A/N: Oh god, the climactic penultimate chapter. This is a long one. Double my usual length. But I couldn't chop it in half. It had to be a whole peace. So I hope you all enjoy :)

Chapter 64: The Nameless

The girl's mind was a blur. A tangle of sensory information that did not quite line up. A tangle of memories from years ago. Months ago. Days ago. All without any direction or sense of linear time.

She was standing at a grave.

She was standing at a door of black and white.

She was standing before the kindly man, shivering from cold.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"No one," she replied. Because she could not remember her name. So that was what she must be.

One did not simply call the President of the Iron Bank and expect an immediate audience. But when Tywin gave them his name, he waited only five minutes before hearing the voice of the man in question.

Tycho Nestoris was not the president of the Iron Bank during the second Essosi war, but he had no doubt been a part of the organization. The Iron Bank was not the property of one single man. It was made of many. Many stones. Many hands. Many eyes. One could remove a single stone, but it would be replaced soon after.

Tywin had removed quite a few stones to cause the Iron Bank's collapse. But he had not destroyed it. It had survived and now it sought revenge. There was a saying in Essos: The Iron Bank will have its due. And it was as iron clad a promise as the Lannister promise to pay their debts. And Tywin was more aware of that promise than ever.

"Tywin Lannister." Tycho Nestoris voice was pleasant—dripping with honey that barely masked it's poison. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this call."

"I don't think we need to waste each other's time discussing that," Tywin said. "You know exactly why I'm calling. I know you won't admit it out loud, and that's not what I want. I simply want to negotiate."

"Ah. Negotiations," Tycho said. "In my experience, a man who calls to negotiate is a rather desperate one indeed. What do you wish to negotiate?"

"Your contract with the Faceless Men."

Tycho laughed once. "Ah. Are you a conspiracy theorist now, Mr. Lannister?"

"No," Tywin said. "It's conspiracy theory when only one or two CEOs turn up dead. Its something else entirely when every member of a particular group is systematically eliminated."

"All except you, is that right?" Tycho said. "In Braavos we have conspiracy theories of our own. Conspiracy theories that say the particular group in question interfered in Braavosi affairs. Many people in Braavos died because of their meddling, and you are said to be one of them. So its only natural that others might want you dead."

"You aren't dead," Tywin said.

"That is very true," Tycho said. "But I paid in other ways."

"Then you should have no trouble discussing alternate payments," Tywin said. "Should you?"

"One's that do not involve your death, you mean?"

"Or the death of others."

"Ah yes. The death of others," Tycho said. "You're referring to one of the nameless ones."

"She is not nameless," Tywin said.

"It makes no difference to me if she is," Tycho said. "But I suppose she may keep her life. And you may keep yours. I'm amenable to that, but only if you pay…reparations. With interest of course."

Yes. Tywin figured as much. "And what would you consider proper reparations."

"The sum lost by the Iron Bank on the day of the crash," Tycho said.

His answer did not surprise Tywin. But still, he knew that approximate number off the top of his head. Hundreds of millions of dollars. Close to a billion, in fact. And more in the coming days of course. "To clarify, you mean specifically the money lost on the day of the crash?"

"Yes. I do. If we were to add up everything Braavos lost in that year, not even you would be able to pay it," Tycho said.

"And what exactly is your interest rate?" Tywin asked.

"It's not a rate so much as an extra demand," Tycho said.

"And what is that?"

"Your resignation from the Lannister company."

Tywin stilled at that. Money was and expected price. His life was even an expected price. But he hadn't expected him to ask for that. "Why do you want my resignation?"

"It's simple," Tycho said. "You are the Lannister company. It is my understanding that your family is not in a position to properly take over for you. An eldest son with no interest. A younger son that you have practically disowned. You have a daughter, but who knows if investors or the board will listen to her. And you have a brother who is more used to following you than leading. If you step down suddenly, your company will suffer. It may not survive the coming storm." He could hear the smile in Tycho's voice. "It would be difficult for you, I'm sure. To leave its future to others. Especially with Westeros being so…chaotic right now."

