At King's Landing…
Arya Stark had been running around the Red Keep, either it is chasing cats or gathering whatever necessities her sister Sansa's been asking for. Ever since she learned she was going to be an aunt, Arya playfully tried to play it down – but deep down, Arya was happy; despite finding Sansa's demands to be seemingly overbearing with her backaches, aching feet, vomiting, emotional mood swings and strange cravings.
'Ugh! So many demands! Guess this is what it's like,' thought Arya.
She would have normally searched for Bodrin since he was one of King Daveth's contacts in the city, but he was nowhere to be found. Still, Arya kept searching for someone – until she found herself wandering about the Tower of the Hand. Stepping inside the building again, brought forth bitter sweet memories of when her late father Lord Eddard Stark was Hand of the King. Now, Lord Tywin Lannister resides here. It made her somewhat upset, yet ever more determined – if not daring.
Arya pulled out a scroll from her pants pocket and reviewed the list of supplies she'd have to get. Herbs… check. Pillows… check. Water… check. Lemon cakes… check. Ink and quill… uncheck. Hopefully there were at least a couple of spares lying about. Surely Tywin wouldn't mind; he is the King's grandfather, after all. Still, the young she-wolf wasn't going to take any chances with him despite his reputation. Utilizing her keen senses as well as her familiarity with her surroundings, Arya swiftly yet stealthily snuck past Tywin's guards and made her way into Tywin's chambers.
Arya took a moment to observe the area; Seven hells, how things have changed this past year. Wherever she looked, she saw lion sigils around the halls. Lannister. That's who she found herself surrounded by. Time was of the essence, Arya reminded herself. Tywin or his guards could be back at any moment.
'Just grab what you're looking for and get out!'
Looking at the desk, Arya searched one drawer after another until she found an extra ink and quill. Feeling herself sigh with relief, Arya was beginning to turn away until a certain parchment caught her eyes. Leaning in to get a closer look, Arya took up and read the parchment.
"Moving the Lannister and Redwynne fleets north past
Fair Isle. Estimate to reach the Iron Islands and Seagard
in four days, three if we have the wind. Will establish a
blockade around the perimeter to prevent our forces on
the mainland from getting overwhelmed.
Scouts report His Grace, the King, moving troops through
the Trident on foot with the intent on ensnaring Moat
Cailin in a pincer attack coordinated with Robb Stark.
Once Moat Cailin is secure, pick up His Grace and his
soldiers at Seagard and commence a full invasion of
the Iron Islands."
It wasn't much, but Arya knew that every bit of news she could find would help lift whatever worry Sansa must be feeling. After all, her husband and their brother are out there on the battlefield, and Arya resolved to do whatever she could. Taking a moment to make sure the coast was clear, Arya rolled up the parchment and stuck it in her pocket before making her way out of the Hand of the King's office. On her way back to the Red Keep, however, Arya wasn't paying attention and bumped into one of Tywin's bannermen, Ser Amory Loch, and stumbled onto the floor.
The knight is described as a cruel, simple and small portly man of average height, as well as having a pale piggy face with small pig-like eyes, and a high, thin voice. Ser Amory looked behind him and noticed Arya looking up at him.
"What are you doing here?" Amory gruffly demanded, grabbing Arya's arm and yanking her up.
Arya knew she was exposed and was in a very precarious position. She had to think of a way to get out real fast, and make her excuse a rather convincing one.
"I got lost, ser. I'm sorry. I'll leave at once," she lied.
Ser Amory didn't look convinced. "That'll be up to Lord Tywin to decide what to do with you, boy."
Arya hated being mistaken for a boy every time. Because she was disheveled and unclean, because she wore trousers instead of dresses, Arya was easily mistaken as a boy wherever she went despite her repeated, annoyed insistence that she was in fact a girl. She thought about putting up a fight against Ser Amory's tight grip, but knew that would only get her in trouble as she heard a low, cool voice break the silence.
"What is all this?"
On que, Tywin Lannister himself arrived at the Tower of the Hand and overheard the commotion. Arya looked up at Tywin, feeling an intimidating presence about him. She heard about this man by reputation and what she was told by her mother, Sansa and Daveth. Before she could say anything, Ser Amory threw her to the ground.
