Guarding the door to the tower cell was an easy, boring job, At first the Lord Stark had been unable to attempt an escape due to a broken leg, and even after it had healed, concern for his daughter's safety kept him in check. Now, with his highborn lady wife joining them, there was even less reason for concern. With two helpless women in tow, Lord Stark wouldn't even make it out of the Keep, let alone the city if he did try to escape. When a raggedly dressed kitchen girl approached the guards, carrying two mugs and explaining in a timid voice that it was left over wine from the feast downstairs, the men didn't think anything of it and seized the cups, downing the contents in glee.
Then one choked, his wine spilling back into his mug as something cold and hard pressed into his throat. Looking down, he staggered back at the sight of a hilt protruding from his neck. While all his attention had been on the mug in the girl's right hand, her left had driven her dagger up into his windpipe when he bent to take it. Dornish red sprayed across the floor as the other guard tried to shout an alarm while drinking at the same time, and with a hoarse cough as wine went down the wrong way, he reached for his longsword.
The girl was faster, and a thin blade pierced through her ragged cloak, through the links of his ringmail and into his heart. With a soft sigh, he crumpled to the ground. All traces of her previous meek manner gone, the girl flung her cloak from her shoulders and bent, rummaging at the guard's belt for the keys to the door. When she rose to her feet, Arya Stark of Winterfell stood, bared steel in one hand and the key to her family's freedom in the other. Unlocking the door, she swung it wide.
Catelyn Stark was still thanking the Seven for allowing her this one last night with her family before her execution, when the door opened without warning and she was dumbfounded to see her younger daughter standing in the doorway, Needle stained with blood and the bodies of the two guards behind her. "Arya" she gasped, hand flying to her mouth as she took in the situation. "What in the gods' names are you doing here? You were supposed to be safe at Riverrun!"
"Rescuing you" the younger Stark daughter replied, voice calm as she bent and fumbled at the waist of one of the dead guards for a moment, before giving it up as a bad job and drawing her dagger. "I stole a horse and rode here before you arrived. The guards at the gates didn't look twice at another orphan girl, so I blended into the city and waited, not like I haven't done it before" she shrugged, bringing a pang of pain to Catelyn's heart as she remembered the moons her little girl spent alone on the streets.
Slicing quickly through the man's sword belt, Arya rose with his sheathed longsword in hand and moved into the room, smiling at the first sight of her father since she fled the city. "Father" she held out the guard's longsword to Eddard Stark, who was frozen in place, his mind utterly unable to reconcile this warrior before him with the image of his little girl from the past. Sure this was some kind of trap, he wrapped his fingers around the weapon.
Unsheathing her dagger with her free hand, Arya held the blade out towards Catelyn, hilt-first, her mother staring at the weapon for a moment before seizing it with determination in her eyes.
"Mother?" gasped Sansa, unable to believe her mother was going along with this folly. There were guards all through the Red Keep, and even then, the city was swarming with Lannister soldiers. She was met by Catelyn's grim stare.
"We have no choice, Sansa" Catelyn sighed, hefting the dagger in her hand. "When the next guard shift comes, they'll find the others dead, and blame us." Her eyes flicked towards Arya for a moment. "We just have to hope Arya has a plan."
"Yes." Arya bent, drawing another dagger from her boot, which she offered to her elder sister. Gingerly, as if fearing it would bite her, Sansa took the weapon. Arya reached under her cloak and a short sword appeared in her right hand as if by magic. "Everyone's drunk themselves into a stupor celebrating, so we shouldn't have any issue getting out of the Red Keep. From there we steal horses at the stables and make for the River Gate. Stannis attacked there, and it's still damaged. Then we can cross the Blackwater and vanish into the Stormlands until we can find a boat to take us back to the North."
Ned shook his head, smiling faintly. "Reminds me of the sort of plans Robert used to make" he muttered, drawing his borrowed blade. Arya grinned, before the old wolf shot her an unimpressed look. "That was not a compliment, Arya" he informed her, "but it's not the worst plan either, and we don't have time for a better one." Then his eyes widened as he remembered something, something which put a rather large kink in his daughter's plans.
"I can't go, Arya" he sighed, setting down the sword. "I swore I wouldn't try to escape, me or Sansa."
Rolling her eyes, Arya's hand moved swiftly and Ned found a knife at his own throat, a bead of blood dripping from where steel met flesh. "Then if anyone asks" she snapped, "I'm kidnapping you. Now help me break Mother out or die." She turned to Sansa and muttered much the same words, before sliding the dagger back into her belt and turning on her heel, already moving for the door and clearly expecting her father to follow.
Left with no alternatives, Eddard Stark tied the scabbard to his belt as best he could and set his shoulders. "Right then. Cat, Sansa, stay behind me. Arya…"
Before he could tell his younger daughter what he wanted her to do, Arya had already slid her blades back into their sheaths and retrieved the ragged cloak from the floor, where as luck would have it, it had been spared the blood. "I'm just a servin' girl" she muttered, fingering another knife in her sleeve as she draped the dirty garment back over her shoulders, hiding her weapons. "I'll go first an' try to take out any guards quietly. If you hear fightin', come runnin'." Her accent was impressive, not quite perfect, but certainly close enough that no-one expecting any different would take her for anything but a lowborn.
Ned expected any moment for the alarm to be raised, but Arya may have been right about the guards having drunk themselves into a stupor, as they met no resistance leaving the dungeon tower. Or, the hour was late and there was no need for so many guards. After all, the tower cell had its own guards and the door leading to the lower levels was locked tight, opened only by the gaoler's key, which unlike the key to the tower cell, was carried only by the gaoler and undergaolers, not the guards themselves. Highborn captives were judged to be less dangerous, and thus less likely to attack the guards at mealtimes to get hold of the keys. Only once did they encounter a problem, but his daughter's disguise worked its magic again, the guard having no notion he was not speaking to a simple servant until he felt the knife.
