A/N: Time for a fun action chapter with lots of Arya fighting and Tywin being his intimidating self. Hope you enjoy!
Chapter 27: The Train
When Arya slipped into the car next to Tywin's, she found the other three bodyguards checking their weapons to make sure they were loaded. She, meanwhile, snatched her bag from the top rack, quickly rooting through to find a floral blouse she had borrowed from Myrcella.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Clegane asked.
"Trust me," Arya said. "This is the one situation where being five foot nothing and a woman has an advantage." She stripped to her undershirt and slipped on the blouse over it. It was still breezy enough that it hid Arya's holster with her gun and her knives. "Between the two of us, which do you think the Brotherhood without Banners will see as a threat?"
"Me. Obviously," Clegane said.
"And would you expect someone who looks like me to be on the security team for Tywin Lannister?" Arya asked, adjusting her red hair.
Clegane sighed. "No."
"Good. Then trust me." Arya took her place by the door. "When they come, don't show yourselves. Leave it to me."
"Are we sure they're coming for our car?" Trant asked.
"Mr. Lannister is the most valuable person on this train. The Brotherhood has a reputation for striking at people with money," Clegane said. "Let's assume they're coming for him."
Arya checked her gun to make sure it was loaded before hiding it in the holster at her back and adjusting the blouse over it. "What's our policy on how to handle terrorists? Do we take them alive?"
"Use your own discretion," Clegane said. "The main priority is keeping them away from Mr. Lannister. If you have to drop them, do it."
"Understood." She slid one of her knives into her pocket. Easily accessible, and not all that strange for a young woman travelling alone to carry. She took a deep breath and steadied herself before glancing back at Clegane.
"All right. See you in a minute."
She stepped out into the hall, hurrying over to the door and peering through the small window. She had a visual of the next car, filled with other wealthier patrons of the line. There was a stir inside caused by the announcement. She saw the opposite door opened and a man with a gun entered. Then a second. A third. They were demanding 'contributions' to their cause, and the people were quick to offer their belongings to avoid a bullet.
I can handle three, Arya thought. I just need the element of surprise.
She stepped back a few paces from the door. Then she let her posture shift. Her back hunched, and she clutched at her chest with one hand. She let tears rise inside her, streaming from her eyes and making her shoulders tremble. Her breathing became unsteady. Panicked even. She was not Arya Stark, and she was not Beth Rivers. She was just an ordinary girl on the verge of a panic attack.
The compartment door opened. Arya looked up through blurred eyes to see the man entering hesitate—a normal reaction, she supposed, to seeing a crying girl. And that hesitation was what she needed. She rushed toward him.
"Help me, please," she gasped out. "I need your help."
The man lowered his gun, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, easy there. What happened?"
There was a kindness in his voice and Arya almost regretted what she was about to do.
"They tried to take me," she gasped out. "These men tried to take me while I was wandering around the train. Please help me. I'm travelling alone and I—"
"What are you doing?" one of the others entered behind him. "We have to keep moving. The job isn't over yet."
"This girl needs help. She says someone tried to abduct her."
"We weren't hired to save an abducted girl."
Arya glanced around as they were talking, taking in the room. Yes. Still three. No doubt there were more, but three she could handle. Especially since all of their guns had lowered. Two of them had their backs turned... and that was all the opening she needed.
She slid her knife from her pocket and drew the blade sharply across the back of the first man's knees. He dropped, and she jabbed him hard in the neck, knocking him unconscious. The second man's eyes widened, and he started to raise his gun again. Too slow. She brought her knife across his hands, weakening his grip and giving her the chance to knock the gun from his grasp. The heel of her hand smashed against his windpipe and he gasped for air.
By now, the third man had his gun ready to fire. Arya's grip tightened on the front of his companion's shirt, using him like a shield. It gave her enough time for her to draw her gun rest it on the second man's shoulder. She fired twice and the man on the other side cried out in pain. Then, before the second man could recover from the windpipe, she spun and slammed him to the ground, knocking him out cold.
She looked around the hallway, searching for any sign of movement. Two were unconscious. The one she had shot would be dead soon. One of her bullets caught him in the throat and he was gurgling helplessly. She put a bullet between his eyes to make it quicker.
Her whole body buzzed with adrenaline, but she knew the job wasn't over. She knelt down beside one of the unconscious guards, rummaging through his pocket. They had to have some way to communicate, and as terrorists, they wouldn't use cell phones. They had to have some kind of radio.
Clegane, meanwhile, had opened the door and stepped out into the hall, looking over the damage. "Well, fuck."
"Two of them are just unconscious," Arya said. "Restrain them somehow and take their guns." She found the radio. "Ah. Good." She paced to the other end of the hallway, whipping up a few tears again as she pressed down on the button.
