Lucien: Three weeks ago

It was cruel of them to wake him at this hour, he had just fallen asleep. Sleep was hard to come by.

Every night that he was deprived of sleep damaged his psyche all the more. The worst part of captivity was the deprivation of the things that all highborn Lords take for granted. Good food, comfortable beds, and never ending selection of companions. Even Lucien, who did not usually begin casual conversation, would have sold a sack of gold to have a normal person to converse with.

However, anyone who wished to talk to him were usually guards giving blunt orders or Lord Stark. Eddard Stark had visited him the one time and never again. Hell, at this point Lucien would have been eager to talk to the man even despite the pain that came from speaking.

Lucien had seen himself as very isolated. But he was coming to know how truly terrible real isolation was. He was truly afraid of being alone.

The noise had awoken him before they entered. It would have awoken the soundest sleeper. Heavy ring mail and armored boots had thunderous noise that could easily have awoken the damned.

They entered in his modest cell one by one under the sky full of stars, a procession of knights marched near him without saying a word. Their faces were unreadable, they were there to do their duty and nothing more. It was dark, but Lucien could still tell that the men were of the Vale. Northmen were quite distinct, and of late Lucien had seen less and less of them. He was moved from camp to camp, and he suspected he was outside of the Northmen's influence. The soldiers' identities were absolutely confirmed a few moments later after the knights had completely encircled him.

Lord Robert Arryn entered the cell with a wide and joyful smile on his face. The smile did not suit the boy's face at all. Even if you had never met Robert Arryn before, you would know that smile was completely unnatural.

Despite his isolation, Lucien had no intention of giving the boy any satisfaction. The Lord was a boy, and not worthy of anything. Jon Arryn's son was seventeen years old and completely unremarkable. To think he had nearly betrothed his sweet beloved daughter Philippa to this insipid boy made Lucien inwardly curse himself. Philippa had called Lord Arryn "As dull as a stone, and just as talkative." The fact that he was in chains because of this boy's army made him want to scream like a siren.

Or kill Lord Arryn, either one would do.

Being tied to a thick wooden post, Lucien could merely sit upright, and the young Lord towered over him. Again the boy held that peculiar smile.

He never smiled once in Kings Landing. It is a show and a farce, just a young little prick who wants to flaunt his supposed accomplishments in my face that were achieved by much better men. You have not bested me boy. Your Vale army could not have stood against me alone in a straight fight. And you yourself are no commander, I can see that just by the look of you.

Lord Arryn ran his fingers through his hair, much the way young men did in order to look handsome and impressive. Lucien wanted to roll his eyes and he did not bother to stifle his yawn.

"And who are you the proud Lord said, that I must bow so low." Lord Arryn began. He sang the words and there was chill in the tone as harsh as a bitterly cold wind. His singing voice was actually not half bad. "I would ask you to bow my Lord, but you have already been brought so low."

"Spare me your pretty little voice, boy." Lucien sneered. He instinctively ground his teeth as he usually did when he was annoyed. Of course he realized too late that most of those teeth were no longer there, and the splinters that remained collided together painfully. He looked away briefly to hide his pain, but out of the corner of his eye he noted that Lord Arryn's eyes flashed with anger. It was brief, and then it was gone.

"You have brought many armored men for this little display. Lord Stark approached me himself, faced me in single combat. A true man, whatever I may think of him. Do I frighten you that you cannot bring yourself to do the same?"

Lord Arryn took a step closer. "Fear?" The young Lord said. "Why should I fear you? No these man, these honorable knights have a purpose Lord Lannister. A vital importance."

The young Lord continued to grin as he proceeded to come even closer before he continued to speak.

"I have come to hear you sing Lord Lannister. It will be very pleasing to my ears. I heard your daughter sing once at Kings Landing. It was quite pleasant, truth be told. She has quite the gift and I was truly blessed to experience it. I'll be sure to have her sing for me again at Casterly Rock."

Fat chance of that boy, you will not set foot in Casterly Rock. Absolutely absurd. You would die long before you reached the castle walls, and the Rock is impenetrable. It will never be conquered, and certainly not by you.

