A/N: I'm here! Updating on time is hard now that I'm back working full time lol. But this was a fun one to write. Some Catwin crumbs and some juicy Oberyn and Arya conversation here :)

Chapter 61: Seeds of Destruction

Tywin had been in the midst of a meeting with Robb Stark when Sandor Clegane knocked on the door.

"Sir. You should turn on the TV. Something is happening."

After so many months of 'something happening', Tywin doubted he could be surprised by anything else. But he was wrong. The chaos displayed on the TV was beyond anything he had ever seen. At least on Westerosi soil. It was a war zone. Chaos reigned from the stadium to the prisons to the streets. Emergency vehicles were in demand all over the city. And there was an explosion in the warehouse district that had killed and injured several officers.

For a long moment, he and Robb could do nothing but stare at the chaos. Then Tywin managed words. "Call your siblings. Rickon and Arya. They're at the stadium."

"And I think Jon may have been in that warehouse district," Robb muttered. He took a few steps toward the door, already pulling his phone from his pocket and hurrying to dial. "I'll call them."

As Robb paced from the room, Tywin's thoughts leapt to Catelyn. Was she still at her sisters? Did she have any idea this was happening?

It may be better to confirm her children's' wellbeing before we call, Tywin thought. She'd had enough scares over the past few years. She didn't need another.

But then, as if on cue, her name appeared on the screen of Tywin's phone. A call. And she had news of her own. Lysa was dead. She was crazed on Long Night and took a bad fall. Catelyn's voice was utterly flat. She must be in shock.

When she hung up and Robb returned to the office, he had some good news. "I got through to Rickon," he said. "He and Arya are fine. Well…Arya is passed out right now. She inhaled some of the gas. But she's all right."

"And my grandchildren?" Tywin asked.

"Both fine," Robb said. "They're hiding in one of the box seats and waiting it out."

"That's good news at least," Tywin said.

Robb was quiet for a moment and Tywin's brow furrowed.

"Is there something else?"

"I tried to call my other siblings too. Just to make sure they were safe. I got through to Bran. He says he and Jon are fine but…he didn't give details." He let out a breath. "And then I called Sansa. She's with Margaery Tyrell right now. Someone killed Olenna."

Tywin blinked a few times, not sure he heard right. "Someone killed…you're sure?"

"She seemed pretty sure, yes," Robb said. "I still need to call my mother. But hopefully she's still at my aunt's house."

"She is," Tywin said. Robb gave him a look and Tywin exhaled, hoping the circumstances would keep the boy from asking too many questions. "She called just now. She asked if you were still here. It seems your aunt is also dead."

Robb's eyes widened and he jerked a hand through his red curls. "What the fuck?" For a moment, he hovered uncertainly before shaking his head. "I have to go get her."

"I'll call a car," Tywin said.

"That won't be necessary. I can drive myself," Robb said.

"The streets are madness. I have drivers who are used to dealing with dangerous traffic incidents. They can get us there more quickly," Tywin said. "Besides, if we do plan to work more as allies in the future, it's the least I can do."

Robb nodded slowly. Then his brow furrowed. "You said…get us there. Why?"

I am not going to answer that question honestly, Tywin thought.

"My grandchildren will likely be headed back to your house when they can finally escape that stadium. I'd like to be there to meet them. And I have a general interest in the chaos of today. I want to know what happened."

"Fine," Robb said, accepting his explanation. Tywin wondered if he would have asked more questions if not for the urgency of the matter. "Call the car then. We need to hurry."

Because of traffic, it took twice as long to cross town to the Arryn manor. But when they arrived, they found the door unlocked.

Lysa's body met them when they opened the door. The floor had cracked her head right open and her blood had pooled on the tile.

Robb swallowed hard before raising his voice. "Mother?"

"I'm here."

Her voice drifted down from the top of the stairs. Robb rushed up to meet her and Tywin followed slowly after.

