Chapter 10
The Lion's Roar
...
Vyolet was having her midday meal when there was a knock on the door. She wiped her mouth and hands on her napkin before answering.
"Enter."
Jaqen opened the door with a smirk. He always knew when to come when she was alone. It disturbed the girl a little he knew that with so much precision.
Vyolet raised from her chair.
"Lovely girl. A man is glad you're not tipsy anymore," Jaqen said sarcastically with a smile.
"Well it is still early, just give me a little time," Vyolet replied teasingly, grabbing the cup of wine she had in the table and raising as toasting with him, before downing its content.
When she looked down, she wasn't sure if it was her imagination, but she thought his eyes lost the amusement in them.
"How many cups has a girl had?" Jaqen asked her.
Vyolet put the cup down, confused.
"What?"
"How much wine has a girl consumed?"
"Four cups. Are you my new Septa?" She asked him sarcastically.
Jaqen smirked but it seemed more bitter than his usual one.
"A man won't give the dagger to a girl if she keeps drinking."
Vyolet frowned.
"What? Why? You promised!" She protested indignantly.
"A dagger is a dangerous thing to hold when one is intoxicated," Jaqen replied. It was not her imagination this time, she clearly heard the coldness in his voice.
Vyolet crossed her arms and watched him stubbornly.
"Men out there drink and yield swords all the time!"
"Yes, and they die all the time," Jaqen replied.
"You have a sword and you drink! I've seen you out there having a merry time with the soldiers!"
"A man is flattered a girl is so attentive of him."
"That's not what I meant," Vyolet snapped. Jaqen's mix of coldness and teasing was getting on her nerves.
"A man drinks but he's not intoxicated," Jaqen explained. "A girl drinks only with that purpose. She should not. She's too smart for that. If a moment comes when she has to act quickly and fight, she would die like a fool with wine on her breath."
Vyolet stared at his somber eyes, his meaning finally downing on her. He was right, she reluctantly admitted. If she couldn't see straight, she would fight straight either. Also, she had to admit she had been drinking more than usual. More than she knew she could handle. But when she didn't her mind thought about Ellion and her mother. About her real father and her real siblings on the other side of the sea.
Vyolet sighed, looking away.
"I won't drink anymore. I promise."
Jaqen nodded, his smirk returning.
"Then a man would give you this."
Jaqen pulled a long dagger out of his belt. She imagined he would get her an old cheap one but the dagger was beautiful. It was silver and the handle was adorned with blue stones she suspected were real sapphires. Vyolet looked up at the Lorathi and smiled.
"Thank you, Jaqen."
"Does a girl really know how to use it?" Jaqen asked, raising an eyebrow.
Vyolet shrugged turning the weapon on her hands.
"I've seen people use it."
"Would a girl like to learn?"
Vyolet looked up surprised.
"Can you teach me?"
Jaqen bowed his head.
"If a girl wishes to."
Vyolet smiled at the dagger in her hand and her smile faded lightly.
"There's no way you can do it though. Haven't you see I'm guarded day and night? And when I'm not, my maids are close."
Jaqen's only answer was a smirk.
"I can slip past them, lovely girl. I'll see you tonight."
And then he walked to her window. Vyolet blinked and the man had disappeared without a trace.
Tywin now invited Vyolet to all his meetings. She didn't see the point since she wasn't offering anything, but she suspected it was a way to show they had a good relationship despite his bannermen hitting her and imprison her without food.
Vyolet always tried to arrive almost late so they were never alone, but this time she wasn't lucky. Tywin was the only one in the room and he was angrier than usual. Vyolet even considered turning around and leaving.
"Good, you're early," Tywin told her, pulling out a chair next to his. She usually sat the farthest from her uncle. Vyolet sat and observe Tywin, staring at the fire in the hearth. There were a few moments of silence.
"Jamie wrote to me about you, Vyolet," Tywin said. Vyolet looked up, tensed. "About what my daughter had discovered. He said you're immune to the fire. Is that true?"