Stepping over his body, the four Starks passed the outer door and over the Traitor's Walk, a spiked pathway where Arya held up her hand for them to stop. Reaching with care over the edge towards one of the spikes facing the outer wall, she grunted and pulled her arm up, revealing the coil of rope she had secreted there days past, hanging from the spike against the wall and hidden in its shadow unless one looked closely at the wall. At the sight of it, Ned Stark let out a low whistle.
"How long have you been planning this?" he asked in wonder as his daughter knotted the rope around the base of one of the spikes.
"A week" Arya replied, short on breath as she tugged hard on the rope to ensure it would hold. "Most of the ride here really, but I got here a week ago, and the last three days I've just been waiting for Mother to arrive." Satisfied the rope would hold, she tossed it over the side, taking a quick glance at the sky. It was dark for now, but the hour of the wolf had passed, and dawn would break soon. "Now come on, we don't have all night." She gestured to the rope, and Sansa, eyes darting to the spikes lining the walls and the long, dark drop below them, shook her head without thinking. "No" she stammered, taking a step back.
Arya rolled her eyes. "It's easy" she insisted, grasping the rope and swinging herself over the spikes with a cat's grace. Glancing up to her sister, who still appeared unwilling to make the climb, Arya growled under her breath, furious at the delay. "Wait until I'm down" she hissed to her parents, "then pull the rope up, tie her in and lower her down." Without waiting for a reply, Arya started down the rope, and within a minute or two was soon standing in the Red Keep's courtyard. Reaching up, she tugged sharply on the rope three times.
Feeling the pulls, Ned glanced between his wife and daughter with unease, but they were running out of darkness, and so he hauled the rope up, knotting it around his daughter's shoulders and waist with care. With her parents holding the rope tight and promising nothing would happen to her, Sansa gingerly climbed over the spikes and released the wall, barely resisting the urge to scream as she did so until she realised that she was not falling. Knowing what she would see, Sansa kept her eyes closed as her father and mother lowered her down the wall like a basket of turnips until she felt her feet touch solid ground.
Catelyn came next, feeling confident enough to climb herself rather than needing Ned to lower her and knowing they lacked the time, Ned following soon after. When all four had reunited on the ground, Arya pulled the rope back towards the wall and tied it off in a corner that received little sun during the day, hoping to disguise the manner of their escape and buy time.
The postern gate was the last obstacle between the Starks and the relative freedom of the city, but here Arya's plan came undone. As the young girl put her shoulder to it, she found the portal locked and bolted, and for once there was no guard nearby from which they could steal a key. Her rope wasn't long enough to scale the walls, even if they could climb back up to the Traitor's Walk and untie it, and the sentries along the battlements would be sure to spot them if they tried to leave that way. The only other possibility was the great gates, and though the gatehouses were near, they were more than likely well manned, and even so, opening the gates in the middle of the night would draw more than a little attention.
There was nothing for it, however, and with a sigh under her breath, Arya made for the gatehouse, Ned hot on her heels. The two men guarding the winches were easily dealt with, and though one shouted in alarm, Ned had made sure to kick the door closed as he entered, the thick wood muffling the sound and preventing it from reaching the guards patrolling overhead. When Ned turning the winch, Arya guarding his back, though the metal creaked, the guards saw nothing, as the portcullis rose directly up and was not plainly visible in the evening's darkness.
But once the four Starks had managed, with great effort to lift the massive bar and open the huge bronze gates, shouts came at the unexpected sight and torches flared overhead. "That's torn it" Arya cried, flinging the cloak from her shoulders, for now it was of no further use to her and she needed her arms free for what was to come. "Run!" Bells were already ringing overhead as the family raced not towards the gates, but the stables outside the Red Keep. Ned smashed a booted foot into the door, shattering the lock and the four climbed onto horses as best they could, not wasting time for saddles and rode bareback out the gates and into the city streets.
Arya and Ned had little trouble, but Catelyn and Sansa were unused not only to riding bareback, but riding in gowns, and Sansa nearly fell off twice before Catelyn held up her dagger, gesturing to the ruins of her own dress to show Sansa what she should do, and copying her mother, the eldest Stark daughter found her ride much smoother. With that dealt with their pace increased, and they made their way towards the Mud Gate at near full gallop, even as alarms were raised at their passing. Soon they neared the Mud Gate, but Ned bit off an oath at the sight.
Two gold cloaked City Watchmen guarded the gate, which was closed, and they shouted in alarm at the sight of the four riders, one racing towards the building which housed the gate's garrison, clearly intending to summon aid, while the other raised his spear to block their path. Lacking time, Arya and Ned rode down on him, Ned's longsword knocking the spear aside to allow Arya to land the killing blow. Even as the Watchman gurgled and breathed his last, the two were moving again, swinging down from their horses, headed for the gatehouse and knowing full well they were in a race now. The gate itself had taken some damage in the battle, true, and Arya had been banking on her and her father being able to break it down, which they could but for one problem. The portcullis was closed and there was no way out but to open it.
Moving as fast as they could, they cut the men down and heaved on the crank, raising the spiked mass of rusted iron over their heads and racing back to the others. Even as Ned slammed his foot into the gate, causing the weakened wood to bend under his boot, the doors to the barracks opened and a stream of hastily dressed Watchmen poured out, spears in hand. There was half a score of them at least, mayhaps a full score, and they formed a half-circle, surrounding the Starks and pinning them with their backs to the gate.
