King's Landing, CrownLands - The following Night after the Incident with Joffrey
The sun had set above the Crown Lands, the sky now dark and filled with stars. Trystan was in his chambers, busy writing a letter to his mother.
After witnessing how far Joffrey would go, he felt that she needed to know.
He knew that she was not going to come and neither would his father, not without Jaime. Yet, the young Lion found it was time to let them know of a few things that were happening while they were leading the war.
Halfway through his letter, his door was forced open and a very angry Cersei marched into the room. With a heavy sigh, the Lion stood up and walked slowly to meet her halfway; already expecting her.
"You dare side yourself with that monster?" she hissed, the two of them now standing in front of one another. "You are meant to serve Joffrey, your King. Not go behind his back and bring Tyrion to humiliate him" she continued, arching her head up due to their height difference.
Despite her fit, the young knight did not show to be affected by her behaviour; already smelling the wine coming from her breath.
"I am serving the Kingdom, dear sister. I support Joffrey and my loyalty lies with him but I cannot turn a blind eye to some of his psychopathic actions. I did to many others but he drew the line at the Throne Room" he said, speaking rather freely and without truly concerning himself with how he would categorize the boy.
"You stupid boy" she laughed, mostly from annoyance and some pity. "You have your eyes on that little whore, don't you?" she asked and even though Trystan did not show it, she knew she was right. "Is this why you helped her? Did she promise you her maidenhood?"
The way she spoke of Sansa did test Trystan's self-control and he had to place both hands behind his back, to hide his fists and remain calm; or as calm as he could be.
In the end, it was he who looked at her with pity and even faint mockery.
"You do not see it, do you?" he asked her and shook his head faintly. "Of course you don't. You never could see anything past your own vanity" he continued.
"You little..." Cersei spat and lifted her hand to slap him, only for him to grab her wrist and stop her.
His eyes darkened dangerously upon seeing the lifted long nailed hand that was directed his way. Then, his predatory gaze fell upon his sister; who started to feel worried for a moment.
In seconds, he had pushed her hand to the side and twisted it in a way that made her feel a sharp pain coming from it. The force and movement made her stumble forward and on his chest before his other hand grabbed the base of her jaw to keep her head stable; while he stared her down.
"You really think you can hit me? Come on, Cersei, you are smart enough to remember that" he said, his tone mocking her before his full expression turned lethal serious.
"But since you cannot see it, I will help you. I do not have any feelings for the Stark Girl. However, I remember one thing" he started, making sure to emphasize certain words to ensure the message could pass through.
"You lost the other Stark girl, you let Joffrey kill Ned Stark and they have Jaime. She is our last resort in this war. As long as she is our prisoner, Jaime lives. If worse is to come, her words might save our heads and our lives" he continued and brought his face a little lower, his grip on her jaw increasing.
"So, unless you wish your children to become fatherless; I suggest you remember why that girl is of importance"
With a push, he released her and watched her stumble a few steps back.
She was frozen in shock and slight fear and he simply watched her, whatever darkness had surfaced was long gone now.
For the first time in years, Cersei finally saw how wrong she was. She always thought she was in control, that Trystan was just a weak young boy she could command. Yet, today it was proven just how far stronger he was.
The way those dark eyes stared down at her, the way she was held in a position where she was forced to obey and listen... it only reminded her of her father and she swore that she saw him instead of her half-brother for a moment too long.
And in the end, Trystan had to drop the bomb. He knew what she had done with Jaime, most likely for quite some time now and perhaps he knew even what happened to that Stark boy when they were in Winterfell.
Her shock at the news and fear seemed to be noticed by Trystan; who returned his hands behind his back and stood tall.
"I haven't told our parents if this is what you are wondering. I will not but if you force my hand, know that a letter will be sent even if you choose to take me down" he said, the warning clear as day in his voice.
It took Cersei a full minute to control herself. Having no more words, she simply turned sharply and marched out of the room without sparing him a second glance. Her heart was racing like crazy, her jaw was aching and she even felt tears prickling at the edge of her eyes.
Harrenhal, RiverLands - 1 week since Tywin & Visenya arrived.
Harrenhal might have been fortified and big but it was not friendly. The black stone walls, the constant cloudy skies and the number of piling fallen men were not helping with the mood either.
