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Leaning back, Nox carefully examined each competitor through the Force. "Osha is a good fighter and a warrior through and through. But this field is beyond what she is used to. She will take out perhaps one or two, but she will not be the last standing. And the Karstark boy has a daft hand with the blade, but he will not last long against the others. The last two standing will be Ser Barristan and the big one from the Stormlands, and then Barristan will end it."
His prediction immediately drew the attention, and ire, of the queen. "You dismiss my brother so easily, Sorcerer? He is the best blade in the land."
"A title that holds little weight as he and I have not crossed blades," Nox replied calmly, which drew a barking laugh from Robert. "And while your brother is indeed skilled, his arrogance will be his undoing."
"So, you're willing to place your money on the one from the Stormlands and Barristan being the last one's standing with Barristan winning in the end," Robert hummed, rubbing his chin. "I'll take that bet, Sorcerer. I'll say twenty dragons that your prediction will prove true. But that the knight from the Stormlands will win."
"Done," Nox nodded, crossing his arms. "Though I do wonder, why is the elder Clegane not in the finale? Was he eliminated in his preliminary?"
Robert scoffed. "Ha, no chance. No, the Mountain was banned from competing in this melee by myself and Jon Arryn before he passed. Last tournament that beast entered, he ended up killing five of his contestants during the melee. And seeing as how he's already killed someone in a fucking joust, our decision to keep him out of the melee appears to be in the right now. I don't need to deal with more lords and ladies bitching at me that their heirs or fathers or brothers died at that man's hands during a fucking tourney."
Nox conceded the point, but it also reaffirmed in his mind that Gregor Clegane was nothing more than a mad dog. And one that needed to be removed sooner rather than later. As the herald began to make introductions for each of the more notable combatants, such as which House or kingdom they hailed from, Robert finally lost his patience and stood up. "Oh, enough with that shit!" he yelled, silencing the herald and drawing the attention of the crowd. "These people and I came to see a fight! Not to listen to you shit from your mouth! Get on with it already!"
The herald turned white and red from embarrassment, but despite his embarrassment he quickly got down and picked up his horn and gave a loud blow to signal the start of the final bout.
As soon as the note died, those on the field all raised their weapons and rushed towards the middle of the field. Or at least the more foolish rushed in while those who were more well versed in actual warfare like Barristan and Osha took their time reaching the clash in the center of the arena. The start of the melee was more akin to a brawl than a fight. Just like an actual battle. Weapons were everywhere and fanciful techniques and tactics were set aside in favor of simply trying to remove your enemy as fast as possible. Sandor Clegane scored the first 'kill' of the melee as an incredibly foolish man with a sword tried to overpower the larger man with an overhead swing. But Clegane simply moved aside, letting the blow pass him by before retaliating not with his sword, but with a closed fist to the side of the fool's helmet, knocking him out cold.
After that first removal, the field quickly dissipated as one after another was eliminated. True to his prediction, the Karstark lad was eliminated roughly halfway through the field. And Osha's luck with opponents ran out when the numbers lowered to the point where she was forced to face off with none other than Ser Barristan. Knowing that her fate in the melee was sealed, Nox turned his attention to the five others that were still fighting. Sandor was fighting against the large knight from the Stormlands, the two almost identical in size, much to the surprise of the crowd. And what was perhaps even more surprising was the fact that the strange knight not only had Sandor on the defensive but was pushing him back.
Jamie Lannister had indeed let his arrogance get the better of him and was facing off against not just one of the Tyrell brothers, but both at the same time. Perhaps one on one, he would've bested them. But together the two were a blur of steel that began pushing back against the youngest Kingsguard in history. Eventually the inevitable happened as Garlen managed to lock blades with Jamie, forcing both of their swords into the dirt before the younger Loras came around and placed his sword against Jamie's neck, effectively killing him and removing the Lannister from the melee.
Osha fared little better as Barristan's experience and skill allowed him to easily parry every attack the younger woman was throwing at him. The fight between the two ended once Barristan managed to trap her spear against his body and bring his sword down on the shaft, breaking it in two and leaving Osha with nothing more than a short stick in her hands. Realizing her position, and knowing that she did not stand a chance, Osha simply nodded her head and dropped what was left of her spear to the ground, admitting her defeat to the legendary man.