Lucien was hesitant to dignify the statement with a response, and yet the implied threat towards his daughter began to ignite the inferno that was where his heart should be. His blood began pumping, his mind become singularly focused. It was much the way he felt on the battlefield, where the beast inside every man was unleashed.

"Dismiss your chaperones boy and come closer and I will sing for you for the rest of your life."

Arryn's knights took a step towards Lucien as one, but the boy raised his arms and waved them about in a relaxed manner as he laughed jovially.

"It is quite all right men, quite all right. Lord Lucien is expressing his wit is all! I did not think he was capable of quips! You would not have to sing long, my life would be quite short if I obeyed." He continued to flash that smile of his as he chuckled. "I am afraid I cannot do that my Lord, not yet. Nor can my noble knights leave. They have a part to play. They are to help you with your performance, and after all what would be the point if I was the only one in the audience."

Lucien had tolerated too much of this farce. "Enough of this nonsense. You are a young man, surely you have more exciting things to do at this hour."

Lucien weighed his options, he was a prisoner of war and a valuable one at that. They would have to abandon all tactical sense to lay hands on him. He may as well insult this cretin and be done with it.

"Go plough a whore. There will be camp followers all around, find a girl to warm your bed. Or a man if that strikes your interest. Or am I really that interesting to you? Get down on your hands and knees and I'll be your best and last, boy."

It may not have been the wisest choice of words. But he was drained, beaten, sore, in pain, and beyond frustrated. Rationality seemed to be slipping away from him with each passing hour. Perhaps those insults had been a burst of insanity. But it had felt good to say those things, to hiss with resentment and scorn. To feel superior again, if only for a fleeting moment.

The moment was very fleeting.

Lucien's head lurched backward and slammed into the wooden post behind his head. If the post had not been so thick it would certainly have snapped.

Lucien blinked slowly in surprise and reached instinctively for his nose. He could feel that it was bent at an awkward angle, and blood covered his hand when he pulled his hand away.

One of the guards had kicked him in the head. He tried to focus, and saw two blurry Lord Arryns approaching him. Blinking furiously he still could not see straight before the guards came down upon him. They were rough and held him firm, he could not move an inch. The armor that they wore was chilling to the touch.

He could see straight enough when Lord Arryn bent down beside his prone figure. His smile was gone. Then he drew out a knife. It was a hunting knife, Lucien noted. Used to skin animals, and very sharp.

Arryn pressed the tip of the blade to Lucien's forehead slowly.

"Call me boy again." The boy hissed with malice.

Lucien, entrapped in the grasp of many armed men, simply stared back. He would not show fear. Not now. What did he have to fear? Death? It would be a mercy.

"This is not the typical treatment for highborn lords, but you will not find a single man here who would object. Lord Stark is far from here, no honor will save you from me." The boy said as he started to breathe heavily. He was excited, Lucien realized.

"Are you ready to sing Lord Lannister?" He lightly pressed the blade into Lucien's skin and then pulled it back, dangling the blade between the two of them.

Lucien's roared back with all his strength and spat in Lord Arryn's eye. He was far beyond caring now. He was sick of laying on the ground like a docile lamb. Let the pain come, he was used to it by now. This boy did not frighten him at all.

"Do your worst boy!"

The boy did his worst.

Every man or woman that caught sight of Lucien Lannister after this night would take a second look out of morbid curiosity and scatter when they realized who it was. Children backed away in fear, and Lucien was a common feature of tales that children told to frighten their peers and siblings. The dozen scars that ran across the entire length of his face would become as infamous as his name. The very last of his passable features were slowly cut away.

His chest was cut as well, and Lord Arryn took a toe and a finger on his left hand for good measure.

Ultimately however, Lord Arryn would walk away disappointed. The humiliation he had hoped for had not come to pass despite his best efforts. Lucien Lannister would have died that night had he continued for much longer.

