A/N: Considering my current level of hyperfixation on Shadow and Bone, its kind of a miracle I got this chapter done. And it is ONLY because I had a very long conversation already written AGES ago (Pre me taking a break lol). So, good news for people who like Catelyn and Tywin interacting, you'll like this chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter 42: Common Ground

Arya had sat herself in the corner, busying herself with cleaning one of her knives. A knife that Jaqen gave her many years ago. If the Waif came, she would like to stab her with it. But for now, she was stuck waiting. Fidgeting. Wondering who would try to talk to her first.

Her mother had already spoken with her, right after she finished explaining the situation. She promised not to ask further questions that night. Not with everything else happening. But she wanted to speak more on what had happened later.

"I'm not angry with you, Arya," she said. "I just want to know the truth."

Arya wondered if the first part was true or not. She was still angry at herself most days. Angry at herself for running off like a foolish child, thinking she could fix her family's problems by herself.

As for everyone else, well, she could feel their gazes on her and past that, the weight of all their questions. She hadn't been very detailed in her explanation, and they all surely wanted to ask more. But it was the mixed company—the room full of Starks and Lannisters—that saved her.

The first to break the barrier, surprisingly enough, was Tyrion Lannister.

He waltzed right over to her, an extra drink in hand, offering it up. "You seem like you need this."

Arya's mouth twitched. "Tempting. But I need to keep a clear head."

"You're a young woman of great self control," Tyrion said. "If I had to tell this lot a story, I'd drink enough to forget my own name."

I'm sure the Faceless men would like it if I did that, Arya thought. "Maybe I will later, depending on how all of this goes."

"Indeed." Tyrion sat himself in the chair nearest to her. "We never spoke before your disappearance, did we?"

"I don't think so, no," Arya said.

"I heard stories about you though. Heard you were quick to pick a fight in school," Tyrion said.

"Only when someone deserved it," Arya said. She was careful not to name Joffrey when his mother was close by. "I'm better at fighting now than I was then."

"I imagine so," Tyrion said. "It is a fascinating story. Not just that but everything that's happened since you returned to Westeros. I only recently heard it all from my sister. I'll tell you, I'm not shocked by much but your story…well, if there wasn't proof, I wouldn't have believed it."

"That's why I was annoyed when your father figured me out so quickly." Arya sighed.

"He is annoying like that, yes," Tyrion said, glancing to where Tywin stood on the other side of the room, speaking with Jaime. "At least you've only had to deal with him recently and not all of your life."

"My condolences," Arya said.

"Thank you," Tyrion lowered his voice. "In any case, if you're worried about what any of your family is thinking, I wouldn't. Seems your family is actually quite well adjusted, unlike mine. They'll forgive you for any lies. Even if it takes time."

Arya nodded once, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Thank you."

"Of course." Tyrion raised a glass. "We'll speak again later. When this is over."

For a bit longer, Arya was alone. Myrcella drifted over a few times to make sure that she was okay, and her warm smile was quite a comfort. But she promised that she was fine. That she could stay with her brother who was still having trouble absorbing everything Arya had said.

Then came Sansa, almost without warning. Suddenly, her sister nudged her to the side on the large chair and sat down beside her without a word. She wrapped an arm around her and tugged her to rest her head on her shoulder. A shiver went through Arya.

"What…are you doing?"

"Hugging you, Arya," Sansa said. "I know you know what a hug is."

"I know but…why?" she asked. "You aren't angry with me?"

"You were held against your will, Arya," she said. "I would never be angry with you." She stroked her shoulder. "We all did stupid things after dad died. I certainly did. I…" She shuddered. "I got back together with him. And he's the one who…"

Arya gripped her sister's hand at once. "That wasn't your fault, Sansa. You couldn't have known. I didn't."

Sansa squeezed back. "The point is, we all made mistakes. Yours just…yours just cost you the most. I'm sorry for snapping at you. You've been through enough. You didn't need that from me."

"It's fine." Arya's eyes burned and she forced the tears down. "I wanted you to yell at me. All of you. It felt better than keeping quiet and pretending everything was fine. It wasn't."

"No. It wasn't," Sansa murmured. "But one day it will be."

