At the Tower of the Hand…
Two months had passed since King Daveth departed King's Landing with his army to put down the Second Greyjoy Rebellion. Since then, murmurs of well-wishes and concerns for the Young Stag have floated among the smallfolk – considering what had happened in the past at Lannisport all those years ago. But within the chambers of the Tower of the Hand, the gathered lords of the Small Council had assembled, to discuss today's affairs. Their recent guest was Queen Sansa; despite being advised to rest for a moment, the Wolf Queen had to know of Daveth's condition. She kept one hand around her pregnant belly, which had grown in size and was making her feel occasional discomfort. Even so, Sansa remained steadfast in her determination. Sitting alongside her (also making her very uncomfortable) was her own mother-in-law, Cersei Lannister, who was adamant that she be included as well.
At the head of the table sat her husband's grandfather and Hand of the King, Lord Tywin Lannister. "We only have the morning for affairs of state. What news do we have?" he coldly asked.
"King Daveth and Robb Stark had struck a decisive blow against Balon Greyjoy and lifted the ironborn's occupation of Deepwood Motte and Moat Cailin," Varys informed him. "As it stands, they've bested the Iron Fleet at the Sunset Sea despite some setbacks and now plan to take the war to the Iron Islands itself."
"What of my husband and brother?" Sansa glanced at him, her eyes tight and worried and her voice sounded almost pleadingly. "Are they…?"
Varys nodded. "Fine. They're both just fine, Your Grace, I assure you. My little birds have whispered to me that the King got right back on his feet despite suffering serious wounds."
Concern dawned on Sansa's face; her brow furrowed and felt her stomach twist in knots as she listened to the eunuch Master of Whisperers reports. Even though she was relieved that Daveth was all right, Sansa still didn't want to imagine her husband being hurt or anything; he had already earned a vertical scar along his eye during the Battle of Blackwater Bay.
"Rather impressive, I must say," Oberyn chimed in. "Not a bad feat for someone as young as he is."
"Even so, he's only one man," Pycelle pointed out.
Cersei, meanwhile, sat coolly. "He's becoming more like his father. Daveth should've known better than that to simply march off on his own."
"Still, I believe the results speak for themselves. Your son does seem the sort of person to always get the job done no matter the obstacles placed in front of him. I think that says something about his character."
"All the more reason for our enemies to keep thinking that way," Tyrion observed. "Trust me on that one, sister. I've seen how Daveth fights and how he carries out a plan. The more our enemies keep underestimating him, the more battles he'll keep on winning. He has a good mind for strategy and tactics, his men worship him… And the more results he gets done at a fast pace, many more houses will flock to his banner."
"Shouldn't h-he try not to push himself too hard?" Pycelle inquired. "The King's been… driven by his desire for vengeance these past 11 years. With h-his state of mind, I do believe it is imperative that—"
"Everyone's determined by something," Tyrion rebuffed, "I know my nephew better than most. He'll pull through."
"I hope you're right, Lord Tyrion," Sansa acknowledged.
Tywin placed his fist under his chin. "Hmm. What else do we have?"
Varys turned to the King's Hand. "More whispers from the east, my lord."
"The Targaryen girl?"
Sansa raised an eyebrow. 'Daenerys? The Mad King's daughter?' she thought rather puzzled. The Wolf Queen knew the last survivor of House Targaryen was across the Narrow Sea in Essos. Her sister, Arya, had walked into the room carrying goblets of wine – giving each of the lords a cup of their own.
"Daenerys has taken up residence in Meereen as a guest under the city's queen, Saqnizza Dhardu, in recognition for her contribution in helping to overthrow the slave masters," the eunuch continued.
"Overthrow them with what?" asked Cersei skeptically.
"She commands an army of Unsullied, Your Grace, some 8,000 strong. She has a company of sellswords, the Second Sons. She is currently advised by one of the exiles, Jon Connington. And she has three dragons."
'Dragons?' thought Arya, half anxious and half curious.
Cersei remained unconvinced. "Baby dragons, you mean."
Varys shook his head. "No juveniles, I'm afraid. They grow larger with every passing year."
"What of Connington?" Pycelle asked. "We thought he wasted away in disgrace in Lys."
"It would seem the rumors were greatly exaggerating. The disgraced Lord of Griffon's Roost has been living out his days as a sellsword in the Golden Company, but has since come out of hiding to declare for Daenerys Targaryen in her quest to return to Westeros. My birds suggest Connington has since grown from a brash, arrogant hot-head seeking glory into an older, harder and capable military commander."