Catelyn was leaned up against the wall, pale and frozen. She flinched at the touch of Robb's hand, but steadied as he eased her to her feet.

Tywin hung back. He knew better than to offer his comfort with her son nearby. But he wanted to go to her. Wanted to help her in some way. The past few years had taught him one thing—he did not like seeing Catelyn Stark so upset.

"We'll get you back home," Robb was telling Catelyn. "It's going to be fine mom. The others are fine. They'll be home soon too."

"Lysa," she murmured.

"When things call down, I'll send someone over for her," Tywin said.

Catelyn nodded once and let Robb guide her down the stairs. She kept her eyes straight ahead, not daring to look down at the floor with her sister lay. She just kept walking, back ramrod straight, until she had escaped the house.

She was completely silent the entire ride home. She didn't cry. Didn't move at all. It wasn't until they passed through the doors of the Stark manor that she managed words again.

"Robyn," she murmured. "I sent him ahead of me. He's probably upstairs. I…need to tell him what happened."

"I'll tell him," Robb said at once. "You stay down here. Rest."

Catelyn did not protest. Merely sank onto the couch. And as Robb went upstairs, Tywin did what he always seemed to do in moments like these. He brought Catelyn a drink.

She accepted without a word and swallowed most of it in just a few gulps. "Robb said…my children are fine. Is that true? Or was he lying to soften the blow?"

"It's true as far as I know," Tywin said. "It seems quite a few of them faced trials today. But they are alive."

Catelyn nodded once.

Tywin glanced up in the direction Robb had gone. Then he risked sitting beside her and resting a hand on her shoulder. She reached up to grasp it like a lifeline.

"The dust will settle," he murmured. "Your family will be fine."

"What's left of it," Catelyn said. "The thing is…my sister and I haven't been close for years. Not since we were kids really. But still, she was my sister. I should be wailing right now but I just…I'm so tired. I don't have anything left in me… Tywin."

"I know," Tywin said. That, at least, was a feeling he understood. Numbness. Emptiness. All the things grief left behind when it was done.

A moment later a cry came from somewhere upstairs. A child's cry. And despite that numbness, Catelyn's expression cracked, and she folded forward. He wrapped an arm around her on instinct. The only thing he could do.

She deserved better comfort than him, he supposed. But for now, he was the only one here, so he would do what he could.

It would be hours before they could safely leave the stadium. While many of the drugged were either dead, too injured to continue fighting, arrested or escaped into the street, the area around the stadium was completely impassable from the barriers of authorities. They were asking questions of survivors as best as they could, but Arya would just as soon wait for them to come to her.

She could be patient if it meant keeping her remaining friends safe. At least she knew her family was safe now. And anyway, she had plenty to ask Oberyn Martell.

While the others clustered up against the window of the box, looking down at the slowly ebbing chaos, Arya sat against the back wall, one knee tucked into her chest, keeping her eyes on the man. His stance in his chair was rather calm, given all they experienced. But she got the feeling he was just a good actor. Like her.

"So," she said. "Where did you get the antidote?"

He smiled. "Do you know the story of where Long Night came from, Arya?"

"That is very much not an answer to my question," Arya said.

"It's related," Oberyn said. "Do you know?"

"No," Arya said. "The first time I came in contact with it was Braavos. I assume it came from there."

"It's history is much older than that," Oberyn said. "Or at least…the history of the plant it comes from—the same one used to make the drug. It was originally domesticated in Valyria many centuries ago. When Valyria was destroyed by volcanic eruptions, much of its unique wildlife was lost. But Braavos, a nation built by slaves that fled Valyria, still had some of its riches. And so the plant survived." He rubbed his hands together. "The plant was used as a key ingredient of a popular medicinal drug used to ease pain in fear. Used commonly on the dying to ease their passing."

"I know," Arya murmured. She had used such a drug before, on people who came to the House of Black and white for a quick end. "But obviously…some people discovered it had other uses."

