Chapter 16
"Nysa," Harrion sighed in relief at seeing her. "I was not sure if they'd allow you to come back down here," he said before his expression darkened. "What is that on your face? Did he hurt you? I'll make him pay, I swear it!"
She shook her head and brushed her hair from her face. It had grown out some but not a lot. Her hair fell to her shoulders now and there wasn't much she could do with it, especially since they were still considered to be prisoners. Harrion saw the distressed look on her face and motioned for her to step forward. She did so, leaning up to place her face by the opening on the top of the door. He smiled and she returned it before she looked down and started to cry.
"What happened after you left," Harrion asked, praying that the Mountain had not touched her.
"He took me to Lord Tywin like he said he would," she looked up and wiped her face before smiling gently at him. "I wasn't harmed."
"That discoloration on your cheek tells me otherwise," Harrion scoffed.
"He slapped me but nothing else," she tried her best to put on a brave face.
Harrion knew the look well. She was not telling the truth, he knew that much. He was certain that the young woman had not been raped but he also knew that she was probably hit or punched on some other part of her body, someplace that could stay hidden. She had rubbed her arm when walking in and winced when she tried to lean towards the opening. It wasn't much but it was enough to inform him that the Mountain had probably hit her a few times before taking her to Lord Tywin. He couldn't imagine the fear going through her mind at the time. The Mountain could have raped her first but instead he settled for beating her.
He didn't like this. He wanted to be outside, protecting her. All his brother could talk about for the past two years had been this young woman in front of him. She had been a part of Harrion's young manhood as well. She had been there to help bring his sister into the world, assist his mother, encourage his youngest brother and many more. And yet, he hung his head, he couldn't protect her if the Mountain decided to take her.
"None of that," she whispered.
Harrion looked up and noticed that just like how he could read her expressions, she could read his. She had watched them train in the yard for days on end whenever she visited Karhold. Of course, she would pick up on it.
He smiled back and nodded.
"You have the same look as your father whenever he can't get Alys to stop crying," she smiled as did he.
"She wanted to come you know," he shook his head, "can you imagine my sister in a war camp?"
"With three older brothers like you, Edd and Torr," Nysa replied, "I can."
They both shared a laugh and Harrion told himself, once he exited, he'd kill the Mountain for laying a hand on her - for Nysa was like his sister also.
"What did Lord Tywin say," he asked once they both stopped.
"He's allowing me to tend to all of you. I just need to see to the Lannister soldiers first before I can look at anyone else."
"Lord Tywin is allowing it," he narrowed his eyes.
Nysa looked away. "He isn't pleased that Lord Hornwood passed. There is talk about an exchange of prisoners. Lord Hornwood was among those who were listed, along with you and Ser Wylis."
"So, he wants you to keep us comfortable and alive or else Robb won't agree to any exchange," Harrion mulled over in his head.
"I'm working on getting some of you out of here and perhaps in better living conditions," she stated, "I can't tend to anyone in a cell."
"You are unharmed, though," Harrion reached again for her cheek and she smiled lightly before nodding.
A twinkle appeared in her eyes. "You forget that I've trained with House Mormont, House Glover and House Karstark to withstand any small bruise."
Harrion's laughter echoed in the cells. He shook his head at her playfulness and smiled, the first real smile since he had been taken prisoner.
They continued on in conversation until Nysa became aware that she needed to go through the rest of the prisoners. She had possibly only seen half of them the day before last. The further she got to the other cells - with her large pouch of bandages, herbs and remedies - did she realize that there were more than just Northern bannermen here in Harrenhal.
She knelt in front of one cell that held soldiers she did not recognize. After watching them for a while in silence, one of them turned to look at her and sneered.
"Come to entertain us, Lannister whore," he smirked, baring his teeth as the other men began to rouse.
"I'm not a whore," she said in a determined tone.
"You want to be one," a second one leered, causing her to jump back.
The men in the cell, including those nearby began to laugh at her also. She stood up, grabbing her brother's dagger. They continued to laugh harder until she reached in, grabbed one of them by the collar and held the knife to the back of his head. The man tried to reach back, but the bars were helping to keep him away. Even the others in the cell could not reach Nysa.
"I'm only going to say this one more time, I am not a whore," she shouted, causing the men to nod and agree with her. She released the man and scurried back to spit on the ground. "I came here to tend to the wounded but since you insulted me to my face," she turned but one of them called out to her.
"Please," he begged before pointing in another direction, "we fight for House Frey."
"House Frey," Nysa narrowed her eyes at him.
"Yes," he nodded, "I believe one of our Lords is near death."
Nysa turned to face the direction to which the prisoner was gesturing to see that this Lord was also placed in a dark cell. She walked slowly over to see that there were five cells with doors on them. Releasing a deep sigh, she continued.
One of the prisoners jumped out towards the front, causing Nysa to shriek. "Forgive me, my Lord. I am only here to tend to the wounded. I..."
"Lady Nysa?"
