The Encroaching Darkness (ASOIAF/GOT AU OC)

AN: Alright! Let the fun begin!

Chapter 3,

Maidenpool,

The Riverlands,

Westeros

They rode hard through the Riverlands – for a kingdom of rivers, yet it was more burnt than wet. Village after village was destroyed, crops had been burnt and hordes of small-folk were slaughtered. Among the ruins, those fortunate enough to live gathered what remained and fled. He would have liked to ask them what had happened or, rather, who had done this but there were more crows than people, as far as he could see. They had stopped to make camp as the sun began to fall, lighting fires and stationing watchmen to guard against whatever or whoever had deigned to stay. But as the sun rose, they had risen, packed, mounted and left. Their only witnesses were the occupiers of the trees, swinging with the morning breeze and smelling as bad as only the seven hells could. More men, women and children were hanging from the foliage, than he had yet seen alive during his still-brief return home. Soldiers, mothers, little tots - all hung as equally unearthly bulky leaves.

They travelled west, keeping to the king's road, lest they lose their way. It was not as if any would dare try them, be they were bandits, Northmen or wolves; not if they wished to keep their skull attached to their necks or pelts on their back. It was not long into their second day that they came upon the eastern shore of The God's Eye. The renowned island-within-a-lake was an easy landmark to identify. The largest lake in Westeros, it meant they were not far from black castle of a fallen house. Before the days end, they were approaching the place where the Lannister forces had taken for a base - and the location of his lord uncle. In fact, as soon as they were within sight, a raven flew from the battlements. No doubt the sight of six hundred heavily armed, fully armoured, troops in unfamiliar colours had instigated an alarm. Good. It simply meant that his uncle's sentries hadn't grown complacent in their duties. Executing their own men would only serve to lower the morale even more. Nonetheless, he couldn't allow that raven to spread word of an unknown army - to friends or foes.

He looked directly at the departing bird, eyes set firmly upon it, before releasing a short shrill whistle. The raven must have heard it. It glanced back at them, at him, then quickly turning away. It hadn't noticed the shadow being cast on it's wingspan, by the creature hidden in the sun's glare. As sudden as thunder, it struck. The pink mist on the wind was the only sign of what had occurred. By the time Argilac had returned to his perch upon Rylan's shoulder, blood on his beak, they had all arrived to barred black gate, above which the lion of Lannister fluttered in the breeze.

"Halt!"

A knight stood immediately above them, flanked on both sides by a row of crossbowmen. He was in full mail and plate, no doubt in preparation for a fight, with a crimson cloak lined with gold. His shield was engraved with some sort of scorpion.

"In the name of King Joffrey Baratheon, First of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoyne and First Men-" Evidently, he was quite set on doing the whole spiel that followed Joff's name. Vespa, just as evidently, didn't feel like sitting quietly during it either. She started trotting in circle, mouth silently opening and closing, openly mocking the knight. A few of his men snorted and laughed. Jaq and Perzys, on the other hand, stood at the ready by his side. Rylan noticed a couple of the knight's men double take at Jaquar, with his immense size, nervously glancing at one another.

" -nd Protector of the realm, state your name and purpose."

It was time. Whatever he did from this point would reflect upon him, his reputation and that of his men. He urged his destrier forward, his hands loosely gripping the reins. His back stood straight, his shoulders squared. He wore a form-fitting black leather tunic with little decoration besides asymmetrical golden buttons, black leather boots and a black cloak. He hadn't known who they might face upon the roads and as the commander, should the need arise, he might have had personally to flee. Wearing inconspicuous clothing served this purpose.

"I, good Ser, am Ryland Lannister, son of Kevan Lannister and nephew of Lord Tywin Lannister. I would very much like this gate to opened to my men and I. Is that understood?" He looked directly at the knight while he spoke, nose upturned, frown clear.

The knight looked uncertain, looking from the lion on his banner to his green eyes and golden hair drawn into a ponytail. Finally, seeing something familiar in Rylan' s silent serious demeanour, he called out for the gate to be opened.

