A/N: So this is my first Gendrya fan fiction, and I'm really not sure about it right now. It's based in Season 2 on Game of Thrones, and although I am only just reading the books I know that the scenes from Harrenhall are not in the books. I'm really not sure about my characterisation of Tywin yet, so that might change yet. Anyway, try to enjoy.

The fortress of Harrenhall loomed like misformed shadows cast into the fog. Empty eyes of castle walls stared out across the small area that could be seen from the towers. Lord Tywin Lannister stood atop one of those towers that day looking over the men and girl in his service. She was a high-born girl, that was known enough to him - her use of 'my lord' instead of 'mi'lord', her attempts to cover up the mistakes she makes about house knowledge: it was almost too obvious.

Almost.

She had obviously recognised him, in name or banner at least, and for that reason she was not pleased. Her defiance at not kneeling when he rode in gave him some indication that she was not fond on the banner, but her fear showed well enough that she did value her life - majorly enough it seemed.

She was clever, obviously in some way literate. She got angry about the fact that he had questioned her, brought up her obvious lies. She was hiding, and there was only one (known) high-born girl, around her age, missing in Westeros. One that was very much well-known by his armies,

But the sight before him only confirmed the fact to him more. From the tower, Tywin could see all that he needed to over the area covered by Harrenhal - that included the forge where his cupbearer now sat watching the blacksmith-boy work. It was a sight that almost brewed anger in his chest, a sight that reminded him of the man the dead king once was with the girl who that man had still loved.

That was the moment when Tywin Lannister finally understood something. That little girl from Winterfell seemed to have done well on her own - but how she acted around the blacksmith told him something else. He was not blind, he could see that relationship and how blatant it was.

"You wanted to see me my lord?" He had not bothered to learn this man's name, he believed him to be called Polliver - but did not care very much. He had called the man there for a reason, and his name did not matter to him.

"Yes, I'd like you to send for the girl and the blacksmith boy." He turned away from the open area caused by the melted stone, walking back to his table and placing his hands on the chair at the head of it - so he was facing the man. "Tell them that their Lord has some questions to ask them."

"Wouldn't you rather I ask them for you my lord?" The man grinned in a way that Tywin did not care for. "You would not have to waste your breath on-" Lannister felt a laugh burst from his lips, not joyful - humourless at the nerve the man had to believe that he would want anything other than the orders he had commanded.

"No. Do as I ask." The man stood frozen for a few seconds as Tywin continued to stare at him, smirking slightly. When he did not move the smirk was dropped. "Well go on then."

The man probably wished for a knighthood from some house by the end of this war - he was too naïve for that honor.

When he returned, he ordered the man to leave - leaving the girl and the blacksmith-boy stood silently before him. Her eyes glancing worriedly between the boy and Tywin as the silence grew. Their secrets slowly casting shadows that the Lannister Lord was beginning to deduce himself. It was slowly becoming more and more obvious to him, the girl was still young - young enough to not notice the look that boy cast her in some lights, young enough to not know how she stood betrayed her stature at points.

"I never did ask your name, did I girl?" Tywin walked around the table to where she and the boy were stood, his eyes staying levelled throughout his steps. She seemed to gulp to him, to start figuring out her lies to add to the tale she had conducted in her mind. "Don't bother, I already figured it out - Arya Stark."

She gulped more blatantly this time, glancing towards her friend in a mode of fear and worry that she was trying to push back - but couldn't. She looked fearful, and that was what betrayed her, she rocked side to side on the balls of her feet - her eyes wide and shocked, like a doe caught sight of by a hunting party. It was blatantly obvious to Lord Tywin Lannister that this girl was who he had accused her of being.

"I am right then, aren't I?" She nodded glumly, looking down at her feet slightly - he had heard enough stories and spent enough time with this girl to know that she would not take this fact by simply looking down at her feet. "Well what am I supposed to do with you now?" He turned and walked back to his seat at the head of the table, motioning for them to sit once he, himself, was sat comfortably.

