XXI: Fathers and Daughters
AC 299, Casterly Rock, The Westerlands
Arya had never been to the Westerlands before, but she'd heard plenty about them. Mountainous, rich country, with gold and copper flowing out of the mines. And Lannisport, well-Who hadn't heard of that city? The largest in Westeros save for King's Landing itself. A busy, thriving seaport with hundreds of thousands of people going about their business. Living their lives. Working, loving, murdering, raising children, dying...
It stretched out before her from the patio on Casterly Rock, and she imagined it looked like a model city. The kind Theon and Robb had built to show off a few improvements to Winterfell to Father. She wondered if this view shaped the Lannisters: To view the world as a bunch of toys and models, easily shaped or thrown away as they needed. As they wanted.
"Laying down on the job, girl?" Asked Tywin, and Arya managed to resist jumping in fear. She looked over at the Lord of Casterly Rock, her enemy... Her captor.
"Just... Admiring the view, my Lord," Arya quickly excused herself. "It reminded me a little of... Of home."
Tywin nodded. "Mm... White Harbor, yes?" He asked. Tywin walked up to the balcony's edge, his hands on the stone railing. "Ha... The sea air is refreshing, I will admit." He glanced at Arya, who was smoothing down her red serving dress and fiddling with the apron. "It tends to refresh people's skin... I suppose you stayed inside most of the time?"
There was the expected challenge in his voice to her story. Arya pulled up the right response.
"No, I just was in the mountains or forests a lot," Arya said quickly. "I didn't like the ocean very much... My father didn't like it either. Reminded him of bad times."
Tywin nodded a bit, seemingly satisfied. "Mm... I suppose we all have places that are filled with regrets," he said, a bit softer in tone. "Places we avoid..."
Arya made to head out, maybe work on her plan to kill him. If only Jaquen was here, that would make things so much easier-
"Stay. Sit for a while," Tywin said. Arya turned and looked at him. The old man gestured to a chair. "Sit."
Arya walked to the chair, and sat down. She fidgeted a bit, the dress uncomfortable. Tywin raised his pale eyebrows.
"Not fond of the dress, I take it?" He asked. Arya shook her head.
"I don't like them," Arya admitted. Tywin laughed.
"I need my servants to look presentable. You've accomplished that, very easily," he complimented her.
"Thank you, my Lord," Arya managed, "but I'd much prefer pants."
Tywin laughed. "Ah yes... I suppose. Northerners have taken to such fashions, haven't they? Another of Theon Greyjoy's innovations?"
Arya fidgeted again. The old man looked at her intently.
"I can't imagine how shocking it was... All these wonders flying out of the woodwork, appearing almost overnight. Older kings and lords had introduced reforms and laws and didn't get nearly as much accomplished. Many got overthrown," he was circling her, resting his hands on the back of her chair. "As if by magic, your world changed... And the North adapted. Even thrived. Do you know why that is?"
Arya licked her lips. "Would you not know, my Lord?" Arya asked.
Tywin shrugged, looking out over the city. "I have guesses," he said. "Little more than supposition... But, based on the timeline of events, I would say... He simply overwhelmed you. He had the ear of Lord Stark, Lord Stark wanted to make his people rich, and so it was."
"It wasn't just that," Arya said, a bit defensively. Tywin raised his eyebrow at her, looking down. Arya felt rather like she was trapped underneath a lion's gaze, between his paws.
"Oh?" Tywin asked. "What was it, then?"
Arya grimaced... But proceeded. "Theon Greyjoy first convinced the local lords it would make them richer," she said, "and then he convinced the smallfolk it would make their lives better. He invested in schooling them, in teaching them how to use his wonders, and make their own. He offered chances to people who would otherwise never have the ability to make something of their own, and they took it. Many failed, but most succeeded."
"Ah... A champion of the people, then?" Tywin asked softly. "Beloved by the smallfolk?"
Arya nodded. Tywin smiled, amused.
"I take it your father benefited from his largesse? His... Granting of opportunity?"
Arya nodded again. "He did, yes," she said softly, looking back at the city. Tywin looked out as well, and sighed.
"Such men usually have ulterior motives," Tywin said. "Not always, but often."
"His motives were to make the world a better place," Arya said, a bit defensively of one of her favorite people. Tywin smirked.
"He wants to save the world? With fire and steel?" He sighed. "My armies have been destroyed. Their bodies are returned to us daily, in North-built boxes. My son is his king's prisoner, as are many of my other kinfolk."
Arya wanted to rage. Rage about her father's head on a spike. Rage about her sister's bondage. Rage about how they started this war, and it wasn't fair... But she held her tongue.
"He threatens to destroy everything I've created," Tywin finished. "Everything I've fought for... I will not let that happen."
"Is that why you wish to make peace, my Lord?" Arya asked, unable to stop herself. Tywin smirked.
"You do listen to a great deal, don't you? Like a cat stalking around," he said. "I will have to get you a bell."
Arya scowled, but said nothing. Tywin looked over the city again, and sighed.
"War isn't all battles between armies... it is everything else, too. Talking too, is a weapon of war."
"War is merely the continuation of politics by other means," Arya said. Tywin chuckled.
"Sayings of Larys Strong... Your father got his hands on his book, then?" Tywin asked. Arya fidgeted again.
"Books are very common in the North," Arya said. "Thanks to printing presses... Surely you have one yourself, my Lord?"
"I do," Tywin admitted. "That book though is usually restricted to the interest of nobles... And their libraries."