"H-hello? Is anyone there?"
There was a long pause. Then: "Who's this? Who are you?"
"My name's Mary. I-I got this radio from a man's pocket. There are two others back here. Oh gods, I think they're dead."
"Mary, calm down," the voice replied. "Did you see what happened?"
"There are guys with guns," she mumbled. "A bunch of them. Th-they shot them. I'm scared, please help me."
"How many are there?"
"I-I'm not sure. Maybe only a few. H-How many do you have? Do you have enough?"
"I have five more that can come your way."
"All right, please hurry," she said. "I... Wait. Wait." She let out a panicked cry and shot her gun toward the back of the car before releasing the button. Then she stood, smoothing back her hair. "Five more coming."
"Seven hells," Clegane said. "Go to acting school recently?"
Not exactly, Arya thought. She reloaded her gun. "It's not that hard to fake tears, you know. You just think about all the terrible things that have happened in your life and go from there." She sat down on the ground at the far end of the car and slipped her gun under her blouse. When she hunched over, it looked like she had been shot and was desperately clutching her middle to keep the life from spilling out. "Hide in the compartments. They'll see me and the bodies first when they enter. You'll have an element of surprise."
"Right." Clegane snapped his fingers at Trant and the other bodyguard. "In the compartment. Turn off the lights."
"Seriously?" Trant asked. "Are we taking orders from her now?"
"You take orders from me," Clegane said. "And she just dropped three guys on her own, so yes, you can take orders from her too."
Trant's eyes narrowed, but he didn't protest a second time. He and the other man ducked into the compartment and turned off the lights. Clegane cast Arya a glance before following suit.
Arya let out a breath, curling in on herself more, conjuring up memories of previous injuries. She had been kicked in the stomach before. She had been stabbed in the stomach. It was easy to remember the searing pain... the feeling of being near death. She squeezed a few tears from her eyes and made her breathing weak and unsteady. But all the while, she kept her grip on her gun.
For a long time, there was silence. The silence of waiting. She heard a commotion in the other car and knew it was almost time. She peered up past her red bangs, watching the door. It opened, and the Brotherhood entered.
First, they saw the bodies on the ground. Then they saw her, sitting on the other end of the car, clutching her stomach. The one at the front quickly stepped over the bodies and moved toward her.
She drew her gun and fired without thinking about it first. The first bullet caught him in the hand, causing him to drop his gun. The second took him in the knee, bringing him down. And by the time the others realized what was happening, Clegane had emerged from the compartment.
In a narrow hall already clogged with multiple dead and unconscious bodies, it was chaos, and the Brotherhood were at a severe disadvantage. Off guard and stumbling over the bodies of their comrades, they were no match for the three other bodyguards as they advanced. But then, everyone had to be careful of firing off their guns in such a tight space. They could accidentally hit an ally. Arya kept her gun down but at the ready for that exact reason.
Then one of the Brotherhood slipped around Clegane in the chaos, aiming his gun right for her. Arya's eyes widened, and she threw herself to the side.
The bullet sliced through Arya's shoulder instead of her chest, but the momentum still made her stumble. She hit the ground hard and her gun spun away from her. It was a bad time for that to happen, because the man who shot her was almost on top of her—gun in hand and murder in his eyes. Her breath caught in her throat as she fumbled for her knife. Too slow. She was too slow. A slow and stupid girl.
There was a sharp bang as the gun went off, and Arya flinched, waiting for the pain. Instead, she saw blood spray from the side of the terrorist's head and splatter across the wall of the car. He crumpled to the ground just beyond Arya's feet. She looked up to see Tywin stepping out of his compartment, gun in hand.
Why does it keep surprising me he has a gun? she thought weakly.
For a moment, she saw the soldier in him. The man who had killed many people in war. The man who Clegane had warned her about. He hadn't flinched at killing a man.
Though, then again, neither had she. That was how they had been trained.
His gaze turned from the dead man to her, looking her over. "You're all right?"
She nodded once.
"Good." He turned toward Clegane. The other members of the Brotherhood were dead or unconscious, except for one who Clegane had on the ground, arm twisted behind his back. He was struggling, but stilled when Tywin approached.
"Is there anyone else from the Brotherhood on the train?" he asked.
"No," the man muttered. "No one."
"Lying isn't in your best interest," Tywin said. "We've killed some of your other companions. I have no qualms about sending you to join them."
The man's lips pulled back in a sneer. "No, you wouldn't would you? After all the things you've done to keep your business ahead? After what you did in the war?"