"Kneel before Lord Tywin, boy!" he shouted at Arya.
"This one's a girl, you idiot. The Queen's sister," Tywin rebuffed him before turning to look at Arya. "You're not carrying yourself as a lady. Instead, you're dressed as a boy. Care to explain why?"
Arya took a moment to dust herself off and regain her composure.
"Safer to travel, my lord," she answered honestly, "thought it would be useful in case I need to blend in with the crowd."
"Smart. More than I can say for this lot. While you're here, I could use a cupbearer. Come. It's time for a little meeting with the King's new Master of Laws."
Arya shook off Ser Amory's hold on her arm, yet reluctantly followed Tywin to one of Littlefinger's brothels. She didn't want to go to such a disgusting, vile place, but felt her stomach twist in knots and her throat muscles tighten.
'Seven hells, how did I get myself in this mess…?' she complained.
Ignoring the whores along with the sounds and smell of sex surrounding her, Arya kept her head down and glued her eyes to the floor—especially near Tywin's feet. Once they entered into a room, Arya took a brief glance up to see Oberyn Martell on a bed whilst looking over a small book. It was her first time meeting the Red Viper of Dorne. Oberyn yawned as he set the book down, apparently tired from his duties as much as he was his round of lovemaking with Ellaria Sand. He heard footsteps approach and saw both Tywin and Arya enter the room.
"Prince Oberyn," Tywin acknowledged.
"Lord Tywin."
Ellaria looked at the two, but noticed Arya. "A bit young for this, aren't you?"
Arya looked away, feeling a small blush form on her cheeks.
"Don't mind her," said Tywin. "The girl is Queen Sansa's sister. She'll be temporarily acting as cupbearer and page if she proves herself."
'Thanks for the vote of confidence,' Arya mocked internally.
"I see," Oberyn noticed. "Your sister spoke often about you, girl. How… a wild she-wolf you are. I don't believe you have met Ellaria, haven't you?"
Arya shook her head. "No, my lord. I haven't met a Sand before," she said before quickly shutting her mouth as soon as she realized what she just said.
Ellaria looked offended.
"I – forgive me, I apologize for being so rude, Lady Ellaria. I have a bastard brother back in the North. Jon Snow. I… I didn't mean to offend you."
Ellaria's face softened as she felt Arya's apology was warm and sincere.
"You didn't know, child. It's all right," Ellaria replied. "We are everywhere in Dorne. I have 10,000 brothers and sisters."
Oberyn took a moment to explain. "Bastards are born of passion, aren't they? We don't despise them in Dorne."
"That's… that sounds nice."
"People everywhere have their differences. In some places, the highborn frown upon those of low birth. In other places, the rape and murder of women and children is considered… distasteful. We don't hurt little girls in Dorne."
Arya blinked. She was certain there was a story behind Oberyn's words, but Tywin brushed them off.
"Give us the room, girl," Tywin ordered.
Ellaria took that as her que to leave. "Call my name if you need me, lover," she said.
Arya didn't say anything and walked out of the room with Ellaria in tow; the two of them sharing exchanges once they were out of earshot. Now alone, Tywin and Oberyn stood face-to-face.
"Would you like to sit?" Oberyn offered.
Tywin shook his head. "No, thank you."
"Some wine?"
"No, thank you."
Oberyn stood and stretched his muscles before the Dornish Master of Laws put on his robe and filled his cup.
"Your grandson's been very busy as of late, hasn't he?"
"You've been paying attention, I see."
"With a reputation like 'the Oathkeeper', how could I not? How could Dorne not be interested? We heard such fascinating stories. A boy, born into a powerful royal bloodline, managed to accumulate so much power and influence and gets results so very quickly in such a short span of time long before ascending the Iron Throne. But when we heard of… very, very bad men… who'd taken the same boy captive and tortured him so badly, he'd later develop a taste—a burning desire—for vengeance against the people who wronged him; the same ones who are terrorizing those along the western coast as they are now. I don't believe that a child is responsible for the sins of his father… or his grandfather. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about."
