Author's Notes: This would be my second favorite AU that I'm writing, I think. It wasn't even supposed to be a chaptered fic, but people kept requesting for more, so more there is.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Reconstructed
Seeing

Arya had never ridden a more beautiful or wonderful horse before. The sand steed from Dorne was a sandy brown color with a blonde mane; it was lither than large and bulky like most horses she'd seen, so that it could gallop faster and longer. It's perfect for me, she couldn't help but think as she leaned down to run her fingers through its coarse hair. Compared to all the other horses, it was small, not yet fully grown, but she knew in her heart that with the proper training and care, it would be the best horse in all of King's Landing, maybe even Westeros.

She was so captivated with the horse that she did not notice another person riding up next to her. "Do you like her?" a deep voice came about.

Swinging her eyes around and sitting up straight, Arya caught sight of Lord Tywin Lannister atop a taller, white horse. "Yeah – I mean – yes, my lord, thank you." Seven hells, she was still struggling with this living situation months later. How had Sansa managed to survive for so long alone with these people? It was like one moment they were feeding you and the next smacking the food right out of your hands. Lord Tywin was a bad man and she wanted him dead – but then he gave her this beautiful horse for her name day. It was confusing.

"Have you figured out a name for her?"

Arya bit her lip. "I was thinking…Visenya."

"A female warrior's name."

"I named my direwolf after Queen Nymeria of Dorne," she told him without thinking. As soon as the words escaped her, there was a sharp ache deep in her chest, like there was a hole there. Tywin would not understand that kind of pain – no one here could, not even her mother strangely enough – and so she shoved it away. She buried her fingers in the horse's mane and glanced down, wishing she could be alone again. That was when she felt the happiest (and least confused) here.

"Would you like to go for a ride through the city with me?" Tywin asked. Her eyes jumped to him quickly. "I need to check on the construction of the king's new ships."

"I thought they were nearly complete," Arya exclaimed. When Tywin gave her a look telling her that he was curious as to how she'd found that out, she shut her mouth. Instead of telling him that she'd heard it from a kitchen girl who'd heard it from her brother who was sleeping with a whore that had slept with the new Master of Ships, Arya merely shrugged her shoulders. No one noticed her when she was creeping in the shadows.

There was a ghost of a proud look on his face. "That's what was said, but I believe a…surprise check is in order to determine the truth." Arya smiled a little at that. It was like a trick. "People can lie to me, even if they are scared of me, perhaps because of it, but my eyes cannot."

Her thoughts immediately shifted to Syrio, telling her to see. She thought that now as she looked at the Lord of Casterly Rock. It was hard to see him though when he constantly seemed to change on her. Only her mother seemed capable of being able to understand and see him; and even then, Arya didn't know how her mother did.

"I want to go," Arya suddenly decided. It would be nice to get out of the Red Keep besides.

Tywin nodded and then forced his horse to trot away while barking out a few orders. She continued to pet her horse, trying not to think about Nymeria and Syrio anymore, until she saw Tywin look back at her and she knew that it was time to leave. Somehow, instinctively, the horse knew how to follow Arya's lead, trailing after Tywin's horse. She smiled to herself, thinking back to all the times she'd raced Jon back to Winterfell; she'd almost always beat him by the time she turned eight. He'd be flustered yet laughing and swoop her off her horse, telling her how fast she was.

"You ride very well," Tywin said, as if sensing her thoughts.

"I've been riding as far as I can remember," Arya explained, her thoughts further and farther away from this place. She glanced at him, but only for a moment before looking away again. "My father, he…"

She couldn't go on any further though. Talking about her old life, about her father, about the past with Tywin Lannister felt like a betrayal of everything she had once held dear. All of those things were dead and gone forever thanks to this man and his family. This new, strange life had replaced her old one; and she was never getting it back. Tywin could not take Eddard Stark's place in Arya's heart, but she could not deny that she sometimes yearned for the same interactions with Tywin as she once had with her father.

I don't need him to be proud of him, she told herself furiously, but as she gripped the reigns tightly, she knew that was a lie.

"I taught Cersei and Jaime at a young age as well," Tywin said, continuing as if Arya had not fallen away into a brooding silence. "Cersei learned faster. Jaime always preferred to be on foot, so he could be more sure of his sword, but Cersei wanted to be swift and travel."

"I've always liked traveling," Arya said quietly, more or less to herself. More than anything, she wanted to go all the way to the Wall, so she could see Jon again. She wanted to hug him and have him muse her hair and call him "brother" and everything. She wanted him to give her a tour of the Wall that protected the North and keep her there in the cold and never let her go. But she knew that neither Lord Tywin nor her mother would allow it. Maybe she could travel to Dorne on Visenya if they ever went to visit Princess Myrcella. Visenya might like going back home.

Tywin looked at her sideways. "Perhaps one day we can." Arya looked up at him curiously, hopefully. "I could take you and your mother to Casterly Rock and you could tour Lannisport."

