Open Wall Bridge, Eastern Wall - Winterfell, The North - Around the Same Time as Visenya Reunites with Ser Barristan
After Tywin had talked with Kevan, he let him go check on the soldiers, and he would eventually join him as well. It was crucial to ensure none of their soldiers misbehaved, which one should expect considering the bad blood existing between all those houses.
He walked along the open bridge that connected the Eastern and Southern Wall. He was almost above the East Gate, and he could see the King's Road up ahead. His soldiers had all made camp around it; the red banners with the golden lion and the red tents were standing out against the pure white and deserted landscape.
He wore a sort of cloak with fur around his shoulders, not accustomed to the cold weather. He had inspected silently some parts of the old Northern castle, but he still found its beauty rather dull, especially when compared with the beauty of Casterly Rock.
He had his hands behind his back as he came to a halt, eyes scanning the hundreds of war tents while his mind was constantly thinking. He did not enjoy being in a foreign territory, surrounded by so many enemies; even though they had all agreed to this 'truce,' for the time being.
He could not wait for this Great War to take place, and then they could return to King's Landing, far away from the Northern wasteland and the savage Lords that thrived in it. Of course, a part of him expected their biggest enemy, Daenerys, to get harmed or lose her manpower and thus no longer become such a big threat to them.
His focus shifted as he had the sudden feeling that he was no longer alone on that isolated part of the bridge. Golden-flecked green eyes moved to the left, taking notice of a familiar face dressed in black clothing and standing a few feet away.
He had taken notice of the familiar face amongst the crowd, and it did not take him long to connect the dots. He, of course, had made no move to approach, for eventually they would come to him; as he had expected.
"House Dustin, hmm?" he finally asked, although his question was more rhetorical.
Arya did not smile, nor did she seem to react to his cold words or his intimidating presence. Even back at Harrenhal, he never truly intimidated her like he did with others. Now, after all she knew she was capable of, she felt absolutely nothing.
"Your Lady Wife advised me to lie on a house I knew. So I did," she answered, hands behind her back as well, but her attention fully forward.
He scoffed faintly.
"And you rose up to the challenge rather quickly."
If she wanted to smirk at his passive compliment, she did not show it.
"You told me I am too smart for my own good," she replied, not hesitating to be more informal with him; even going as far as to faintly challenge him.
Tywin turned his head slightly, his eyes locked on the form of the young Direwolf. She had grown taller since the time at Harrenhal; she had matured and had become even more serious. No longer was she the scared girl that was his cupbearer.
His gaze was sharp, challenging her not to push her luck, but he did not openly make any move against her. He had indeed said those words, and he was not going to make a fool out of himself by trying to deny them.
"At least you remembered... which is more than I can say for some," he commented, looking ahead again as he was passively hinting to his sons.
Silence existed between them for a few moments, neither saying a word as they stood there; both dressed in black. Their backs were straight, their gazes looked forward, and if Arya's colours were different, one could have easily mistaken some sort of family relation between them.
"You don't sound surprised," Arya broke the silence by pointing something out.
She had spent her days hidden, observing him from the shadows. More than once did their eyes meet, but he did not make any move against her nor did he try to approach her. She had long come to realize that he recognized her, but was still curious about his rather calm reaction.
After all, she was a key player in the game with the North, and she was right beneath his nose. He had, in a way, failed to see through her lies and tricks; and eventually lost a very valuable hostage.
Once again, the old Lion scoffed; although there was more mockery this time. For a moment, he felt insulted, but he remained civil.
"By the fact that my cupbearer turned out to be the missing daughter of Eddard Stark?" he asked rhetorically once again. "The chances of you being a prisoner of mine, in Harrenhal nonetheless, were quite slim; I would say almost nonexistent. If you expect me to feel something because of that, then you have clearly not been paying attention to me while at the castle."
Arya did not answer directly, merely studying him like she did while she was undercover. She noticed how he was the same, both in attitude and in appearance; perhaps a little colder and more serious.
Yet again, at Harrenhal the circumstances were different. They were at war, his son was a prisoner, his family at King's Landing was in danger, and he had thought she was a mere common girl; not the sister of his then-enemy on the battlefield.