The man was right. A large part of the success of the company came from his name. The Lannister Corporation didn't have nearly the same notoriety when he took over the company from his father. But he had brought them to new heights with his shrewd but ruthless deals. Currently, Westeros teetered on a knife's edge in the wake of the Long Night tragedy. To step down now of all times…

He glanced up. Catelyn was watching him from across the room. She hadn't said a word or even moved since he began talking. She just waited in silence for some promise that her daughter was going to be all right.

"Tell me," Tywin said. "If my company does survive this blow…would you consider the deal broken?"

"Of course not," Tycho said. "Everyone deserves a chance to recover after all. If you pay the sum and step down…your debt is considered settled."

"And the Faceless Men will leave Westeros?" he asked.

"If they are there…yes. That can be arranged," Tycho said.

"Fine then," Tywin said. "I'll pay half now. Half when the girl is returned safely. I'm afraid I can't take you at your word."

"The Iron Bank keeps its promises, Mr. Lannister," he said. "But very well. If you try to back out of the deal, there will not be further negotiations."

"And if the girl is not found alive, you'll wish that you had died years ago," Tywin said.

Tycho laughed. "Ah. That famed Lannister ruthlessness. You have a deal. We expect to hear from you soon."

"And I expect to hear from you." Tywin hung up the phone. He resisted the urge to fling it across the room and instead set it firmly on his desk. Then he looked up at Catelyn, watching nervously from across the way.

"Arya?"

"I suspect they'll tell me where to find her when I pay their first sum," Tywin said.

"Can you?" Catelyn asked. "I imagine its…an extraordinary amount of money they're asking."

"I can manage the first half on my own. That will at least help us to find your daughter."

Catelyn swallowed hard. "And then what?"

"And then I find a way to pay the second half. And I step down."

"That's it?" Catelyn asked. "No schemes? No other plans?"

"No," Tywin said. "If the past few months has taught me anything…playing more tricks will only get me killed. Possibly my family as well. I'm guessing Olenna Tyrell tried tricks of her own. She tried to make the most out of the Baratheon situation. But it didn't turn out well for her in the end." He exhaled. "The Iron Bank will have it due. It was only a matter of time before they came for me. If I don't pay my debt now, that debt will only grow. And we'll keep playing this game for years more. I'm tired of playing it."

Catelyn nodded once. "Me too." She folded her hands together. "If you need help—"

"I don't need help with the money."

"I mean with…the rest," Catelyn said. "If you can get me my daughter back…your company will survive the fallout. That's a promise. Starks keep their promises."

"I know," he said. What a funny thing it was. That his company might need help from the Starks. But then…he could use their sterling reputation right about now.

Tywin let out a breath. "All right. We have work to do."

The girl tried to grasp for her name. But she could not recall it in this state. She could not even recall her own face.

She saw other faces though. Faces of people she knew. A day ago. A million years ago. It was hard to tell. Her red haired brothers and their bright blue eyes. Her dark haired cousin always by her side. Her sister and her mother who had suffered so. Her father. She could not recall their names, but she knew them.

She remembered faces with golden hair and green eyed two. Faces that had become so familiar to her as of late. She remembered the lips of the girl she once guarded. The panicked eyes of the one that killed her father now dead as well. The hand of the man that first discovered her name. The same one that once pried the gun from her fingers.

Maybe he would remember her name.

Maybe.

Maybe.

Cersei was used to being called into her father's office. She was not used to being called into her father's office with both of her brothers. Tywin Lannister's relationship was vastly different with all three of his children. He rarely spoke to them all at once. He rarely spoke to Tyrion at all. Cersei was half expecting him to announce that he was dying.

Well…it was close enough.

"I'm stepping down," he said. "Likely within the next few weeks."

Tyrion's flask slipped right from his hand and clattered on the wood floor. Jaime's head snapped back to look at him. And Cersei couldn't keep her jaw from dropping.

"You're…what?" she asked. "How long have you been planning this?"

"Simply put: I haven't been planning this," Tywin said. "But if I don't it's likely that I'll end up dead within the month. And if not me…others."

"Like Arya Stark?" Jaime asked. "Is her disappearance connected to all of this?"

"I'm afraid so," Tywin said. "Nearly everything that's happened in the last few years has been connected to this. Connected to what I did in Essos. This is the price to pay for it. The price set by the Iron Bank."