Sandor and the large knight had fought to the point where Sandor's back was to the edge of the ring. When Sandor's back hit the edge of the ring, the man took his eyes off his opponent for just a moment to see what he'd run into, and that moment was all his opponent needed to twist their sword in a tight circle, disarming Sandor and quickly following the move up by pointing the tip of their sword towards his face. Sandor snarled, a noise that Nox could hear from across the arena, but none the less the man turned and stomped out of the arena.
Down to just four contestants, the two Tyrell brothers glanced at one another before looking at the other two remaining fighters. Ser Barristan the Bold, and the mysterious knight from the Stormlands. At a signal from his elder brother, Loras took off like a bolt towards the mystery knight while Garlen cautiously approached Barristan with his sword and shield raised.
Neither brother fared well. While the youngest Tyrell indeed had skill, the knight from the Stormlands was perhaps his equal. The two traded blows back and forth, Loras's smaller size and quicker arm managing to land a few blows. However, the other knight's sheer size gave them the edge that the smaller man simply couldn't overcome given his inexperience. The two locked blades, and using the same move tried to disarm one another, but all that ended up happening was that both lost hold of their swords. After that the knight managed to physically wrestle the quicker Loras to the ground before pulling out a dagger from their waist and pointing it at his throat, ending his time in the melee.
Garlen fared little better than his brother. His time in the North had perhaps given him some actual battle experience, but it was still nothing when compared to the skill and experience of Barristan. The elder knight almost seemed to be toying with Garlen before eventually disarming him and landing a 'killing' blow in the space of time it took most to blink.
"Ha! Looks like you were right, Sorcerer!" Robert laughed with excitement as the king leaned forward in his seat. "The Kingslayer got too arrogant and got his ass handed to him, and about fucking time too. And now we're down to just the Stormlander and Barristan. Ha! What a fucking fight!"
The last two combatants squared off against one another, the living legend against the unknown knight. The larger of the two struck first, hoping to catch Barristan off guard, but the Commander of the Kingsguard easily parried the attack, and then the two were trading blows. To anyone else the fight appeared quite even, but Nox could see beyond the simple trading of blows. Barristan had paced himself well since his first bout and throughout the final melee. The larger knight had not. And with the two just trading blows, it was clear to Nox that Barristan knew this and intended to win the fight through attrition. As the two fought, the mystery knight must have come to the same realization that they would not be able to outlast their opponent. So, they pressed their attack, pushing harder and faster trying to overpower or outmaneuver Barristan quickly.
But the attempt was all for not as they made the slightest of errors by an overextended lunge, which gave the far more experienced Barristan all the opportunity he needed to slap the flat of his blade against the knight's forearms, forcing them to drop their sword and officially ending the melee with Ser Barristan the Bold as the victor.
"Ha! Looks like you were right about everything, Nox," Robert laughed as he rose from his seat, tossing Nox a coin purse as he made his way down towards the edge of the arena. "Guess that will teach me to put my coin against you."
As Robert reached the edge of the arena, both of the finalists went to a knee and lowered their still helmed heads. "Well done!" Robert called out gleefully, motioning towards Barristan. "Rise, Ser Barristan, our melee champion!"
The famed Kingsguard did as his king commanded, rising to his feet and removing his helm to the cheers of the crowd. Letting the crowd go for a time, Robert eventually raised his hand to silence them. "And you," the king continued, his attention now on the one who had lost to Barristan. "That's the sigil of House Tarth is it not? I was not aware that Lord Selwyn Tarth had a knight of your skill in his service. Rise and remove your helm."
The knight didn't hesitate as they stood and removed their helm. A gasp went through the arena as Nox smirked and leaned back, having already known what was about to happen. Even the King seemed surprised by what he was looking at as the tall woman stood proudly before her king. "I am no knight, your grace. Nor am I in service to House Tarth. I am Brienne of Tarth, only daughter and heir to Lord Selwyn Tarth."
Robert was stunned, but that lasted only for a brief moment as the King of the Seven Kingdoms threw his head back and laughed. "Haha! Not just one woman, but two women in the finale of the grand melee! Apparently Stormlander women are just as strong as the women of the North!" Calming, the King stared at Brienne Tarth. "You've done yourself, your father, your House, and the Stormlands proud today, girl! You will be joining myself, Lord Stark, and Lord Nox at the high table tonight! And speaking of which, I'm hungry and thirsty, so let's not waste any more time in getting tonight's feast started!"