"Just asking, making sure." She shrugged her shoulders, not discouraged by his tone.
"Hmm," he said, stealing another glance at her.
He did not say anything else; he found no reason to. What he said was the truth, and he was not going to hide it. The chances of Arya Stark being a prisoner of his and no one knowing about it were minimal.
Especially because noble ladies did not wear boys' clothes or cover themselves in mud and try to pretend that they were boys. Even if they tried it, for the sake of hiding and safety, he doubted someone raised to be a lady would survive long in such conditions.
A common girl most likely would survive, but a noble-born girl? Not even Visenya had that much tolerance for mud, misogyny, disrespect, and so on; and that said something.
He was proven wrong, in the end, but he learned his lesson. He was now more careful around the young Stark girl, who had done some training since the last time they met; evidenced by the change in her stance and her confidence.
Sansa, for example, was still slightly timid despite her new position as Lady of Winterfell; temporarily. She still held back her tongue or did not dare to stare him in the eyes, despite the years that passed since that day they all broke fast as family.
Arya, though, had changed, and a part of him was curious where she was all that time. He truly doubted she was with her siblings, for he would have eventually found it out long before the Battle of the Bastards had taken place.
None said anything, and the two of them remained there for a while. They had said what they needed to say, and they could easily talk again if they had to. After all, the Stark girl proved rather good at finding him and not making a single sound while she was approaching.
Stables, Winterfell, The North - Nightfall
The sun had long set, although that far up north, it was setting rather early. Yet, the candles with the pines could easily tell someone that the hour was rather late and it was the time when many were asleep; if not all.
The castle was quiet, barely any light source visible other than some torches left to illuminate the paths; while soldiers held guard in turns.
The stables of Winterfell were quite big but could not be compared to the ones of Sunspear or Highgarden. They actually paled in comparison to them, but they were still decent. Like all the rooms inside the castle, the stables also had access to the warmth coming from the underground warm springs; keeping the animals protected against the harsh winter conditions.
The only ones in the stables so late at night were the horses and Visenya, who had come to visit her mare. She had a Dragon Dream again, the very same one that she had been having for the past 3 weeks.
The dragon flying towards the Wall... the bright neon blue flames that brought the mighty structure down... the undead army rushing in by the thousands... the screams of a few men of the Night's Watch shouting as they all perished, only then to be brought back to life by the one Jon had called... the Night King.
Visenya had come to realize that some dreams were becoming more frequent for a reason, mostly when they had to do with something big. Any other dreams she had, like the death of her sister, Robert's death, Jaime as Lord of Casterly Rock... all those dreams had come to her only once.
Others, though, came rather frequently. She had come to suspect that they were becoming more frequent when they were truly approaching.
After all, she had not dreamt of the undead army for a while, and now she could not stop.
She feared that the vision of the white dragon was about to become a reality, and she dreaded that moment. She could tell someone, to make the men on the Wall leave and save themselves, but she knew she could not.
For starters, how would she explain it without exposing herself? Let alone ensuring others would believe her? Secondly, she knew that some men had to remain to send the raven when the undead army would breach the Wall.
If no one was there, they would never find out when the undead army would come; not until the Night King was right outside their door.
The dream had woken her up rather sharply, and she had once again stirred Tywin from his sleep. She often felt guilty, but he had long come to accept it, knowing she had no control over it; although both wished that she did.
It had taken more time than usual to persuade him to let her go for a small walk, considering the hostility she was receiving from the Northern Lords because of the Red Wedding. In the end, she took one of the two guards that stood outside their door, but she knew Tywin would not really sleep until she had returned to his embrace and he had once again spooned her against his body.
She made her way to the stables then, finding the company of animals a little better and more soothing. She let her guard remain outside the stables to keep watch, for she did not wish to have him hovering over her head all this time.
She had one belt with some of her daggers with her, so she could defend herself if she truly needed to; although she doubted that would ever be the case.
She had grabbed a brush and was busy brushing the neck of her mare while she remained outside of her stall. She could go inside, but she preferred not to trap herself in a small space with no easy escape.
The movement soothed her racing thoughts, and her mare seemed to also enjoy the extra attention, having been rather uneasy since they arrived. Meraxes would have caused a lot more trouble if Tywin's destrier had not been placed in a stall next to her.