Tywin was unmoved by the accusation. "You have at least one man at the front of the train, I'm sure. Keeping the conductor hostage. Unless the conductor is also in on it. Do you have anyone else?"
"Fuck you."
Another gunshot split the silence. The bullet took off most of the man's right ear and he screamed in pain.
"If you're going to be unhelpful, I'll settle for your radio. I assume you have one?" Tywin asked. The man didn't reply. He was still moaning in pain. "Clegane. Help the man find his radio."
The Hound did, pinning the man to the ground and searching his back pockets. He came up with a small radio and Tywin took it from his hand. A crackling voice came through the speaker.
"What's going on back there? What happened?"
"You sent several men to my private car, hoping to detain me," Tywin replied. "Or at least that's my assumption."
There was a long pause. Then:
"Am I speaking to Tywin Lannister?"
"You are," Tywin said. "I'd like to speak to you in person. If I were to guess, there's only a handful of you left at the front. I'd stake my money on my men over yours."
"That's a lot of money," the man replied.
"Well, they've already dealt with eight of your people," Tywin said. "I like my chances."
"Can they deal with ten more?"
"Bluffing won't get you anywhere with me," Tywin said. "But whether you have two or ten... yes. They'll deal with it. Don't bother sending your people to me. Mine will come to you."
"We'll shoot the conductor if you do."
"Oh, I doubt that. The Brotherhood without Banners tries not to take the lives of bystanders," Tywin said. "And even if you did... do you think that would stop me?"
His earlier words about calling bluffs drifted through Arya's head. Better to have a winning hand. And Tywin did. He knew it. The man on the other end of the radio knew it. He couldn't bluff against a man who knew his power.
"If the train does not start in the next minute, I'm sending my people up to the front of the train," Tywin said calmly. "If you don't want to join your friends in a jail cell or a grave, I recommend cutting your losses. Goodbye." He tossed the radio away without waiting for a response.
There was a long silence as everyone waited, filled only by the pained gasps of the man on the ground. Then, thirty seconds later, the train began to move again.
Tywin glanced at Clegane. "Secure the ones who aren't dead. We'll let the police have them when we return to the station. Once you're done with that head to the front compartment. Just in case our other friends in the Brotherhood haven't left the train."
"Yes sir," Clegane said. He motioned for the others on the security team to help him with the cleanup.
Tywin put away his gun and returned to Arya who had not dared move from her spot on the floor. Her left arm was bleeding steadily from a bullet wound and she knew if she tried to stand, she would black out. He nodded at the wound.
"You have an interesting definition of fine, Miss Rivers."
"It's nothing," Arya muttered. "A minor graze."
Tywin raised an eyebrow. "Then perhaps you should stand."
Arya winced. "The floor is very comfortable, actually."
"Is it now?" Tywin sighed, offering her a hand. "Come on."
She hesitated for a moment before accepting his help and let him pull her to her feet. She swayed as black spots danced across her vision, but he steadied her and guided her back into the compartment. She collapsed gratefully into her seat, taking a deep breath. At least she wasn't passing out this time.
Moment later, she felt him press a water bottle into her hand and she drank deeply. "Can you... get my bag? I have bandages in there. And needle and thread."
"Needle and thread?" He raised an eyebrow. "Do you intend to stitch this up yourself?"
"I've done it before," she said. "Only thing that makes it hard is the angle."
"Let's stick with bandages for now," Tywin said. "Qyburn can see to you when we return. We're close to King's Landing now."
Arya nodded once, closing her eyes again as Tywin left the compartment to fetch her bag. She listened to the sound of the door and the creak of his shoes on the floorboards as he left. When he returned, he sat beside her.
"Are you still conscious, Miss Stark?" he asked, setting the bag in her lap.
She nodded once. "Yeah. Just... light headed." She fumbled blindly through her bag until she found the roll of bandages. He took them from her before she could stop him. "Hey. Its fine. I can do it."
"You're barely keeping your eyes open. You'll do a terrible job it you try," he said, unloading the bandages. "I'll handle it. Like I said, I was in the military. This wouldn't be the first wound I've dressed."
She was hesitant to let him do anything for her. But then, she supposed she would not be in his debt if she allowed it. She had just helped to save him from the Brotherhood. But then, he had saved her life as well. How did that even out? Who was in debt to whom?
She lost her train of thought as Tywin pressed the bandage against her wound and she winced. She looked down at her arm, focusing on the dark streaks of blood running from the wound to her hand and dripping onto the crimson seat covers. She laughed once.
"What is it?" Tywin asked.
She glanced up at him. "The blood blends in with the cushions... so you won't have to worry about stains."
"And that's funny to you?" Tywin raised an eyebrow.
"I'm very woozy. Lots of things are funny to me."