The Iron Bank. The ruthless Iron Bank. Tywin had always spoken of their power. That even after the crash, they were not to be taken lightly. Cersei knew as much, but she had not expected them to ask for this. "And there's nothing we can do to strike at them?"

"No," Tywin said. "It is important to know when to fight and to know when fighting is futile. Here it is futile."

"What you did in Essos," Tyrion said. "They're willing to accept your resignation as payment instead of your life?"

"I imagine they'd like me to live to watch my life's work fall. Vultures will swoop in the moment I step down," Tywin said. "But its not only my resignation. It's also an extensive sum of money."

"A sum of money we can afford?" Cersei asked.

"Half of it yes," Tywin said. "The other half…doubtful."

"Unless we embezzle? Like Baelish tried to force from the Starks," Cersei said. "That will kill us you know. If you step down because you embezzled. If the press gets ahold of that—"

"I'm aware," Tywin said, looking to her. "It won't be easy to manage the fallout. But you have some experience with managing difficult situations with the press, do you not?"

"That doesn't mean I enjoy it," Cersei said.

"You won't be alone," Tywin said. "Kevan will be there. And other long time members of the board."

"None of them have your name or reputation," Cersei said. She was…afraid. Of course, she had trained her whole life to live up to her father's expectations. To one day take over when he stepped down. But that day seemed one million years away. She was sure her father would keep working until he was on deaths door. Possibly past that. This…this was too soon.

"You have my name," Tywin said. "The Lannister name. All of you have that."

"I am not a businessman, father," Jaime said. "I've told you as much over and over again. I cannot work in an office."

"Then you won't work in an office," Tywin said. "Continue this police work of yours. Rise in the ranks if you can. A good image will go a long way to keeping the company afloat."

"Is that why I'm here, father?" Tyrion asked. "So you can tell me to behave and keep up the family's image. Or do you want me to rescue the company?"

"Do you think you can?" Tywin asked in a clipped voice. Still no love lost between them Cersei could see. But Tyrion was still a Lannister and this was family business.

"Well…" Tyrion said, pulling out his phone and tapping something in. "I might be able to save the company from an embezzlement scandal."

"How's that?" Tywin asked.

He moved forward to the desk and set down his phone in front of their father. Cersei watched her father's expression go blank with rare confusion. "What is this?"

"A number," Tyrion said. "My assets."

Tywin blinked. Looked from the phone to him. "This is what you've made?"

"I have a gift for investing father. You don't have to look so surprised." Tyrion smiled. "I know it seemed I was simply wasting away my resources but…being a reckless, lay about was just an image I cultivated to annoy you."

Cersei wanted to see the number on that phone. Wanted to know exactly what her little brother had managed to do. But Tyrion had already slipped it back in his pocket.

"So. What do you want in return," Tywin asked suspiciously.

"You assume I offer this for some reward," Tyrion said. "Frankly, I offer it because the girl is in danger, and I quite like the Starks and think they've suffered enough. More than that, the look on your face when I showed you the number was reward enough." He shrugged. "But, since I know you are concerned with paying debts, I'll settle for a small stake in the company in return. I think the family business could use my skill for investments with you stepping down."

Tywin studied him for a long time. No. No love lost between them at all. But there was some grudging respect in her father's eyes which was more than Tyrion had ever received in the past.

"Very well," Tywin said. He looked between the three of them. "The next few months will be a test of our name. I expect all three of you to uphold it. The Lannister Corporation will not fall with me."

"No, father," Cersei said, a promise in her voice. "It won't."

Let the vultures come. She had deflected them plenty of times before. The Iron bank thought they would ruin their company with this move. They underestimated the children of Tywin Lannister.

They would come to regret that in time.

The girl was mixed up in memories of the past. Recent memories this time. Memories of blood and chaos and a trampled, dead boy, once her friend. Memories of a knife grasped tight in her hand. The last time she had become no one. Because with the drug in her system, who else could she be?

She remembered the man that pulled her from that fog. The taste of the antidote on her tongue as it dragged her back to earth. She had remembered her name then.

What had he asked her?

"Are you so sure they let you go?"

No.

No, they hadn't.

The past didn't simply let go.

The past had teeth and claws, and it ripped pieces out of the future, leaving gaping holes behind.

The past demanded blood.