Despite unrelenting torture, Lucien Lannister had only offered grunts, hisses, and pure defiance to offer. Perhaps it was divine intervention. By all rational sense he should have screamed a thousand times over.

In a way, Lord Arryn had killed a man that night. The Lord of Lannister would never be the same again. It was the boy's first kill. He had never been skilled with a sword and never been in a life or death scenario.

Lord Arryn was absolutely assured of the Lannister's downfall, and could not wait for it to come to pass. There had been preparation for years. He had no intention of letting Lucien Lannister walk away a free man, or letting this war end on peace terms. As a hostage Lucien Lannister had no purpose to Lord Arryn. But Lucien could not be allowed to die. Robert Arryn would take his mentor Petyr Baelish's advice and send the captured members of the great Houses to the Eyrie. Soon the Kingslayer and the new up and coming Commander Gerrion Lannister would join their kin in chains. They would endure as trophies, previously great men left as visual representations of the power that House Arryn would now wield in the coming generation.

Those thoughts gave Robert Arryn some satisfaction as he departed his victim's defiant presence.

Physical and mental stress, along with rapid social change made a man quickly reset his priorities. Lucien was left alone in the dark in a secure tent. It was clear they did not want him to lay in the dirt and mud, get an infection, and then die.

His well-being and selfish political scheming and maneuvering no longer mattered to him. His disdain for Jaime's arrogance and Tyrion's slothful disregard for responsibility no longer mattered. His anger over the origins of this war no longer mattered. His feud with Lord Stark was a distant memory.

He was left with silent guards around him. They may as well have not been there at all. He was left with nothing but his thoughts and the blood that pooled around him.

No one would mourn Lucien Lannister, He mused. His daughters would, but he had always had a soft spot for them and showed them affection. After what he did to Riverrun, Lysa was an uncertainty. Everyone else in his life he had treated with disdain. His dwarf brother, his fellow Lords and Ladies, the common folk, even childhood friends, all of them. He had put such an enormous amount of pressure on his son and heir without a hint of love. He had labored and toiled and bled to play the game of thrones and what had it earned him? What good had become of it?

Ruins. A shattered family, and he himself would likely soon be a feast for the crows. History would remember him unkindly, as a failure.

What an arrogant, spiteful, waste of a man I was. A miser and a fool. A second chance is all I need. I shall seize it, grasp it by the throat. I will begin anew, and become the man I need to be.

He had viewed the gods with as much disdain as he showed men, going so far as denying their very existence. He had not said a single prayer to the Seven since his mother died and when he had overheard his father rebuking his sister Cersei for praying for their mother to return.

He had to struggle to remember even the basic prayers. But he cobbled something passable together for all seven gods. The Stranger would be offered Lord Arryn as a sacrifice, he promised himself that.

These prayers would likely never be answered. Even if the gods existed, why would they listen to him? He said them all the same, and directed his prayers not towards himself but to his family. Those who truly mattered.

The first prayers for the individuals came easily. His wife, children, and father: Lysa, Gerrion, Philippa, Sile, Jainifer, Tristifer, Brynden, Lord Tywin, even Uncle Kevan, Aunt Genna, Myrcella, and Tommen.

The others he hesitated on before he continued with his siblings: Jaime, Cersei, Tyrion.

At the end of it all he was past exhaustion, yet the pain would not allow him sleep. So he simply laid there and prepared himself to make a vow. He had not said a vow since he was anointed a knight, and that experience paled in importance to this moment.

"Find your weaknesses. Learn from them, and then kill them." Lord Tywin had told him when Lucien had been only a boy.

Lucien himself was a weakness. He saw that now. His very approach in life could have led to the destruction of all he held dear.

Lord Arryn's words pricked and prodded his mind. Casterly Rock, he is going to Casterly Rock. Never!

He knew what he had to do. Kill your weakness.

"I swear it." He vowed, with no one but the oblivious guards as witnesses. "I swear it on the gods of my mother. May I be struck down and sent to the seven hells if I am false."

The man that was Lord Lucien Lannister would have to die, and then he would be reborn from the ashes.