He turned to see her shock face and nodded.
"Yes, it's all over you. Did you know that's a true Targaryen quality? More than the silver hair."
Tywin turned around and walked to her. He reached and picked one of her braids examining it.
"When you were little, your mother used to buy large quantities of dark dye. I always thought it was for her, she was a vain woman, but maybe it was for you, to cover the silver hair."
Vyolet looked up, her eyes firm and hard.
"I do not dye my hair. My maids scrubbed it thoroughly and no dye came out of it. You can ask them," Vyolet assured him.
"What a shame," Tywin replied, letting go of her braid. "But maybe we can dye it silver."
"People hated the Mad King," Vyolet said, shaking her head. "Why are you so sure they won't try to kill me once you reveal I am his bastard?"
Tywin stared at her. He couldn't answer since the council entered the room then and the matter was quickly forgotten. But something told Vyolet, Tywin hadn't forgotten it. He was too smart for that, and Vyolet would be stupid if she thought the matter was dismissed.
However, she was sure, during the meeting at least those thoughts had fled his mind. Ser Lorch had made a terrible mistake and Tywin was furious.
"Can you read?" Tywin asked Lorch holding a letter in his hand. The council exchange a nervous look. Vyolet suppressed a smile.
"My lord?"
"Can you read?" Tywin insisted. "This letter detailing our infantry movements was meant for Lord Damon of House Marbrand. It was sent to Lord Marlyn of House Dormand."
Lorch tried to look calm.
"My apologies, my lord. I must have-"
"Girl, fetch me the History of the Greater and the Lesser Houses," Tywin interrupted Lorch pointing at a bunch of big old books piling on a table. "It's the one on this..."
But he didn't need to say more. Arya red the title and quickly handed it to Tywin, who glared at Lorch and couldn't help laughing.
"My cupbearer can read better than you," Tywin snapped at opened the book finding the section of House Dormand and placed it in front of Lorch. Then laid the letter next to it.
"To whom does House Dormand owe allegiance?" Tywin asked him.
"My lord, I..."
"To the Starks of Winterfell!" Tywin roared. "Who have 20,000 men and my son!"
Tywin glared at him, taking the letter and closing the book with a thud.
"I judged you might be good for something more than brutalizing peasants and my niece! I see I overestimated you. If you ever put my son's life at risk again, I'll... Leave us."
Tywin nodded at the door. Lorch, like a dog with its leg between its legs, stood up and left the room quickly. The rest of the council quickly followed them. Vyolet, looking down at her hands, trying so hard to not laugh, bowed at Tywin before leaving as well.
Tywin glared at the amused her until she left.
"Put the book away, girl," he ordered Arya. "Maybe you should devise our next battle plan while you're about it."
Arya couldn't help smiling as she turned around, carrying the book to its place.
There was a knock on the door. And a guard announced:
"Lord Petyr Baelish."
Arya stopped smiling, her heart falling to her knees.
When Vyolet returned to her rooms, she found Tryta, Lannia and the other two waiting for her.
"I feel rather tired," Vyolet told them. "Why don't you go and eat something yourselves?"
The four ladies bowed.
"Mi lady, calls us if you need anything," Trysta said before leaving the room with the other girls.
Vyolet waited until they were gone and the door was closed before retrieving the goblet she had crushed flat. Then she opened her wardrobe door wide and made a mark with the rouge she had asked her maids to get. Then she walked to the other side of the room.
Vyolet let the goblet in the palm of her hand and stared at it concentrating. The goblet flew from her palm in the air spinning around. Vyolet focused even harder for the goblet to flew still. The last thing she needed was hitting herself by accident. And if she could do this with a non-sharp object, she would never be able to do it with the dagger.
Once the goblet lied still a few inches above her hand pointing at the wardrobe door, she closed her fist and the goblet flew across the room. It didn't even hit the wardrobe door but a few feet higher. It crashed against the wall and fell to the floor with a clank.
Vyolet looked at the door but no one came nor knocked on the door. The girl smiled. She didn't know how much time she had, but she would make good use of it.
