Welcome to the Island!

Chapter 2: Burying the Past

A few minutes later….

Unknown location between King's Landing and Meereen

Arya woke to the sound of washing waves that were dumping her on a beach or that was what her ears and hands full of wet sand were telling her.

Her eyes confirmed this scenario when she cracked them open.

She spluttered out a few croaky coughs before crawling away from the lapping waves. After a few metres of progress, she collapsed onto the white sandy beach, resting her cheek fully on the warm sand feeling utterly exhausted.

Wait … poker … Myrcella .. plane .. crashing .. blackness, Arya's mind shot out in rapid succession.

She turned her sand-covered face to see debris from the plane. She could make out seats.

Survivors! her brain screamed.

Arya half crawled and half walked to the structure she saw, mentally checking every limb with each wobbly step.

Apart from feeling a bit banged up and exhausted the only thing bothering her was a bleeding cut from her head which was running down the side of her head now that she was out of the water.

It hurt. A lot.

She trudged on to peek through the gaping hole in the metal structure.

There were about a dozen first-class seats in this broken-off part of the plane and Arya even spied some of the gummy bears that she had been holding onto when the plane had gone down scattered on the floor.

This was where she had been sitting when the plane had gone down, she realised. She cautiously entered the wreckage. What she saw made her back out immediately and vomit.

There were at least seven bodies still fastened in their seats with head trauma that Arya wished she had never seen.

After a few dry heaving moments, Arya forced herself to look in again.

She didn't see anyone she recognized. That was something a least. She backed out of the wreckage and surveyed the beach. The sandy front was backing onto a thick jungle area. With the sun going down the heavy vegetation and occasional noises coming from the dark greenery weren't inviting. A black rock structure dominated the rest of her vision and loomed over the jungle as it rose towards the sky.

Arya was at a loss. She couldn't see any other wreckage from the plane anywhere on the beach and although it wasn't cold now, she knew night-time would be chilly.

She hopped back into the partially torn part of the plane. She ignored the dead bodies mostly by staring at the ceiling and found a row of seats that had remained untouched by blood or gore and sat down.

She touched the cut on her head and her fingers came away with half-dried flecks of blood.

Good, she thought. The bleeding had stopped.

In the next moment, she heard a noise coming from behind her.

Arya jerked upright and her heart rate spiked as she worked up the courage to look behind the seat to identify what the noise was.

She saw a tall man taking the overhead luggage out and rummaging through each bag, paying no attention to the bodies scattered around him.

But it wasn't just any man. It was Myrcella's grandfather. He'd lost his jacket; the sleeves of his white shirt were torn down to his elbows and one corner of his navy waistcoat was much darker than the rest. Arya identified the red tinge in the fabric a second later when she saw his blood-stained hands.

Arya quickly snapped her head back. He looked like he had just murdered someone.

The Lannister patriarch was muttering, "Come on, come on," as he frantically searched a bag before throwing it down in anger.

He rushed to another row and searched their lost baggage and repeated his ritual but this time he found something, a small green box with a white cross on it if she saw it right.

Tywin quickly turned and did a running jump out of the wreckage onto the sandy ground. Arya's curiosity got the better of her and she followed in his footsteps.

His strides were much longer than hers but he didn't look back so Arya had no problem keeping him in vision. After a minute of chase, Tywin stopped by an unmoving body.

When Arya got closer, she saw who it was.

Myrcella.

She was laying down on the sand with Tywin's missing jacket draped over her front. Tywin crouched beside her, unzipped the green bag and removed his jacket from Myrcella. Arya saw the missing material of Tywin's shirt sleeves acting like a bandage around her midriff which was completely crimson. Myrcella started to whimper as Tywin applied pressure to her wound.

"Myrcella?" Arya couldn't help but mutter as she stepped closer to the bloody scene.

"You," Tywin growled as he saw her, "Come here!"

Arya did as instructed but too slowly for Tywin as he dragged her down by her wrist before forcefully positioning her hands over Myrcella's wound, where his had been.

"Keep pressure here," Tywin bellowed, unravelling a bandage from the first aid box.

Arya did so trying to concentrate on her given task and not the whimpering of her friend. There was so much blood and she could feel the warmth coat her hands.

"Move," Tywin barked a few seconds later.