Without waiting for anyone, Robert turned heel and marched out of the arena, leaving Ser Barristan and the few other Kingsguard around hurrying to catch up with their King. But even as the crowd began to disperse, Nox kept his sight on Brienne Tarth. Nyra notice this and leaned in close to him so that only the two of them could hear her words. "Does she have the Force as well? Or is she like Oberyn?"
"Neither," Nox answered. "She has the Force sensitivity of a stone. But even still, skill such as hers is not something that should be ignored." He had been looking for an interesting diversion to occupy his time here in Harrenhal. And now between trying to figure out just what the effects that comet had on this world and this skilled woman, he found some.
Sitting beside her family in the stands just near the edge of the jousting field, Arya fought to keep her boredom at bay as she waited for the last joust of the day to begin. Honestly, her sister and most of the silly girls might swoon at all the knights in their shiny armor and pointy sticks, but she just could not find the appeal in it. The joust was only mildly interesting at best. The melee had been far more interesting, especially because it came down to Osha, Ser Garlen, Ser Loras, the Kingslayer, a woman knight from the Stormlands, and Barristan the Bold at the end of the final bout! That had been fun to watch! But the joust? It was just men in fancy armor riding a horse and trying to knock the other off with a big stick. What was interesting about that? If it had not been for her father telling her that it was expected of them to be present, then she wouldn't have even been here at all!
Hearing the crowd begin to cheer loudly, Arya turned her head and watched as the first of the riders rode his horse into the arena. Or perhaps 'pranced' into the arena would be a better way to describe how he entered. Her silly sister immediately sat up straighter and began clapping with a wide smile on her face as Ser Loras Tyrell pranced about much to the delight of the crowd. Arya could…somewhat understand why her sister was so excited to see the first rider. After all, he was of House Tyrell and her silly sister was betrothed to the heir of House Tyrell, which made Loras Tyrell her future good brother. Which, she supposed, would make him her future good brother as well…so…perhaps she could support him. Even if he did look ridiculous in his shining armor and cloak made of flowers. Honestly! What kind of warrior or knight wore a cloak made of all flowers?! She supposed that it did make a certain amount of sense. Ser Loras was known as the 'Knight of the Flowers', so she supposed he was trying to live up to his name.
When the next rider entered the arena however, almost all the cheering died, the joyousness that Ser Loras's entrance brought about being quickly replaced with…fear. Even Arya was not immune to the cold shiver that passed over her as she looked at the other rider. The Mountain Who Rides, Ser Gregor Clegane. And by the Force did the man live up to his name! If he were on his feet, she was sure that he would be taller than his heavy horse. And his heavy black armor just gave him the appearance of a demon rather than a man. And to add to that he'd already killed a man just the other day during a joust! He was, as much as she hated to admit it…scary. Though, as scary as he was, she was confident that he could not hold a candle next to Lord Nox when he was serious. Something which she had only heard about from her father and brothers… But according to them all, when Lord Nox truly went to war, he was the Stranger reborn on the battlefield.
After both contestants finished showing off, they lined up next to one another in front of the royal box. Glancing towards the royal family, she noticed that the King was sitting forward slightly in his seat, a slight smile of anticipation on his face as he nodded towards the knights and waved them off to their starting points. He was the only one however that looked at all interested. The Queen looked like she would rather be anywhere than where she was. Prince Joffrey, who still caused a surge of anger to course through her whenever she looked towards him given what he tried to do to her brother, was seemingly trying to be as small as possible. And the last two of the royal family, Prince Tommen and Princess Myrcella, were both sitting close to the King watching excitedly as the two knights crossed paths once more before heading to their ends of the arena. As they passed though, Arya noticed something strange about the Mountain's horse. It seemed…anxious and…excited as Ser Loras passed it by.
"Well…That is quite the tactic to give you an edge," Lord Nox muttered from behind her.
Even after years of studying with the man, it still surprised her just how observant her Master was, despite the fact that he had no eyes with which to see. Glancing back towards the field, Arya tried to spot what it was that Master Nox had spotted. "Did…Did Ser Loras do something to the Mountain's horse?" she asked lowly, drawing a sharp look from her sister.
"Arya," Sansa said, and Arya braced herself as she was fully expecting to be on the receiving end of a tirade from her sister about not disrespecting the Tyrells. But instead, Sansa just said lowly, "Lower your voice. It does no good saying such things aloud."
"Ser Loras did nothing," Lady Nyra said, the woman leaning forward just enough so that her voice could only be heard by the two sisters. "The Mountain is riding a fine stallion. So, Ser Loras had decided to ride a fine mare…who just so happens to be in heat given the stallion's reaction to her."
