When Tywin spoke, his voice was level but coated in the superiority the Lannisters were so well known for throughout the world. "I'm here to notify the head of the Stark family, King Robb, of a change in condition regarding the marriage contract he signed on behalf of his youngest sister."

Catelyn flushed further at the intended slight and responded despite the dismissal. "What involvement do you have with my daughter's marriage contract to know of any changes in terms?" She demanded to know, darting her eyes once to Lord Frey, who stood to the side with a leer on his withered face.

"The price for Lady Arya's hand in marriage was the crossing of 8,000 Northern soldiers, give or take a few, their horses, and some supplies. I have paid off your debt to Lord Frey, at the cost of one gold per man, and an extra fifty for the wagons. You are welcome." He drawled, knowing full well the reason marriage had been bartered and accepted was for a lack of other tradeable resources to be had at the time.

Catelyn's eyes went wide though Robb and Sansa looked confused and the slightest bit worried at seeing their mother's reaction. "And what have you received in return for such generosity, Lord Tywin?" She asked, tone more polite but tight, as if she'd had a hard time getting the words out.

"I've received transfer of the original payment, of course. Lady Arya's contract will receive a new match, and she will soon become a member of my family." He announced without further ado. To those who didn't know the man well, he sounded almost bored. To those who did know him, well, the smugness and victory in his tone were clear, more so when glanced over at his son as though the whole thing was a done deal.

"We never agreed to that!" Robb finally spoke, temper sparking at the audacity of the lord standing before him.

"You didn't have to. Lord Frey accepted payment already. Do not fret, I have a bride price prepared for you as well, it will be delivered by the end of the day."

"There will be no bride price!" Catelyn exclaimed, "This cannot happen- I won't allow it!"

"It is not for you to allow any more than your son." Tywin drawled distastefully, though in truth if anyone could have intervened it would be the Northern King.

Arya glanced over at Jaime as the chaos reigned only to find him looking almost glacial in his own stiff and carefully controlled anger. She recognized it in him, but wasn't sure which part he was so upset by. She felt like thins were spinning out of control and she wasn't sure how to bring it all back in. The emotions in the room were rising in suffocating amounts from all sides and she felt caught in her own indecision.

~*~ Jaime's POV ~*~

Jaime froze as soon as his father glanced his way with that smug gleam in his eye. His plotting had been becoming quite visible already, but that look was clearly aimed at him and gave away his end game quite well. He'd know the man had been planning something- he'd been far too pleased with himself, but he hadn't expected it to involve himself. The man had been trying to force him to marry for years, both in outright and underhanded ways.

His father was a master-manipulator, he knew well, and he should be past feeling slighted when those ways were used against him, but it still always seemed to sting as fiercely as it had in his youth. He knew it did for his siblings as well when such manipulations were used against them, for none of them were safe from his scheming mind.

This though… How long had Arya been working against him? She clearly wasn't surprised at the turn of events so she obviously knew of this plot ahead of time. Had she been working with his father from the very beginning? They clearly couldn't have planned her meeting up with the company, for traveling was far too unpredictable in the winter for of any real accuracy in timing. Still, she spent quite a bit of time alone with the man while they were camping on the road, and even sense then who knew what they could have spoken about and when?

While his father's scheming stung, Arya's involvement felt almost like a betrayal. He'd liked spending time with the unpredictable woman who could swear and spew filthy jokes like a sellsword whilst in her cups, fight like a seasoned tournament champion on her off days , and who had a sense of humor as twisted and sometimes dark as his own and yet could laugh brightly enough to lift his own spirits from the shadows they oftentimes lingered in.

To know it was all a lie- a set of carefully structured steps to get him to finally marry and produce a heir to continue his bloody lineage – was just.. indescribable. Was any of it real? Hunting together? Sharing secrets from their dark pasts? The night they'd gone to the hot spring and kissed for the first time? Was that why she'd been so confident her betrothal wouldn't stand? Why she had been so insistent on pressing for the physical intimacies so quickly after that first touch?

He watched in a state of numb anger as tempers continued to spike in the room. Any other time he might have gotten offended at the obvious slights against his family and Arya both, but he just couldn't find it in himself to soften his stony exterior in that moment, never mind the fact that his father had taught him to maintain his composure from a ridiculously young age- taught him to lock himself down the more emotions tried to take control of his mind and body.

His head turned towards her without thought when he finally made some noise from her own still and silent state just a handful of steps from him. The noise she made wasn't anything spoken, not at first, nor was it any sound he had heard from her before. It was laughter, but dark laughter full of scorn and twisted anger, and from the reaction of her family, it wasn't the first time she'd made such a sound that night.

He watched as her brother turned towards her, face pained, and reached out a hand that was refused acknowledgement. "Sister…" He pleaded.