The girl turned to the cup lying on the floor and raised a hand towards it. She summoned it to her hand carefully. Slowly, the cup moved along the stone floor towards Vyolet, as she was pulling an invisible thread on it. When it reached her foot, Vyolet bent her fingers and the cup jumped to her hand. The girl caught it with a smile. There we go, she thought.
Then lied the goblet on the flat of her hand and aimed again. The goblet flew and this time hit the wardrobe's door, just a few inches above the mark.
Vyolet practiced over and over until she hit the mark on the wardrobe more than once. She now also could draw the goblet to her hand from the floor with a quick fluid movement. She had just hit the wardrobe's mark for the fourth time and was thinking of using the dagger when a knock on the door interrupted her.
Vyolet quickly left the cup on the wardrobe and closed its door. Then went to her bed, wrinkling the blanket on it as if she had been sleeping on it.
"Enter," she then called.
A boy entered her room, making a bow.
"Mi lady, Lord Tywin is asking for your presence."
Arya was clearing the table when a message to Tywin concerning Robb caught her eye. Arya just glanced at it when Tywin's voice startled her:
"Who taught you to read?"
Arya froze and raised her head. Tywin didn't seem to notice. He walked around her, to the other side of the table and picked some documents from his meetings.
"My father, my lord," Arya replied.
"Hmm. I taught my son Jaime to read," Tywin told Arya, looking at her. "The maester came to me one day, told me he wasn't learning. He couldn't make sense of the letters. He reversed them in his head. The maester said he'd heard tell of this affliction and that we simply must accept it. Ha! After that, I sat Jaime down for four hours every day until he learned. He hated me for it, for a time. For a long time. But he learned."
Arya bobbed her head, not sure if she should say something, so she just placed the empty cups and bowls on her tray.
Tywin put the documents down.
"Where is your father?" He asked Arya. "Is he alive?"
Arya felt a knot on her throat and she quickly shook her head.
"Who was he?"
"A stonemason," Arya replied, slowly looking up to him.
"A stonemason who could read? Hmm," Tywin said, a bit skeptic.
"He taught himself," Arya replied.
Tywin nodded.
"Quite a man. What killed him?"
"Loyalty," Arya replied.
Tywin held Arya's stare and smirked lightly.
"You're a sharp little thing, aren't you?" He replied. "Probably why my niece likes you so much."
Tywing turned around but Arya said: "Did... Forgive me, my lord. I shouldn't ask questions."
Arya hurried to pick up the rest of the cups and placed them on the tray.
"No. But you've already begun," Tywin replied, frowning intrigued by the girl.
"Did you know your father, my lord?" Arya asked.
Tywin nodded.
"I did. I grew up with him. I watched him grow old."
Tywin turned around and walked to the chair in front of the small dying fire. He sat down with a small smile on his face.
"He loved us. He was a good man, but a weak man." Tywin's smile faded away. And behind him, without him knowing, Arya grabbed the letter from the table carefully but quickly and rolled it, behind her back. Then tucked it inside her shirt.
"A weak man who nearly destroyed our house and name."
Tywin turned around to look at Arya. His eyes had grown gloomy.
"I'm cold," he said.
"I'll fetch more wood for the fire, my lord," Arya quickly replied.
Tywin nodded his head and looked at the fire again.
As Arya went to the door, this opened and Vyolet stepped in. She flashed a little smile at Arya, as the little girl slipped past through her.
"Uncle."
"Come in, Vyolet," Tywin said, gesturing at the chair next to him. "I warn you I have a headache. I have no time for your smart remarks."
Arya went out to the corridor that had crumbled from the middle and the roof, hundreds of years ago by Aegon's that whole in the corridor she could see the courtyard and the East gate. She sat there, unrolled Tywin's letter and read it.
"Marching ten thousand west to Lannisport through the tooth. Estimate to reach you by week's end. Scouts report Robb Stark moving troops south by coast. Alert Serret's men. Turn east at Silverhill."
