in the narrow streets of Flea Bottom just fighting over a few pieces of free wheat bread from the royal carts.
The tragedy occurred yesterday afternoon. When the long queue was suddenly struck by panic due to a rumor that the bread had run out. The starving mob turned into a savage sea of humans. Several guards were also severely injured, their ribs broken, crushed between the stone walls and the push of hundreds of desperate people.
Now, the bodies had been taken away. The smell of summer rot spread too fast, the corpses were loaded into wooden carts like firewood. They were taken to a mass grave, in an open field far enough outside the city walls.
He stared at the report papers in his hand with a blank gaze. His chamber in the Red Keep was currently only lit by the dim light of two beeswax candles on the table, leaving plenty of room for shadows to dance in the corners of the room.
Catelyn sat opposite him, on the soft bed, watching him in silence with blue eyes full of empathy.
Jaime sighed, a sound that seemed fragile in the silence of the night. He placed the papers on the table.
"I expected that this would happen, Cat," whispered Jaime, pressing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "In my head, I knew the theory. But... experiencing it myself, seeing this report... it is a completely different feeling. It feels like I am the one holding the hangman's noose and executing them all."
Catelyn put her embroidery on the small table next to her. She looked at her husband with a grounded gentleness, typical of a woman raised in a harsh world.
"There is nothing you could have done in all this, Jaime," said Catelyn calmly. "You are not even anyone right now who can stop those Lords. You are not the King. You are not the Hand of the King. It is Rhaegar's and your father's duty to bring them to order."
Hearing that, Jaime chuckled. An empty and powerless laugh. Yes, what am I here? he thought cynically. A ditch and street foreman? A cement supervisor?
Rhaegar had indeed asked him to oversee all infrastructure projects in the capital, the same projects that had been built in Lannisport. Jaime was the architect of its construction.
But deep in his heart, Jaime knew the truth. Clearly, all this chaos was indeed his doing. His idea. He was the one who brought the seeds of that revolution. He was the one who wanted rapid progress. And this forced progress indeed had to be passed with several painful things. People were displaced because of the tools he created. And for the lives lost yesterday... some of that blood was on his hands.
At the same time, he could not turn back time. And he also didn't want to do it. This was a terrible price, and he chose to continue it, even though the guilt would continue to destroy him slowly from the inside.
All this will get better over time, Jaime reassured himself inwardly, a mantra he often repeated lately. Industry will absorb them. Manufactories will be built. He had to believe in that.
Jaime lifted his face, looking at his wife, forcing a wry smile.
"You are very bad at comforting, you know that, Cat?" joked Jaime, trying to lighten the overly heavy atmosphere. "Reminding me that I am a nobody. I know where my position is."
"Reality is still reality, my Husband," Catelyn spoke, unaffected by the joke. She seemed to know when Jaime was hiding his wounds. "I will not give you empty sweet words. You cannot control the circumstances of many people. The greed of those Lords... all of this is beyond your control as a human. You have done the best you could for this realm. Remember that."
Catelyn leaned her body forward, her eyes locking onto Jaime's eyes with full conviction.
"Lannisport and the Westerlands do not have an unemployment problem this large," Catelyn argued sharply. "The problem is the people from other regions who copy your inventions. They only see efficiency and profit. All the preparation processes, building manufactories to absorb displaced labor, giving severance, planning new jobs, they just threw them away because they didn't want to spend money. You cannot blame yourself for their selfishness."
Jaime fell silent. Catelyn was very smart. Her analysis was spot on. That was indeed the root of the problem. Innovation without social responsibility was a disaster. He nodded slowly, letting the truth of his wife's words sink in and slightly lighten the burden on his chest. He exhaled roughly, as if throwing away the remnants of the night's gloom.
"You are right," said Jaime finally. He stood up from his chair and walked closer to Catelyn. "Forget about all this. At least for tonight. The world will not end tomorrow morning."
He knelt on the carpeted floor in front of Catelyn. Very gently, he reached out and touched Catelyn's stomach.
The stomach was not yet noticeably enlarged under her nightgown, only a subtle curve, but as Jaime's hand made contact with the warmth of the skin beneath the silk fabric, he could feel the vibration of life. His own flesh and blood.