She cut him off viciously, grey eyes dark and stormy with her own contained emotions. "No, I can't believe-" She cut herself and took a deep breath, eyes closing momentarily. When they opened again they were sharper, more focused, but still stunning in their rage. "You are okay with everything else I've argued against being forced upon me under my protest, but you outright reject the idea of my marriage being to someone more palatable?"

"More palatable?" Sansa spoke in a sharply pinched tone, blue eyes gleaming and pale cheeks flushed. "Arya, please! You don't know what his despicable family did to me in Kings Landing. You can't trust them- any of them! They're all monsters at heart!"

"More monstrous than the Frey's? No Sansa, you dealt with Joffrey- who I warned you about from the beginning! You're the one who chose to follow him around like a pathetic little girl regardless, even after he got Lady killed! Your own Stupidity does not make a family of monsters, it makes you an Idiot." Arya told her harshly.

Sansa looked stunned and her eyes filled further, threatening to spill over. "It wasn't just Joffrey.." She whispered, but was drowned out by their mother.

"No daughter of mine will become a Lannister!" The elder woman exclaimed hysterically against all reason. "Over my dead body!"

His father glanced over at the woman just as dismissively as he had before. "I suppose the state of your existence at the wedding will be up to you, it however, bears no importance on the event itself." Jaime shook his head just the slightest bit, incredulousness growing the longer the argument continued.

They were interrupted, however, when Lord Frey spoke up for the first time. "The deals done." He told them harshly, cutting through the protest. "The bitch was already proving to be a problem- now she's his problem." He paused and glanced over at Arya lewdly and then at the Maester who stood frozen off to the side of the room. "Still, never know where she might have been- girls been gone a long time after all. Maester's already here, might as well do what we came here to do, no?"

Jaime's frigid gaze locked on the lecherous old man but his father spoke up again before he could act rashly. "No member of My family would ever be subject to such a humiliating and archaic practice. You would do well to hold your tongue- this matter no longer concerns you." He warned the other lord coldly before looking over at the Maester with his own frozen glare. "You can go."

The Maester bowed his head and shuffled around to the door silently, looking grateful for the opportunity to escape the room. Deciding there was no reason not to follow him- at least none that he particularly care about just then- Jaime turned to follow him into the hallway. He could feel his father's glare on the back of his head before the door shut behind him, but knew the man would wait to scold him until they were alone. He turned the opposite direction of the Maester and headed for the exit in the shortest route possible that didn't take him back through the great hall.

He heard the door shut a few seconds later but did not glance back before turning a corner. He was forced to stop however when a much smaller hand clasped his upper arm and tugged him back. He turned suddenly, incensed at his retreat being foiled so quickly and by the last person he wanted to speak to just then.

The petite woman seemed surprised at having the full force of his anger directed at her, but she'd put herself in his path and he only had so much self-control in the face of such blatant manipulation. "Are you okay?" She asked him falteringly, seeming to lose some of her steam.

His hard gaze focused into a glare and he shook her hand free as he turned away again. The woman was stronger than she seemed however, and put that strength into tugging him back. "Jaime! What's going on? … What's wrong?"

It was his turn to laugh, but his was pure viciousness, gleaming teeth on display as he realized that this is similar to how Tyrion must have felt when his own wife betrayed him under the direction of their father and then further humiliated him to teach him a lesson that would stick

He certainly felt humiliated at knowing his feelings and emotions for the woman before him had been so planned out for him. "What's wrong?" He repeated mockingly. "Tell me, Arya, how long have you been conspiring with my father to finally force me into marriage?"

"Wh-What?!" She demanded, almost convincingly. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh please, spare me. Aren't you the one who's always toting on about how we should all stop playing words games and just speak the truth? Please, let's hear it. What's the truth?" He challenged.

"I am telling you the truth- I'm not-"

"It was very clear that you knew what my father was going to say before he said it. Unless the plan is for you to marry a different Lannister? Tyrion, perhaps?" He added scornfully, knowing his father would never give his younger brother anything remotely good in the world.

"I, no, of course not, but-"

"But nothing! Hard as he might try, whatever tricks he might attempt to pull, my father cannot force me to leave the Kingsguard! He cannot force me to marry anyone, and I sure as fuck wouldn't marry anyone who schemed with him to try and force my hand." He finished coldly. "The games up, thanks for playing, better luck next time." He shook her hand off again, more forcefully, and strode away from her with strides she couldn't hope to match unless she ran after him, and he was sure she was too proud to display such desperation. He made it to the door unhindered, and he couldn't have honestly said whether he was glad for it or not.

It was the second time in two days that Arya felt like her skin was too tight. She strode quickly out of the doors and into the courtyard where snow was falling anew. It was mostly abandoned, being so late in the day and with the lingering light quickly fading away and she was grateful for the reprieve.