Visenya often found herself just staring outside as soldiers came and went, her head filled with endless plans, strategies and information. War Council meetings were held every day, sometimes twice a day and she was present in all of them.
The only thing that had changed over a week was that mysterious girl, who served as Tywin's Cupbearer. She silently did her work, always watching but never talking; like a quiet little mouse in the corner of the room.
The Dragoness often watched her, curious about the quiet girl.
Sometimes, her mind could not help but wonder how it would be if she had a daughter of her own. Having her close by during meetings, letting her hear what was going on and teaching her.
Yet, such thoughts would quickly go away once she reminded herself that she could never truly have another child or risk both of them dying.
To forget such worries and impossible dreams, Visenya focused more on the War Council that was taking place around her.
She had been hearing them talking but she did not feel the need to comment, not yet at least. Even Tywin had started by being silent but it was clear that his patience was running thin by what he was listening.
"The Starks have overextended their lines. Now that summer's over, they'll have a hard time keeping their men and horses fed" Reginald pointed out.
His words made Visenya scoff, fingers drumming against the wooden table.
"You must forget where the Stark comes from, cousin," she said, drawing the attention of the men around her. "They come from the North, they practically thrive in the winter and certainly they know it better than we ever will. The cold won't beat them."
A different Lannister general, one not related to them, chose to defend Reginald.
"Our spies report growing discontent among the Northern lords. They want to return home and gather the harvest before the crops turn."
Tywin barely spared a glance at Arya as she placed a plate with food in front of him and his wife, while looking with annoyance at Amory.
"And I'm sure if those same spies snuck into our encampments, they would report growing discontent amongst the Southern lords. This is war, no one's content. We've underestimated the Stark boy for too long. He has a good mind for warfare, his men worship him. And as long as he keeps winning battles, they'll believe he is King in the North. You've been waiting for him to fail. He is not going to fail, not without our help. So how do we stop him?"
There was no answer, no one truly having it. Visenya pinched the bridge of her nose and leaned back on the chair while Tywin felt as if he was about to stab every one of them for being so useless.
"We've worked through the night, my lord. Perhaps we'd profit from some sleep." Reginald suggested.
Wrong choice of words, Visenya thought.
"Yes, I think you would, Reginald. And because you're my cousin, I might even let you wake from that sleep. Go, I'm sure your wife must miss you."
His words caused the younger Lannister. "My wife's in Lannisport." He pointed out.
"Well, then you'd better start riding. Go, before I change my mind and send her your head." Tywin said, ending the discussion.
Reginald looked at his cousin in disbelief, even fear as he slowly stood up. He was about to argue, saying something but Visenya cleared her throat. When he looked at her and saw her arching one eyebrow, he knew it was his time to leave.
Whether that look was a warning not to test his luck or a silent challenge, asking him to continue talking and dare to argue; no one was sure but no one questioned it either.
"If your name wasn't Lannister, you'd be scrubbing out pots in the cook's tent. Go!" Tywin added, this time scaring him enough to leave the room.
Around the same time, Arya made her way with a jug to fill his glass with wine but Visenya stopped her by placing her hand over his goblet.
"Not wine, water is better. From the looks of it, we will be here for some time" she said, looking at the girl with a softer look than before.
Arya said nothing but simply nodded, understanding what she wanted.
She then left and headed for the side table where the food and drinks were placed to replace the jug.
Tywin glanced at his wife, having noticed how often she kept her attention on the child. He commented nothing about it and neither for the decision to switch from wine to water. A part of him felt he needed some alcohol to handle those morons but then speculated it was better for everyone if their minds were clear.
However, this silent interest of his wife to the kid was something that was bothering him. So, he decided to do some research of his own.
"Girl, where are you from?" he asked, making her stop and turn to face him.
"Maidenpool, my lord, my lady" She replied, making Visenya arch an eyebrow at her accent and her way of speaking.
Tywin seemed to have similar thoughts with her.
"And who are the Lords of Maidenpool? Remind me."
"House Mooton, my Lord, my Lady".
"And what is their sigil?" he asked but the girl did not answer, clearly not knowing.
"Lady Wife?" he glanced at the woman sitting by his right, who had turned on her chair halfway to have a better view of the girl.
"Red salmon on white, over a white field with a golden treasure," Visenya answered with ease, her memory of the houses fresh as ever.