Jaime looked up, staring into Catelyn's blue eyes from below.
"I am sorry," whispered Jaime sincerely. "I am sorry for often coming home bringing a gloomy face, often complaining about sewers, poverty, and corpses. Sorry for making you uncomfortable with these sad stories."
Catelyn placed her hand on top of Jaime's hand which was on her stomach. "You do not make me—"
"Pregnancy should be filled with jokes and laughter," interrupted Jaime gently. "You must have a peaceful environment and a happy life so our little one is born healthy. Bringing you into a dark atmosphere... I am a bad husband."
Catelyn smiled, a smile so sincere that it made the dim room feel brighter.
"You are a man who cares about people you do not even know, Jaime. That does not make you a bad husband. That makes you a good man," said Catelyn softly.
Jaime returned her smile, feeling the burden in his heart truly lifted. He pulled his hand from Catelyn's stomach, then his eyes shifted to his wife's feet hidden under the hem of her gown.
"You said this morning your feet hurt because of standing too long in the garden accompanying Queen Rhaella, right?" Jaime remembered his wife's small complaint this afternoon. "Want me to massage them?"
Catelyn widened her eyes slightly, her cheeks flushed red under the candlelight. "Seriously, Jaime? Now?" She chuckled, looking surprised even though they had done this small intimacy several times before.
"You never seem to get used to this," said Jaime with a witty tone.
He lifted the hem of Catelyn's gown slightly, taking off the soft cloth shoes she wore with careful movements filled with adoration. He took one of Catelyn's petite feet and began to massage the arch of her sole with his thumb. The pressure was just right, relaxing the tense muscles.
Catelyn sighed softly, leaning her head back due to the comfort that instantly spread.
"In this world," said Jaime while continuing to massage, his eyes twinkling mischievously, "out there, I might just be a hated sewer builder. But here, in this room... I am an unrivaled massage master."
Catelyn chuckled, a sweet and happy sound.
...
Catelyn felt her husband's massage calmly. The pressure of Jaime's thumb on her soles was so right, slowly untangling the knots of tense muscles after a whole day walking down the stone hallways of the Red Keep, or just standing around.
She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the relaxing sensation spread throughout her body. Inside this chamber lit only by dim candlelight, with a small fire burning in the corner, the world felt safe. The thick castle walls seemed to isolate them from all the madness happening out there.
However, when Catelyn opened her eyes again and stared at the shadows dancing on the ceiling, reality crept back in.
King's Landing was no longer as pleasant as when she first arrived here. Before, this city was a giant stage filled with wonders: knights in white cloaks, thrilling court intrigues like singers' songs, beautiful gowns, and never-ending feasts. For a girl from Riverrun, this was the center of the world.
Now? She hated this place.
Behind the beautiful tapestries and fragrant perfumes, King's Landing hid an unbearable rot. The city was a starving monster continuously demanding victims. Riots, also desperate faces in the streets.
Nausea crept into Catelyn's stomach, not because of her pregnancy, but because of the reality of the place she currently lived.
She wanted to tell Jaime that they should leave. Pack their belongings tonight, prepare a carriage, and return to the West. To Casterly Rock. Forget all these things, smelly sewers, dusty manufactories, starvation, and suffocating politics.
Let King Rhaegar take care of his own kingdom, thought Catelyn bitterly. Let Lord Tywin handle it with his cold hands. Why must my husband bear this burden of conscience?
All this made her very sick. But what made her hate the most was not this city, but what this city did to her husband. Catelyn lowered her gaze, looking at Jaime's face which was focused on massaging her feet.
She hated how Jaime's eyes dimmed day by day. In the past, when they first spent time together, those eyes looked very bright. Green and sparkling beautifully, like leaves in the daytime illuminated by the summer sun. Those eyes were full of laughter, full of the confidence of a young man sure he could change the world with his two hands.
Now, the sun in those eyes had been covered by grey clouds. The green color faded, replaced by deep exhaustion and shadows of guilt. She could read every line on her husband's face, every heavy sigh. The progress Jaime dreamed of claimed lives, and Jaime secretly punished himself for it.