She walked out into the open, slower, but still fueled by emotion. Nothing had gone as she would have expected when she agreed to Tywin's proposal just the day prior, she couldn't believe how quickly it had all fallen apart. She hadn't expected him to have such an extreme reaction to the idea, though clearly it could have been better delivered to the man.

Even still, she had her pride and that pride was a bit hurt at the cold and unwavering rejection so clearly displayed. She refused to chase after a man, any man, and she surely wasn't about to start then, no matter how skewed things seemed to have gone. She felt restless, like she had weeks' worth of energy she needed to burn or she might burst.

Almost as if he could read her mind, a figure appeared across the courtyard dressed in a Lannister uniform. She couldn't make him out through the snowfall at first, but recognized his silhouette before she could actually make out any features. "What are you doing out here?" She asked, surprised to see him so blatantly out in the open.

"A man has heard of a feast in the Great Hall." He told her with a curl of his lip.

"You've missed the food, only dancing and bad ale left." She told him, glad for the distraction.

"No matter." He told her with a careless shrug and she thought he might not have been going to the Great Hall at all. He shifted to remove something from his back and she could see it was a slender sword near the same size as Needle once it was held before him. "Would a girl care to spar?" He asked, twirling the slender blade around his hand with perfect control before holding it out to her hilt first by the blade.

She took it from him reverently, looking down at the beautiful metal work and small details inlaid into the design. The symbol of the faceless men was embossed just beneath the guard and barely visible to the naked eye, but slightly moreso when she tilted the blade towards the light.

Seeing that Jaqen had drawn the matching pair of swords she sometimes saw him use, she drew Needle beside the new blade and found them to be a near perfect match in balance, though how he had managed such a thing without the other for comparison was beyond her.

They'd only ever practiced two blade fighting with short staffs, as it was a much more precarious dance than fighting with a single sword, not to mention that it had been quite a long time since then. Still, she didn't refuse, and even welcomed the knowledge that she would have to focus herself fully on the match to avoid injury, and so would have no time to think about the events that had just occurred, nor the events from the days prior.

He moved to take his stance and she followed after unclasping her cloak and tossing it to the side, not wanting the excess fabric to hinder her movement. He started slowly, by tapping one of his blades against hers and then granting a gradual increase in speed until they were exchanging blows at a rate that most would find impressive, even if it wasn't the fastest they could move if need be.

She missed a block by a scant second and the blunt edge of his blade smacked harshly against the flesh of her upper arm. He didn't pause or allow her time to recover, but continued his skilled swings and forced her to respond on mostly instinct and muscle memory as she fought to keep up.

He made it through her guard again and then a third time before he spoke up. "A girl is distracted." He commented, and it sounded like a chastisement despite its lack of inflection.

They continued their lethal dance and she could feel more bruises, along with a few small nicks, forming across her body for her mind that kept wandering despite her best efforts. "Focus!" He commanded her as he had to pull a swing to avoid a more serious injury to her side as she failed to block him yet again. "A girl must focus or she will die. Such is the way." He told her as he pushed her back several steps and she stumbled over a divot in the snow. He watched her fall to her back and lay in the snow with her chest heaving rapidly as she tried to catch her breath.

"Mayhaps a girl is not as ready as a man thought." He told her, looking down at her fallen form in disappointment.

"A girl is ready!" She argued, pushing herself back to her feet despite the numbness creeping into her limbs, determined to prove herself despite all else. She took a starting stance, which he matched with a frown still tugging at his mouth. She made the first move then, and managed to keep on the offence for a respectable amount of time before he turned it back around on her.

"Better." He told her simply as he pressed her back again and she managed to sidestep and turn them around so that his back was to the edge and hers to the open courtyard.

They continued exchanging blows and blocks on nimble feet and Arya did a better job of shutting everything out through sheer stubbornness than she had in the beginning. Or at least, she did until they were interrupted. "What, in the name of the Seven, is going on here?" A familiar voice demanded. Arya's step faltered and she felt the blade that was already close open a small nick on her cheek before he was able to adjust himself to her shift in motion.

They disengaged a moment later and Arya turned to face a cold Tywin Lannister staring them down, and resting on the pommel of his own sword strapped at his waist. Arya glanced over at Jaqen, but he ignored her gaze to watch the man and so she assumed this was up to her to explain. "A spar," She finally told him after a short pause. "with a friend."

"A friend." He drawled, stepping closer. He examined Jaqen with sharp, narrow eyes. "You wear Lannister colors but I don't recognize your face. Who are you?"

"A man is Jaqen H'ghar." He responded, using his most commonly called upon name for the face he wore. "Do you know the faces of all your many soldiers, your Lordship?" Jaqen taunted in return.

"Most of them. How long have you been with my company?"

"A man has worn Lannister colors since he joined with the army at Harrenhal."

"Who is your commanding officer?" He pressed suspiciously, glancing sharply at Arya.