It seemed wise, given their past experience with the Faceless Men, for the Starks and Lannisters to gather at the Lannister manor again. Just in case the Iron Bank or the Faceless men or one of their other myriad enemies decided to attack from the shadows. Strength in numbers and all of that.

It was less surreal for Jaime this time. Being surrounded by Starks like this. He had grown to accept that family's involvement in his life by this point. They'd been linked in so many strange ways over the past few years. Why fight the current?

He couldn't imagine Ned Stark would be happy about it of course. But maybe if they managed to save his daughter from the jaws of death, he would forgive them from the beyond.

Maybe.

Most everyone gathered in the Lannister parlor on that day knew the basics of what was happening. That this was the culminations of a decades long grudge from the Iron Bank. That the Faceless Men, Baelish's chaotic crusade and even the Long Night debacle was tied up in this conspiracy theory of a debacle. And that tonight, his father was meant to get an address where he could find Arya.

"I just wish we could involve the police in all of this," Jaime told Jon as they stood along the edge of the room. "Have them surround the place. My father going in on his own…it seems like a trap."

"I agree," Jon said. "I want to be there at least."

"I'm sure," Jaime said. "But my father thinks the only way out of this is playing by the Iron Bank's rules. I suppose he's right. Everyone else that didn't is dead now."

"So your father really is the last of this group?" Jon asked.

"According to him," Jaime said. "I wouldn't really know."

"Really?" Jon asked.

Jaime gave him a look. "Think I helped my father with his dirty work in Essos, Stark?"

"Well…my uncle disliked both of you for what you did in the second Essosi war," Jon said. "I assumed it was for the same reason, I guess."

"Fair enough, I suppose. But no. What I did was wholly separate," Jaime said.

"What is it that you did?" Jon asked. When Jaime didn't answer he continued quickly. "I'm not asking because I don't want to assume. I want to know the truth of things from you."

A Stark actually wants to listen to my truth. Isn't that a funny thing, Jaime thought. It was something he had spoken with Tyrion and Cersei about. Something he had spoken to Brienne about now too. But to confess to a Stark…he hadn't thought he'd see that day.

"I killed my superior officer," Jaime said.

"What?" Jon asked.

"You heard me," Jaime said. "But I don't regret doing it. The man deserved it. He was the sort of commander that didn't distinguish between enemy combatants and civilians. He wanted us to set fire to a town to draw out the enemy. So I killed him." He shrugged. "I know it was my father that got me off the hook for that. So your uncle…he must have assumed I did something wrong. Maybe he even assumed it was connected to what he did in Braavos." He smiled bitterly. "And you assumed I did something wrong because of him."

Jon was silent for a long while before he murmured. "I'm sorry for that, Lannister."

"Are you?"

"Yes," Jon said. "You've been a help to my family. You helped us to track down Joffrey. Helped us find Sansa and almost died for it. There's not much room for suspicion anymore. Or assumptions."

"That's good to hear," Jaime said. "Since we're both officers of the law…its best if we trust each other."

"It is," Jon said. He extended his hand. An offer of peace. "Truce?"

"Truce." Jaime said, accepting the hand. A firm handshake. That was the closest he'd get to friendship with a Stark he supposed. But then again, who knew where they would be in a few years.

Across the parlor, something shifted. Jaime glanced over to see his father studying his phone. And based on the sudden change in atmosphere, he could guess what he was reading.

"Is it the time and place?" Catelyn asked.

"Yes," Tywin said. "It is." He lowered the phone. "I'm expected in an hour."

"Let me see the address," Bran said quickly. The boy was sitting in a corner on his computer, typing away furiously as Tywin approached him and showed him the phone. He nodded once, typing rapidly. Then he stilled. "Well…they didn't give you the exact address, I can tell you that."

"What do you mean?" Tywin asked.

"They gave you the address across the street from this skyscraper," Bran said. "Abandoned construction project. Hasn't been touched for a year. But that's where the Spider saw Arya last."

"You know where she is?" Robb asked, standing from his seat.

"You're sure?" Myrcella asked. Her voice was cracked with worry.

"The Spider only just got back to me," Bran said. "But yes. I'm sure she's there."

"I see," Tywin said. "So they're trying to control the situation. They don't want to give her to me too easily."