"Indeed," Oberyn said. "Of course, the drug's manufacturers in Braavos created an antidote to such a thing. The seeds of the plant are highly toxic to humans in the wrong amounts. And everyone has a slightly different reaction to them. The leaves, when combined with the right ingredients, can save lives. But only the seeds made their way to Westeros into the hands of the Night King. And with enough work and development…he used them to launch one of the most devastating attacks on Westerosi soil since the civil war days centuries ago."

"This is a wonderful history lesson, Mr. Martell," Arya said.

"You can call me Oberyn," he said.

"Sure. Oberyn. Is there an answer to my question somewhere in there?"

"Somewhere." He smiled mysteriously again. "I got the antidote in Braavos. That's the only place to get it. It isn't sold anywhere in Westeros." He tilted his head to the side. "You don't think its strange…that the drug made it to Westeros but not the antidote? Almost as if the ones who sold it didn't want it to have an easy cure."

Arya's brow furrowed. Yes, she had found it strange. The antidote was easy enough to find in Braavos, though it could be quite expensive. The Faceless Men used it as liberally as they used Long Night, because they did not want to recklessly kill or permanently damage any of their assassins.

She'd asked the hospital staff why they didn't use the antidote on Sansa. They said they didn't have any of it. In fact, they didn't even seem to know there was an antidote.

The Night King bought the seeds from Braavos. But not the leaves.

"I suppose its because the Night King didn't want a cure," Arya said. "If he wanted to do all of this…why would he also want an antidote."

"It's a fair enough point," Oberyn said. "But it doesn't change the fact that someone in Braavos was all too happy to sell many seeds and no leaves to Westeros." He leaned forward. "You were in Braavos for some time. Why did you go?"

Arya shifted uncomfortably. "I was taken."

"Taken from your home in Westeros?" Oberyn asked.

Arya didn't reply.

"There are no cameras here, Arya," Oberyn said. "No journalists. Tell me. Why did you go there?"

"Because I didn't believe my father died on accident," Arya said. "I thought the Faceless Men might know who did it. I wanted revenge."

"Indeed," Braavos said. "I went to Braavos for the first time for the same reason…many years ago."

Arya blinked and she looked up at him again. "You…sought out the Faceless Men?"

"I did," Oberyn said. "Business is like war in Westeros. It takes no captives. My family lost nearly everything when they went up against the Lannisters. We tied ourselves to the Targaryens and we fell with them. Not everyone survived that fall. For one reason or another." He shrugged. "No one killed them directly. But I did blame someone for their deaths none the less."

You blamed Tywin Lannister, Arya thought, but did not say. It was understood between the two of them.

"I wanted vengeance," Oberyn said. "I wondered if the Faceless Men might give it to me. They offered me a deal that I did not take. They wanted a young person from a major family in Westeros whom they could mold. And if I served them, they might give me the vengeance I sought."

Arya shivered. Yes. That deal was familiar to her. "But you turned them down."

"I did."

"Why?"

"I suppose I was a bit older than you were when they offered. I had seen a bit more of the world," Oberyn said. "The Faceless Men claimed to be a neutral party. But I could see it past those masks of theirs. I could see it in the way their members paced the front hall, never taking their eyes off me. They too are fueled by vengeance. And vengeance is the only reason they wanted me."

Arya thought of the Waif. The way she claimed to be 'no one' even while rage simmered beneath her every word. The way she'd looked at Tywin Lannister the night Arya killed her. And the way Jaqen spoke of her afterward.

She ceased to be nameless. She was driven by her past.

But that had just been the Waif. The others were different. Jaqen was different. Or so she had thought.

"What did they want vengeance for?" she asked at last.

"I suppose it was harder for you to see," Oberyn said. "Much time has past since the Second Essosi war. But when I went to Braavos, the loss was fresh. The destruction left an open wound on the country that hadn't yet begun to scar." He glanced at her. "You know what happened there, don't you? What made Braavos pull out of the conflict?"