Arya gripped her blades, glancing around the circle of spears and looking for a weak point, while Ned levelled his sword, ready to sell his life to defend his family. Catelyn stepped in front of Sansa and raised her dagger, determined to protect her daughter but Sansa pushed her mother aside, hefting her own weapon in resolve and the four Starks stood in a circle, shoulder to shoulder and outnumbered five to one. Hardly any of the attackers wore armor, many of the Watchmen not even wearing breeches, but Ned, Arya, Catelyn and Sansa were equally vulnerable and with their swords and daggers, had far less reach than the Watchmen with their spears.
"Drop your weapons" their commander ordered, a man who had taken the few extra seconds, unlike the others, to don his golden cloak. "It's over."
"Don't listen to him, Father" Arya insisted, eyes not wavering from the men surrounding them for so much as a second. "The moment we do, they'll kill us and Joffrey will have four more Stark heads to sit beside Robb's."
The commander blinked, taken aback by that. "Stark?" He peered closely at the man now, and though he had only been a lowly Watchman when the traitor had been Hand, he did look like the man the commander had seen riding through the streets once. If this was Stark, trying to escape or not, he was highborn and not for a man such as him to kill. Only the King got to give that word. "Surrender, Lord Stark, and my men and I will spare you and your family" he promised. "If King Joffrey found out I killed a highborn prisoner it'd be my head next."
Stark sighed for a moment before casting his longsword to the ground and turning to who the commander assumed was his daughter. "It's over Arya." After a few seconds, the girl loosened her grip, allowing her thin sword to fall to the ground along with the short sword in her other hand. The two ladies in their ragged gowns released their daggers, and the commander stared pointedly at the young girl, still seeing a bulge in her sleeve. "I've been a Watchman for years, my lady" he informed her, hands on his hips. "I know all the tricks. I'd rather not have to order my men to search a highborn girl, but I will if I have to. All your weapons please."
She stared him down for a moment before relenting and pulling a knife from her left boot, as well as another from her sleeve. Adding them to the pile, the commander directed one of his men to gather them up as he began the process of escorting the prisoners back through the city and returning them to the Red Keep.
Queen Cersei was in the midst of a pleasant night's sleep when a servant burst into her room. Jolted awake by the intrusion Cersei opened her eyes and drew breath to chastise the fool before she stopped, registering the faint sound outside the room. Bells. For the alarm bells to be ringing at night, something must be very wrong, and her intended retort died in her mouth, replaced by a demand for information. "What is it" she barked, already grabbing for a robe as she rose from her bed.
"The prisoners, Your Grace" the girl stammered, clearly terrified of the Queen's wrath for waking her so late, or so early if you thought that way. "They've escaped."
"What?" Cersei gaped, unable to understand how this could have happened. "How?"
"I don't know, Your Grace" the girl all but whispered, cowering as Cersei's eyes narrowed at her answer. "The Lord Hand told me to fetch you, right quick."
"The Lord Hand?" Cersei muttered, before sighing to herself. She could very easily see that, clearly her brother had stayed up for one last drink and had gotten the news from a servant or guard as they passed. "Help me get dressed then." Despite the girls pleas that she was only a servant and had no idea about clothes or hair, Cersei's glare silenced her and she complied with the Queen's commands. Cersei quickly discovered that the girl was no liar, but she lacked the time for anything proper regardless, so as soon as she had a barely acceptable gown on and her hair roughly held up by two large pins, she left her chambers and started for the Hall.
As she passed through the corridors of the Red Keep she noted that the bells had stopped, and she hoped against anything that Joffrey was still abed, as his wrath if roused this late would be terrible indeed. Moving as quickly as she could in her night slippers, Cersei passed through the doors of the Great Hall, giving a quick nod to Ser Meryn, standing vigilant by the doorway as she entered, before she approached the feasting table and slumped on one of the benches.
Beside her, her drunken fool of a brother was even now pouring himself another cup of wine. Narrowing her eyes as she glanced at his state, Cersei concluded that he was not yet drunk, but very much on the way there, and needing him able to speak in complete sentences, snatched the cup from his hand. Crying out in protest, the dwarf reached for the glass but Cersei made good use of her superior height and reach to keep it away from his grasp. "I need you sober" she stated bluntly, and set the cup on the other side of the table. "Now tell me what in the seven hells happened."
Sighing at having an end put to his drinking, Tyrion rolled his eyes. "What do you think I know, sweet sister? I heard the bells, saw guards running past and found out that the prisoners had escaped. I sent a servant to fetch you, had the bells stopped so they didn't wake half the castle, and that's all I know."
Cersei opened her mouth to snap back at her brother that he shouldn't have fetched her until he had actual news, when the outer door to the Hall burst open and a Goldcloak stumbled in, panting and looking as if he had dressed in a hurry. "Your Grace" the man gasped, drawing huge lungfuls of air as if he had been running. "Lord Hand" he added, as his eyes caught sight of Tyrion, half concealed by the table. "The prisoners…"
"Have escaped" Cersei dismissed with a flick of her hand. "We know, now why aren't you out there finding them?"
"That's just it, Your Grace" the Watchman grinned. "We have. We caught 'em tryin' to open the River Gate and surrounded 'em. The commander sent me to tell you that we're bringin' 'em back, they'll be here soon."