"What does that mean?" Sansa asked. "Does this mean that the deal is bad?"

"It certainly seems like a trap," Cersei said.

"Or leverage to try to get the rest of their money before they give up their bargaining chip," Tywin said. "The deal is still on. We aren't in a position to pull back."

"You can still take away some of their leverage," Jaime said approaching. "Go to the address Bran has. That will show them you're not so easy to take advantage of. And if they do try to pull out of the deal, at least you'll be close to Arya. You'll be able to do something about it. Or she will."

"According to the Spider, Arya appears heavily drugged," Bran said. "Long Night, I'm guessing. The normal kind."

"They likely drugged her more heavily than normal," Tywin said. "Since she's trained to operate while on the drug. They don't want her intervening." He was silent for a moment before he nodded. "I'll go to the Spider's address then. Force a more direct confrontation."

"You're sure you don't want backup?" Jon asked. "Even a few officers would be something."

"If they see even a hint of police, they'll kill your cousin," Tywin said. "And these people have eyes everywhere. Even if you're in plainclothes, it won't work. I think they know your professions."

Jon fell silent, nodding. Jaime knew that he just wanted, more than anything, to be useful in saving his cousin. All of the Starks wanted to be useful. But they had to rely on a Lannister.

Tywin exhaled. Glanced about the room. "All right. All goes well…I'll be back soon. With Arya."

"Be careful, grandfather," Myrcella murmured, twisting her fingers together.

"I always am," Tywin said. He looked briefly to some of the others. There was a flicker of a moment when he glanced at Jaime. And Jaime couldn't help but wonder if this was the last time he would see his father.

He knows they could go back on the deal. That they could just kill him, Jaime thought. But this is his only chance to make it out alive.

It took everything in him not to follow Tywin from the room. Not to insist that he go with him. No matter how complicated their relationship might be, he was still his father. He didn't like him going alone.

But he forced himself to remain and to wait quietly for the end of this madness.

The girl was trying to remember something important. Not a face. Not a name. Something given to her.

A gift.

A parting gift.

From one child of vengeance to another.

A seed.

When Tywin left the parlor, Catelyn waited only a few beats before she followed after him. She met him in the front hall as he was checking the chamber of his gun and stowing it away. She raised an eyebrow in question.

"Just in case," he told her. "What is it?"

Catelyn hovered across from him, feeling a bit foolish. "Nothing. I just…I've been denied the chance to say goodbye too many times. I don't want to lose that chance again."

"Rather pessimistic, don't you think?" Tywin asked, turning to face her.

"After all that's happened in the past few years, can you blame me for that?" Catelyn asked.

"No," Tywin said. "I suppose I can't." He crossed the hall to her. "But for what it's worth, you'll get your daughter back. I—"

Catelyn kissed him. Because she was trying to think of the right words to say and found none. She grasped the front of his coat and kissed him fiercely. The best goodbye she could manage right now. His hand leapt up automatically to cradle her face and he kissed her in return.

When she pulled back, her voice was firm.

"I'll get you back as well, Tywin," she said.

He blinked. Nodded once. For a moment, his hand lingered on her cheek. "As you say…Catelyn."

He kissed her once more. Then he pulled away and headed for the door. She watched him go, a tightness in her chest. Then she turned to go back to the parlor—and found Tyrion standing there.

He was leaned up against the wall, flask in one hand, his expression a mix of utter shock and delight. "Well, well. That explains a lot of things."

"Tyrion," Catelyn said flatly, though she could feel the heat in her face. "How long were you standing there."

"Just long enough to catch the end," Tyrion said. "My father has been far more agreeable lately. Still difficult, to say the least but…this may have something to do with it."

Catelyn let out a breath. "I'd appreciate your silence on the matter. You may be reacting better than anyone else here would."

"That is true, that is true." Tyrion raised his flask. "I approve. I think you could do much better, but I approve."

Catelyn tried to look stern but a smile twitched at her lips. "Let's return to the others. And not a word from you."

"Yes, ma'am," Tyrion said, turning to saunter back to the parlor. Catelyn followed after him with one more glance over her shoulder. And one more silent prayer.

Please. To the seven. To the old gods. To whatever gods will hear me.

Bring them both back to me.