Arya had no idea to whom this letter was for but she knew she needed to send it to Robb. Arya rolled the letter and ran quickly down the stairs, looking around, making sure no one was paying attention to her. Unfortunately, on one of those turns, she ran right into Armory Lorch.
The girl stepped back, looking up startled.
"Where are you going, girl?" Ser Lorch demanded, staring down at her and blocking her path.
Arya quickly down, remembering her facade as a servant girl.
"The armory, my lord," she replied, innocently.
"Why?"
"Lord Tywin sent me."
Lorch looked her up and down, noticing the roll of paper clutched in her hand. He reached down and snatched it from her hand.
"What might this be?" He asked.
"Lord Tywin gave it to me," said Arya quickly.
"What for?" Lorch asked, unrolling the paper.
Arya's stomach churned. She knew Lorch couldn't read, because of his terrible mistake earlier, but she didn't know if he could catch some of the words.
"To take to the armory," Arya said, not being able to change her lie without looking more suspicious.
"Why would he do that?" Lorch asked, looking down at Arya who looked up. He reached for her arm. "Let's go and ask him."
Arya was faster. She snatched her arm before he could close his hand and swiftly ran away. Lorch followed her but the crowd of people and soldiers in the courtyard made it impossible for him to catch up.
Arya quickly hid behind a pillar and when she saw Lorch running back she knew she had lost him. But she also knew he was going directly to Tywin. She had to do something quick. There was only one person who could help her now.
Once Arya made sure Lorch was gone, she ran the other way, looking around. She saw a tall soldier with long red hair and ran to him grabbing his arm. The soldier turned around, looking down at her with distaste and Arya let go of his arm.
Arya ran down the corridor until she spotted another red-headed man. She grabbed his arm.
The man turned around, looking down and a smirk appearing on his face. It was Jaqen.
"Amory Lorch," Arya blurted out.
"A girl has named a second name," Jaqen replied bowing his head lightly. "A man will do what must be done."
"Now!" Arya yelled.
Jaqen gave the little girl a look. A mix of amusement and indignation.
"A girl cannot tell a man when exactly he must do a thing," Jaqen replied. "A man cannot make a thing happen before its time."
"But he's going to tell Tywin. He's getting away. It has to be now!"
Jaqen gave Arya a look before sighing and walking away quickly.
Vyolet sat next to her uncle, her eyes drown to the flames in the fireplace. The orange light hit her skin, warming. The sensation calmed her somehow. She found solace in the heat.
"What do you want to talk about, uncle?" Vyolet asked Tywin as casually as she was talking to one of her maids.
Tywin gave her an annoyed look.
"Lord Baelish came to pay me a visit," he replied. "Apparently the Tyrells have retreated to High Garden and wants to support our case against Stannis."
Vyolet turned to him, frowning slightly. She understood they backed up Renly's claim. Especially ser Loras.
"Why would they do that?"
"Renly Baratheon is death. Loras Tyrell blames Stannis for it," said Tywin.
"So you have now a powerful ally," Vyolet told him, smiling softly. But it wasn't a real smile. Or a happy one. It was more a grimace. "The Tyrells are very rich."
"They are. They will help us with Stannis but there's still the problem of Robb Stark."
"Oh yes, Lorch sent your intelligence report to the Starks by accident," Vyolet replied sarcastically, not being able to hold back a smirk, but she quickly pursed her lips hiding it. "I mean, such a shame."
"It is no joking thing," Tywin scolded her. "They have my son. I thought you liked Jamie."
Vyolet's smirk faded and her eyes turned cold.
"I thought he liked me. Life is full of disappointments, uncle. You should have to know that by now."
Tywin gave her an irritated and angry look. Vyolet threw her hands in the air.
"What do you want me to do about Robb Stark?" Vyolet replied, sighing. "I do not know Robb Stark and I doubt he wants to meet me under these circumstances. You're confusing me with the wrong hostage. Sansa is the one you need for this mess."