She stepped further towards the door and shook her head.
"Ser Danwell Frey," Nysa let out a laugh. "What are you doing here?"
"I was captured, obviously," he smiled at her. "What about you?"
"The same," she shrugged, "only that I'm allowed to walk about the grounds."
"And what is the price for such freedom?"
"I have to tend to the wounded Lannister soldiers," she rolled her eyes, causing him to laugh harder.
"Who is there?"
She turned to the other door to see another Frey she had met during the tourney at King's Landing. "Ser Hosteen," she smiled and walked towards his door. "Are you well?"
"Well as can be," his large form strode towards the opening in the door.
"I was told that one of you is ill."
"Here," another man said. Nysa walked over to see Ser Jared in the cell. "My brother," he motioned to the last cell beside him. "He's dying."
"Dying," Nysa questioned before turning to the door.
She looked at the lock, examining it before leaning up to look through the opening. On the ground, curled in a fetal position was the dying Frey. Nysa knew she had to get inside. She dropped her bag of supplies before running outside to find Ser Lucion. He gave her the keys, instead of following her - which was a huge surprise. She didn't dare question it as she ran back to the cells. She hurried and began to unlock another door to which Ser Jared stepped out.
"My brother..."
"I'll need help," she said before hurrying to his brother's cell.
She flung the door open and knelt in front of the man. He groaned as she began to examine his body with her hands.
"Forgive me. What is your name, Ser?"
"Stevron," he coughed weakly before gasping for air.
"It's going to be alright," Ser Jared took his brother's hands in his.
"I..."
Nysa stopped him. "Don't speak, I need you to save your strength." She looked up at Ser Jared. "Why was he even fighting in the first place," she questioned.
"Pride to serve our King," he replied looking down at his brother, "and our future Queen."
"Future Queen," Nysa asked.
"Yes," Ser Jared answered, "King Robb is to wed one of our sisters."
Nysa stared at the Frey knight in front of her in shock. Did she hear correctly? Robb was betrothed to a Frey? She couldn't think about anything else. Suddenly the words that he told her held no meaning, they were fruitless. All that hope she had was gone. Then again, she knew that they could never be. And she was going to be with Torrhen. She'd explain her predicament to Lord Karstark when they would meet again. And she wrote to Robb. Surely, he wouldn't deny his father's wishes to have her betrothed to Torrhen Karstark. But Robb was betrothed? Was that the reason why he had not been writing to her?
"My lady?"
She shook her head and turned back to see Ser Stevron gasping for air. They both made decisions, she was going to be with Torrhen and he could wed his Lady Frey. It was just the way things were meant to be. She shook her head again and tried to focus.
"Where is the wound?"
Ser Jared helped to move his brother into another position so that Nysa could tend to the wound. She ran her hand lightly over the soiled bandage before removing it slowly. He groaned and hissed and every inch of bandage that was peeled away.
"He hasn't been properly tended to," Nysa commented.
"He said that it was nothing serious," Ser Jared countered.
"I find it hard to believe that Robb would allow elderly men to fight for him," she shook her head.
Ser Jared turned to look at her. "If I remember correctly you are a member of the Stark household. You shouldn't speak that way of your Lord and King," he advised her as Nysa did her best not to snort. "And besides, we are not only fighting for his Grace."
Of course, Nysa thought with a sense of bitterness. Whoever this Frey girl was, she was also a Lady, a high-born. Robb would never wait for her, couldn't even tell his father, she thought before shaking her head. No, she had Torrhen now. There was no need to dwell on the past.
"Why give birth to hope when there is none?"
"Because I have a feeling that there could be," Robb had replied.
Oh, she was such a fool!
"His body is badly bruised," Ser Jared described, pulling her from her thoughts.
Her eyes looked down at the wound and she shuddered. She had seen this type of infection before. Ser Stevron had the same sort of illness as Lady Sarra Umber. It was a disease that took over the body. The blood, the body, the bruising, she thought as she examined him again. Nysa had to do the same thing she had done with Lady Sarra. She shook her head and went to stand up.
His brother turned to watch her. "What is it?"
"It is more than just the wound," Nysa answered. "He has a sickness," she walked out of the cell, "I've seen it before."
"If you've seen it before, then you can treat it," he stood up and followed her.
"No, I can't!"
"You can't or you won't," he questioned.
"You don't understand," she shook her head. "I don't even remember what I did or how..."
"But you can at least try, can't you," he looked desperate and Nysa tried not to glance at Ser Stevron or his brother. "Please, my lady," he said softly.
Nysa thought about it and offered up a silent prayer to the Gods - the old and the new - though she was sure that at the moment they were too far to hear. She wasn't near a Sept or in any godswood.
This knight was fighting for Robb, fighting for Sansa, fighting for Lord Stark, she reminded herself. He was also a member of House Frey, sworn to House Tully - Lady Stark's home. She loved the Starks - all of them.