"Good work" Tyrion praised the lowborn man. Waving a hand, he gestured towards the tables, still laden with the remnants of the celebratory feast; rich food and many wines. "Refresh yourself, but mind not to drink too much" he warned, ignoring the snort from behind as his sister tried and failed to contain a laugh at the irony of that statement. "The Crown will still have much for you to do this night." Muttering his gratitude, the man seized an abandoned trencher and fell to with a will, while Cersei fixed her gaze on the doors, waiting for the prisoners to be returned.
Soon, though it felt like an eternity to the impatient queen, many footsteps marching in unison could be heard from outside before City Watchmen poured in, spears in hand, the prisoners among the group. Cersei glanced them over with an idle eye, curious as to what would cause the honorable Lord Stark to break his word and attempt to escape. Lord Eddard himself was bruised but injured, while his wife and daughter were unharmed but for their dresses, which were ragged and torn. A raised eyebrow to the Gate Commander had the man quickly stammering that the Stark women had done it themselves to ride more easily, and with no word to the contrary from the Starks, Cersei let it go, satisfied the men hadn't tried anything stupid with the valuable prisoners.
Then her eye drifted past the two women and Cersei rocked back in shock at the sight of a fourth Stark, one she hadn't expected. Dressed in the ragged garb of a serving girl, empty scabbards hanging from her belt it was nevertheless Arya Stark, and the wolf cub's eyes flashed hatred at the sight of Cersei. At the Commander's signal, one of his men dumped a jumble of weapons at her feet. Though she was no expert, Cersei had spent enough time around her brother to pick up a little knowledge of arms, and she examined them for a moment.
The longsword was of common make, identical to the one hanging from the belt of several Watchmen, those of them who had actually taken the time to put on their swordbelts of course. Multiple knives and daggers, mainly cheap things that had clearly been stolen at some point. A short sword bearing the mark of Riverrun's smithy, and the familiar thin blade that Cersei had last seen hanging from the girl's hip during the meeting where she was sent to Riverrun as part of Tyrion's ill-fated plan to free Jaime.
Shoving the small mound of steel aside with her foot, noticing Arya Stark's lips drawing back in rage as her sword was kicked aside, Cersei decided to get to the bottom of this. "What is the meaning of this, Lord Eddard" she demanded, drawing herself up as best she could while trying to disguise the fact that she had been woken from her bed barely an hour ago. "You gave your parole, swore on the honour of yourself and your House that you and your daughter would not attempt to flee, so why do I find men of the Watch bringing you before me, claiming you were caught trying to escape?"
"It wasn't his fault" Arya Stark shouted, fingers curling into claws like the wolf cub she was. "I forced him, and Sansa too!"
"Really" Cersei drawled, unimpressed by the girl's antics. Arya may be a wolf pup, but Cersei was a full-grown lioness and lions didn't fear wolves. "You, a girl not yet grown, forced your father, veteran of two wars, into escaping our custody? How, exactly?"
Arya's eyes flicked to the pile of blades on the ground, but rather than try anything foolish with so many armed Watchmen around, she merely reached up and tilted her father's neck towards the light, revealing a shallow cut. "I put a knife to his throat" she stated, eyes cold as the cub refused to bow before her elder, "and told him to help me free Mother or die." Her other hand flicked her sister's long hair aside, and Cersei's mouth hardened as she saw an identical mark on Sansa's pale skin. Her expression didn't improve as Arya related the story of how she had freed her family and made a mockery of the Crown's ability to hold prisoners.
"I see." Without thinking, Cersei reached up and pulled the pins from her hair, allowing it to tumble down around her shoulders in a golden mass. As the lioness shook out her mane, Tyrion turned to the Gate Commander. "The Crown thanks you for your service" he praised, pulling out a bag of coins, "but we have one more task for you. Take the prisoners back to the tower, and make sure they do not escape. Until the Queen or I tell you personally, no one enters and they don't leave. He flicked a coin to the Commander, who caught it easily, gaping as he realised that it was gold.
Meeting the man's stare, Tyrion nodded grimly. "Keep them from escaping again, and ten times that amount goes to you and each of your men" he promised. "Should they escape on your watch however…" he trailed off, and the Commander blanched as his mind provided a thousand possible outcomes, all worse than the next. Lannisters paid their debts, after all. Swallowing in unease, he saluted and sent his men to escort the prisoners back to the tower, following suit himself. When the doors had closed, Cersei slumped over the bench again.
"Well, this is a fine mess the girl's gotten us into" she sighed. Against Tyrion's protests, she snatched his cup of wine, still sitting untouched and downed it in one go.
"Indeed." Tyrion frowned, secretly impressed at his sister's drinking skill and vowing to challenge her to a contest one day. "If Joffrey finds out, he'll order heads on pikes, and cause a right bloody mess." His head sank into his hands. "Not that he doesn't have cause, what with Stark escaping custody." He looked up at his sister, now at least sitting up straight. "Do you believe that tale about her forcing him?"
Cersei snorted, Tyrion raising an eyebrow at his sister's unladylike action. "More than I do that old honourable Ned Stark would up and decide to break his sworn word on a whim." Her fingers drummed on the table for a moment. "All right. We have to think of what to do next, and fast, before Joffrey wakes up." Knowing what she needed to do, Cersei sighed inside herself and poured another cup of wine, pushing it over to her brother. "Any genius ideas to get us out of this one?"
Tossing back the Arbor gold as if it were water, Tyrion considered their options. "Well" he muttered, wiping his mouth, "Joffrey might be King, but you're his Regent, and I'm Hand. If we deal with this ourselves, and present him with a judgment made and sentence already passed, he can't go back on that in front of the court, as it was done in the King's name."