Arya complied instantly as he moved Myrcella's soaked jumper up her midriff to start wrapping the bandage around the wound. Myrcella screamed at the motion and contact of the bandage tightening on her punctured stomach.

"Gran .. Grandpa ... it hurts," she stuttered out in a faint voice.

Tywin started to mutter frantically as his fingers worked the wrappings, "You're going to be fine Myrcella. Just keeping fighting. Don't give up."

Myrcella managed a slight nod of her head. Arya went to her side and clasped her hand in lieu of not knowing what else to do. Her friend looked terrified. Myrcella's face was so pale. Tears stained her cheeks and her eyes were drifting of her grandfather's face to the dreamy blue sky above.

"You will get through this, you are a Lannister, you can do this," Tywin willed but Arya could hear the desperation in his voice as he tied off the bandage.

Arya kept clutching Myrcella's hand but the fingers curled around her own went limp and those deep green eyes lost their gleam.

"Myrcella?" Arya said barely above a whisper.

Tywin noticed what Arya had and shook Myrcella's shoulder, "No … No!"

He pushed Arya back with enough force that she landed on her back in the sand staring up at the dimming sun. When she managed to sit back up she saw Tywin cradling Myrcella in his arms, holding her tight against his chest and mumbling indistinguishable words into his granddaughter's neck.

The blond girl was unmoving and unresponsive. She was gone. Arya knew this but she didn't understand it.

She put her head in between her knees and started to silently cry. Arya didn't want to see the blood of her friend anymore or be on this beach. She wanted her father. She wanted to be back at Winterfell, chasing Bran and Rickon around, annoying Sansa until their mother would break them apart. She wanted Jon to come pick her up like he used to do at school or for Robb to wake her up and tell her it had all been a dream.

She wanted her family.

But no matter how hard she imagined her childhood home the gentle slapping of waves on sand, the calling of distant birds, and the warmth of the fading sun brought her back to reality.

Her family wasn't here.

Tywin's shout of anguish tore through her. It was filled with such anger and rage, it burned the very air that carried it. The sound shocked her into opening her eyes and uncurling. The Lannister patriarch was knee-deep in the water, and Myrcella was still in his arms. He cursed the Gods, and flung out all manner of words that Arya didn't understand into the ocean until he collapsed into a sitting position.

Arya watched helplessly as Tywin's shoulders started to shudder. She didn't know what to do so she waited, sitting on the sand and staring into the small puddle of blood that was being absorbed slowly by the sand in front of her. Arya looked at her sticky red hands. This was Myrcella's blood. The blood of a girl she had been laughing with only half an hour earlier. The blood of her friend.

Death this close up was paralysing. Arya was strong, she knew this but she was only a child. She started to cry and this time she couldn't contain her grief in silence. It was her snivelling that brought Tywin out of his trance.

He didn't turn around nor did he loosen his hold on Myrcella for a second.

"Girl, go back to the plane. Stay there until I return."

Arya obeyed wordlessly, wanting to be anywhere but where she was. She ran to the wreckage, wiping away tears and snot as she went. She rushed past the bodies, thankful that her tears made it difficult to see, and flung herself onto two seats before curling into a ball.

Her mind whirled with thoughts of her father. Where is he? Is he okay? Would he have made it to the Island? Or drowned in the sea like the bodies on the beach? Am I just waiting for him to wash up on the shore or is he out there in the jungle?

Sleep took her as her mind succumbed to exhaustion.

A few hours later just before sunset ...

Beach, Unknown Island between King's Landing and Meereen

Tywin rubbed his hands together to get rid of the clumped sand that stuck to his fingers. Sweat lined his spine and his muscles ached for sleep. He gave the last light of the day a tired shake of his head before he stepped back into the wrecked metal hull that was left of first class. He was greeted by empty eyes that saw no more. As he slowly shuffled down the aisles, he even recognised a few. His bodyguard, Barristan Selmy was still seated but the cracked window and the dried blood on the side of his head and shoulder gave away his end. Further down the cabin, Tywin stepped over the body of Pyrcelle that was laid across the aisle. Cersei had insisted their family doctor accompany them and Tywin hadn't had the energy to argue with his daughter or find out why.

His daughter had wanted a holiday in Essos and he'd seen the opportunity to disguise an important business trip. He shook his head; the Iron Bank meeting should be the last thing on his mind now. He'd not be making it.