For a moment, it was just her and Sansa on that chair. Then more movement. Rickon coming over to sit at their feet. Bran rolling his wheelchair next to them. Jon coming to perch on the arm next to Arya and rest a hand on her shoulder. Robb taking his place behind their chair.

There were no words. Nothing at all. But the presence of her siblings around her nearly made Arya break into pieces. Only one thing held her back from that. The Waif. The knowledge that she was still out there. Waiting. Watching for her moment.

Arya had to deal with her first. Then, maybe, she could allow herself to be weak again.

Night had fallen, and the moon cast long shadows across the Lannister manor. In the daytime, it seemed to glow with golden light but in the dark, it seemed awfully empty and quiet. Well...not all parts of the manor were quiet. The sitting room was blazing with light as a strange assortment of Lannister, Starks and Baratheons sat about, many of them speaking to each other for the first time. It had been a strange thing to watch. Almost overwhelming. And perhaps that was why Catelyn retreated into the next room—the parlor.

It was peaceful here, and moonlight filtered across the floor through the windows. Across the ivory piano lined with gold. She let opened the top and thought for a moment about playing a few notes. She used to play quiet well when she was a girl, and later on, she played what few songs she could remember for Ned.

She had likely forgotten all those songs by now. She hadn't touched the piano at home since he had died. So she sighed and closed the top again. No sense in starting now.

Behind her the door creaked and she saw a long shadow pass across the pool of moonlight.

"You shouldn't wander too far."

Catelyn turned to face Tywin. "I won't. I just wanted a bit of quiet."

"So did I."

"Sorry to spoil that for you then."

He shrugged, circling around her and over to the decanter. She watched him pour two shallow glasses. "I'll live with it." He turned and extended one to her. She accepted because in all honesty, she needed the alcohol to cope with all...this.

"Thank you."

He nodded once, sitting down in the nearest chair. He nodded at the piano. "Do you play?"

"I used to play quite a bit a long time ago," she said. "But its been some time since I've touched a piano."

"How much time?" he asked.

She sighed, pacing over to the windows. "Over three years now."

Silence met her answer, because there was no need to question the 'why'.

She turned the glass in her hand. "Did you ever play?"

"Only when I was a child," Tywin said. "Obligatory lessons. I wouldn't be able to play much at all now."

No, she couldn't picture him playing the piano. She couldn't picture him being a music person in general. But then, neither was she. Not anymore. "Who did play the piano then? Cersei?"

"Only when she was forced," Tywin said. "She liked playing but she hated the practice. Hated not getting it perfect the first time. Jaime was no better. Myrcella plays well enough I think, but Tommen plays the most of anyone in the house."

Catelyn's mouth twitched. Arya had been the more reluctant sort when Catelyn tried to push her toward piano lessons when she was little. She was lucky if she could get the child to practice for even fifteen minutes. "Did your wife play?"

The question was out of her mouth before she really thought about it, and the silence seemed to echo behind her. She turned to face him, meaning to retract the question, but he answered before she could.

"Yes," he said. "She played quite well." He looked up at her. "Did your husband?"

She pressed at him and he pressed right back. There was a note of retaliation in his voice, but since he had answered, she knew that she should as well. "No. No he was never musically inclined. He just liked...listening."

He nodded once, sipping at his drink.

She exhaled, slipping into a seat across from him. "You...haven't said yet how you got Arya to tell you the truth."

"I'm not sure you want to know that," Tywin said.

Her eyes narrowed. "Why? Did you hurt her?"

Tywin shook his head. "No. No I didn't hurt her."

"Then why won't I want to know?" she asked.

He tilted his head to the side. "I don't suppose you'll take my word for it."

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Lannister," she said.

He studied his drink intently, taking a moment to assess the situation. Then: "I found out about the Faceless Men because she pulled a gun on me."

Catelyn flinched at the words. "She...what?"

"Pulled a gun on me," Tywin repeated, as if it was normal. As if it was nothing.

"So she tried to kill you?" she asked.