She had promised she'd never use the same method of healing. It had frightened her. It was dangerous.
Nysa raised her hands slowly and shook her head, looking back up at Lord Stark. "I don't know why I did it, Lord Stark," her eyes watered. "I'm scared! I don't want to die!"
"Who said anything about dying," he questioned.
"I'm a witch! I performed a curse. I'm a cursed child! How else..."
Lady Catelyn pulled her closer, sheltering Nysa from the others who were looking their way. "You are not a witch, you hear?"
Lord Stark nodded and moved her face to look up at him. "To heal the sick and dying is not a curse," he added. "What you did was a skill that few possess, not even the greatest of Maesters could do that. You are not a witch, Nysa." He paused before leaning closer. "We'll talk more on what happened later, when we go back to Winterfell."
She nodded before he took a step back and decided to make an announcement - the announcement that everyone else would hear.
"You have saved the Lady Umber from death," Lord Stark noted loudly.
She merely nodded her head - knowing that what had happened in Lady Sarra's room would stay quiet for now - while the others in the courtyard began to cheer.
She sighed, knowing that saving a life was more important than keeping this curse a secret. Nysa looked towards Ser Jared. "There's a torch at the front door," she told him, "I need you to get it for me."
"What do you need a torch for?"
"To save your brother," she looked at Ser Stevron and walked slowly back inside.
She moved Ser Stevron's body to lay flat. She removed his soiled tunic and began to do the same with his breeches when Ser Jared returned. "What are you doing?"
"I need his body free so that the fire can do its work," she explained.
"Fire," he questioned in an angry tone.
"Do you want me to save your brother or not," her head snapped towards him. "Now set the torch down right here," she pointed to his feet. Nysa took a deep breath and tried to push all her emotions to the surface. She remembered being very angry and saddened when the Maester said Lady Sarra was dead.
"She's not dead," Nysa shouted at Maester Horman.
"Nysa," Lady Stark urged her away from the body, "why don't you go and see Arra?"
"I will tell her that her mother lives! I will tell her," Nysa screamed as Lady Stark pulled her hands away from Nysa as though she were burned. Nysa flew forward onto Lady Umber's body as the room grew dark.
Nysa's eyes opened and her hands moved slowly out to hover above Ser Stevron's body. Ser Jared wasn't the only shocked by what he was seeing. The young Lady had somehow taken the flame from the torch and was now part of her hands. The emotions of Lord Stark's death and her failure at keeping Sansa safe overwhelmed Nysa, causing the flames to turn blue as they had done with Lady Umber. She sighed as she felt the heat take over and pushed it over Ser Stevron's body.
Ser Hosteen, Ser Danwell and their brother Ronel could see the bright blue glow from the opening in their doors. It glowed bright as their cells began to shake. Nysa's mouth opened to release a screech, loud and long. Ser Jared began to panic. He wanted to hit the young woman over the head. But the subtle rise of his brother's body made him realize that she was indeed healing him. Finally, the flames withdrew from Ser Stevron and disappeared in the air, causing Nysa to slump over slightly.
Ser Jared reached out to touch her but she held up her hand. "I need to cool down," she whispered as he nodded and turned his attention to his brother.
"He is still wounded."
"But is he infected," she asked, causing Ser Jared to tilt his head and examine him closer.
"No," he shook his head and smiled.
"Jared," Stevron's eyes fluttered open.
Ser Jared smiled down at his brother. "We still need to bandage your wound but," he paused and chuckled, "my brother you are well again."
Nysa went to stand up and it was then that Ser Jared reached for her. He looked down at his hand and so did Nysa - but he didn't remove it. "Do not ask my what happened," she said as her chest began to heave in fear. What would the Frey knight do to her now, especially since she had freed him from his cell? "As I said, I've only done it once before to save someone's life. I don't know why I am able to do it or how it occurs. All I know is that it helped the Lady to get well again. She bore her husband two more children for a total of five and is still alive to this day."
"Thank you," was his simple reply before turning to exit and walking towards his cell.
"You're not going to..."
"To what," he looked back at her over his shoulder, "run away, kill you? Perhaps inform the guards that you did me and my House a service by keeping my brother alive," he smiled before walking into his confinement.
"Are you injured," she questioned.
"It's just a scratch from a blade," he looked at his arm.
Nysa shook her head and began to undo the dressings on his arm. She explained that it was best to put clean bandages and rub some clean water and fresh herbs on the wound to fight off infection. Ser Jared admitted that it did feel less painful and itchy now that she had tended to it. She had stepped back from him and nodded her head that she would check on him and the others tomorrow. It was best that way.
"I will make sure that my father hears of what you've done. Believe me, the entire House Frey will be glad to know that you helped save their future Lord."
He pulled the door closed and motioned for her to lock it up.
She did as was told before heading back towards Ser Stevron's cell to see him sitting up, staring in wonderment at his hand.
"Is something wrong, Ser?"
He looked up at her and shook his head. "I feel better, much better," he added before chuckling. "I can't even feel the pain."