"Well and good" Cersei conceded, "but what sentence is that? The Stark girl may have gotten her father off the hook, but she still killed guards and attacked loyal men. Joffrey still hasn't forgiven her for setting her direwolf on him, he'll have her head."
Tyrion set his empty glass down, any trace of mirth gone. "We can't have that" he replied, "criminal or not, she's still just a girl, and a highborn one at that. If we let Ser Ilyn do his work, the people will tear us apart the moment her head leaves her neck."
Cersei's eyes burned green fire as she clenched her fists in fury. "With any other highborn girl we could have her family pay a price to get her off and be done with it" she growled, "but not only are her father and mother accused traitors, but Winterfell is in ruins and the Greyjoys still hold the Neck, House Stark has nothing to give."
Tyrion glanced idly at a long red hair lying on the ground, pulled out when Sansa Stark showed her neck wound, before his eyes lit up and his lips curved into a slow smile. Cersei's heart leapt at the sight, knowing her brother had come up with another one of his schemes to hopefully fix everything. "House Stark has nothing to offer" he said slowly, "but that's not all the family Lady Arya has, now is it?"
Cersei was quick to see her brother's point, and she gave a slow nod in return. "And the Tullys certainly aren't short of gold" she added, voice bitter at the reminder that her father's lands had been so effectively burgled by the lords of the Trident, and Olenna Tyrell had seen fit to let them keep every last ounce of it. Her head tilted to the side as she thought of something. "Which Tully? The brother or the sister?"
Tyrion frowned. He'd much prefer Lord Edmure, as the man was nowhere near as cold as his sister and would likely not drive as hard a bargain when playing with his niece's life. "The sister" he sighed. "She went to bed hours ago, and drank little, whereas her brother could barely walk under his own power. If we need this done quickly, Lady Alyssa's the better option."
Unable to argue with that logic, Cersei sent a servant to fetch Arya Stark's aunt, and while the girl was gone, she and Tyrion busied themselves with setting up an appropriate audience. She and Tyrion were sitting on their chairs beside the Iron Throne, one of the long benches dragged up in front of them, with Arya's sword laying on top. Alyssa Tully soon entered, and Tyrion bit back a laugh at the sight of her. Despite the lateness of the hour, and the cloak roughly thrown on over her nightclothes, the Lady of Riverhold had still taken the time to don her shirt of oiled ringmail and belt on her two swords. The moment Alyssa's eyes lit upon the sword in front of her, her shoulders visibly slumped and she sighed.
"Damn it Arya". She glanced up at the regal looking Cersei, still seated in her chair. "What's my niece done this time?"
Tyrion raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the resignation in her voice. "You already know what she did?"
Alyssa shook her head, weary both from the long night and the drain she knew this conversation would be. "No, but I know it'll be bad. My niece was supposed to stay in Riverrun, for Needle to be here means that she didn't, and she'd sooner part with her head than that sword, so the fact that you have it means she's either dead" she mulled that possibility over in her head for a moment, before dismissing it utterly. "Not likely." She fingered a scar on her cheek for a moment. "That means she did something stupid and was arrested by enough guards to bring even her down." Her face didn't change, but her eyes hardened a shade. "Does she still live?"
"For now" Cersei reassured her, "but her crimes are grave."
"And now since her father and mother are both in cells and can't help, you want me to buy her freedom" guessed Alyssa, Cersei smiling in acknowledgement of the younger woman's correct deduction. There was, after all, no point hiding the reason they had called her there. Alyssa folded her arms, thinking for a moment. "Very well. Before I make my offer, tell me this" she asked, voice airy as if they were haggling over a pig at the marketplace and not discussing her niece's life. "What charges does Arya face?"
Tyrion set his face into a stony mask, hoping to drive home the seriousness of Arya's situation, and thus force her aunt to pay more. "Murder" he intoned, "of men in the King's service, and aiding in the escape of accused traitors from the custody of the Crown."
Alyssa clicked her tongue, irritated but not surprised. Of bloody course Arya wouldn't just sit back and let her mother be executed, five years ago, Alyssa herself might have done the same thing. She still would, if she could think of a way to save Catelyn without endangering her own people. But that was just it. The whole reason she had encouraged Edmure to hand their sister over was that she couldn't think of such a way, and she had to put the Riverlands first. Even now, as she worked to save her niece from the axe, she couldn't do so at the cost of everything she had fought so hard for. And yet she knew she couldn't just let her sister's daughter, her own blood, die when there was nothing she could do about it.
"Assuming that we do come to an arrangement" she said at length, "what then? You can't hide this, and I doubt the King will be happy to let Arya escape without punishment. Not to mention where will she go?" Her mouth curved into a mirthless smile. "We both know my sister and her husband are dead come their trials tomorrow, and Edmure will have a baby of his own to look after soon, he doesn't have the energy to keep Arya under control…"
Alyssa trailed off, as a thought occurred to her. Slowly, she tapped a finger against her lips as she contemplated the viability of her scheme, before she nodded and set her jaw. "All right. Here is my offer, and it is a good one. I will pay five thousand gold dragons for the Crown to forget my niece's crimes and draw a line under this incident. My sister, Lord Stark, none of them will be punished for this escape."
Tyrion and Cersei shot dumbfounded glances at one another; they'd heard this woman was smart! Five thousand gold dragons was a ludicrous sum to wipe away one noble girl's crimes, hell a tenth of that would be too much. Sure there was some trap in this, Tyrion narrowed his eyes. "A...generous offer, my lady" he ventured, the dwarf's voice slow. "And the catch?"
"The catch?" Alyssa sat back on her bench, leaning against the wooden back as if for support before sighing long and hard. "No catch, my lord, at least not for you. I'm not doing this out of the goodness of my own heart. I'm fond of Arya, but more than that I need her."