"That's where Uncle Edmure is being held," she blurted out, immediately turning red.

He just nodded his head though. "This is true. Your mother would be very pleased to see him, yes?"

"I've never met him, but she won't ever talk about him," Arya replied, somewhat edgily. "She misses him."

"She talks of no one outside of her life here," Tywin mused out loud. Arya just nodded her head to herself. Whenever she tried to ask her mother about her uncle, her mother would simply change the subject. It hurt sometimes, but Arya knew that it was done out of self-defense.

Arya gnawed on her bottom lip. "It hurts too much to talk about some things."

"You do not talk much either," Tywin said, giving her a careful look. She turned her face away from him. "The septa says you almost never speak during lessons; and you aren't making any friends with any of the other highborn girls."

"They're stupid,"Arya mumbled.

"They were your sister Sansa's friends."

"No they weren't," Arya snapped, glaring up at him. "They weren't her friends at all. They're all fake, stupid girls and all they do is talk about boys and when they're going to be married and then told on Sansa to the Queen. That's not what friends do." She thought of Gendry, who had known who she was, who had kept her secret locked inside of him even though he could've gotten more gold than he'd ever had before by turning her in. "Friends don't tell on each other."

Tywin arched an eyebrow. "How do you know that they spied on your sister for the Queen?"

"I spent time with them once because I knew it would make Mother happy," Arya grumbled, feeling upset just thinking about that day. She hated those girls. They were nothing like Gendry or Hot Pie, both of whom had been better friends. They weren't like Jon, who had given her Needle, or even Micah the butcher's son, who had played sword fighting with her and had died for it. "They asked me all sorts of questions and giggled, like I was stupid or a joke; and then the next day the Queen knew everything that I'd told them." She frowned. "You can't trust anyone here. I couldn't then and I can't now."

For a while, neither of them said anything and Tywin just stared her down. She almost couldn't stand it, so she kept her eyes on the dirt road ahead of them. People weaved on and off the crowded market street. Any one of these people could've been a spy for someone in the Red Keep. The thought was disheartening. You shouldn't be talking to him so much, she told herself, but it was so difficult not to when she felt so alone. King's Landing could never be a home to her, even with her mother here now.

"You're not happy here," Tywin stated. Arya did not bother looking at him or shaking her head. He knew that he was right. It was plainly written on her face and everything she did. "Your mother does not like it here either, though she's adjusted better than you. She thinks it stifling – and she is right. I can see this place weighing down on you." He couldn't have been more right about that. There were days when she seemed to only be able to get up because of how angry she was. "I was told that last time you were here, you had a dancing master?"

Arya smiled sadly. "Syrio Forel. He-he never judged me for who I wasn't." He taught her how to be proud of who she was, how to see, how to feel, how to listen, how to be brave and fight. He had died protecting her; and she'd never gotten the chance to thank him properly.

"I was thinking that perhaps you could restart your dancing lessons," Tywin said. Arya gave him an alarmed look, her eyes wide and mouth opened slightly. He'd probably misunderstood that bit of knowledge, just like everyone else had. Sansa had thought that she was learning how to girly dance. Arya did not want to get stuck in dancing lessons since she couldn't just refuse Lord Tywin's offer. "Obviously I cannot give you the same instructor, so it will take some time finding you a new one."

"There are no good ones here." Maybe, if she made it seem like too much trouble, he'd give up and she wouldn't have to learn how to dance.

"No, not in King's Landing, perhaps not even in Westeros," Tywin replied as he brought his horse to a stop, "but in the Free Cities…"

Arya's eyes lit up in a way that hadn't happened since she'd first laid eyes on her mother again in the Red Keep. "For true?"

"You do remind me of Cersei," Tywin told her, gazing at the ships being built in the harbor. "She wanted a sword like Jaime, but she was destined for gowns and a crown. I took those dreams away from her and gave her new ones, but I can tell that I cannot do that with you. It will only make you rebel more. When I realized that, I knew that despite your sex, you are more like Jaime. You have skills that should be nurtured, not squandered away."

Arya did not want to hope, but she couldn't stop herself. This was the first time since coming back that she felt like she could survive here. It would be ironic that the man she wanted dead would be the one to give her the means to make it so, but she felt absurdly thankful to him. This gift would be even greater than her new horse. It was more than she could ever dare to hope for here. Maybe Lord Tywin saw her for who she was as well, and not who everyone thought she was supposed to be.

Smiling to herself, she looked out to the ships and pointed. "The ships – they look only half-done."

"Then you are seeing what I am seeing," Tywin said, "a lie." He was certainly not pleased and she knew that someone would be in trouble, but she did not feel threatened by him herself. "Shall we pay the Master of Ships a visit?"

"Yes,"Arya replied immediately, feeling excitement and nervousness bubbling up inside of her.

"Follow me and watch carefully," Tywin told her as he smoothly swung off his horse. "This will be your fist lesson from me."