Tywin looked unfazed. "And what would that be?"
"Are you interrogating me, Lord Tywin?" Oberyn feigned insult.
"Your hatred for my family is rather well-known. I understand you spoke with Tyrion in this very brothel on the day that you arrived."
"We did. I was hoping the King would join us, but I heard you talked him out of it."
"What did you discuss?" pressed Tywin.
"You think we conspired together?" Oberyn's charming façade quickly faded away. "Fine. We discussed the death of my sister, Elia Martell. And her children."
It didn't take long before Tywin connected the dots. "For which you blame me."
"She was raped and murdered by the Mountain, Ser Gregor Clegane. The Mountain follows your orders. Of course I blame you. Yet I heard he's been on the run from the law these past two years. Not as much fun when the world aims to take his head, and no allies to call upon for help."
"And yet I heard about this… 'deal', my grandson made with you. Care to elaborate?"
Oberyn walked towards Tywin, staring him right in the eyes. "What does it matter to you? If I tell you, you'll simply deny it and ignore Dorne's call for justice."
"Try me."
"Our demands have been ignored for almost 20 years now. Dorne has neither forgotten nor forgiven the Mountain's crimes. It wasn't until last year when the Oathkeeper himself extended an offer: your grandson offers the hand of his sister Princess Myrcella to my nephew Prince Trystane and delivers us the justice we've been denied for so long in exchange for Dorne returning to the fold."
'Clever boy. We'll be having a rather long conversation once this rebellion is over,' Tywin thought.
"I might be hot-headed," Oberyn continued, "but I am not unreasonable."
"Men at war commit all kinds of crimes without their superiors' knowledge."
The Red Viper frowned. "Why am I not surprised? Deny it as always."
"Categorically speaking, Prince Oberyn."
"I am the Master of Laws, Lord Tywin, appointed to the Small Council by the King himself. No one is above the law, not even you. I would like to speak with the Mountain once he's been found."
"And he might enjoy speaking with you, provided that he is caught," Tywin countered.
"He might not enjoy it as much as he thinks he would."
Feeling the politically strategic advantage swaying in his favor, Tywin stepped forward towards Oberyn who had already begun eating a grape.
"I could arrange for this meeting."
"Oh?" Oberyn raised an eyebrow skeptically. "And why would you… unless you must want something in return. Not quite as tempting, if you ask me."
Tywin decided to present his offer. "You mentioned the deal my grandson made to Dorne. Perhaps he knows there is a silver lining so many in this city fail to see."
"So now you finally understand why he approached us?"
"We are not the Seven Kingdoms until Dorne returns to the fold, yes," Tywin concurred. "The Greyjoys are in open rebellion, a wildling army marches on the Wall, and in the east, a Targaryen girl has three dragons. Before long, she will turn her eyes to Westeros. Only the Dornish managed to resist Aegon Targaryen and his dragons."
Oberyn felt his lips curl into a mocking grin. "So you admit you do need us? That must have been hard for you say, Lord Tywin. Shame your grandson realized that before you did."
"Then I'll make it simple for you," Tywin extended a hand. "We need each other. You help us permanently put down Balon Greyjoy's second rebellion along with those who shared in his crimes, and in return we will help you serve justice to Elia's as Daveth promised."
Oberyn studied Tywin's words slowly, knowing this wasn't the initial promise that was made. The offer was still the same, however, justice for Elia Martell's murder. To him, it didn't matter so long as the bargain was kept. Oberyn slowly reached forth his hand and gripped Tywin's in his.
"You better keep your end of the bargain, Lord Tywin," Oberyn warned. "Otherwise, Dorne will not return to the Seven Kingdoms ever again."
'We will see,' Tywin calculated.
The Old Lion of Casterly Rock never failed to take advantage of a family tragedy; it's just that his methods were much colder in comparison to Daveth's – even though the pace and results were nearly similar. But only time will tell.
######
Outside…
Arya Stark and Ellaria Sand stood outside Littlefinger's brothel, holding a rather surprisingly pleasant conversation.