"No. She couldn't have. The gun wasn't loaded." Tywin turned the glass in his hand, and he actually seemed to hesitate before he continued. "She was ordered to provoke me into killing her as a way to cause conflict between our families. I had a gun on me. She knew I did. So she drew hoping to force me to kill her in self defense."

Catelyn covered her mouth with her hand, setting her glass down on the table before she risked dropping it. Gods...gods above...If Arya was ordered to kill Tywin Lannister that would somehow be less terrible. But she had been ordered to die...and she almost did.

"Why?" she asked. "Why didn't you?"

"Gods, you Starks really do have a poor opinion of me, don't you?" A bit of frustration crept into Tywin's voice then. "Do you think I make a sport of shooting anyone who crosses me?"

"Not a sport," Catelyn said. "But you seem the kind of man who would kill someone who tried to kill you. You were a soldier. You killed..." she trailed off, knowing better than to touch upon the rumors in front of him. Ned had talked about it more than once. He talked about seeing the aftermath of Tywin Lannister's great victory.

Tywin's gaze had not wavered from her. "Go on."

"You killed a good many people in Essos," Catelyn said. "If the stories are true."

"Some are. Some aren't," he said. "But you're right. I've killed people before, when it had a purpose. Killing your daughter would not have had a purpose. It would have been playing right into the Faceless Men's hands." He set down his empty glass with a harsh clack. "Anyway...I could see she wasn't going to kill me. She was afraid."

Of course she was, Catelyn thought. Her daughter pulled a gun on Tywin Lannister, fully sure that he would kill her in an instant. She must have been terrified. "If she was so afraid to die then...why did she do it?"

"The same reason she stayed in Braavos for three years under extreme conditions," Tywin said. "She's gotten it in her head that she's the only one who can protect her family. And she was willing to sacrifice everything for that."

Catelyn swallowed hard. Her daughter had always been that way, she supposed. Fiercely protective of others. She would ignore consequences to herself if it meant standing up for what she believed. But she hated to think of her in daughter enduring any pain on their account. That was Catelyn's job. She was the one meant to bare these burdens. She was her mother. "How bad were these... extreme conditions?"

"Very," Tywin said. "I'll leave it to her to tell you. She hasn't had a pleasant story for the past three years."

Catelyn nodded once, crossing her arms over her chest. She felt suddenly very cold. "I failed her," she realized. "She never should have felt the need to carry our family. She was fifteen. She was a child. If I had done things differently, this never would have happened."

"Maybe," Tywin said. "Pointless to speculate about it now, isn't it? It's happened. It's done with. We'll deal with it if we can."

"You make it sound so simple," she said. "As if it's so easy to dismiss regrets. Are you telling me that you don't have any? In all the years you've been alive, you don't have one, single regret?"

"I never said that," Tywin said. "I only said they don't do any good. I know that much from experience."

Catelyn pressed her lips together in a tight line. "How did she die?"

"Who?" Tywin asked, as if he didn't know.

"Your wife."

He gave her a cold look. "If you keep pressing on this topic, I'm going to ask you more questions about your late husband, Mrs. Stark."

She lifted her chin. "You're welcome to it. Everyone asks questions about him every day. Some didn't even wait until he was buried. Because they're not afraid of me like they're afraid of you."

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked mildly.

"I'm too exhausted to be afraid," she replied.

He studied her for a long time as if waiting for her to back down. She held his gaze. She half expect him to just keep up the steely silence until she grew bored of waiting. But at last, he sighed. "Complications in childbirth," he said.

Somehow, she hadn't expected that answer. "That's uncommon, isn't it?"

"Very," he said. "But not impossible, obviously."

"Obviously," she said. "I suppose that's why you have a strained relationship with your youngest."

"Well, it certainly started there," Tywin said. "He's helped by being irresponsible at every turn."

"Yes. I'm sure you had nothing at all to do with it," she said dryly.

"Exactly," he replied, his voice hard.

Most people really would have backtracked by now, but she had meant what she said. Her exhaustion dulled her self-preservation instincts. She waved her hand. "Well...you're welcome to ask questions about my dead husband if you wish to even the score. Not that I actually think you want to know the answers, mind you."