Tywin walked out to the balcony again, his back turned. Arya slowly rose up, trembling a bit.
This is it, she thought. There are no witnesses... One good shove...
"The Starks were very generous with their library," Arya said, taking a few steps. She was almost there... Almost there...
"I suppose it's little wonder Littlefinger failed to get his claws into them," Tywin mused. He turned his head, and Arya redirected her path to walk up to the railing. She set her hands on the stone, gripping it as she forced her eyes to the horizon. Tywin watched her for a moment, before looking back out.
"Get back to work," Tywin said, not unkindly. "I will see you at supper."
"Yes, my Lord," Arya said softly, bowing her head. The Lord of Casterly Rock turned and left, leaving Arya to grip the stone hard enough her knuckles turned white.
Next time... Next timeā¦
XXII: Roses and Thorns, Part 1
AC 299, Storm's End, The Stormlands- - - -Amarda Honn was the second born daughter of a minor merchant house in the North who had liked to read. But because her eyesight was bad, she had to read everything with her nose to the pages. After a while, she wondered if it was worth it-She would never become a maester, or a lord, just something to be married off in trade. Despite her handling her father's accounts. Despite her being far too bright for the dull men who courted her.Then Lord Theon Greyjoy had seen her, as he was talking to her father. He walked over, and Amarda sighed as she knew what was about to come out of his mouth:"Is there something wrong with your eyes?" He'd asked."No, I simply love the smell of paper and ink," she said back dryly. Her father had nearly had a fit, begun hastily apologizing... And Lord Greyjoy had smiled."I might be able to fix that, unless you would prefer the smell you have," he said. She raised an eyebrow, again ignoring her father's blustering."And what would it cost me?" She asked."I need an assistant to keep track of things," he said. "And one to fix problems. Pay is good, and you get to see and get out of here." He glanced at her father knowingly, who shut up and tried smiling. "Unless you'd like to stay-?""That is a stupid question," she said. Theon grinned."So it is...""I'll have my things in a minute," she said, and she'd left that day.It took some time for Theon and his maester friend to test her with all sorts of lenses in front of her eyes, but eventually, the world swam into view. Everything was clear, especially her dear books. And she'd never looked back.Proper ladies at court were supposed to be demure and humble: Theon had told her to be polite only when she had to be. The rest of the time? Cut loose and cut down people's stupidity.She felt like Lord Theon's sword. In business deals, he was usually the softer, kinder person. Trying to be reasonable. He let her loose to express what he dare not say himself. The Sword and the Shield...And while she had entertained romantic notions about the handsome lord a few times... Okay, maybe more than a few, he had always gently rebuffed her. He had too much to do to be busy with romance, he'd said.He had to save the world... And Amarda Honn decided she too would save it.First things first though. Deal with the Baratheon brothers... And Lady Stark herself."I do not understand why Theon insisted you come with me," Catelyn muttered again to Amarda, as their party rode with Renly Stannis to the meeting point by the sea. "I have dealt with lords and ladies all my life.""So have I, Lady Catelyn," Amarda said respectfully. "But even a genius like Lord Greyjoy relies on me... Would it not be prudent to have every advantage you can get?"The Tully lady, and widow of Lord Stark, grimaced a bit. "There is a difference between experience and, well... Growing up with it," she said as politely as she could. Amarda raised her eyebrows over her glasses, and peered over her lenses at the older woman. Catelyn actually shrank a little, but scowled back."I will take your counsel... If I wish," Catelyn said. "That is my right."Amarda mentally sighed. Renly chuckled at the exchange, though he'd been trying to look like he hadn't been listening. And of course, Brienne of Tarth was as stoic and focused as ever. She was so tall... It was unnerving. Yet part of her was mollified that another man besides her lord saw the value in women beyond them baring children. Perhaps Renly would be a good bet.Renly held up his hand, and the group came to a halt. Before them, under banners of fiery stags surrounded by hearts, was the hardest looking man Amarda had ever seen. He seemed carved from the very searock, with his stern gaze and tall, proud posture. It could only be Stannis Baratheon. And beside him, on a horse as regal as a queen's, sat a woman in red. Amarda's eyes narrowed. Renly smiled broadly, and spoke."Can that truly be you?" He called. The hard man stared back."Who else might it be?""When I saw your standard, I couldn't be sure. Whose banner is that?" Renly asked.Stannis shook his head."My own," said Stannis.Renly smirked, looking smug."I suppose if we use the same one, the battle will be terribly confusing," he said, as though making a clever joke. "Why is your stag on fire?"The red woman smiled, and Amarda felt her skin crawl."The king has taken for his sigil the fiery heart of the Lord of Light," she spoke."Ah, you must be this fire priestess we hear so much about," mocked Renly. "Mm, brother... now I understand why you found religion in your old age." He added a lascivious eyebrow wiggle."Watch yourself, Renly," Stannis growled."No, no, I'm relieved. I never really believed you were a fanatic. Charmless, rigid, a bore, yes, but... but not a godly man," Renly went further. The red woman huffed."You should kneel before your brother. He's the Lord's chosen. Born amidst salt and smoke," she said, her eyes gleaming slightly. Renly snorted."Salt and smoke? What is he, a ham?" Renly asked."That's twice I've warned you," Stannis growled."Listen to yourselves. If you were sons of mine, I would knock your heads together and lock you in a bedchamber until you remembered that you were brothers!" Catelyn Stark scolded them. Amarda stared in disbelief at her Lady. What,