"A side effect of the healing," she waved it off before gesturing for him to redress himself.
"Ah, forgive me," he said as he began to put on his clothes.
"If you wish, I may inquire about getting you new garments," she said as she looked away from him.
"There is no need," he said before clearing his throat to indicate that he was finished.
Nysa turned back and went to help him apply a few herbs to his back before wrapping a bandage around it. She explained that the herbs would help to heal the body quicker and ease the pain. He may not have felt anything now but he might later tonight. Hence the reason why she had placed the herbs there. He thanked her and as she walked out, locking the cell behind her, she heard several men from House Frey thanking her.
Jory nodded before wiping his mouth from where the blood trickled. It wasn't much but it was enough. The boy was improving, he admitted that much, especially now that he had a hammer in his other hand.
"You'll do good," Wyl chuckled at seeing Jory's disheveled state.
Gendry smiled lightly before looking down and nodding, moving his hands, "feels awkward."
"To hold a hammer, boy," snorted Desmond. "Nonsense! You're a smith, you know how to use one."
"You know how to use it well," Jory added before gesturing for Gendry's hammer. "There is an advantage to making a sword. You know it's make, its edges." He smiled. "You also know that it was a hammer that helped to forge it. Therefore, you use the hammer to break it," he handed it back to Gendry. "There is no need to feel awkward about fighting with a hammer. This will protect you better than the sword."
Gendry took it back. Alyn was the next to step in front of Gendry as they began to spar.
Jory stepped back and watched from the side until he saw his sister walking towards them with a concerned look on her face. He had not seen her in days. Though Arya had appeared a couple times where they were, his sister had yet to make her presence. Wyl had told him that she was tending to the Lannister men, the same way they had her tending to Ser Stafford. They all knew that she wasn't keen on saving the lives of men who were fighting against House Stark. But she had to do what she had to do in order to survive - without becoming someone's bed warmer.
He had gone to the kitchens and learned from a young woman there named Jayne that they all shared a room with a large bed, so Jory knew that she was not sleeping in a room that belonged to a Lannister. Despite knowing that she was safe and that Arya was not being harmed, he couldn't help but feel relieved at seeing her. The relief quickly vanished when he studied her face. He narrowed his eyes before hurrying forward. She had a bruise on her cheek. He almost didn't want to know where it had come from.
"Do not fret," she smiled reassuringly as he got closer. "It was just a misunderstanding."
"I do not care, was this the Lannister knight?"
Jory began to look her over but she pulled back and shook her head. "I am alright," she repeated before licking her lips and looking down.
"Are you really?"
She shook her head.
"This isn't about the bruise, is it?"
"No."
"Then what happened, Nysa?"
"Robb is to wed a Frey," she replied as some of the Alyn stopped his sparring. Wyl and Desmond turned to look at her as well. "A couple days ago, when we first arrived, and Hot Pie had informed me that there were Northern men in the cells," she said as they came to stand before her. "Lord Hornwood passed away, I wasn't able to help him in time. The Mountain found me and took me back to Lord Tywin."
"Why didn't you come and find me sooner," Jory questioned as the other men cursed and vowed revenge.
"There never seemed to be the time."
"Who else is prisoner here?"
"Harrion Karstark," she began to name, "Ser Donnel Locke, Lord Cerwyn, Lord Glover," she said, "there are men from their Houses, guards from House Manderly and Hornwood and," she sighed and shook her head, "there are those of House Frey in there as well who have pledged their fealty to Robb. They are saying he is the King of the Trident."
"King of the Trident," they all questioned with confusion.
"Members of House Frey are saying that Robb is to wed their sister and make her the Queen."
"A move done to get House Frey as an ally, no doubt," Alyn commented.
"That's probably how he could move South so quickly and without detection from the Lannisters," Desmond added. "He had to pass through the Twins."
Both Wyl and Jory saw the despondent look on Nysa's face and Jory excused himself along with his sister.
"It's not like I was hoping for him," she said once they were a distance away.
"You did care for him," Jory nodded. "There's no sense in downgrading your affection."
"I'm not like the Lady Frey. I had nothing to offer," she stopped and turned to look at her brother. "No guards, no army, no name," she started to laugh as the tears came down. "It doesn't matter, right? I mean, you and Lord Stark gave permission for me to wed Torrhen Karstark," she tried to smile, "and I'm sure Robb would honor his father's wishes in allowing me to have Greenhall. I did write to Robb and tell him that, so..."
"Oh, Nysa," Jory sighed and pulled his sister into his arms.
"I love Torrhen," she whimpered in her brother's embrace.
"I know you do."
"Torrhen and I will wed," she cried, squeezing her brother's body closer.
"You will," he kissed her forehead. "But that doesn't erase the fact that you had cared about young Robb Stark also." He pushed his sister back and smiled gently at her. "I know it must hurt to hear news that he is to wed someone else."