Arya frowned as she watched the two riders take their positions at opposite ends of the arena. Ser Loras's horse was calm and steady, whereas the Mountain's horse was prancing about slightly as the large man fought to keep control of his beast. "Isn't that…cheating?" Arya asked lowly, keeping her voice so that only those close to her could hear.
"There are no rules against it," her sister responded, which made Arya want to roll her eyes. Of course Sansa would know all the rules to the joust.
"And it is a lesson for you girls as well," Master Nox continued as the two jousters raised their lances, signaling their readiness to begin. "Always search for a weakness to exploit, just as Ser Loras has done here today. And because he used his head, this joust was over before it could even begin. Now, let's see if he's ready to face the repercussions of his actions."
The herald sounded his horn and the two riders charged at one another before Arya could ask what her Master meant by that. Something grabbed hold of her hand, and Arya was more than slightly surprised to see her sister's hand in her own. Sansa was gripping her hand almost to the point of it being painful as they watched the two riders quickly closing the distance between them. The two met in the center of the field with a thunderous clash and shower of wooden splinters. But to Arya's shock, it was Ser Loras's lance that had shattered against the Mountain's shield, sending the much larger man to the dirt while the Mountain's lance completely missed its target.
Sansa let go of her hands and began clapping loudly, as did almost everyone in the arena. Even Arya clapped at seeing the large man brought down. But her clapping slowed as she watched the Mountain get to his feet. Even from her spot in the stands, she could feel his anger, his rage. It was like a wildfire, consuming everything in its path until it was the only thing left. As Ser Loras rode around the field waving his broken lance in victory, Arya kept her eyes firmly on the Mountain.
The man's squire, or errand boy or something, ran up to him with the Mountain's sword in his arms. As she watched, the Mountain threw off his helmet and grabbed hold of his sword. Then with one swift movement and a mighty yell, the almost impossibly large man brought his sword around and down onto his horse's neck. The horse gave off a single high-pitched whine as the sword cleaved clean through its neck, separating its head from the rest of its body and leaving the Mountain covered in a shower of blood.
A shocked gasp went through the crowd and Arya felt her heart thunder in her chest as the Mountain marched straight for Ser Loras with his sword still drawn. Before Ser Loras could do anything, the Mountain swung his sword at Ser Loras, catching the much smaller man against his shield with enough force to throw Ser Loras clear from his saddle and onto the dirt. Ser Loras managed to recover quickly, but the man was without a sword and the best he could do was hold his shield in front of him while he lay on the ground trying to fend off the fury of blows the Mountain was raining down upon him.
Arya had no idea what had happened. But one moment she was sitting next to her sister, and the next she was in the air falling to the ground from the stands while several voices shouted out her name. Reaching to her back, she pulled out her lightsaber hilt, the weapon hilt nearly as long her arm. Her feet barely touched the ground before she dashed forward, her one end of her hilt coming to life as her purple blade emerged. Reaching the two just as the Mountain was about to slash down again, Arya struck, her lightsaber humming through the air as it cut cleanly through the blade of the Mountain's sword. Her sudden appearance surprised the man enough that he didn't react in time, giving her the chance to throw her hand out and hit him as hard as she could with the Force, sending him reeling backwards head over heels.
Turning the hilt in her two hands, Arya held her lightsaber across her body and activated the second half of her lightsaber. 'Not a lightsaber…Master Nox called it a 'saberstaff'.' Arya thought as she took the hilt in two hands and settled herself into an ataru stance as she purposefully placed herself between the downed Ser Loras and the quickly recovering Mountain.
The Mountain regained his footing far faster than Arya thought he would've and, after glancing towards this ruin sword, roared angrily and charged straight at her. During her training in Winterfell, her father, brothers, and Master Nox repeatedly told her that a real fight was nothing like practice. Though she never really paid that thought any mind. But now, with the giant of a man rushing towards her, Arya finally understood just what they meant! Her body…refused to move! All of her training that'd been drilled into her was gone. And…And she could do nothing but watch in fear as the impossibly large man rushed at her with a rage she had never experienced! 'Gods! Wh–What do I do!? Move, Arya! You need to move! Now!'
"Leave them alone!"
Arya was startled out of her frozen state as a man almost as large as the Mountain placed himself between herself and the charging Mountain. The Mountain hesitated only for a moment before swinging his broken sword at the new adversary, who Arya just now recognized as the Crown Prince's sworn shield, the one they all called 'The Hound'. "Stay back, girl!" Sandor Clegane yelled at her as he began trading sword blows with the Mountain, his still intact sword able to keep the Mountain back.
