Prologue

I do not own Game of Thrones nor do I make any money from this story.
Prologue.

She and the others were huddled together in a large wooden pen in the courtyard. The stench of death, waste, and urine was overpowering. They had just watched as Amory Lorch tortured and murdered a prisoner the day before, hoping to uncover information on the Brotherhood. They stood together, terrified that they would be chosen next. They always chose a new person at the start of every new day. Before anyone could move there was a loud commotion at the gates and suddenly a large group of people on horseback entered the keep of Harrenhal.

Surprised, they turned quickly to watch as the horsemen were joined by dozens of Lannister men-at-arms on foot, surrounding them. There at the front, mounted on a huge black destrier and towering over the others, in gold and steel plated armor, decorated with glittering golden lions and a crimson velvet sash was Lord Tywin Lannister himself. There was no mistaking it. The Mighty Lion had arrived at Harrenhal.

The prisoners called out, pleading for mercy, for help as one of Lorch's henchmen stepped in front of the pen, intent on selecting another victim. He stopped in front of Gendry and moved to pull him forward when Arya quickly stepped in front of him, intent on protecting him from harm as she cursed loudly at the man, taking a swing at him. The guard growled in anger as one of her small fists connected, hitting him across the chest, though it did little to harm him it did serve to piss him off.

"That's it. I'll gut you for that you little brat." He roared furiously as he drew a dagger from his belt and raised his hand only to have his wrist grabbed by the hand of Lord Tywin himself.

"Not this one, you won't. This one is a girl. Dressed as a boy. Why?" He asked turning to look at Arya, a curious expression on his face as he took a moment to consider her.

Clad in a dirty, torn tunic and breeches, her hair matted with mud and filth, she looked a sight but her dark eyes blazed with a keen light as she found her tongue.
"Safer to travel, my lord," she said, keeping her eyes low and her voice level, despite a slight waver.

Nodding almost imperceptibly, Lord Tywin took another moment to consider her before turning to face Amory Lorch. "You keep them here in pins. Why?" He asked.

Ser Amory paused and considered his words before looking at his lord and answering. "They're prisoners, my lord. To be executed, after interrogation."

Lord Tywin frowned, an angry expression on his face. "Executed? Do you think we're so well manned that we can afford to turn away laborers?" He snapped angrily.

Turning to face Gendry, Lord Tywin asked, "You boy. Do you have a trade?"

Gendry froze, stammering a reply. "Smith, my lord. I am skilled at making armor and weapons," He mumbled, eyes down.

Lord Tywin turned sharply, now casting an angry glare at Ser Amory. "Get them cleaned up and put them to work. Except for the girl. She's to be my new page," He said, gazing at her with an expression that made Arya nervous.

With that, they were all split up and sent to bathe before being given clean garments from the Lannister stores and then put to work. Arya was separated from her friends and taken to a separate room where a pair of robust maids stripped her of her filthy breeches and tunic and dunked her head first into a large tub, and then proceeded to scrub the layers of grime from her skin. Arya struggled and fought, but strong hands held her down, pouring buckets of soapy water over her head. The water quickly turned brown as the mud and filth were washed from her dark hair and small, slender body.

After they finished, they pulled her out of the tub and dried her off. Next, they took a pair of shears to her hair, cutting it short before then handing her clean garments, they told her to dress quickly. She did so and was sent towards the largest tower in Harrenhal where Lord Tywin had taken up residence. She was dressed in a rather plain grey woolen dress with the Lannister sigil sewn into the breast, linen small clothes, a pair of rough fitting leather shoes on her feet. She entered the tower and climbed up the stairs towards the second level where she found Lord Tywin's solar, the entrance flanked by two Lannister guards who ushered her inside at their lord's command.

Inside Tywin sat at a large wooden desk, pouring over the countless documents covering his desk, his armor hanging on a rack nearby. He was dressed in rich black silk breeches, leather boots, a dark blue silk shirt with gold, lions head buttons, and a dagger hung at the belt at his waist. His blond hair was thinning, and his blue-green eyes focused on her as he looked up from his work. He pointed to the spot in front of his desk and she walked forward, nervous and fearful, a lump forming in her throat as he specified her new duties.

She would serve his meals, clean his chambers, make the bed, run errands and polish his armor and tend to any other various needs he may have in the future. When she was not busy working for him she would help in the kitchens. At night she would sleep on the floor in the corner of his chambers, ready to serve him the next morning.