"Jaime?" called Catelyn softly, her voice breaking the silence only filled by the crackling of firewood.
"Yes?" answered Jaime. His hand did not stop moving, his thumb gently pressing Catelyn's heel. His voice sounded tired, yet still as soft as velvet when speaking to her.
"When will we go home?" she asked. Catelyn tried to keep her voice from sounding like a whine, but rather a sincere question.
Jaime's hand movements slowed, then stopped completely. The young man lifted his face, staring at Catelyn with slight confusion.
"To Casterly Rock?" said Jaime, confirming. He released Catelyn's foot gently and changed his sitting position, crossing his legs on the carpet. "Are you bored here, Cat? I thought you liked afternoon tea with the ladies and observing court drama in the hall."
Catelyn tilted her face, staring at the candle flame swaying blown by a little wind from the window crack.
"Maybe before," admitted Catelyn, her tone turning melancholic. "But now... yes. I miss the atmosphere there, Jaime. I miss the sea breeze that feels far cleaner than the wind here. I miss how sturdy and calm Casterly Rock is. Not many other great lords whispering to each other. There... there it feels like it is only the two of us. Our home."
Catelyn rubbed her still-flat stomach reflexively. And a safe home for our child later, she added internally. Far from plagues and starvation riots.
Jaime stared at her in silence. Catelyn could feel that gaze; a gaze full of understanding, but also attachment to duty. Jaime's jaw hardened slightly, a sign that he was at war with his own desires.
"Soon, Cat," said Jaime finally, his voice low and filled with regret. He reached out, covering Catelyn's hand which was on her stomach. His hand was warm and rough. "Just... give me a little more time. Rhaegar still needs me. I cannot leave him alone."
Catelyn swallowed. Words were stuck at the tip of her tongue.
I need you too, screamed Catelyn in her head. This child in my womb needs its father whole, not just the shell of a man exhausted from taking care of other people's problems. I need a time where you don't come home with a face that looks like you just buried your own best friend.
But Catelyn bit her inner lip. She swallowed her ego and fear back into her chest.
She was raised as a Tully. Family, Duty, Honor. She knew what duty meant to a man. If she forced Jaime to leave now, Jaime might obey her out of love. But Jaime would bring that guilt with him to Casterly Rock. The guilt of running away. And that guilt would eventually erode their marriage.
Catelyn would not be a wife who added to her husband's burden. If King's Landing was Jaime's battlefield right now, then Catelyn would be his healing tent.
Catelyn forced a smile. Not the brightest smile, but enough to convince.
"I know," said Catelyn softly, turning her hand to grasp Jaime's fingers. "I just... sometimes get carried away by my mood. Rhaegar indeed needs an honest friend right now. Do what you must do, Jaime."
Jaime stared at her intently, as if looking for a lie in her eyes. When he didn't find it, Jaime's shoulder which had been tense finally relaxed slightly. The young man sighed in relief and pulled Catelyn's hand to kiss the back of it.
"Thank you, Cat. You are far more understanding than I deserve," whispered Jaime.
Catelyn pulled her hand slowly and patted the empty space beside her. "Come here. You cannot stay on the floor like a guard dog."
Jaime chuckled softly, the first real laugh he let out tonight. He stood up, then climbed onto the bed and lay down beside his wife.
Catelyn leaned on Jaime's chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. To prevent dark thoughts from creeping back in, Catelyn started chatting about trivial things.
She told stories about the latest letter from her uncle, Brynden, complaining about Hoster Tully trying to matchmake him again. She told how a Lady's gown accidentally got caught in a carriage door and tore. She even had a small debate with Jaime about whether their child later would prefer grilled fish or hunted venison.
Jaime responded to everything with a voice that grew heavier and heavier due to sleepiness. He chimed in on Catelyn's jokes, stroking his wife's hair with a soothing rhythmic movement.
Catelyn did not say what truly burdened her mind. She kept her own fears. And thanks to that light chat, the shadows of everything slowly moved away from them.
And she fell asleep.
...
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