His presence was always one to calm the uneasy mare, or at least ensure she would not cause too much trouble. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that the stallion was the only familiar horse around her, in this new and foreign place.
The white stallion was watching her in silence, occasionally nudging his snout against her side as if checking up on her. He was a very intelligent horse, powerful and disciplined; like his rider, while hers was more of a wild spirit and rather untameable, like her.
Suddenly, both horses stirred. They started to hit one hoof against the straw-covered floor of their stalls, ears moving back and laying flat against their heads.
Visenya stopped the brushing, and she slowly looked around, or at least as much as her peripheral vision would allow her without turning her head. She had come to realize that she was no longer alone in the stables, having this innate feeling that she was being watched.
She turned her attention from one side to the other, and she subconsciously tensed when Tywin's stallion moved to bite something in the air. This made her turn her body sharply and take notice of the teenage girl dressed in black, who had moved a few steps back to avoid being bitten by the stallion.
"If you plan to harm someone when their back is turned, I advise you do it when there are no horses around," she advised, her voice calm and with no hint of fear or anger. "They do have a sixth sense for danger."
She moved her free hand to pet the mane of the white stallion, while the animal had its full attention locked on the intruder. Ears remained pulled back, dark brown eyes locked on the form of the teenager, and muscles ready to act if Visenya ended up in danger again.
"What makes you think I am here to harm you?" Arya asked, standing with her hands behind her back and always careful of the two horses that refused to look anywhere but at her.
Visenya did not seem insulted by it, nor in the mood to argue. She could have easily called for her guard outside or acted on her own, but found no reason for it. Her expression remained indifferent, but her eyes had softened faintly at the familiar face of the girl she had taken a liking to while at Harrenhal.
"I sensed your gaze during the meeting. I would not blame you if you wished to harm me, to get back for the Red Wedding," she explained, oddly calm despite the situation they were in. "Although, I doubted you would kill me yet. Maybe try to threaten me? Remind me that you will come for me in the end?"
Arya kept looking at the older and taller woman. She carried herself with the same confidence she always did, showing no fear even when the situation was not really in her favour. She knew how to remain calm, although right now she seemed too calm.
It gave the feeling that she had partially given up and was simply waiting for something to happen, no longer having the energy to fight it.
She had a similar expression during Harrenhal, the night she found her standing by the ledge as if wishing to jump and end it all.
"You had not approached me until now, even though you recognized me," she pointed out.
The corner of Visenya's lips shifted up slightly.
"And should I have? Marched your way and called you Jenny?" she asked, arching a single eyebrow. "I knew you would eventually approach me, one way or another."
The Stark pressed her lips to form a thin line.
"Your Lord Husband seemed to have the same thoughts. He was also not surprised when he found out."
Somehow, this made her smirk grow faintly more.
"He is a smart man, but there is nothing to truly surprise us. We realized you were a noble northern girl, just not how noble. Arya Stark, in the flesh, serving as a cupbearer... it does sound like an impossible scenario," she pointed out and returned to petting both animals, as their heads covered each of her sides. "You had every right to lie to keep yourself safe, and you succeeded just fine in doing so. It was war, you did not know what would happen if we ever found out who you were."
Arya tilted her head to the side faintly, curious now of this new scenario that could have gone one of two ways.
"What would you have done had you found out?"
Visenya thought for a moment.
"Kept you close to us, maybe sent you to Casterly Rock. We would not send you to King's Landing, not while all that chaos was happening. You would be used to persuade Robb Stark to release Jaime and return to the North, in return for a safe exchange of you and your sister."
The young Direwolf did not say something immediately, but rather took her time to think about it. This different scenario where she and Sansa would return home, where Robb and their mother would be alive and the Red Wedding would have never taken place.
A scenario where she would have never gone to Braavos and learned how to become a Faceless assassin.
While Arya was thinking about it, the Dragoness was studying her in silence. She had seen her among the crowd and in the shadows; watching from afar, and she recognized her immediately.
A part of her had been immediately relieved, for she truly had taken a liking to the girl and was glad to know she was alive; let alone reunited with her family. Or at least, with the remaining members of her family that were still alive; not thanks to her.