"They won't trade Sansa for Jamie," Tywin told her. "Even if she's Robb's sister. He won't risk losing the war just for a girl."
Vyolet shook her head.
"Why didn't you mention Arya?" Tywin asked her then. Vyolet's heart dropped to her knees. She turned to him, trying to master her face and looked surprised.
"What?"
"Arya," Tywin replied looking at her like a lion who had smelled blood. "That's the name of the small Stark girl, isn't it? Lord Baelish said you spent quite a time with both sisters in King's Landing."
"Lord Baelish should start minding his own business," Vyolet replied gave her an angry look and the girl sighed. "Yes, I talked to them and to many ladies and lords. It's called socializing."
"Yes, but Cersei asked you to spy on them."
Vyolet tried to look irritated instead of terrified.
"She did," she replied sighing. "What?"
"You know Arya Stark is not in King's Landing, do you?"
This time Vyolet wasn't sure how much of her fear was reflected on her face. And Tywin looked at her with a knowing glare. Vyolet would have to come up with a good and quick story.
But then the door opened with a thud.
Both Tywin and Vyolet stood up startled and saw ser Lorch standing there. He opened his mouth to speak but instead dropped to the floor.
Vyolet couldn't help but scream as Tywin yelled for his guards.
A small blue dart with purple feathers was stuck on ser Lorch's neck. And something in that extravagant dart reminded Vyolet of the extravagant dagger hidden on her mattress.
Vyolet ate her dinner but dismissed her handmaids soon after, arguing she would change into her nightclothes herself. Her handmaids certainly looked surprised but obeyed her. Clearly, ser Clegane brutal methods against the farmers had made them not questioning anything coming from a Lannister.
Once the girls left, Vyolet tied her hair with a ribbon. As she inspected the result on her mirror a slight movement caught her attention and her heart almost pops out when she noticed a man, standing behind her.
"Seven Gods, Jaqen!" The girl swore, turning around and placing a hand on her racing heart.
Jaqen just smirked amusedly.
"Good night, lovely girl. There are more guards outside your door."
"Well, I have to thank you for that," Vyolet replied sourly. "You killed ser Lorch."
Jaqen raised an eyebrow.
"Did a man?"
Vyolet crossed her arms tightly across her chest and glared at him.
"I saw the dart Jaqen. And Tywin said it was Wolfsbane. A rare poison. I know it was you."
"A girl knows of wolfsbane?" Jaqen asked, his smirk growing. "Very impressive."
Vyolet's only answer was a glare. This didn't bother Jaqen who crossed the room and sat on her bed comfortably.
"A girl is mad with a man. Why? I thought she would be happy to know ser Lorch is dead. That man abused you."
"That's why I wanted to kill him myself," Vyolet informed him.
"A man apologizes." Jaqen bowed his head.
"Why did you kill him?" Vyolet asked him. "And the Tickler? I know that was you too."
"A girl named them," Jaqen responded.
"A girl?" Vyolet frowned confused.
"Arya Stark."
Vyolet opened her mouth surprised and her mind rushed for an excuse. Jaqen smirked, as he had just read her mind and interrupted her.
"A man knows who the little girl is. No need to lie, lovely girl. I didn't spoil your secret a long time ago. I won't do it again."
Vyolet nodded and gave him a look.
"What do you mean by she named them?"
"Arya Stark took three lives from the Red God. A man is giving them back."
"And you're letting her choose who to kill?"
Jaqen bobbed his head.
"What about me?" Vyolet asked him raising an eyebrow. "I saved you too."
"By killing another man, and I'm already helping you, greedy girl."
Vyolet shrugged, not bothered. Jaqen's smirk grew and looked at the girl with what she thought was fondness.
"Let's begin," he said, standing up. Vyolet then noticed he was just wearing the black doublet.
"What about your armor?" She asked.
"An armor makes noise, lovely girl," Jaqen replied raising an eyebrow. "Don't you think the five men on the other side of your door would suspect if they suddenly hear metallic sounds coming from your room at this late hour?"