"I have a question about you, actually," Tywin said, which surprised her. She was much more used to questions about her dead loved ones and her children than questions about herself. "That degree of yours...why didn't you put it to use until after your husband died?"

Catelyn shrugged. "I had intended to help him with the business. But shortly after we married, I suddenly became the mother of two. Robb and my nephew Jon. It was...more work than I was expecting, especially Jon. He got sick all the time and he was...more than a little emotional. He didn't understand why he suddenly didn't have his mother, after all. It took up all my energy. I didn't have time to help with the business. And Ned insisted that he had it handled."

"He was lying. It was chaos around that time," Tywin said. "But then, your husband didn't expect to be the CEO. He expected to be second in command to his brother."

Catelyn felt a little pang go through her. "Yes. Brandon was always supposed to be the one to take over. I think a lot about what might have happened if he didn't die so suddenly. Life would be very different."

"You were with Brandon Stark before you were with his brother, weren't you?" Tywin asked.

"Most people don't remember that," Catelyn said.

"I remembered it was in the tabloids a few decades ago," Tywin said. "They weren't exactly kind to you."

"Of course they weren't," she said. "'Gold digging whore' was used I think. Or was it bitch? Can't remember. Probably both. But gold digging, definitely." She raised her glass. "My family was far beneath the Starks. And of course, they have the honorable reputation, so I was taking advantage of poor Ned. That was the only reason they could see for me marrying him only two years after his brother's death."

"What was the reason then?" Tywin asked. His voice sounded uninterested, but his eyes told a different story. Strangely enough, he did seem curious.

"We were both in a bad way," she said. "Sometimes...grieving people fall together because it's better to be in pain with someone than alone. Not exactly romantic. But it worked. It worked for over twenty years."

"It did seem to," Tywin said. "At least the tabloids stopped speculating."

"After five or so years, yes," Catelyn said. "I inherited that sterling Stark reputation."

"Yes, that reputation always had been the bane of my existence," Tywin said.

"Have you ever thought of countering it?"

"How?"

"Being more approachable?"

"No. That's sounds like a truly terrible idea."

Catelyn caught herself smiling and she decided that had to be symptom of the exhaustion as well. She sighed. "There are times I envy you though."

Tywin raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"

"Yes," she said. "Sometimes I would like people to be too afraid to approach me. Then perhaps I could have a few moments of peace in my life."

"Well," Tywin said. "No matter how unapproachable you are, there will always be some persistent person who asks prying questions when they're too...exhausted to be afraid."

Catelyn's mouth quirked. "Every system has a weakness I suppose."

"Yes. I suppose it does," he said. "But...considering all that has happened in the past three years, you've handled yourself surprisingly well. Your insistence at coming to the Charity Gala every year...most wouldn't have tried."

"Well, as we discussed, I know how cruel the tabloids can be," she said, tilting her head to the side. "And if I'm not mistaken, that was a compliment, Mr. Lannister."

"Take it as you will, Mrs. Stark," he replied evenly.

"I will," she said. "You know, this isn't exactly a conversation I expected to have with you...ever. At any point."

"I don't think you expected to be in conversation with me at all before three years ago," Tywin said.

"No. And I don't think you knew I existed before three years ago," she said.

"Oh, I knew you existed," he said. "I just didn't expect us to cross paths."

"Me neither," she admitted. "But life has been very strange lately."

"That we can agree on," Tywin said. His phone buzzed then and he quickly took it out of his pocket. "Yes?"

Catelyn looked away, trying not to listen into the conversation. But she could sense the tension returning to Tywin as he stood.

"How much movement? Can you tell how many?" He paused, waiting impatiently for the answer. "Well find out. And don't let them through. Show me what I pay you for."

He hung up the phone and looked down at Catelyn. "Movement at the perimeter. Someone is trying to get in." He extended a hand to her. "I believe its best we stick with the others from now on. Just in case."

She nodded once, accepting the offered hand. Once again, the reality of the situation had come crashing back in. And Catelyn was just hoping she wouldn't lose anyone else before the end of the night.

A/N: One of my favorite interactions to write. Which is why it got written like... a year and a half ago. I didn't have to change it much either. Hope you guys enjoyed as well. Review, subscribe and I'll see you next time!