"So soon," she whispered, "so soon, after he asked me to stay back in Winterfell with him?"
"It's been almost a year now, Nysa."
"He never wrote to me! Was he so ashamed of me that..."
"Stop it, Nysa," he scolded her gently. "You admitted it yourself that you and Robb could never be. I had warned you not to hope for anything. You decided while we were back in King's Landing that you would accept Lord Stark's offer of Greenhall and wed Torrhen. I approve of Torrhen and so did Lord Stark. Your Lord Uncle may put up a fuss about it but let me ask you something, Nysa," he gestured for them to move somewhere else. "Who asked for your hand? Who rode towards Winterfell because he was determined that you wouldn't leave the North until he told you that he is in love with you. There was only one man who did that."
"There is," she nodded sadly.
"You made your decision. You chose Torrhen. You cannot fault Robb for choosing another."
Arya went over to the table, desperately thinking about how she was to get out of this.
"I traveled here from Renly Baratheon's camp," Littlefinger stated.
"Ah, the late King Renly," Lord Tywin replied, "rather short reign, murdered by a woman."
Arya poured the cup and placed it a distance away where he would not have to look at her. She took the other cup, to fearful and nervous about being seen. Shakily she poured a cup for Lord Tywin and once again tried to concentrate on what she was hearing but it was being increasingly difficult. She went back to clean the table, every now and then looking up at Lord Baelish to hear his story.
"After the Lannisters and the Starks, the Tyrells command the largest host. Their lands are most fertile in the Seven Kingdoms, breeding horses and soldiers," he began.
"Yes, yes," Lord Tywin agreed as though he had heard the story many times over.
"The Tyrells have not yet declared for any of the surviving Kings."
Arya finally realized what Baelish was attempting to do. He was trying to sway Lord Tywin towards entering an alliance with the Tyrells. She had to bite back a curse at realizing how conniving Littlefinger could be. She wished Nysa was here, they'd poison his wine or something malicious like that.
"Loras wants revenge. He blames Stannis for Renly's death. And Margery," he began.
"Wants to be Queen," Tywin finished for him.
"Yes, she does."
"House Tyrell rebelled against the Iron Throne, against my grandson."
"They did," he acknowledged as Arya turned her back to him and continued to clean the table. "Perhaps that treason should be punished, one day. After Stannis and Robb Stark are defeated."
She paused in her working until Lord Tywin barked at her. "More wine for Lord Baelish."
Arya hurried to grab the pitcher.
"If you would allow me to represent your family's interests, I believe that an advantageous and..."
"The Tyrell host has returned to High Garden," Lord Tywin commented.
Of course, the slimy Littlefinger would be arranging alliances such as these. Now he wanted to lure House Tyrell into a trap the same way he did with her father. She thought about Renly's death and wondered if it was not Baelish's doing. This man betrayed her father, he betrayed people. He had a way with words that seemed to convince the naive. Arya didn't want to think that her father was naive but she hated that her father had trusted him so completely only for him to...
"They have," he said as Arya accidentally spilled onto his hand.
She gasped and continued to act the part. "Pardon, my Lord," she said, wiping the spill.
Littlefinger chuckled. "It's only wine," he replied. She hesitantly looked at him and saw him tilt his head at her. Gods, how could she be so stupid? He might have recognized her!
"You would ride there yourself?"
"Tonight," he answered Lord Tywin, "with your leave."
"I'll announce it at nightfall," Lord Tywin replied. "That will be all, girl."
She moved to put the pitcher back - all the while feeling eyes on the back of her. She had set the trays and other items down when she heard her mother's name. Arya had just reached the door when she heard that Lord Tyrion had wanted to make an agreement about her and Sansa. She furrowed her brows before hurrying out the door.
Nysa was the first person she spotted, speaking with Jory. She hurried towards them, almost crashing into Nysa's form. Jory reached out to steady them both.
"What's going on, Arya," Nysa questioned.
"Baelish is here, meeting with Lord Tywin," she answered.
In a flash, Jory had to tackle his sister. She had reached for his dagger, drawing it out and holding it as if she were going to murder someone. He scrambled to get a good hold on her as she demanded that he let her go.
"He betrayed Lord Stark," Nysa hit her brother, "we cannot let him go! We can't!"
"We can and we will," Jory scolded his sister. "Did you not hear Arya? He is meeting with Lord Tywin! You go in there now, it will be your head on a spike, not Baelish's."
"There's a lot of us and only one of him!"
That may have been true, Jory thought. But they were nothing but guards and the two hundred she spoke of were in locked in cells. Surely, they would come to her aid if she killed Baelish but Lord Tywin would have the final say. Jory doubted that they'd allow Nysa to roam freely after that. Arya looked up around and nudged Jory lightly to show that others were starting to look at them. Jory nodded his head towards the crowd as he allowed a now quieter Nysa to stand up.
"What happens to be the trouble here," Ser Lucion appeared, grabbing Nysa's arm and pulling her towards him.