Vyolet nodded. He had a point.
"Where's the dagger?" He asked her.
"Here," Vyolet said, stuffing a hand on a hidden hole on her mattress and pulling out the dagger. She stood up and faced Jaqen. The man walked to her and moved her hand to the right position.
"Hold it like this. You'll be able to move it with more force."
Jaqen taught her how to properly grabbed the dagger and some basic attacks and defense moves. He looked pleased when they finished the training.
"A girl is strong."
Vyolet looked up at him, breathless and a bit sweaty and raised an eyebrow.
"That surprise tone over and over. What must I do to impress you, Jaqen?"
Jaqen smirked.
"A lovely girl has impressed a man already."
Vyolet couldn't help but smile as she sat down on her bed, taking deep breaths. It was the corset's fault. She felt like it was a strong hand, cutting her air intake.
"Is a girl alright?" Jaqen asked her and passed her a cup filled with water from one of the tables on the room. Vyolet took it gratefully.
"It's just the stupid corset," Vyolet grunted pulling at it.
Jaqen picked up the dagger she had left on the table and flipped it on his hand.
"A man could take care of that easily."
Vyolet just gave him a stern look but his smirk was firmly in place.
"How could you even managed to kill Lorch?" Vyolet asked him, changing the topic. "You realized it happened just outside Tywin Lannister's door."
"When death is certain, it's not harder than taking a new name," Jaqen replied, crossing his arms and leaned against the window in front of Vyolet.
"You never give a straight answer, do you?" Vyolet raised an eyebrow.
Jaqen just kept smiling.
"What are you, Jaqen H'agar?" Vyolet said shaking her head. "Is that even your real name?"
Jaqen stood up and placed the dagger softly on the bed, his eyes staring into Vyolet's.
"A girl is smart. A girl is learning to see."
Vyolet frowned, confused.
"To see?"
Jaqen didn't respond. He just smiled and then pulled a red apple from his pocket. He handed to Vyolet. The girl smiled back and took it, looking up at the strange Lorathi.
"Good night, lovely girl," said the man climbing out the window, disappearing into the night.
"Good night, Jaqen."
Vyolet woke up to the unmistakable sound of screams. And not any kind of screams. But the ones caused by pure agony, and this time wasn't a nightmare. Vyolet passed around her room with her heart racing and her mind going crazy. Were they torturing farmers again? Were Arya, Gendry and Hot Pie took again to be tortured? What was going on?
As soon as her maid entered the room, Vyolet approached her.
"Trysta..."
"Yes, m'lady?" The girl replied, taken aback by her mistress expression.
"Those screams, are they torturing farmers again?"
"No, m'lady. They're interrogating soldiers after the attempt on Lord Tywin and yourself."
"Soldiers?"
Trysta quickly nodded.
"Yes, m'lady."
Vyolet couldn't help but think now about Jaqen. Have they found out about him? Have they taken him prisoner and killed him like those men? Would she found his head mounted over the wall when she walked out onto the courtyard? Vyolet was sure she would faint if she did see that. Although, she couldn't dismiss his strange abilities. Maybe she was worrying about nothing but still, the feeling wouldn't let her alone.
Vyolet barely ate nothing, her stomach turning with worry. Her hair was being styled when a knock on the door sounded and a boy entered, making a bow.
"M'lady. Lord Tywin is requesting your presence as soon as possible."
Vyolet nodded, cursing on the inside, and told the boy, she would be right there.
"Uncle. It's nice to wake up in the morning at the sound of men dying painfully."
"You should keep your quips to yourself, girl," Tywin snapped upset. "I am not in the mood. Now sit."
Vyolet's smirk disappeared and she crossed the room to sit next to Tywin. Arya was setting the table for Tywin to eat, and the Mountain was standing in the middle of the room.
"Do you know anything about this attack?" Tywin asked Vyolet as soon as she sat.
"Shouldn't you take me outside and tie a bucket with a rat to my middle first?"
"Vyolet."
Vyolet repressed her urge to roll her eyes.