"And the exile will have made Connington more seasoned and dangerous than ever," Tywin calculated.
Sansa glanced at Tywin. "Who is this Jon Connington, my lord? I've never heard of him."
"Armond Connington's only surviving son and Lord of Griffon's Roost before Aerys named him Hand after dismissing my successor Lord Owen Merryweather," the Old Lion explained. "When Robert Baratheon rebelled against the Iron Throne, Aerys hoped to find someone young and vigorous to match Robert in battle. But Connington at the time was too young, too bold and too eager for glory which ended in a humiliating defeat at the Battle of the Bells. Aerys exiled Connington to Essos for his failure and stripped him of his lands, wealth and titles."
"House Connington was one of House Baratheon's vassals, weren't they? Why would they rebel against their liege lord?"
Tyrion chimed in. "Not every house sided with Robert, I'm afraid. Even some of his own lords sided with the Mad King that day. Although the Conningtons were permitted to keep Griffon's Roost, I'm afraid that Robert distributed nine-tenths of their land among their neighbors in the Stormlands who actually supported him. The Connington's status thus fell from a full noble house to that of landed knights."
Before Sansa could ask any more questions, Cersei cut her daughter-in-law off. "What does it matter? Jon Connington's an old man."
"Dismiss him like that and you're most likely to be taken by surprise," Tywin rebuffed his daughter. "In tactical terms it would be stupid."
"Don't tell me you're worried about a child halfway across the world, father."
Varys chimed in. "A child with a seasoned warrior counseling her and a powerful army at her back, Your Grace," he reminded her.
"Lord Varys is right," Oberyn agreed. "I have been to Essos during my travels in my youth and seen the Unsullied firsthand when I was a sellsword for the Second Sons. They are very impressive on the battlefield…" he turned to Cersei and Sansa, "but less so in the bedroom."
Cersei remained indifferent as Sansa cringed; her shoulders shuddered with a chill as she felt her stomach's contents rise to her throat before being forced down. Cersei looked at her pregnant daughter-in-law, her eyes cold and full of scorn.
"Dragons haven't won a war in 300 years. Armies win them all the time," Tywin dismissed them. "She must be dealt with."
Pycelle looked uncertain. "How, my lord? By force?"
"Eventually, if it comes to that. Varys, can your little birds find their way into Meereen?"
Varys nodded. "Most certainly, my Lord Hand," he said calmly.
Tywin seemed to accept that answer. "Then that will be all for today's agenda. The rest of you, return to your chambers. Grand Maester, escort the Queen to her chambers."
All in attendance and prepped to leave; Sansa slowly stood up, her hand still on her swollen belly and left the room with Grand Maester Pycelle in tow. Tyrion and Cersei also left, but before Arya could leave Tywin stopped her.
"Not you, girl."
Arya stopped in her tracks and turned to face Tywin. "Yes, my lord?"
Tywin stood from his seat, observing the Stark girl glancing back and forth between him and a rolled up piece of paper they both noticed earlier this morning.
"Your maester taught you the basic understanding of literature and how to read?" he asked.
Arya shook her head. "Some, yes, but it was my father who taught me. More than most southern houses," she answered, thinking quickly on her feet; barely a stutter on that one.
That seemed to peak Tywin's curiosity. "Hmm. Never took Eddard Stark as a man to do that," he leaned in closely. "I taught my son Jaime to read. Maester Crelyen came to me one day, told me he wasn't learning. He couldn't make sense of the letters. He reversed them in his head. Crelyen said he'd heard tell of this affliction and that we simply must accept it."
"What did you do?" she asked.
"Hmph," Tywin reminisced that he had that same maester dismissed from his service at Casterly Rock and requested another from the Citadel under the pretense of a grievous insult to his household. "Moments after he told me that, I sat Jaime down for four hours every day… until he learned," he said smugly; proudly. "He hated me for it, for a time. For a long time. But he learned."
"Was Daveth ever like that once?"
Tywin shook his head, amused at the question. "No. My grandson learned to read before he learned how to hold a sword. As King Robert's son and heir, it was customary to groom him to succeed Robert; to educate him on what it means to rule if he were to ever become King and offer guidance whenever necessary. You saw how that turned out so far."
'Still reserving judgment on that; so long as he treats my sister well, then I suppose I'll give him a chance,' Arya thought to herself.