"It is nothing, Ser," Nysa answered as he placed a hand under her chin and lifted her face to examine it.
"Who did this?"
She shook her head.
"Who did this," he asked again with his eyes training hard on Jory.
"It was the Mountain," Arya answered as Ser Lucion turned to her. "Lord Tywin already reprimanded him."
"The Mountain," he repeated before looking down at Nysa, "why didn't you say anything?" Nysa only shook her head. "Come to my room tonight," he released her chin slowly and walked away.
"If he..."
"He hasn't," Nysa assured her brother who was glaring daggers at the knight's back.
Jory sighed heavily before gesturing for the two girls to follow him. Wyl and Cayn gestured for them to enter a small enclosed area where Gendry did his work. Hot Pie and Lommy were also there. Jory and the others did not mind their presence when they began to discuss what Lord Baelish was doing in Harrenhal.
"He is to seek an alliance between House Tyrell and the Lannisters," Arya answered.
"How," Wyl furrowed his brows, "by having Tyrion Lannister wed Margery Tyrell?"
Arya shrugged but then thought about what she heard. "No, Baelish said something about Margery wanting to become Queen."
"Sansa will become Queen," Jory responded, "she is the one who is betrothed to Joffrey."
"Unless that's why Baelish came here," Arya began, "he manipulated my father into thinking that he could be trusted. He is probably playing both sides."
"But what would he have to gain from the Tyrell and Lannister alliance," asked Nysa.
"Whatever he wants," Jory supplied before shaking his head, "House Tyrell is a wealthy House. Not to mention, word is that King Renly had one hundred thousand men marching with him. With Renly dead, they will have to fight for someone and if Baelish could convince them to fight for the Lannisters, then Lord Tywin would pay him handsomely."
"He also said that he met with my mother," Arya swallowed a breath before looking back at the keep.
"About what," half of them asked.
"About some sort of agreement regarding me and Sansa."
"You and Sansa," Jory repeated, "but they don't have you, unless someone has said something," he glanced at Nysa.
"Ser Lucion would not say anything and neither would Ser Daven, not when I saved his father's life."
"Unless they're lying," Gendry added as every head turned to him, "the Lannisters, that is."
"Aye, they could be," Hot Pie agreed as he tore off a piece of bread and stuffed it into his mouth. "They wants you to think she's there," he spoke with his mouth full.
Jory snorted and shook his head. "I wouldn't put it past them to do that. And the fact that he," gesturing towards Hot Pie, "figured it out makes me feel like we've been losing our edge."
"Oi, I know a thing or two," Hot Pie argued as Nysa and Arya laughed lightly, "well I's do."
"So, Littlefinger lied to your mother also about you being in King's Landing," Wyl turned to Arya.
"Unless they know that Arya is here and is waiting for the right time," Jory concluded.
Arya shook her head. "Lord Tywin believes that my mother was a handmaiden to Lady Dustin," she said.
"Is that how you explained that you know how to read," Nysa asked her with a sly smile.
"Our father is ambitious and taught me to read and hoped that you would wed a knight and somehow elevate our status," Arya teased.
"That would explain why she is with the Lannister knight," Alyn muttered as Gendry, Wyl and Desmond bit back their laughter at her expense.
"There it is," Jory pointed to his sister. "Ser Lucion wants to see you tonight."
"Only to ask about my well-being," she responded.
"Well I want you to ask him about what he knows regarding Lord Tywin's battle strategy. What are they planning? Where are their military forces?"
"Robb has the Kingslayer," Arya supplied, "if you all didn't know by now. Every time that Robb marches to meet a Lannister army, he wins," she smiled. "I remember Lord Tywin mentioning that the day that we arrived."
"That's right," Nysa smiled also. "Lord Tywin said the Starks know Winter better than anyone else and with Winter fast approaching..."
"Robb will have the upper hand," Arya finished.
"Especially if he holds Lord Tywin's son," Alyn commented.
"They'd give Robb anything to get him back," replied Arya.
"Even you and Sansa," Gendry nodded to her.
"That could be it. Either way, find out more when you serve Lord Tywin his dinner and wine," Jory instructed Arya. He then turned to his sister, "And you need to speak more with Ser Lucion about what he knows."
"What are you wearing," Ser Lucion asked her.
Nysa looked down, embarrassment flooding her face. "The kitchen maids," she shook her head, "some of them heard that I was to visit you and thought that I'd look nice this evening."
She was wearing a dress and though the pale green didn't truly suit her, it was wonderful to see her in a dress again. The kitchen maids had arranged her short hair two small braids in them so they pulled back from her face. Not to mention the dress was tight on her form - accentuating certain womanly curves that barely showed themselves when she dressed in a tunic and breeches.
Ser Lucion reached out and lifted her face to look at him. "You know that is not why I summoned you here tonight," he said gently as she nodded and walked further into the room. He sighed and closed the door behind her before gesturing towards the table where he had a small tray of food and wine prepared for them. After sitting for a moment and drinking half his cup and eating some cheese he turned back to Nysa, his expression serious. "You must tell me if the Mountain strikes you again - or any man for that matter."