"No, I don't. Why should I?"
"You escaped once."
"Yes, and didn't try to kill Cersei first I was preoccupied with the escaping part."
"You spent too much time on the woods, making friends with bandits. Maybe some of them are trying to help you escape."
"That would be a good plan, except for the fact that the men I was friends with were either killed horribly by your men," Vyolet snapped sarcastically. Tywin gave her a cold look.
Vyolet shrugged.
"Besides do you think a bunch of farmers hiding in the woods would get a hold on such a rare poison?"
Tywin gave her another angry look but turned to ser Clegane.
"Despite my niece's insolence, she's right. This is no common assassin."
"We hanged twenty men last night," Clegane replied as if that had settled the matter.
"I don't care if you hanged one hundred," Tywin snapped. "A man tried to kill me. I want his name and I want his head."
"We think it was an infiltrator from the Brotherhood Without Banners."
Tywin turned to Vyolet who raised her hands in the air. Honestly, was he going to blame her for everything?
"Pretentious name for a band of outlaws," Tywin replied. "We can't allow rebels behind our lines to harass us with impunity. We look like fools and they look like heroes. That's how kings fall. I want them dead, everyone."
"Killing them isn't the problem. It's finding them," said the Mountain.
"Have you gone soft, Clegane?" Tywin asked. "I always thought you had a talent for violence. Burn the villages, burn the farms. Let them know what it means to choose the wrong side."
"No! Don't!" Vyolet intervened, standing up.
"Excuse me?"
Tywin turned around, livid.
"You say this is not a common assassin and you want to burn a bunch of farmers?" Vyolet replied.
"They're protecting them."
"If you keep torturing and killing people is not going to stop them from wanting you dead, is it? You're just giving them a stronger reason! Did you see how this monster was torturing them? Gods, I wonder why would anyone want you dead!"
Tywin stood up as well, raising a hand.
Vyolet stepped back quickly, already expecting a blow that didn't come, but Tywin looked like his hand was itching to hit her. However, the man closed his hand slowly into a fist and glared at the girl.
"You're my niece. You're a Lannister," he snapped enraged. "If you weren't you wouldn't be so comfortable questioning my authority, girl. Go, and don't you ever talk to me like that again or you will regret it."
Vyolet quickly left, her body shaking with anger and fear.
Tywin nodded at ser Clegane who quickly left the room after Vyolet. Tywin turned to the window, his blood still boiling at Vyolet's vicious words.
"I imagine if you have talked like that to your father he would have given you a beating," he told Arya who was arranging his meal on the table. Arya looked up startled and forgot to answer.
"Mmm. Is that mutton?"
"Yes, my lord," said Arya.
"Don't like mutton."
Arya stopped placing the flatware.
"I'll bring something else."
"Leave it," Tywin ordered her. "Are you hungry?"
"No."
"Of course you are." Tywin looked the girl over and walked to her. "Eat."
"I'll eat in the kitchen later."
"It's bad manners to refuse a lord's offer," Tywin replied, still upset about his niece. "Sit. Eat."
Arya couldn't refuse at his tone and sat at the table. Tywin grabbed the carving knife and passed it to Arya.
"You're small for your age. I suppose you've been underfed your whole life."
Arya looked up, her mouth already filled with meat.
"I eat a lot. I just don't grow," the girl replied.
Tywin watched her eat for a while before turning around and looking out of the window.
"This will be my last war. Win or lose," he said, more to himself.
"Have you ever lost before?" Arya asked.
Tywin turned with a severe and slightly insulted look on his face.
"Do you think I'd be in my position if I had lost a war?"
Arya shook her head at his piercing gaze. Tywin turned around.
"But this is the one I'll be remembered for. The War of Five Kings, they're calling it."
Arya stared at Tywin, the light making his white hair shine and his skin looked reddish. Arya stared at the back of his neck, tightening her grip on the knife. How hard should she stab him to kill him?
"My legacy will be determined in the coming months. Do you know what legacy means?"