"What killed your father?" Tywin asked abruptly.
Arya winced at the question, remembering full well how her father Lord Eddard Stark lost his life two years ago while she and her sister were placed within Maegor's Holdfast during the Battle of Blackwater Bay. Fading away for a moment again, her words came at a sincere thing she's really said in a long time.
"Loyalty," she reluctantly confessed, "a rigid sense of loyalty. He threw his life away to protect Daveth's at the Blackwater."
Tywin studied Arya closely. "You're a sharp little thing, aren't you?" he turns away.
"Did—"
The Old Lion pauses, turning his back to her but notices Arya already averting her eyes.
"Forgive me, my lord, I shouldn't have asked that question," she apologized.
"No," Tywin said, "but you've already begun."
Arya looks up, blinking her big brown eyes. "Did you know your father, my lord?"
A surprising question, the Old Lion must admit. He hadn't mentioned his father, Lord Tytos Lannister, in so many years. Long before his reign as Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, Tywin's father Tytos was known throughout the Westerlands as "The Toothless Lion" or "The Laughing Lion" due to being a kind but weak man. He loaned money to lords who never bothered to repay him and his vassals openly ignored his orders, mocking him in open court. It was because of Tytos that House Lannister's reputation and power drastically declined before Tywin made it strong again and perception of weakness that caused their vassals House Reyne of Castamere to rise up in rebellion in the first place. Tywin put down the rebellion personally, extinguishing their house and re-establishing the fearsome reputation of House Lannister.
'He was more kitten than lion,' Tywin remembered. "I did," he admitted. "I grew up with him. Watched him grow old," the Old Lion eased his joints, noticing the irony that he feels old himself. "He loved us. He was a good man, but a weak man. A weak man who nearly destroyed our house and name."
Arya stood and listened as she learned more of the fearsome Lord Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West and Hand of the King to her brother-in-law Daveth Baratheon. Intimidating as he was, Arya could see what made Tywin the kind of man and powerful lord he became known for. Before she could press any further, there was a knock at the door.
*KNOCK!*
*KNOCK!*
Twin turned to see Ser Amory Lorch entering the room, noticing he took only two steps before stopping in his tracks.
"Lord Tywin…" he muttered.
Before the Old Lion demanded why he came in, Amory suddenly fell to the floor with a loud thud. Both Tywin and Arya stood and went over to examine him – noticing a rather small dart sticking out the back of his neck. Arya stepped back in surprise, uncertain as to what had happened to Amory. Tywin, on the other hand, was livid; he knew what the circumstance entailed.
"Guard!" he yelled.
Several Lannister guards ran into the room – gasping in surprise at the sudden assassination occurring inside the Red Keep itself, especially in the Tower of the Hand. A few guards ran out to inform the City Watch and raise the alarm, thereby increasing security. Arya stepped back against the wall before taking a peak out the window, but looked again as she noticed someone unfamiliar to her looking back up at her. The individual wore Lannister armor, but didn't appear to be a man-at-arms in particular. Arya squinted her eyes to get a good look, she was able to determine the man had blue eyes and long brownish-red hair with white streaks interspersed throughout it.
"Girl, what are you doing standing there?" shouted one of the Lannister guards. "Go get Ser Bronn of the Blackwater! Now!"
Arya sprinted out of the Tower of the Hand's main chamber, taking several steps down the stairs and out into the open. Upon catching her breath, Arya looked up to see the same man she saw earlier leaning against the corner of a nearby alleyway looking at her.
"Valar Morghulis (All men must die). A girl has questions," he said simply.
Arya had raised her guard, suspecting the individual as hostile and dangerous; luckily she kept Needle hidden within her sleeves, but couldn't draw it out in public without attracting too much attention to herself. King Daveth might be away, but Queen Sansa would definitely hear of it. No, Arya couldn't bring herself to cause her elder sister any unnecessary distress, not while she's carrying her first child in her womb. No, this was something she'd have to handle herself.
"Who are you?" she finally asks suspiciously.
The unknown man stepped forth from the shadows. "You're called Arya Stark, sister to the Queen? This man has the honor to be Jaqen H'ghar, once of the free city of Lorath," he introduced himself.
'How does he know my name? And why did he come all this way from Essos?' she looked puzzled. "Did you have something to do with that man up there? You're one of them. Why would you kill one of your own?"
"And you carry papers and fetch water for one of them," Jaqen countered. "Why is this right for you and wrong for me?"