"I will," she added as he nodded.
"Good," he replied before leaning back in his chair. "Now I have some sad news for you." Her head snapped up as her hands dropped the piece of pork she was chewing on. Ser Lucion licked his lips in caution before turning away from her. "Word is that the Ironborn have taken Winterfell."
"No," she gasped.
"They started at Torrhen Square and are marching on to Deepwood Motte. Either that or they may take it by sea," he suggested.
"They'd have to get pass Bear Island and the Mormonts would not let them," she snarled.
Ser Lucion turned to her and put his cup down. "They say that the young Wolf allowed one of his bannerman to return with some men to dispatch of them and free the other Northern Houses."
"Who did he send?"
"I'm not sure. Our spies haven't said as much though," he poured himself more wine and lifted it to his mouth. "Also, a raven came today that Lord Stark's son has deserted the Wall."
"Jon," Nysa whispered and turned to a window, "what is he thinking?"
"As you know, Lord Tywin isn't concerning himself with a bastard from the North," Nysa turned back to him with anger blazing in her eyes, "forgive me, I did not mean to insult you or House Stark. All I'm suggesting is that a person deserting from his post is of little importance right now, other than this," he pulled a small parchment from inside his tunic and handed it to Nysa.
She took it greedily and opened it. "Stannis Baratheon is sailing to King's Landing," she shook her head and looked up at him before it dawned on her. "That means that Tywin is going to head to the Capital."
"At the same time, Robb Stark marches on Casterly Rock," Ser Lucion explained.
"He can't defend his home and the throne at the same time," she finished.
"Lord Tywin will meet tomorrow with the rest of the Lords to decide what is best. I wanted to know what you'd wish to do," he asked as she gave him a confused expression. "Are you going to come with me to secure your protection or do you want to stay here?"
Nysa looked down, uncertain as to what to do.
"I promised you that the others wouldn't see battle. If you want to stay with them than I understand. You don't need to make your decision tonight," he assured her, "as I said, Lord Tywin hasn't discussed things with the rest of his lords."
"I'm so close to home and yet," she sighed, "my home has been lost, taken away from me."
She shook her head and looked out at the window again.
"I've heard stories of what the Ironborn did during their last rebellion. I was still a little girl, barely six when it happened. Arya was just born," she smiled at the memory, "and then Lord Stark said that he was leaving, my brother was going with him. I cannot imagine what is happening now at Winterfell. What must Theon think? Gods, what must Robb be thinking?"
"That, I cannot tell you," he said quietly.
"I want to go home but what will I be going home to?"
"Riverrun is close to Harrenhal," Ser Lucion told her before finishing his cup. "If you wish to leave, I can take you all there."
"Is Lord Tywin going to take Arya with him?"
"I do not have the answer to that as well. If he is marching on to face the Stark boy, chances are that he won't. He will be ready for battle, not dining comfortably."
"I must see my brother," she went to stand but Ser Lucion stopped her.
"Finish," he instructed, "eat," he gestured to the food. "If you leave early, rumor will spread that I am a bad lover." Nysa released a sharp burst of laughter before covering her mouth causing Ser Lucion to smile at her.
They talked of less touchier subjects - like their favorite things to do during their free time. It was a carefree moment until Ser Lucion brought up his sister's marriage. She hadn't met her husband much and though it was a huge honor to wed into the Lannister family, the Lord didn't particularly enjoy being passed down to Lord Tywin's father's brother's granddaughter.
"Why is there always so much politics involved when wedding two people," asked Nysa as she sipped her wine.
"To strengthen Houses, reputations, wealth, lands," he added with a smile. "I'm sure that is what Lord Stark was hoping to do by introducing you to court at King's Landing." She eyed him heavily. "Or were you there simply to become his daughter's lady-in-waiting?"
"My mother is from the South," she finished as she grabbed a piece of cake - but to her extreme delight it was something else. She looked at him and he shrugged.
"A boy that Ser Amory picked up from the villages made it," he replied as Nysa remembered that it was most likely Hot Pie. "I suppose one could call it a raspberry tart."
"It's heavenly," she said as she finished the tart and licked her fingers.
"Where is your mother from," he asked, picking up their last conversation topic.
It was Nysa's turn to shrug. "No one will tell me. I hardly know why, other than that it would be dangerous for me to know," she answered uncertainly and shook her head. "But I was to come to King's Landing so that my Lord Uncle could approve of me, I suppose. I think he probably wanted to make me his heir to his House."
Ser Lucion nodded and thoughtfully looked away. "There are a lot of Houses that have no heirs or their sons are marching in the war," he thought, "if you are daughter to this Lord's sister, the only living blood that he has, there is a chance that he'd name you his heir."
"Even if I'm a bastard," she turned to him.