"Seven hells, are you serious?" laughed Arya.
Ellaria Sand smiled at the girl's cheerful nature. It was the complete opposite of what she had just witnessed inside the complex moments earlier.
"Right into the Water Gardens," Ellaria explained. "Two of my daughters were swimming with Princess Myrcella, trading jokes in the sun. Well, by 'swimming', I meant playfully pushing each other in one-by-one."
"Sounds like Myrcella is happy in Dorne."
"Believe me. She is."
"Daveth'll be happy to hear about it. He misses her."
Ellaria's smile dipped. "And she misses him. She's been writing letters almost every week, yearning to see her brother. But when Myrcella heard of Renly's and Balon's rebellion, the letters stopped coming."
"It's never been easy," Arya shook her head. "Can't even imagine how she's feeling right now."
"She's worried."
"Worried? About who?"
"Her brother, of course."
Arya pondered in thought. "I'm certain my sister can make an arraignment for Dorne once all this mess rolls over. Sansa can vouch for the King, I'm sure of it."
Ellaria shook her head a bit. "I don't think that's a wise move, girl. Relations between Dorne and the crown are… tense, as of late."
"What happened between the Lannisters and Martells?"
"The Lannisters sacked the city when it became clear the rebels would win in the end," the Sand bastard explained. "My lover's sister and her children were put to the sword by Lannister butchers. Oberyn and Doran never forgave the Lannisters for their crimes nor have they forgotten them."
"So they want revenge?"
"They do."
"Well, why doesn't Daveth just give it to them already?" Arya asked.
Ellaria pondered. "Easier said than done, though Dorne would have gotten justice a lot sooner if the rest of the world had simply taken a moment to simply look to the Rhoynish culture as an example. That I think is the only way how we can truly adapt. Sadly, the rest of the world doesn't see it that way."
"So if we change things here like the warrior-queen Nymeria of Ny Sar, you think things will be better for all?"
"It's possible. But it would take more than just talking to get it done."
Both Ellaria and Arya stopped as soon as they overheard that Tywin Lannister and Oberyn Martell ceased talking. They could tell one of them would come out at any moment.
"Look, Lady Ellaria," Arya whispered. "I probably don't have a lot of time, and I hate to ask you this, but could you deliver this to Sansa for me?"
She reached into her pockets and pulled out the roll of paper she read earlier before being caught by Ser Amory Loch. Ellaria examined the parchment.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Something that should make my sister feel more at ease," Arya explained. "She's been worrying about our brother Robb and her husband Daveth."
Ellaria looked at the girl closely, before rolling the paper in her dress – away from public view.
"You want this to be delivered to your sister's handmaiden… Shae, wasn't it?"
Arya nodded. "Yes. She'll know what it means. But please, hurry. I don't want to see you get in trouble."
Ellaria patted Arya's head. "Stubborn little thing, but you've got a good heart, girl. Try not to lose yourself to the Lannisters."
"I won't," Arya proclaimed.
Ellaria nodded and began walking towards the Red Keep. Arya looked on, feeling guilty for having to ask a stranger for a favor – but she felt a weight lift off her shoulders before Tywin inevitably returned.
"Girl," he called out to her.
Arya scrambled to her feet. "Yes, my lord?"
"Come with me to my chambers. There is something we must discuss before tonight's Small Council meeting."
Arya gulped; wondering what Tywin could possibly mean by that. But she maintained a strong persona.
"As you will, my lord."
######
Beyond the Wall…
The Free Folk army led by the King-Beyond-the-Wall, Mance Rayder, including Jon Snow, Tormund Giantsbane, the warg Orell and Ygritte, arrived at the Fist of the First Men. Upon walking up the snowy slopes, the 100,000 Free Folk forces stopped in their tracks to take a moment to survey the aftermath of the bloody carcasses scattered all over the places. Several horse corpses were sprayed across the Fist of the First Men in different spiral-like patterns. As a raging blizzard battered them, Mance dropped down to one knee to examine the severed horse heads.
"Always the artists," Mance examined.