Arya shook her head. "I didn't have a choice. You can just—"
"You did have a choice. I did. And here we are." Jaqen walked over to Arya, looking at her right in the eye. "A man has noticed your progress with the Water Dance, yet a man notices a girl says nothing. A girl keeps her mouth closed, keeps secrets. It is not for a man to spoil them."
Now she was getting really confused… and irritable. "Look, these words you say, t-they… you're not making any sense!"
Jaqen held up three fingers. "A man offers three."
"Three what?"
"The Red God takes what is his, lovely girl. And only death may pay for life. See this as an invitation to a greater purpose should a girl choose to feel so inclined."
"So, if I… name anyone, you'll have them killed?" Arya asked seeking clarification.
Jaqen nodded. "A man has said. Speak three names and the man will do the rest. Three lives I will give you – no more, no less, and we're done. The Red God has his due."
Now Arya wasn't exactly religious per se, following the teachings of the Old Gods of the Forest and Faith of the Seven; but if there was one thing she was more than certain of, it was if someone was willing to offer her something, something she wanted, it would be done. But to give Jaqen H'ghar, a total stranger and a foreigner, three names – who would be given the first?
"There's one person that's been giving my sister a lot trouble lately, someone who follows a certain someone's order."
Jaqen scrunched his face. "A man needs a name," he insisted.
'Seven hells,' Arya groaned. "Uhh… ah, Kettleblack. Osney, was his name I think."
"That is enough," he replied rather pleased. "Go now, girl; best not to arouse suspicion when word of a dead man spreads."
Arya looks back at Jaqen and rushes off, leaving him to place on the Lannister helm and blend in with the crowd – masquerading as one of Tywin Lannister's personal guards arriving to keep order as well as to prevent any wandering eyes from peering into the Tower of the Hand any more than it is necessary. Arya knew that if Daveth was still in the capital, he wouldn't be pleased about any of this – nor would her mother or Sansa, but all she did it was for the sake of her family, the only family she has left since her father Eddard Stark passed away.
"In the winter we must protect ourselves, look out for one another," Arya tells herself quietly. "When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives."
######
Author's Note: A rather short cameo, but I believe it was time to introduce a certain character you guys are rather familiar with. Despite the scenario being a bit different, what do you think Jaqen H'ghar's intentions are for being in King's Landing and why is he targeting Arya Stark of all people? Answer's probably a bit obvious, but still… Thoughts? Let me know.
Loki-says-smile: I just read this whole thing in like a day! awesome awesome story!
―Thanks.
Alistair Lannister: Oh, So Jaqen makes an appearance. Didn't think he would but very believable that he helps Arya though. If I were Arya, I'd target Cersei, Tywin and Littlefinger. That's just me but I have a feeling Arya's not going to think that. Well, she already named one of the Kettleback Brothers, so that's two left. Still think she should go for Cersei. Makes the story unpredictable. But it's your story, I still enjoy it. Quick question though. Where are the Knights of the Vale? Are they making their way to the Iron Islands yet?
―It takes quite some time for the knights of the Vale to travel from point A to point B by ship 'cause they'll need them to aid in the invasion of the Iron Islands. No doubt Littlefinger's "convinced" some merchant vessels to carry them over down the Narrow Sea and up the Sunset Sea. Don't worry, they're on their way.
DaddyChad: I believe the way he spoke was normal for someone from Lorath(the person he impersonated at the time was from Lorath)
―I was hoping to get that part right.
Magi Tail Welkin: If Sansa has a moment of confide with Arya about the treatment she's been getting from Cersei, then how long would it be before a Man get the name of the Queen?
―Arya could name Cersei, but that would certainly cause trouble with Daveth, Jaime, Tywin and possibly Tyrion as well. She'll either want to do it herself or wait until the right time.
The Three Stoogies: a great chapter like always keep up the good work
―Thanks.
BioHazard82: Another good chapter.
―Thanks.
Patty 4577: Always good to see Arya and Tywin talking. Oh and a Man has finally made an appearance.
―Figured it was time Jaqen H'ghar of the Faceless Men would show up.
RHatch89: Awesome update :)
―Thanks.
mpowers045: To be honest, hearing the way Jaqher talked like that has been annoying to me since then
―Must be a Faceless Man thing. Never understood why any of them spoke like that.
ZabuzasGirl: Wonderful!
Update immediately, please!
―Thanks. Will do.