As she studied her, she took notice that she had grown a little bit taller, but not to the height of the Dragoness or even Cersei. Her face had started to lose that baby fat, her eyes had grown colder, and her expression more serious.
She carried herself with confidence in her steps, with no fear of the shadows that seemed to have become her friends. She had changed, and Visenya liked to think it was for the better, at least for the sake of the girl.
Something caught her attention as the light of the nearby torch illuminated an object on the girl's belt. Recognition appeared in her eyes as she connected the dots, realizing what it was based on the size and the familiar handle.
"You still have it," she pointed out.
The teenager was snapped from her thoughts by hearing her voice, and she focused back on the present. Seeing where those unique amber and red eyes of hers were locked, she realized and withdrew the familiar dagger from its sheath.
"Vhagar... the goddess of War," she said with a small smile, proudly showing that she not only kept it but remembered it as well.
This made Visenya offer a sweet smile.
"Yes, you remember."
Their eyes met.
"I never forgot," Arya confessed. "I suspect you now want it back—"
Surprisingly, Visenya interrupted her by lifting one hand to stop her.
"No, it is yours. It has kept you safe and it will keep doing that," she said, something twinkling in her eyes. "I do suppose you have already used it, haven't you?"
She grinned.
"A few times," she confessed and sheathed the dagger back.
"Good. Remember what I told you? A woman's best weapons are her words, poisons—"
"...and daggers," Arya continued for her, showing that she did remember her advice from their time at Harrenhal.
Visenya nodded her head, clearly approving. She knew the child was smart, and she was glad to see that she had remained smart and had also kept in mind the many lessons she took while she was the cupbearer of Tywin.
"When the trial occurs and I am found guilty, use that knife," the Dragoness said, her mood changing to a serious one. "If I am to die, I want it to be by the same blade my ancestors used."
Her words made the young Stark look at her, head tilted slightly to the side. Her own small smile had disappeared, and their gazes locked.
Arya tried to study the older woman, trying to see if she was lying in an attempt to gain her compassion, but she did not get such a feeling from her. No, on the contrary... she got the feeling that she was being honest.
There was no judgment in her amber eyes, no foul need or some selfish hidden plan stored in her mind. There was honesty and guilt, evidence that she believed those words and was not even going to try and deny her upcoming fate.
She had given her word, and she was ready to face the trial when the Great War would be over. It would only be the right thing to do, after the crimes she committed.
To her surprise, Arya commented on her words.
"If you are found guilty and executed," she said, making Visenya lift an eyebrow at her vague answer. "You might just be exiled or lose a few fingers," she continued, although with her tone it was not certain whether she was joking or not. "As you said, you had a plan and the Freys went against it. If anything, you are guilty of thinking it, but yet again; I had made plans to kill your husband while at Harrenhal," she confessed, shrugging her shoulders in the end.
Her words left Visenya speechless for a moment, not expecting Arya to defend her in any way. What she said was true, and a part of the Dragoness did hope that her head would not meet the blade in the end, knowing that her death would cause troubles because of Tywin's nature.
She did not react to her confession about planning to kill Tywin while she was undercover as his cupbearer and was not surprised by it, either.
Anyone would have thought the same, especially since taking down Tywin meant her brother would no longer have a major threat to deal with and could easily win the war.
"Very well then," Visenya said after almost a full minute of silence. "I shall retire before the husband that you did not kill sends a search party for me," she continued, and she could see Arya trying her best not to crack a smile but was amused all the same. "I do believe my guard stationed outside is still alive?"
The girl nodded.
"I didn't harm him, although he is not that great of a guard. It was not hard to sneak past him."
The Dragoness smirked.
"He is a man," she explained. "I have long learned not to expect a lot of them. Saves you the trouble of disappointment."
Her words made Arya smirk, somehow enjoying hearing the slightly more sassy and savage tone of the famous Visenya Targaryen; the very same one she had often used during the war meetings.
She did not say anything and simply watched as the older woman walked towards the exit of the stables, her steps always as elegant and confident. She was literally in the wolf's den, she was surrounded by enemies, and yet not once did she bend her head or let others scare her.
In the end, she was a Dragon, and Dragons had no equal.