His eyes kept searching for the little Stark girl until he found her sound asleep, her face and front pressed against the seats at the very back of the wreck as if turning her back to the carnage would make it disappear.

A tired groan escaped his lips. He wished the same as the little Stark and making things disappear was a talent of his that had served him well over the decades. Whistleblowers, corporate competitors, old war pals that knew too much and disappointing children had all been problems he'd solve with a tap on his phone and the appropriate amount of money being deposited into untraceable Iron Bank accounts.

But the situation he found himself in now couldn't be solved by blackmail, bribery or a bullet.

Tywin rummaged through a fallen piece of luggage to pull out a puffer jacket and gently placed it over Arya. He'd need her help tomorrow and the only thing worse in the current circumstances than a young child was a sick one.

He sank into the seat opposite Arya and he mustn't have been as stealthy as he envisaged because the warm air filled with a question he didn't want to answer.

"What did you do with Myrcella?"

Arya's words brought back fresh images he'd hoped he could lock away forever. Tywin spied Arya's form but there was no attempt to face him and that suited him just fine. He never wanted to look into a terrified young girls eyes ever again.

"I buried her."

"Where?"

"Further along the beach."

"How did you bury her?"

"With my hands."

Arya paused at this but her fear drove her forward, "What are we going to do?"

Tywin brushed a hand over his mouth and looked out the window to the now almost pitch blackness, "We are going to survive. Now try to get some rest. Tomorrow you'll need your strength."

Arya didn't reply but she felt comforted by the fact she wasn't alone.

Next morning ….

Plane Wreckage, Beach, Unknown Island between King's Landing and Meereen

Arya woke to the sound of waves crashing in the distance and the faint cries of tropical birds. She shook her head awake and raised a hand to rub the sleep from her eyes. She looked around.

Still in a broken-up plane. Still stranded. Wasn't a dream then, she mentally noted as her body stiffened.

She was alone.

Where is Mr Lannister? She asked internally as she stared at the seat, he had been in.

Arya pushed the large coat off her body and surveyed the aisle, all she saw were bodies that had clothing covering their faces.

Mr Lannister must have done that. Where is he? She repeated to herself.

Arya ran out of the plane and jumped down onto the beach. The first thing she noticed was the new bodies scattered along the beach amongst more debris from the plane. There was sodden luggage, wooden crates and even a golf club bag stranded among the bodies of the passengers unlucky enough to have been torn from their seats while in the air.

Arya quickly spotted Tywin in the distance but choose to investigate the dozen or so newcomers instead of going to him. She did so quickly only spending enough time to confirm her father wasn't among them. With a deep sigh of relief, she continued onto where Tywin was.

She passed a large bump in the sand. She knew who was beneath it but she wasn't ready to face that just yet. Arya felt the tears at the corner of her eyes as her mind flashed back to the events of the previous day but she fought them back. She put one foot in front of the other, following Tywin's footprints in the sand.

He was standing in a hole about two metres in diameter and his hip height in depth. He had a scrap piece of metal in his hands and was shovelling sand out of the hole with methodical precision.

Arya approached cautiously, "Mr Lannister?"

"Go back to the plane," he admonished, not even slowing down.

Arya remained still, watching as he shovelled sand from the hole.

"I said go," Tywin hissed in a tone that threaten to grow into a shout.

"What are you doing?"

Tywin threw the metal down in exasperation and turned to face his only companion, "I'm clearly digging a hole."

The biting words floated in the air between them and Tywin saw Arya's understanding of the implication of his actions hit her. Her lip wobbled and she looked to the ground. For the first time since the plane had gone down Tywin had to remind himself that the little girl in front of him was just that – a little girl.

He wiped his sweaty hands on his dirtied tailored suit trousers and looked to the sky. He'd never been very good with children. It had been easier with his grandchildren but still, they were normally just an inconvenience.

"For the other passengers?"

The question knocked him out of his trail of thought and he picked up the scrap metal again, "Yes. Now go back to the plane and stay there."

"I don't want to be alone. I want to help," the words had jumped from her mouth as if they had come from her heart, not her head. "More bodies have washed up … we're going to need a really big hole."