"When you try to lie about your origins, girl, better choose somewhere you know" she advised, earning a silent faint head nod. "You're a Northerner, aren't you?"
Arya nodded but said nothing, making the couple exchange yet another look before it was Tywin, who took the lead on this conversation again.
"One more time, where are you from?" he asked her.
"Barrowton, my lord, my lady. House Dustin. Two crossed long axes beneath a black crown" she replied.
"And what do they say of Robb Stark in the North?"
"They call him the Young Wolf"
"They say he rides into battle on the back of a giant dire wolf. They say he can turn into a wolf himself when he wants. They say he can't be killed"
"And do you believe them?"
"No, my lord, my lady... Anyone can be killed." The girl said, making Visenya smirk.
"I told you she is a smart one. I like her" the Dragoness said and turned to sit properly at her seat.
Tywin did not seem to share her amusement, staring at his wife for a minute too long before he glanced at Arya.
"Fetch that water."
King's Landing, CrownLands - Earlier of the same day:
After the latest hint and information Tyrion got from his cousin, Lancel; he had headed with Bronn to find out if the boy was telling the truth.
This is how he ended up in an underground secret cellar, holding a pot containing wildfire; if the Alchemist by his side was indeed telling the truth.
"Take care, my lord." Wisdom Haylene warned.
"I remember reading an old sailors' proverb, "Piss on wildfire and your cock burns off." The imp commented, still inspecting the almost legendary weapon.
"Oh, I have not conducted this experiment and my teacher, Wisdom Rossart did not say anything about it in his notes. It could well be true. The substance burns so hot, it melts wood, stone, even steel, and, of course, flesh. The substance burns so hot, it melts flesh like tallow" he explained, gladly accepting back the pot from Tyrion.
"So I have heard. My Good-Mother was the inventor behind it, wasn't she?" he asked the alchemist.
"She did not invent it exactly, My Lord but she did give clear enough instructions on how she wished it to be. After the dragons died, wildfire was the key to the Targaryen's power and she knew it; thus she made sure to be the Guilt's patron for many years"
A scoff made the two men turn to the third person in the cellar, being none other of Bronn; who did not believe such stories.
"My companion takes issue," Tyrion explained.
Bronn decided to comment. "If I could tell you how many crazy old men I've seen pushing carts around army camps making grand claims about jars full of pig shit. No offence meant"
"Our order does not deal in pig shit. The substance is in fire-given form. And we have been perfecting it since the days the Dragoness paid us to do so" Wisdom said, not having to say names since everyone knew who the Dragoness was.
"To do what?"
This made Haylene smirk.
"This was her latest idea, given to us before she departed for Casterly Rock. You see, the jars are put in catapults and flung at the enemy"
"What was the reason behind such design?" Tyrion asked, rather curious.
"She was never clear but I remember hearing her talking with my master Rossart, back then. She said it was meant to be in case we were ever under Siege"
"How much do you have?"
The Alchemist did not reply and instead led them through a door and deeper into some darker catacombs.
"If you could get real soldiers to man the catapults, then maybe you'd hit your target one time in ten, but all the real soldiers are in the Riverlands with your father and good-mother."
"My lord, this man is insulting."
"l don't know if you've ever seen a battle, old man, but things can get a bit messy. 'Cause when we're flinging things at Stannis, he's flinging them right back at us. Men die, men shit themselves, men run, which means pots falling, which means fire inside the walls, which means the poor cunts trying to defend the city end up burning it down."
Tyrion only shrugged at their argument. "My friend remains unconvinced."
"He would not dare insult my order whilst Aerys Targaryen lived." Haylene reminded them, making the sell-sword narrow his eyes at him.
"Well, he's not living anymore. And all his pots of wildfire didn't help him, did they? Men win wars, not magic tricks."
Without commenting anymore on the topic, since it was clear that Bronn was not a believer; the alchemist opened an ancient door. It led them into a store room that was filled with wildfire jars, stacked properly one on top of the other.
"The Dragon Princess did not keep in contact with us and without her patronage, the guilt was weakened. That was until your royal sister found us and ordered us to become our new patron if we made wildfire for her. Ever since that day, we have been working tirelessly, day and night and our present count stands at 7,811. Enough to burn Stannis Baratheon's fleet and armies both"