"I do not know, my lord." She sat down wearily, Gendry seating himself more awkwardly to her left, her eyes glancing towards the blacksmith's worried expression with one of her own. How she was sat almost betrayed the fact she was prepared to run, but she seemed to be gaining some slight comfort from the blacksmith sat beside her.

She had no idea what to think in this situation, she'd expected him to kill her if he found out - or send her back to the prisons, or to King's Landing; not sit her and Gendry down together in his war room. But what she did not understand was why Gendry was sat with her.

"We shall sort that out in a moment." Tywin then said curtly, turning his eyes to look Gendry over once again. His eyes seeming to scan the boy over before he abruptly spoke. "Where are you from, boy?"

"King's Langing, mi'lord." Gendry saw no point in lying to the man before him, if he could see through Arya's then he would obviously see through his. "Flea Bottom." He knew full well what these questions were about, he could easily assume that they would lead to the same he was asked by the two Hands before they both died. He almost hoped that the Lannister before him would follow this fate - for Arya's sake.

"And your mother?" Tywin continued to scrutinise the boy, he was sure of what he was seeing - he had Robert's facial structure, build (at least during that war).

"No one special," He looked down at his hands almost pitifully. "She was just a tavern girl." He could tell what question would come next, so he did not give the Lannister Lord time to ask it. "And I didn't know my father."

Tywin felt his lips purse. So this was why his solders had attacked their group - he had survived, somehow, probably through lying. The two of these children could a way to win the war, if they were in Robb Stark's camp. But they were not, they were directly before him. "You're a bastard." The Lannister Lord stated blatantly. "This wasn't the first time you've being asked these questions, is it?"

"No mi'lord," Gendry felt his eyes glancing towards Arya in support, he wished they hadn't - since this was something personal to him. But it had involved her father, after all. "The Hands of the King asked me the same questions." He turned to look the man back in the eyes, he then glanced back down to the table - knowing that when he had looked Eddard Stark in the eyes he seemed to jump back in surprise.

"Hands?" Tywin saw his ideas confirm to the boy's eyes when he looked directly at him, the boy had some idea that his action had something to do with the reaction of the previous people who had asked him these questions.

"The first hand had send a man to speak with me, the questions were from him…" Gendry then trailed off, glancing towards Arya - to support her with the words he said, not the other way around. "And Lord Eddard came himself."

Arya looked Gendry in the eyes, a memory of Kings Landing flooding back to her from the back of her mind. 'His found one bastard already.' Realisation made her figure out who those men in the dungeon had meant - Gendry. They had meant Gendry, at least - that's what she thought they must have meant.

"Lord Eddard came himself, did he." Tywin could almost hear himself laugh humourlessly at this fact. "To the pits of Flea Bottom, he is a braver man than I." The last sentence was meant sarcastically and almost to himself, but it caused an anger he had hoped to brew in the girl. That in-turn, he hoped, would cause him to see some of the great Baratheron wrath that would so obviously exist in the boy; that was, if the boy was who Tywin thought him to be. But then the boy was so alike in looks to his father, that maybe he had not inherited that from Robert - maybe he had instead inherited some of the tavern wenches temperament.

But Gendry did not bite back, instead his murmured something Tywin could not hear to the girl - somehow calming her down.

"There was a reason that two Hands to the King went to see you, and now -technically - you have seen a third." Tywin reclined slightly, watching as the boy looked confused at him. Tywin had given in looking to the Lyanna Stark look-a-like and decided to concentrate on the bastard of the dead king. "Looking at you the reasoning behind my daughter or grandson's men looking to kill you seems almost obvious." Tywin stood to move around to look the boy in the eye. "It was well known Robert had bastards." He paused to allow the thoughts sink into the boy's head, to allow him to put everything together.

"I am…" Gendry seemed almost disgusted by the idea, having seen the dead King in person a few times - all of those times when Robert was drunk.

"Yes, you are the bastard son of late King Robert."