Tywin stopped his shovelling and looked at the little girl. Her offer of help had been genuine and her logic sound but no eleven-year-old should dig a grave and be so blasé about dumping bodies. Then again, no eleven-year-old should experience a plane crash and be stranded on a remote island.

"Fine," Tywin relented against his better judgement, "Help me dig."

Arya jumped down into the hole and copied Tywin's movements with her bare hands until Tywin thrust the metal scrap into her hands and he started to dig with his own.

After an hour of total silence between the two Tywin announced they had finished the hole. Not hole, a mass grave Arya corrected in her head.

Tywin jumped out of the hole and when Arya struggled to do the same, he offered her a hand. She tried once more to climb out the hole that was deeper than she was tall and only upon defeat did she accept Tywin's hand. He dragged her out effortlessly but noted the trademark Stark stubbornness.

"You thirsty? Hungry?"

Arya nodded, "Also hot and sticky … and my head hurts."

"Why didn't you say that earlier?" Tywin scowled, kneeling and inspecting the cut on Arya's forehead.

When Tywin brushed away some of Arya's hair to get a better look, she couldn't help flinch in pain at his touch and jump backwards, "Bastard!"

Tywin rose an eyebrow while straightening up, "Who taught you that word?"

"My brother Jon," Arya responded willing away the tears forming in her eyes at the stinging pain on her forehead.

Tywin turned and started to walk towards the sea, "Follow."

"Why?" Arya asked but trotted to his side.

"We need to clean your wound and," Tywin looked at his hands then hers, "all the blood."

She followed wordlessly as they walked into the sea fully clothed. She welcomed the cool sensation of the water flowing all around her. It was calming in the same way the sun was antagonising. She copied his movements and washed her hands in the sea, watching as the crimson clouds floated away.

"Come here," Tywin beckoned. He saw the hesitation. "The cut on your head I need to clean it or it could get infected."

And I would rather not have to bury two little girls. The image of Myrcella's still form sent minor tremors around his body.

Arya wearily wadded through the metre of water between them. It swished around her waist. Tywin saw how her petit frame struggled against the water. She was small for her age, much slighter than Myrcella had been.

If she is going to survive, she will need to overcome more than just high water, he huffed in his head as Arya came into arms reach.

Tywin pulled out a silk handkerchief from his trouser pocket and dunked it in the water that was knee-high for him. Arya closed her eyes in anticipation of the pain to come.

Tywin noticed the action, "I'm not even cleaning the wound yet."

"I know. I just don't want to know when you're about to do it as that makes it so much worst, you know?"

Tywin shook his head at the confusing sentence and brushed the wet handkerchief over the open cut.

"Ouch," Arya growled but kept as still as possible not daring to open her eyes lest a tear slip out.

"It doesn't look too deep," Tywin repeated his motions gently turning her head one way then the other, "but you'll need a plaster or bandage. There might be one in the plane. Come on."

A few minutes later Arya was holding up a blue plaster to Tywin in the aisle of the plane wreck. He stared down at her in genuine confusion.

Arya shuffled nervously in the aisle, "Can you put this on me … please?"

"You can't do it yourself?"

"Do you see a mirror anywhere?" Arya shot back.

"Fine," Tywin grumbled taking the plaster from her and peeling off the paper bits.

"Hold your hair back," Tywin demanded.

When Arya had complied, he carefully placed the plaster on the cut and smoothed it down with a firm thumb above her eyebrow.

"Thanks," Arya whispered so inaudibly Tywin had to strain his ears to hear it.

"There is a pile of water bottles in one of the seats, go grab one and start searching all the bags for food, blankets and anything that might be useful to us. Change into dry clothes as well."

"What are you going to do?" Arya called after him as he exited the wreck.

"Fill the hole," came his response.

Both knew he didn't mean with sand.

Author's Notes

Shared trauma is bonding, right? Sorry, that was a rough one! But now Arya and Tywin's duo adventure really begins!

RIP

Myrcella Baratheon (Died from injuries sustained in the crash)

I had to build her up in the first chapter as I knew I would be killing her in the second. I do feel bad as Tywin lost a granddaughter and Arya a friend in them most tragic of ways. Her death will not be forgotten by either and the culprit will be found out ... eventually.

Reviews:

RedAlpha22 - Thanks, more to come :)

Supremus85 - I promise to be giving hints here and there as I do want it to be a bit of a murder mystery.

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