"I see." He tied off the bandage with a sharp tug. "Keep drinking water. You may need a blood transfusion by the time we reach the manor."
"Will it require going to a hospital?" she murmured.
"No," Tywin said. "It won't." He stood from his seat, finding a towel in her bag to wipe the blood off his hands. Then he handed it to her so she could clean herself up.
As she carefully wiped her arm and the ruined blouse as best she could, he sat down across from her.
"That was an impressive display," he noted.
"Was it?" Arya asked. She was aware of him studying her intently. "I was improvising."
"Really? Because it seemed like something you've done before," Tywin said.
Arya kept her face impassive. He was right. She had done something like that before. It was a classic tactic to draw in a target. A helpless, crying girl drew in kind and predatory men in equal measure. The kindly ones wanted to help and the predatory ones hoped to take advantage. But to the Faceless Men, their intent didn't matter. Only their death.
"Not really," she said. "But I'm used to being underestimated. I'm small and I'm a girl, so people don't see me as a threat. I figured we needed the element of surprise to win. I'm a surprise."
"That we can agree on," Tywin said. "You play to the advantages of your size. In acting and in combat. That was the first time I've seen you in action."
"And?" Arya asked.
"And I want to know where you learned to do that," he said. "Don't insult me by claiming it was 'luck' or 'your first time'. You have training."
Seven hells, she thought. It was possible she had done her job too well. But then again, if she had done her job poorly, she might have died. She couldn't deny the training.
"Yeah. Some," Arya said. "A lot of it is self-taught too. It's amazing what you can find on the internet these days. That's why my style is a mix of everything."
"Yes, it's a mix," Tywin said. "Is one of those styles Braavosi?"
I hate this man, Arya thought. "You recognize it?"
"Braavos was an ally to Volantis in the wars," Tywin said. "I recognize it well enough."
Fortunately, Arya had a proper story for this, and it wasn't even a lie. "Water dancing was the first style I trained in before I left home. I had a Braavosi instructor named Syrio Forel. My father found him for me. He figured if I wouldn't stop picking fights, I might as well learn to do it properly."
"Seems that would just encourage more fighting," Tywin said.
"Sure. But at least I'd win," Arya said.
The corner of his mouth twitched, and for a moment, Arya thought she had successfully dodged his most prying questions. But then he asked one last question.
"And where did you learn to kill?"
Arya's heart clenched, and she threaded her fingers together. "I learned certain moves during my training that—"
"That's not what I'm asking," Tywin said. "Lots of people know how to kill theoretically. Going through with it is different. You can tell the people who have experience."
"Like you?" Arya asked.
He did not balk from the question. He held her gaze. "Yes. Like me."
Arya knew she shouldn't blink or look away. It would show weakness. But another wave of dizziness washed over her and she closed her eyes, trying to center herself. "Sometimes... you don't have a choice."
Perhaps Tywin would have replied, but at that moment, the compartment door slid open again. Arya recognized the heavy footsteps of Clegane.
"No Brotherhood left on the train," he said. "And we've restrained the injured ones. We called the police. They'll be waiting when we pull into the station."
"Good," Tywin said. "You'll handle them. Miss Rivers requires further medical attention. Call Qyburn and tell him to be at the manor when we arrive."
"Yes, sir," Clegane said. "Quite the show she put on. I wasn't sure about taking this train, considering that tip we got but it worked out in the end."
Arya's brow furrowed. Tip? What tip?
"A man in my position cannot change his schedule for extremists," Tywin said. "That's why I pay you. So that there's no need."
"Keep her on the payroll then," Clegane said, nodding at Arya. Then he backed out of the compartment.
Slowly, Arya turned back to look at Tywin. "Did you... know the Brotherhood would be on this train?"
"We had a tip that said they might be," Tywin said. "Someone must have told them my travel schedule."
I did, Arya thought. Or, at least, she had told the Faceless Men her travel schedule, and it was easy for her to put two and two together. "And you didn't take the next train... why? Just to make a statement?"
"Partially." He looked up from his phone. "I also wanted to see what you would do," his green eyes glittered with amusement. "You did not disappoint."
She might have considered a compliment. But it was also a warning. A warning that he was still watching her, picking apart holes in her story. He did not trust her because she had already lied so much.
So how in the seven hells was she supposed to get "close" to him as the Waif asked?
The Faceless Men were playing some sort of game with Tywin Lannister and using Arya as their principal pawn. And she could tell already that he was a much harder opponent than they had judged.
A/N: Arya deals with the train hijacking but shows more cards in the process! But hey, at least she and Tywin make a pretty good team. Hope you enjoyed. Review, subscribe and I'll see you next time!