Slowly the dark gates were opened to them, just as darker darkness descended. He dismounted in the main courtyard. This castle…. Was astounding. He snorted. Was this a land of giants? The largest lake he had ever seen, close to the one of the largest castles to have ever existed. Rylan was brought of contemplation by the decent of the knight. Up close, he had scruffier face and a portlier belly than he had seen outside.

He bent his knee into the mud as a heavy shower began to fall. "My lord, my apologies if I seemed obstinate. In these times of war, one has to be careful. Your lord uncle is awaiting your presence in his chambers."

Rylan nodded, then realised that the man remained unmoving. "Uh…thank you for the message. And you've already been forgiven. Keep your good work and remain vigilant." Rylan instructed the other three to ensure that the rest of the men were given food and board. Then he made off, keeping beneath the awning to avoid the rain. He wasn't used to people bending the knee to him. Something he would have to correct before he arrived in King's Landing.

In Essos, men would stand and stare into his eyes, both on the battlefield and off it. He never bothered making his own men bend the knee – they already knew he was in charge. This was because in the disputed lands, he learned the one universal truth, the greatest lesson of all - strength mattered most. Unlike here, where men cowed beneath the mention of your name.

He came to a solid oak door, guarded by four heavily armed men. As one, they moved aside without his prompting and opened the door. The room was dim, lit only by the light form the hearth. The door closed resolutely shut behind him.

"Sit down." His eyes looked around for the source of the voice, body still, unmoving. There! Just as a distant lightning bolt collided with the earth, the silhouette of a man taller than himself appeared in front of the open window. Not needing to be asked again, he quickly walked and sat in the closest seat to the largest one by the window.

He patiently waited for his lord to take his seat. His uncle had aged well for a man in his sixties. He wore a high-collared long black overcoat fastened with central buttons and brown leather belt. His uncle sat back and examined him in turn. His eyes, green flecked with gold, was so alike Rylan's own, it as if he was looking at himself. It was… unnerving, to say the least. He couldn't speak out of turn but he couldn't leave… thankfully further examination was put on hold. Clearly, his uncle had seen enough. But had he seen anything promising?

"You're back from your time in the east, Ryland. I trust a decade away from family and home was put to good use. What have you learned?"

Rylan swallowed the ball of spit that had unconsciously formed in his mouth. He had learnt many things but which of them was the correct answer in this situation alluded him. "Uncle, it's good to see you are well. I believe my time abroad was well spent. I have learnt numerous things. Essosi customs, their languages, their military tactics and weaponry, banking methods, trade routes, essential commodities, past and current allegiances and rivalries."

Lord Tywin nodded noiselessly, eye closed. His eyes then slowly opened as he leaned forward. "But what have you learned?" Rylan was perplexed. It was clearly his uncle was searching for one thing. He racked his brain, trying to remember every experience he had lived and what he had learnt from them. He thought and pondered and contemplated. It came to him, as sudden and simple as lightning from heavens.

He sat up, looked squarely at head of his house and gave his answer. "The only thing that mattered is power. You must be the strongest above all. Morals, as they are, are an illusion. If you believe that something should happen but don't have the strength to make it so, then your ethics are useless. Power is the only true necessity."

His uncle, face unmoved, began to lean back, but Rylan wasn't finished. "But such a power would only last as long you would live. It would shatter like glass upon your demise. Therefore, what you require after achieving such a level of strength, is family. No one in this world matters as much as family. With family you can build, upon trust and blood, something that transcends one person. House Lannister started with Lann the Clever, but did not die with him. Because of family, we stand as solid as the Rock. A power like this can withstand the ages." His uncle's face hadn't changed from it's stoic expression but now it appeared… less severe. Hopefully, he had seen what he had been hoping for.

The door to the grand chamber opened, admitting a small girl carrying more food than would be sensible or even possible for someone her size. Even so, through an obvious show of will, she managed. She wore a boy's worn and dull tunic and breeches, though his uncle didn't appear surprised. He must have ordered this before Rylan had climbed the stairs. The table was quickly cluttered with plenty of fine food.

There were roast boars, stewed mutton, stuffed turkeys, spiced soups, and variety of wines. "Come, we shall eat as we discuss current events and your role in them," Lord Tywin raised a pair of golden goblet encrusted with rubies. "Girl. Fill these goblets. With wine this time." Once full, Lord Tywin raised his goblet as Rylan mimicked him. "To family."