"You should stop moving so much," the Kindly Man told her. He was speaking in the present this time. Not the past. "It will be over soon, lovely girl."

She didn't reply to him. No point in asking questions when his words would only be poison. But she did wonder…she wondered if she would die nameless. Or if she would get her name back.

"I hope that you followed instructions," the kindly man said. "If you did, you'll live."

She looked up at him from her place on the ground. Questioning. Confused. What instructions.

"Do you remember?" Jaqen asked. "A man told a girl to get close to Tywin Lannister." He smiled his poison smile. "We'll see if she succeeded."

It was the middle of the night, and the street outside the skyscraper was abandoned. This was a part of town hollowed out by unfinished projects and insufficient funds. At one point, someone had the ambition to try to develop it. That ambition hadn't gotten them very far, and now they left skeletons of buildings that seemed to glow in the moonlight.

Tywin parked down the street from the skyscraper and approached on foot with nothing but a flashlight. He wanted these people to see him coming. To know that he wasn't trying anything. He had given them half of the money as was promised. And now it was their turn to give him Arya.

It was a very long walk up the stairs. He checked each floor, unsure of which one they were on. Eventually he reached the end of the stairs. The last floor completed before the project was abandoned. And he saw light.

There were four lanterns on the floor—flickering candlelight illuminating two figures. One, he recognized well. Arya was lying on the floor, her grey eyes glazed. But he saw her blink, so he knew that she was alive.

The second figure was one Tywin had never seen before. A tall red-headed man with a flash of white in his hair. He had a pleasant face and he stood ever so calmly next to Arya. So calmly that one could almost ignore the gun in his hand. He did not introduce himself, but Tywin knew who he was none the less. He had featured in Arya's stories of her time in Braavos.

Jaqen H'ghar.

"Tywin Lannister," Jaqen said. "You came to the wrong address."

"It appears I didn't," Tywin said. "The girl is here. That means it's the right address." He tilted his head to the side. "You're Jaqen H'ghar."

"A man is no one."

"I don't think that's true," Tywin said. "No one wouldn't have cared much about getting revenge would they."

Jaqen's pleasant smile widened. But there was something sharp about it. Something very dangerous. "But I am none the less. You see…war makes no one of its victim. Grief does the same. It strips away all of who they were. What they loved. What they wanted. And it leaves behind this. The nameless." He tilted his head to the side. "The Bank may accept your reparations. But the bank is a building. It is the nameless that cry for vengeance." He pointed at Tywin. "The Faceless Men exist…because of your allies. Because of you."

"I made a deal," Tywin said. "And the deal must be kept. If it's not…the Iron Bank won't get the other half of its money. And I don't suppose they'd thank you for that."

"You assume a man cares about that," Jaqen said. "But still. A man bears the girl no ill will. She is innocent in all of this. As were many of the children of Braavos sacrificed in the chaos." He tilted his head to the side, raising the gun slightly to point toward Arya. "Do you want her to be the final sacrifice."

"No," Tywin said.

"Good," Jaqen said. "Tywin Lannister brought a gun… didn't he?"

"I did," Tywin said. No point in lying about that.

"Then draw it," Jaqen said.

Tywin reached into his coat and brought out the gun. He held it loosely by his side, finger away from the trigger so that the man would not take it as a threat.

"There will be one more victim tonight," Jaqen said. "One more. The Iron Bank and the Faceless Men will keep their promise. They will not kill you. But maybe Tywin Lannister will do it himself."

The words settled on Tywin's shoulders. He did not flinch from them. Did not react. "And then you let the girl go. Is that it?"

"Yes," Jaqen said.

"And why should I take you at your word?"

Jaqen shrugged. "A man does not require your trust. But if you don't." He lifted the gun a little more, pointing right at Arya. She was shifting weakly on the ground, but she did not rise. "Then she will be the sacrifice."

"That would very much be breaking the deal," Tywin said.

"A man does not care," Jaqen said. And Tywin could see he didn't. Not at all. Maybe the Faceless Men were employed by the Iron Bank. Their goals aligned. But the bank's desire for vengeance was cold. Calculating. It was the vengeance of a bank chasing down it's debtors in order to balance their accounts.