"Need her" Cersei sneered, thinking of the fierce cub dragged off by the Watch. "What could you need that little animal for?"
"An heir" Alyssa answered, voice so blunt the queen was taken aback. "I have yet to marry" explained the Lady of Riverhold, "and should I fall tomorrow, through illness or battle, Riverhold goes to one of my brother's children. While I wouldn't mind that, Edmure only has one babe on the way at the moment, and the child cannot hold both his castle and mine at once." She clasped her hands in front of her and looked the two in the eyes.
"So. In exchange for the ten thousand in gold, the Crown will not only pardon Arya, but confirm her as my heir and next in line to inherit Riverhold after my death, so long as she forsakes the Stark name and takes mine instead." Blue eyes flashed cold and cruel in the dim light. "Riverhold is a Tully place, and no one else will have it, not Lannisters and not Starks."
"And if she refuses" Tyrion deigned to ask at length. "What then?" Cersei scoffed at the thought of someone refusing lands, castle and title all handed to them as if on a silver platter, but Alyssa appeared thoughtful at that. "Then I'll leave her the choice, become my heir or take whatever punishment you choose to give her." She tilted her head, curious now. "By the way, what would that be?"
"For a noble girl committing such crimes whose family can't, or won't pay for them?" Cersei hummed for a moment. "Aside from the obvious axe, she could be sent to join the Faith, or I suppose she could be married off to one of Joffrey's loyal lords, to keep her in check."
"There you are then" Alyssa spread her hands, as if the answer was obvious. "I know Arya would rather tear her own throat out than join the Faith, and she'd knife any husband in the wedding bed. I think she'd rather choose to live as a Tully than die as a Stark, so I'll let her decide for herself."
"Harsh" Tyrion commented, already pouring more wine with the negotiations all but done, "but fair in a way I suppose. My father would do something similar, were Jaime or I to get ourselves in such trouble." He downed the contents and set the glass aside, rising to his feet and glancing at Cersei. "Well. No time like the present, let's go and have this done before Joffrey wakes and ruins a good deal." He offered a hand, which Alyssa grasped, shaking it once to confirm their bargain and then it was done. The two Lannisters got to their feet and headed for the dungeon, Alyssa at their heels. Tyrion was pleased to see the Watch had heeded his words, and the spears crossed in front of the door moved only when the men recognised him. Tyrion and Cersei entered the room, and Alyssa followed just before the door was locked behind them.
Arya Stark looked up to see her aunt standing there beside the Queen and the Imp, every inch of her body showing disapproval. "You've caused quite a mess, Arya" the woman remarked, "and I do not appreciate being woken at this hour to deal with it."
"Indeed." Tyrion took a seat on the cold stone floor while the more dignified Cersei chose to remain standing. "Fortunately for you, we think we've worked out a solution which benefits all parties involved."
Catelyn felt a cold stone of fear sink into her belly at those words, for no good ever came from bargaining with a Lannister. "What did they promise you" she hissed at her sister, Alyssa's eyes narrowing at the accusation.
"Promise me?" Her tone made it clear she found that almost laughable. "They promised me nothing. I promised them a very large sum of gold in exchange for Arya, to save your daughter's life" she emphasized, "but yes, I do ask for something in return. So why don't you stop interrupting and let Arya hear her options?"
After a moment, Catelyn waved her hand and Tyrion laid out the choices before Arya in as plain and clear fashion as he could, sparing no detail. Hearing her daughter's possible fates didn't make Catelyn any happier.
"So you're buying my daughter" her voice dripped bitter poison. "And exactly how much gold is Arya worth to you anyway?"
"Five thousand gold dragons." Even Sansa's jaw dropped slightly, and Alyssa turned now, trying to convince her niece in person. "I know you don't like this, Arya, but it's not so bad. I won't stop you practising, and I think you'd make a fine Lady of my lands one day."
"Until you marry me off for your precious heir". Arya's fingers were curled into claws again, and Alyssa knew that if her niece was armed, she would already be forced to defend herself. "Why not just get married yourself?"
"I will" Alyssa promised, feeling the truth of that statement even as she said it. The war was over now after all, and with the Tyrells massive army at the Crown's side, there wasn't like to be another one for years. She had done her duty as Warden to her people, now it was time to do her duty to House Tully and wed. "But even were I to bring forth a babe right this minute" Catelyn choked at the thought of an instant pregnancy and birth, "it wouldn't be able to so much as hold a sword for years, much less swing one.
You have my blood, you're a skilled fighter and a veteran of the recent war" Catelyn's lips pursed at the reminder that her little girl was a hardened killer who had fought with soldiers, "you could lead my armies in my stead. My men would follow you, but more than that" Alyssa pressed on, "Edmure's bannermen would respect you. After that night at Riverrun, they know you aren't just a helpless little girl anymore."
Arya remained sullen, unwilling to agree. "But why can't I just go back to Winterfell with Rickon?" Arya avoided mentioning her parents, smart enough to know full well what the outcome would be of their trials tomorrow and not wanting to think about it right now.
"You could" Alyssa agreed, shocking Arya. "And then someday soon, either your brother or his regent will be forced to marry you off in order to increase House Stark's alliances." It was long past time, she felt, to shatter her niece's illusions. "We're highborn ladies" she informed Arya, ignoring the fact that her niece frowned at the title. "You and I may wear steel instead of silk, and practise with swords instead of needles" Arya couldn't hold back a slight smile at that, and Alyssa seized the opening, "but that doesn't change the facts. We have a duty to our families, to marry well to cement alliances to aid us in time of war.