"Civil war," Arya said. "There were riots. An attempted coup. And the Iron bank crashed. All of those things on top of each other…they couldn't be involved in another conflict."

"Exactly. So they pulled out. It was chaos there, for a while, and when the dust settled…" He nodded at the window of the box. A window that looked down on many horrors. "I imagine it looked something like this."

"But what does any of that have to do with Westeros," Arya said. "If it was an internal conflict that led to the collapse of Braavos…why would they want vengeance on us?"

"It's just a rumor," Oberyn said. "But this rumor comes from the Spider so…I trust it's merit. Some say that the chaos—the crash of the bank, the coup, the riots—was brought about by outside forces. Those with an interest in Braavos pulling out of the war. They were the only reason Volantis and its allies won the first war, after all. They might have brought them victory over the second with their navy. And that wouldn't be good for Westerosi businesses." He smiled. "Tell me, Arya…can you think of anyone in Westeros who might have had a vested interest in Braavos pulling out of the war?"

Arya thought of Tywin at once. Of one of the earliest assignments, given to her—get close to Tywin Lannister.

But she didn't just think of him. She thought of Olenna Tyrell. Of Robert Baratheon and his brothers. Of Jon Arryn. So many of them dead now, and Olenna was the most recent victim according to an earlier text from her sister. Had all of them agreed to sow such chaos in Braavos for their own ends?

Her father was among those dead. But he couldn't have anything to do with this ploy. Afterall, this must be the reason he so hated Tywin Lannister.

He wasn't involved, Arya thought. It was Baelish who wanted him dead. The Faceless Men didn't accept his payment. But they didn't stop him either.

So many things were rapidly clicking into place in Arya's mind. The reason the Faceless Men had taken her in—the daughter of a wealthy family. The reason they had placed her in House Lannister. The string of dead CEOs in the past few years. And the chaos allowed by both Baelish and the Night King.

But two things did not make sense at all—why was Tywin Lannister still alive?

And why had Jaqen let her go so easily?

"They let me go," Arya said at last, staring down at her hands.

"What was that?" Oberyn asked.

"The Faceless Men," Arya said. "They let me go. Said I could have my name in my life back. Why would they do that…if they had a use for me?" She looked up at them. "They've been trying to gain someone from the wealthier families since you first went to them. They got me. So why just let me go? Did I fail so much at my job that they decided I was a liability?"

Oberyn thought for a long moment before he looked at her in a sort of pitying way. "Are you so sure they let you go, Arya?"

No, she thought, her stomach twisting into knots. Not so sure anymore.

Jaime and Brienne's strategy worked. It had knocked out the majority of the prisoners and allowed them to get the place back under control. Short staffed as they were, it was a chore to move all of the unconscious convicts back to their cells. But they both did their best to help—and to determined who was still alive.

There were several casualties. But that was the story all over King's Landing. Considering the circumstances, it could have been a lot worse.

This is going to take a long time, Jaime thought. To recover from all of this.

He hadn't checked the rest of the news. He'd checked in on his siblings to make sure they were safe. His nephew and his niece. His father. And that was all he could manage for now. He knew if he looked any deeper, he'd find a never-ending stream of horrors.

He had just locked the latest cellblock again when Brienne approached, looking troubled. Jaime straightened to meet her.

"Something wrong? Besides the obvious?"

"I was just helping make note of the dead in one of the other cell blocks. Remand," Brienne said. "Found a familiar face dead in his cell."

"Who?" Jaime asked.

"Petyr Baelish," Brienne said.

Jaime let out a breath. The weasel had been pushing back his trial so much. Now he had pushed it off indefinitely. "Son of a bitch."

A/N: We're getting real close to the end, folks! Three or four chapters if all goes according to plan. Review, subscribe and I'll see you next time!