Even on his deathbed, Catelyn thought sadly. "He has not wed. You know that, Father. Nor will he ever."
I told him... commanded him. Marry! I was his lord. He knows. My right, to make his match. A good match. A Redwyne. Old House. Sweet girl, pretty... freckles... Bethany, yes. Poor child. Still waiting. Yes. Still...
Bethany Redwyne wed Lord Rowan years ago, Catelyn reminded him. "She has three children by him."
Even so, Lord Hoster muttered. "Even so. Spit on the girl. The Redwynes. Spit on me. His lord, his brother... that Blackfish. I had other offers. Lord Bracken's girl. Walder Frey... any of three, he said... Has he wed? Anyone? Anyone?"
No one, Catelyn said, "yet he has come many leagues to see you, fighting his way back to Riverrun. I would not be here now, if Sir Brynden had not helped us."
He was ever a warrior, her father husked. "That he could do. Knight of the Gate, yes."