That's what your mother did" Alyssa reminded her, gesturing towards the silent Catelyn. "Her marriage brought House Tully into the war, bought your father ten thousand swords and spears when he needed them most in exchange for House Stark aiding the Riverlands in time of need." Bending down, she stared her niece straight in the eyes, blue locking onto grey. "You'll have to marry someday, Arya, that's a fact, just as I will. I can't stop that. What I can promise you" Arya snapped to attention, waiting for her aunt's next words, "is that you won't be wed for years, and that I won't arrange a marriage without consulting you."
"You'd let me choose who I marry" Arya echoed, unable to believe her aunt's words. Even she knew that if she accepted her aunt's offer, her marriage must be for the purpose of securing Riverhold an alliance, not for love or because she got on well with the man.
"Yes, and no" Alyssa agreed. "As long as it brings some benefit to our House" Arya frowned at her aunt's assumption, "then I won't care. I wouldn't approve of you marrying, say, a blacksmith who brings no men or alliances" she warned. "But if you wanted to marry a son of say, Lord Goodbrook instead of Lord Mooton" Arya's nose wrinkled at the thought of the cowardly Lord of Maidenpool as her aunt continued, "then even though Mooton has more men and brings more wealth to the marriage, you'd have my blessing. As Lady of Riverhold, I need my line to continue, but as your aunt" she added with a smile, "I want you to be happy."
Arya folded her arms, unconvinced. "You promise?"
"I promise" Alyssa agreed. "I swear by…" She trailed off as she thought of an appropriate vow. What could she swear by? Her honour? That burned to ash along with Ashemark. The gods? After her uncle's death and the loss of this war, she'd all but stopped believing in the Seven. After a moment, Alyssa bowed her head. "I swear on Uncle Brynden's memory" she pledged, and Arya gasped, knowing the regard her aunt held the man in. The sky would sooner fall than Alyssa Tully do anything to bring the Blackfish's name into dishonour.
"As touching as this is" Cersei drawled, reminding all that the Queen was still present, "dawn fast approaches, and Joffrey will wake soon. Your answer, Lady Arya?" All eyes turned on the youngest Stark daughter, who inhaled, knowing that very soon, that description would no longer apply to her. "I accept Aunt Alyssa's offer."
Tyrion clapped his hands. "That's it then. I'll have Pycelle draw up the papers, and they'll be signed and sealed within the hour. The announcement will be the first thing Joffrey does come the morn. Come, sister" he beckoned towards Cersei, "let's leave Lady Arya with her family for the night."
"I suppose we should" Cersei taunted, ignoring the disapproving look her brother shot her for doing so, "after all, it'll be the last one she spends with them." Cersei started towards the door, only to pause in the doorway. "Oh yes" she turned back to face Catelyn. "In case you or your husband should think to demand Trial by Combat Lady Stark" she warned, "Joffrey will select Ser Loras Tyrell as his champion. Even if you can find someone to defeat the Knight of Flowers" Cersei's opinion of those chances was obvious for all to hear, "then I imagine Lady Olenna Tyrell will take her own vengeance for her grandson's death. Tell me" Cersei mocked, cold smile upon her lips, "how will the North fare in winter, with no food fro the South?
Your own grain stores are spent from the fighting, and while the Riverlands will have enough to feed their own people, they have none to spare for you. Only the Reach produces such a surplus as to be able to provide not only for their own folk but to send such a large amount elsewhere with little issue, and since Lady Olenna truly calls the shots in Highgarden, I can't imagine she'd be feeling too generous to the House that killed her grandson. Slay Loras Tyrell" she threatened, ultimatum hanging over them like a cloud, "and the North starves."
"Not the way I would have put it" Tyrion soothed, throwing a sidelong glare at his sister for her unnecessary callousness, "but the point remains valid. The boy is too honourable to yield, and Joffrey will not withdraw his accusation. That means the only way for you or your husband to walk away from that field alive, Lady Stark, is for Loras Tyrell to not." He let that sink in for a moment. "Of course, if you declared in open court that you wished to seek the justice of the gods and have your trial heard by the Faith, King Joffrey would of course grant it, however…" he trailed off, and Catelyn frowned at the bitter reminder that the High Septon was a Lannister creature, bought and paid for.
The Imp shook his head, almost seeming sad at his own words. "For what it's worth" he said quietly, "I wish things hadn't gone this way, but they're out of my hands now. Have a good night, Lady Stark." The door closed and the key turned in the lock, leaving Catelyn to ponder her options and spend what she was sure would be her last hours with her family.
Morning came all too quickly, and after a brief meal, the guards came for the Lord and Lady of Winterfell. Catelyn embraced Sansa one last time before her wrists were locked in irons, and then she was marched into the Red Keep along with Ned, guards all around them to prevent any further escape attempts. Joffrey was already seated on the Iron Throne, his other and Hand beside him, while a prisoner box had been set up some distance away. He gestured, and the guards hustled Ned and Catelyn off to the side, spears ready in case they tried anything.
"Before we get to the trials of those two traitors" Joffrey proclaimed, hiding his glee at getting to deliver yet another blow to the hated Starks, "let Arya Stark of Winterfell come forward."
Slowly, Arya made her way forward, free of chains yet unarmed, a condition insisted upon by Joffrey, and she felt very vulnerable as he leered down at her from the throne. "It has come to my attention that you attempted to free your traitor mother last night" he announced. "Do you deny this?"