He smiled and nodded. "It be possible."
Nysa snorted.
"I'm assuming that there is an unpleasant experience regarding heirs and betrothals."
"What makes you say that," she asked him.
"Just the way you responded," he said.
Nysa sighed and turned to face him. "It is possible to care for two people?" She looked away and back at the table they sat at. "One of them treated me as though I were his equal. He wasn't afraid to be seen with me, holding my hand or dancing with me. He hardly ever brought up the fact that I was a bastard. He asked for my hand," she smiled, "and my brother had agreed only because he knew that this Lord's son truly cared about me and not my status."
"The second," Ser Lucion asked.
"The second one," she shook her head and scoffed. "He's always there, always has been there. I liked that he would ask me to help him with duties around the keep as though," she paused, "as though I were his lady, the lady of the House. I had never felt so content as when I was deciding things about how to manage a household, have the guards respect me. But he never mentioned a word to anyone," Nysa closed her eyes, "not even his father."
"I want to say that you should stick with the first one but it seems as though you have a story there for the second."
"He asked me to stay with him in Winterfell," her eyes caught his and he nodded in acknowledgement. She was speaking of the Stark boy. "I think he's embarrassed that he could desire a bastard girl like me."
"I don't understand why. You are not like most bastards."
"Do you know many bastards, Ser Lucion?"
Her forwardness and sass made him laugh. "I do, actually," he nodded before she turned away in shame. "My father has a bastard sister and there are others in my family who have such children. They live in Casterly Rock or Lannisport or at the Golden Tooth, comfortably of course. In fact, Lord Tywin arranges for marriages between them and other Houses where there are bastards."
"And the people don't object?"
"Why should they," he questioned with a smirk.
"Yes, why should they," she rolled her eyes, "especially when they are getting a Lannister." She shook her head as he chuckled. "I remember Lord Tyrion saying that he wouldn't be surprised if my mother was a Lannister."
"Lord Tyrion?"
"Yes," she nodded. "I met him in Winterfell, when King Robert came to ask Lord Stark to become his Hand." She laughed and reached to take another raspberry tart. "He said that with all the presents I receive on my name-day, he wouldn't be surprised if I came from a wealthy House like House Lannister."
"If that were the case then you can forget about your Northern Lords. I'd wed you myself."
Nysa looked up at him and narrowed her eyes. "We would be kin."
"A lot of Lords or knights wed their cousins or distant relations," he said with a smile. "It keeps the name and the blood alive."
"Lord Tywin would allow that," she asked with a playful tone.
"If you were kin, yes," Lucion smiled back at her before noticing that he had drank a lot of wine and she had eaten a lot of the food on that was on the tray. If he didn't allow her to leave now, he'd end up talking her into his bed. "Thank you for your company, my lady."
She nodded and pushed back from her seat. Nysa took the few steps towards him before leaning down to press her lips against Ser Lucion's cheek. "Thank you," she paused and pulled back, "Lucion."
Nysa smiled once more when he reached up his hand to touch her cheek. He didn't repeat the action of kissing her face but he let his hand drop and allowed her to leave. She had just closed the door and sighed when she noticed a small figure running down the hall. She narrowed her eyes but shook her head at whatever was happening. Nysa had arrived at her room to see Jayne and Catelyn both staring in fear at the door upon her entrance.
"What's going on?"
"Ser Amory came here looking for Arya," Jayne replied.
"Lock the door behind me," Nysa said as she grabbed her bow and ran back outside. That small figure she saw must have been Arya.
Sure enough, she turned the corner as Arya came barreling into her.
"What is it? What have you done?"
"I took a couple ravens about Robb's plans and Tywin's plans but Ser Amory found me. I ran away but..."
"You!"
They both turned to see Ser Amory approaching.
"I have no time to be chasing little girls around. Now tell me, what is it that you took from Lord Tywin's room?"
"Nothing," Arya replied pressing back into Nysa.
Ser Amory reached down and grabbed whatever was being held in Arya's fist. He began to unfurl it and narrowed his eyes at the parchment. "What is this?"
"A letter to our brother about the armor," Arya quickly answered.
"Well, we'll just see about that now, wont' we?" Ser Amory left and began marching down the hall.
Arya turned to Nysa. "Lord Tywin knows I can read. He knows that we're from the North. He'll think something. And the fact that I just lied to Ser Amory..."
"I'll take care of it," Nysa replied and followed Ser Amory.
She hurried towards him only to see him turn down towards the room where Lord Tywin was. Even if she ran there, she wouldn't make it fast enough. And Nysa hadn't truly mapped out the entire castle to know the ins and outs of this place. Lord Tywin would have heard Ser Amory's story before Nysa even had a chance. She looked down and remembered that she had taken Torrhen's bow with her. Her head turned back to see the way back to her and Arya's room. She'd make it back just in time.
With determination, she notched an arrow and aimed it at Ser Amory's head just as he opened the door to speak to Lord Tywin.