Tywin turned around startling Arya who looked down meekly, hoping he hadn't noticed the murder gleam in her eyes. Arya shook her head at his question.
"It's what you pass down to your children and your children's children," Tywin explained and Arya looked up. "It's what remains of you when you're gone." Tywin made a pause and nodded at the holes in the walls.
"Harren the Black thought this castle would be his legacy," he said walking around the room. And despite Arya's hatred for the man, she couldn't help but be captivated by his words. "The greatest fortress ever built. The tallest towers, the strongest walls. The Great Hall had thirty-five hearths. Thirty-five. Can you imagine? Look at it now. A blasted ruin. Do you know what happened?"
"Dragons?"
"Yes," Tywin replied, impressed. "Dragons happened."
The man crossed the room and poured himself a cup of wine. Then he sat on a chair next to Arya.
"Harrenhal was built to withstand an attack from the land. A million men could have marched on these walls, and a million men would have been repelled. But an attack from the air with dragon fire." The man shook his head, looking around. "Harren and all his sons roasted alive within these walls. Aegon Targaryen changed the rules. That's why every child alive still knows his name. Three hundred years after his death."
Tywin finished his passioned speech with a gulp of wine but Arya spoke:
"Aegon and his sisters," the girl corrected Tywin.
Tywin put his cup down, looking at Arya confused.
"It wasn't just Aegon riding his dragon," Arya replied. "It was Rhaenys and Visenya, too."
"Correct," Tywin replied even more impressed. "A student of history, are you?"
"Rhaenys rode Meraxes. Visenya rode Vhagar," Arya said.
"I'm sure I knew that when I was a boy," Tywin replied, taking another gulp of wine.
"Visenya Targaryen was a great warrior," Arya continued, her eyes shining with excitement. "She had a Valyrian steel sword she called Dark Sister."
"She's a heroine of yours, I take it?" Tywin said, amused. "Aren't most girls more interested in the pretty maidens from the songs? Jonquil with the flowers in her hair?"
"Most girls are idiots."
This actually made Tywin laughed out loud.
"You remind me of my daughter," Tywin told her. "Where did you learn all this stuff about Visenya and her Valyrian steel sword?"
Arya's smiled disappeared.
"From my father," said Arya.
Tywin looked at her slightly surprised.
"He was a well-read stonemason. Can't say I've ever met a literate stonemason."
"Have you met many stonemasons, my lord?" Arya asked him sarcastically.
Tywin stopped mid-sip and put his cup down.
"Careful now, girl," he warned her. "I enjoy you, but be careful. I have enough with Vyolet."
The man nodded at the tray of food.
"Take that back to the kitchen," he said. "Eat what you want."
Arya nodded and rose taking the tray of mutton. She was about to leave when Tywin stopped her.
"And, girl," he called her. Arya stopped and turned to him. "'M'lord'. Lowborn girls say 'm'lord,' not 'my lord.' If you're going to pose as a commoner, you should do it properly."
Arya's stomach dropped to her knees but she didn't let it show it. She had learned from Vyolet how to keep a lie even if half discovered.
"My mother served Lady Dustin for many years, my lord," Arya replied firmly. "She taught me how to speak proper-Properly." Arya chose the wrong word on purpose, having notice lowborn children making that mistake often. Sometimes her old Septa corrected Arya about that too.
Tywin just smirked amused, not fooled by the girl.
"You're too smart for your own good. Has anyone told you that?"
Arya couldn't help but smile.
"Yes."
"Go on." Tywin nodded his head and Arya left. Tywin stared at the girl thoughtfully. He remembered the interrupted conversation with Vyolet. He had asked her if she knew Arya Stark was alive and she had hesitated. And he had seen it. Vyolet was obviously very protective of this girl, and despite her cleverness, this ragedd girl was no peasant. He wondered if the small daughter of Eddard Stark had been under his nose all this time. Maybe Vyolet was right, and he was focusing on the wrong hostage.
Thank you guys, for reading, liking and reviewing this story. You're awesome!