"No, Your Grace" Arya replied by rote, repeating the words agreed upon and drummed into her by the Queen last night, all in the space of an hour. "Bonds of blood are strong, and whatever else she may be, she is still my lady mother, but that is no excuse. I beg your forgiveness for my actions." Swallowing her fury, Arya curtseyed low, eyes fixed upon the ground and didn't move until she heard Joffrey laugh.
"Get up, Lady Arya." Rising from her place, she met the king's eyes only to see something cruel dancing in the green orbs. Off to the side, Cersei knew Joffrey was about to make his own alterations to the agreement, and used every ounce of her queenly control not to slam her palm into her face as Joffrey opened his mouth again. "My mother informs me that your lady aunt" he gestured to Alyssa standing off to the side, arms folded as she watched, "has offered to accept you as her heir, provided you forsake the Stark name. Do you accept those terms?"
"I do, Your Grace."
"Then as King of the Seven Kingdoms" Joffrey declared, arms spread wide, "I strip you of all rights and claims to Winterfell or the North. I take from you the Stark name, and proclaim you Arya Tully, heiress of Riverhold." He waved his hand and Arya turned to leave, before his call halted her in her tracks. "A moment, Lady Tully!" Unable to refuse, Arya turned to face Joffrey, who had now lost all pretence and was allowing his gleeful smile to show. "In order to help Lady Catelyn escape" he informed the court, "you forced your father, Lord Eddard Stark into helping by threatening not only his own life, but the life of your sister, Lady Sansa."
Cersei opened her mouth but Joffrey cut her off with a raised hand, knowing full well what his mother would say. "Lord Stark had given his parole" he reminded all present, "sworn on the honour of House Stark not to attempt escape. Him we do not blame for this, for the Crown understands that his daughter's life was at risk" declared the King, "and so the Crown forgives Lord Eddard his betrayal. You on the other hand" he fixed Arya with the most kingly glare he could muster, "coerced the Lord of Winterfell into breaking his oath and stained the honour of House Stark.
Your father and mother may be accused traitors" he declared, "but your brother in the North has committed no such crime. The true Starks deserve better than to have such a stain as you on their honor; associating with them and smearing them by association. As King of the Seven Kingdoms" he decreed, "I hereby bar you from setting foot in the North again" gasps rose throughout the court, and Joffrey gave a cruel smirk at Arya's reaction, knowing how heavily the girl loved her frozen homeland, "on pain of death. Any harboring you will also be traitors, and will meet the same fate."
Arya rocked as if struck, unable to believe that she would never see Winterfell, her home ever again. Though she would be her aunt's heir, and thus must spend much of her time at Riverhold, Riverhold was less than a week from Seagard, and she had hoped to sail home on occasion to see her family again. Now, she could never return to the North without losing her head, or condemning any who helped her to the same fate. Getting to her feet, the young girl walked over to her aunt, who wrapped her arms around the shattered Arya, eyes glaring daggers at Joffrey, as was Cersei and Tyrion, furious that he had very nearly ruined their deal.
The Crown needed those five thousand dragons, they were already in enough debt as it was, and now House Lannister needed all the gold it had to rebuild the Westerlands. Lord Tywin would be able to fund the Crown no longer, and any aid from the Tyrells would come at a price, marriages, lands, titles, something. Regardless of the fact that her granddaughter was Queen, or at least would be soon, Olenna Tyrell would not help the Crown out of its money troubles for nothing. Nothing came of it this time, thank the gods, but Joffrey clearly needed to be kept on a tighter leash, or Tyrion didn't know what the boy might do.
Speaking of his nephew, he was speaking again and Tyrion made sure to pay close attention. "With that done, my lords" Joffrey's face dropped, in false sorrow, but at least he was faking it well enough. "Let us now turn to less pleasant business, namely, that of bringing justice to those who started this costly war in the first place." He cleared his throat, and the command that followed almost made Tyrion forgive Joffrey's earlier folly, for it sounded like a true king's voice. "Lady Catelyn Stark!"
Escorted by her guards, Lady Catelyn made her way forward, graceful and dignified despite the manacles at her wrists and the Watchmen holding her shoulders, her head was nonetheless held high as she made her way across the room towards the prisoner's box. A Watchman stood beside her, spear held to warn off any attempt to escape, as Catelyn took her place, before glancing up at Joffrey as if in expectation. The boy did not disappoint.
"Lady Stark" he called, voice dripping in feigned regret, "you stand accused of treason, kidnap, violation of the King's Peace and inciting war on the lands watered by the River Trident. You abducted my lord uncle, heir to Casterly Rock" he glanced over at Tyrion, feigning a bond of kinship both knew didn't exist "to answer charges that turned out to be false, which you had no authority to do so. An act which led to war between the great Houses of Lannister and Tully." Joffrey paused, both for breath and to allow him time to allow his words to sink into the members of the court, reminding them of the lives that had been lost thanks to this woman's folly. "What defence do you offer for your actions?"
He gestured for Catelyn to speak, and the woman's gaze flickered over to the High Septon, seated in his comfortable chair with his crystal crown atop his head, the seven-pointed star of the Faith worked in coloured thread over his robes of cloth-of-gold and cloth-of-silver. Then her eyes hardened, and her lips worked silently before she spoke at last. "Your Grace, I have little to say" she stated, back straight and proud as she defied those who expected her to beg for mercy or die silent with dignity. "I am innocent of that which I am accused of, but I will find no justice here regardless, so I shall leave my fate in the hands of a higher power than you."
Cersei smiled, knowing what would happen next but her smile dropped off her lips in shock at the Lady of Winterfell's next words, which silenced the hall as effectively as if Aegon Targaryen had returned from the dead.
"I demand a Trial of Seven!"