Jon Snow looked at the King-Beyond-the-Wall. He was certain Mance was referred to the White Walkers, the same creatures he encountered at Craster's Keep a long time ago. The severed corpses of all of the Watch's horses have been carefully arranged into a large-scale, ceremonial spiral pattern. However, there is no sign of any human corpses.
"It's only horses," Jon suggested. "I don't see any men here."
"You said there were dead crows," Ygritte implored.
"There was," Orell insisted.
Mance looked to Jon. "How many men were here?"
Jon looked at the number of parts lying around. "If I were to guess, I'd say somewhere around 300. Those who were lucky enough to be further away should've been lucky enough to escape before the slaughter," he estimated.
"And you know what those men are now?"
Jon slowly nodded.
"We're all the same to them, meat for their army. Even if you believe some of lucky crows did manage to get away, it wouldn't be impossible. You don't go far betting against Mormont. But dead or alive, he took a big gamble coming north and he lost. His best fighting men are dead. And whether he's Lord Commander of the Night's Watch or a blue-eyed corpse, he's a long way from home."
Mance turned to look at Tormund.
"Tormund. Take Orell and 20 good men," he ordered before pointing to Jon. "And take this one with you. He knows Castle Black's defenses better than any of us. And if he's useful, good. If not, throw him off the Wall. See if crows can fly."
Jon's eyes widened as Tormund grinned in delight. Ygritte, meanwhile, looked rather worried. She had grown to like Jon Snow throughout their time together with the rest of the Free Folk – even though she and Jon were originally on opposing sides.
"We're finally going to war, old friend?" Tormund asked.
Mance nodded. "Hide near Castle Black. When I give the signal, hit them in the night. They've got a big old wall to hide behind, but it only guards one side."
Tormund laughed as the two friends embraced.
"We'll meet again," he said.
"Aye," the King-Beyond-the-Wall agreed. "If you do your job."
Tormund jokingly groaned as Orell stepped forward.
"How will we see your signal?" he asked.
"Send your eagle above the Wall every night," Mance answered as he turned back to join the rest of the Free Folk army. "When it's time, I'm going to light the biggest fire the North has ever seen."
Jon Snow looked on as Mance Rayder walked away before turning away. He knew deep down that if he didn't rendezvous with the other Night's Watchmen, the ancient order would be in terrible trouble – a war in which they are outnumbered 10-to-1. As soon as he saw a moment to warn the others, Jon would take it. For now… he'll have to keep up the façade of his defection until the time is right.
######
Author's Note: Here's another cameo including Arya Stark, Tywin Lannister and Jon Snow. I'm trying to include more due to popular demand; one that'll include characters we haven't seen in a while so try and bear with me for a moment. Thoughts? Let me know.
Patty 4577: Interesting chapter. Though I do admit I kind of wanted to see a bit more interaction between Oberyn and the Starks. Any just a thought on a plot point you can use. Have the Ironborn run into Jon and Tormund.
―I'll see what I can do.
12345678910: Amazing work love it hope you update again soon
―Thanks.
RHatch89: Awesome update:)
―Thanks.
BioHazard82: Another good chapter.
―Thanks.
The Three Stoogies: a good chapter like always keep up the great work.
―Thanks.
mpowers045: So when we get to the mutiny at Craster's Keep, can Joffrey be dead?
―Next cameo chapter will include the mutiny at Craster's Keep.
Magi Tail Welkin: You know, in my personal headcanon I've always thought Tywin sent out a general order for the death of Prince Rhaeger's children and the Mountain just happened to be first man to enter. But that's only what I think.
I really liked the moments were Tywin and Arya conversed, they seemed to bond somewhat, like a trusted master and apprentice. Is Arya going to go through some type of swordsmanship training?
I'm being honest, I never really liked Jon Snow's subplot. The threat of the White Walkers is compelling, but Jon's character never really caught on with me. I like Samwell more, but still the Night Watch parts left me bored, and no pun intended cold. Hopefully Joffrey might spice things up, as much as I hate the character, he's fun to watch from afar.
―Arya's still keeping in shape, still practicing her Water Dance fighting style taught to her by Syrio Forel.