"To family."

With that out of the way, they began to tuck in to their meal. In the meantime, the serving girl stood at their elbows, refilling goblets when necessary. He hadn't had such rich food since Braavos. For a man on the march in a war, Lord Tywin ostensibly felt no practical need to reduce the quality of his meals. Not that he was complaining.

His uncle cleared his throat, then began to speak "I noticed the force you have brought with you. No more than six hundred, I would wager. In particular, I noticed four that stood out more than the rest. An ebony giant, a masked man with a hat, an unchained maester and even a lithe little girl. Care to explain their presence in your army?"

It was phrased as a question but he knew a command when he heard one. Rylan coughed in to a crimson napkin before responding. "Well, to begin with, the giant is widely known in east as the Black Titan. By taking note of your usage of Ser Gregor Clegane, I came to the conclusion that every commander requires a beast. His strength, fearless nature and fear-inducing tattooed appearance all have their uses. His warhammer is lesson learnt from King Robert." His uncle appeared pleased. Or as pleased as he could appear. "The girl is a former slave that I was impressed by, and so I trained her. She's quick, intelligent and talented. She is called Vespa but prefers to go by SwiftSilver. Now, the maester actually has his chains, but in the east such things are often confused with slavery. Which in Braavos, where we had just departed from, is utterly despised. So they are simply stored with the rest of his belongings at the moment. His name is Edgarth. He was born to a knightly house from the Vale. His age has yet to hamper his ability to heal and invent. Infact, he has devised several creations which may be of good help in the battles to come." His uncle appeared intrigued as he pushed on. "The masked fellow is Perzys Syndor. His well-versed in the uses of polearms and halberds, as well as cavalry warefare."

Lord Tywin stroked his chin in contemplation as he spoke. "I see. So, each tool serves a specifc and vital function." Rylan nodded slowly. "In… deed, my lord. They are the best at what they can do."

"In any case, I am pleased to see that you have grown mentally and physically, all while maintaining the honour and prestige that our name commands. You have surpassed my expectations, Nephew." His uncle wiped his mouth with a crimson napkin, rose from his seat and stood, arms crossed behind him, in front of the central hearth. Plainly, the meal – and their reunion - had been concluded. Rylan quietly took his leave as his uncle stared in hearth, face as still and hard as stone.

The day was bright and clear, sunlight breaking through the clouds to illuminate their lives. All the better to read. She didn't know much of warefare or the places named on the parchment but she recognised Robb's name as well as the mentions of troop movements. That fact alone made it all the more important to her. She had to show Gendry what was happening. Maybe Jaqen could help? He had said she could name anyone… but who?

The ground was still muddy and wet though – making her way round the castle was slower than she would have liked. Climbing down a flight of stairs – more falling than anything else – she turned the corner and collided with a something hard and large. A familiar fat chest covered in boiled leather filled her field of view.

She slowly raised her head, praying to all the old gods and the new, that it wasn't who she knew it was. The piggy unshaven face of Amory Lorch, the scum that had personally killed old Yoren, stared back.

"Where you going girl?" came the dreaded question.

"The … armoury, my lord." Was the hopeful answer.

"Why?"

"Lord Tywin sent me." Any chance of bluffing past him was greatly reduced when he promptly grabbed the parchment from her left hand.

"What might this be?"

"Lord Tywin gave it to me."

"What for?"

"To take to the armoury."

"Why would he do that?" It was the question that had no answer that she could think of. This must have been the final nail in her coffin, for Lorch looked convinced that she was clearly lying. She looked down and slowly bent legs, knowing only one thing to do now.

"Let's go and ask him."

She tucked her head under his arm, prepared to sprint as fast as the muddy ground would allow her-

"No need for that, Ser Amory. The girl had received her orders from me but only named my uncle as she did not know who I was."

"O-of course, my lord. I completely understand. I too have orders and will be on my way. Good morrow, my lord." Lorch, who had been about to wring her skinny neck, straightened more and faster than his beefy stomach could allow and marched off beneath the walkway.

She picked herself up and turned to face the mystery voice that had saved her. The green eyes of the golden-haired Lannister boy from the night before, gazed back.