Jaqen H'ghar—the Faceless Men—their vengeance was burning. It was the vengeance of the people left orphans in Braavos. Jaqen didn't care if this broke his contract. If this broke the deal. He wanted Tywin dead. And no one was here to stop him.

Tywin could try to fight back. He could turn the gun on Jaqen. But he knew if he did, Jaqen would squeeze the trigger and end Arya in a moment. He also knew that he could not match this man's physical strength. He was a trained assassin. Tywin was a war veteran far past his prime.

At the end of the day, he wanted to live. But he could not return without Arya.

"Quickly, Tywin Lannister," Jaqen said, raising his gun a little more. "We're running out of time."

Tywin let out a breath. "Arya." He looked to the girl, lying so still on the ground. "I'm not sure if you can hear me. But make sure you get back to your mother when this is over."

He adjusted his grip on his gun. Began to raise it to his temple.

And that was when Arya moved.

The girl remembered then. The gift given to her. The seed.

No not a seed. A leaf. A leaf in a pill. From one child of vengeance to the other. An antidote.

She remembered she had taken it and kept it with her. Just in case. Just in case. And as she heard the kindly man talking with the old lion…as she became aware of their words…she found it. Eased it from its hiding place. And chewed.

She chewed. She swallowed. She blinked.

She remembered.

Arya Stark. My name is Arya Stark.

Arya became aware of the situation only just in time to hear Jaqen's deal. The leaf cleared her mind just enough. She blinked but forced herself not to jolt to her feet. She must remain as still as possible.

But she heard the words. The arrangement Jaqen offered. One more sacrifice. One more life to claim. Either hers…or Tywin's.

She understood what he meant now—about seeing if she succeeded in her task. If Tywin Lannister did not care about her, he would simply use the gun on Jaqen. Risk her life in the process.

He didn't.

"Arya. I'm not sure if you can hear me. But make sure you get back to your mother when this is over."

I will, she thought. And you're coming with me.

She swept her legs at Jaqen's exposed ankles as hard as she could. She knocked his feet out from under him and he tumbled to the ground. Jaqen was strong but even a strong man could be taken by surprise.

She didn't wait long. She fell on top of him, raising her bound hands and slamming him in the face twice. She pressed her thumbs together best she could and dug them into his eye.

He screamed. His scream was music to her. All the times she had screamed in the House of Black and White while he did nothing but calmly watch.

You are not no one, she thought. You are only human.

Human or not, he was still strong. He kicked her off and she flew backward, rolling as she hit the floor. She righted herself and came up on one knee just as he leapt back to his feet and raised his gun again.

A gun shot. Two gunshots. But neither from his gun. Jaqen stumbled back as Tywin, who still had a hand on his weapon, fired twice. One bullet took him in the shoulder. The other in the stomach.

For a moment he swayed. His one good eye darted between two enemies. Assessing which he would rather target. He made a decision. Turned to face Tywin.

He made the wrong decision.

In the haze of adrenaline, perhaps he forgot where they were standing. Perhaps he forgot about the precipice just behind him. The open skeleton of the walls. The moment he shifted, Arya launched herself forward. She didn't hesitate. He got off one shot toward Tywin before she threw her entire weight against him. Not much, maybe, but with him shot and bleeding out…it was just enough.

She shoved him backward. He stumbled until his back foot met air instead of concrete. And then she watched as Jaqen tumbled over the edge of the building and into the darkness.

For a moment, Arya stood on that precipice, looking off the cliff. She did not see him hit the ground. It was too dark and too far down. But she knew—in that moment—that the Kindly Man was gone.

Slowly, she turned back to Tywin. She had heard the single shot, and she was terrified to see where it landed. But he was still standing. The sleeve of his suit was stained red. But he was standing, watching her with a steady gaze.

"Is it…is it over?" she asked him.

He nodded once. "It's over, Arya."

She shuddered. Sank to her knees as a sob broke from her chest. A sob of pure relief as she repeated three truths to herself.

I am alive.

I am free.

I am Arya Stark.

A/N: Whew. Only one chapter remaining plus an epilogue. I truly can't believe I've made it to this point but the fic is almost at it's end. Thanks for sticking with me through the many chapters and the long hiatus. You guys are the best. Review, subscribe and I'll see you next time!