Jaqen's lips curled dangerously but she spoke up before the back and forth could continue. "Do you need something, Lord Tywin?" She asked pointedly, some of her lingering upset still aimed at him for his own part in the events prior. "I'm quite busy at the moment, you see."

"Quite." He repeated back to her, icy eyes taking in her mussed state and the blood she could feel trickling down her cheek from the last misstep. She wondered if any of her bruises had bloomed yet but didn't think any of them would be visible to his observant gaze. "I would like a moment of your time." He told her, not phrasing it as a question. He turned towards the dangerous man disguised as a soldier and dismissed him carelessly, unaware of the fire he stroked so blasely in his arrogance.

Arya watched him consideringly before turning back to Jaqen for approval. Tywin caught the motion and frowned deeper as Jaqen nodded just slightly before bowing shallowly and taking his leave without argument. "Would you care to answer me truthfully as to who that was?" He questioned her once they were alone.

"I was not untruthful, nor was he." She told him unwaveringly.

He did not look as though he believed her, but he moved on to what he truly wanted to speak to her about. "You spoke to Jaime." He stated simply.

"I did." She acknowledged, mind flashing back to those few moments the exchange lasted and the bitter taste of rejection still lingering in the back of her throat.

" And ? What did he have to say?"

Arya looked up at him, anger sparking to life once more despite the tiredness now weighing her down. "What do you think he had to say?!" She asked him boldly. She wanted him to answer for his poor choice- Afterall, how could a man so smart make such a bad judgement call regarding his own son's reactions? "He was furious, he thinks we've been 'conspiring' with each other."

"Haven't we?" He drawled in that same tone she was quickly beginning to hate that night.

"No!" She exclaimed. "I agreed to your offer yesterday, I thought you would talk to him! Why would you let him find out that way? What did you hope to achieve? Surely you had to know he would react poorly to such blatant posturing and manipulation, especially considering he said this isn't your first attempt at gaining this result."

He seemed honestly surprised at her scolding, for he blinked at her silently in a moment that seemed to stretch. She wondered how often he was called out on his shite after his wife died if this was his reaction to it. "You know what? Never mind." She told him when he seemed to be forming his defense. "I think I've had my fill of Lannisters and lies for now. Pleasant Eve, Lord Tywin, I'm sure I will see you on the morrow." She told him, voice like saccharin and thrice as poisonous.

She turned on her heal and left the courtyard herself, disappearing quickly into the shadows beyond the gate, despite the brightness of the moon reflecting off the snow cover. Though she hadn't had a destination in mind when she left, the path to the hidden spring stuck out in her mind and sounded blissful to her cold and sore body, for she hadn't taken the time to gather her cloak before she'd left- a choice she began to regret when the winds started to pick up.

It took her nearly half an hour to make it through the thick snow barrier built up around the entrance, but it was worth it once she was inside and the air became filled with warm herbal steam. She had plenty of light to see by and made no hesitation in stripping down and entering the shallow pool formed amongst the naturally smoothed stone.

The heat of the water was painful on her frozen skin at first, but she ignored the stinging until she had thawed and it began to feel pleasant. Finally alone with her thoughts and nothing else to distract herself, her mind began to wander. Everything had changed so suddenly and she wasn't sure what to expect anymore. Jaime was right, no one could force him to leave the Kingsguard against his will, no one could force him to marry unless he agreed to it and resigned his oath to King Tommen.

She felt selfish in thinking it, but what would happen to her if he refused? She would hardly bring herself to beg him, a man- any man, to marry her, but where would that leave her with an active and open marriage contract? Would Tywin truly marry her to Tyrion as a second choice if it meant he still got her as a good-daughter like he wanted? With Jaime in the Kingsguard, Tyrion was technically first in line to inherit after Tywin met the Stranger.

But his distaste for his youngest son was well known and Jaime had seemed rather mocking when he mentioned it, so she didn't think it was truly very likely. Where did that leave her though? She knew there were many Lannisters more distantly related to the Lord- would he try to marry her off to one of his nephews or youthful cousins?

What should she do if he tried? It felt like she was right back at square one and hadn't really gained any relief from her fate at all. She'd reluctantly agreed to a marriage with Jaime because she could see herself finding some kind of contentedness with that life, if not happiness with marriage itself. But if it wasn't Jaime? If it was some random stranger she was to be paired with?

Should she give in and accept that she would be married one way or another, sooner or later, whether she willed it or not? Or should she continue to fight the idea, disappear if necessary to remain an independent woman free to make her own decisions? What was that freedom worth? What was this life worth? She was finding it harder and harder to determine, but the answers to those questions were worth everything to know, if only she could grasp them.

~*~ Tbc ~*~

Notes:

...Surprise? Did anyone see this coming? Please let me know where you think! Thank you for reading :)