"Stop all this madness in the name of your King!"
Sandor immediately dropped to one knee at the booming voice, planting the tip of his sword in the ground. Arya turned, wide-eyed, and saw the King standing. On his face was an expression she hadn't expected since he looked angrier than she had ever seen him. Hearing a gruff and the clanging of a sword, she noticed the Mountain toss his broken blade onto the ground before turning and stomping out of the arena. Watching the imposing man walk off, Arya withdrew her saberstaff, but kept it at the ready should the Mountain decide to return.
Hearing a new set of armor clanging against itself, Arya turned and saw that Ser Loras had finally managed to regain his feet and was slowly approaching herself and the rising Sandor. "I – I owe you both my life, Lady Arya, Ser knight," Ser Loras said, nodding to each of them in turn.
"I ain't no fucking knight, flower boy," Sandor spat, though there was little anger in his voice that she could hear. "And thank the little lady here before me. She was the first to jump in to save your ass after you pulled that stupid stunt against my brother."
Ser Loras grimaced, but only for a blink of an eye before he was smiling once again while raising his voice enough so that all could hear him. "And, indeed, I shall! I hereby dedicate my victory in the joust to the sister of my future good-sister, Lady Arya Stark! The Little Wolf who held back a Mountain! And when I win this tourney, it will be in their name! And I will therefore forfeit the victor's purse in favor of gifting it to House Stark and the Hound, Sandor Clegane!"
The crowd all started cheering loudly, and for the first time in her life Arya honestly didn't know what to do as she stood next to Ser Loras while the crowd cheered…for her. She felt…good. This…This was something she could get used to! But her excitement at being cheered and praised quickly died as her eyes fell upon her family. Her family was…They were not cheering. If anything, they looked…angry. No, not angry. She'd seen her father angry before. And the look on his face was not the one he had when he was angry. Oh no…He was far, far past just 'angry'. Seeing his face finally brought home just what she had done. And with it, a sense of dread at the tongue lashing that she knew was coming her way.
The steady rhythm of a quill scratching against paper was the only noise within the chambers that had been provided to Tywin Lannister as the Lion of Casterly Rock sat behind his desk diligently working on several orders that needed to be carried out while he waited for those he'd summoned to arrive. This tournament so far had been eye opening for him, and not necessarily in a good way either. He knew that House Stark was gaining power and prestige in leaps and bounds. But now, as laughable as it seemed, the House that almost everyone dismissed no more than a decade ago was poised to stand atop of the Great Houses of Westeros, on level with even the royal family. A dangerous precedent, seeing as how the North, and Dorne, were so separated from the crown. All it would take was one little push, and the North would secede. Followed swiftly by Dorne. And in so doing, the kingdom of Westeros would be weakened almost beyond the point of repair. No. The North, and Dorne as much as it angered him to admit, needed to stay loyal to the crown and the Seven Kingdoms as a whole. The North needed to be tied more securely to the rest of Westeros. And it needed to happen in this generation.
Unfortunately, there were only a few that truly seemed to realize this. To his ire, the Queen of Thorns was perhaps one who saw what he saw. Which would explain why she was so quick to snatch up the eldest Stark girl to her own family. Though he could easily see her play behind the move, by removing Sansa from the list of eligible brides for the Crown Prince, and with the Martell girl also being removed by her betrothal to the Stark bastard, that left the Reach maiden Margaery as the primary choice as the next queen of Westeros.
Perhaps Robert could also see the risk of a Northern secession, which would explain his naming of Lord Stark as his new Hand even though the man did not have a head for the position. Not to say Lord Stark was not capable on the Small Council. He would make an excellent Master of Laws. But Lord Stark did not have a head for the game and Tywin gave it perhaps a year, maybe two, before the position of Hand would swallow Lord Stark and he would resign.
'Though that changes with Lord Nox taking up his seat on the council.' Tywin frowned, his quill pausing mid stroke. 'Robert has publicly named Lord Nox as the 'Master of the Arcane', the first new position on the Small Council since its founding. If there was anyone who could navigate the bootlickers and sewers that is the game in King's Landing, it is Lord Nox. And given his seeming fondness for the wolves…he will not let Lord Stark get swallowed by the game.'
Perhaps there were others that could see the fragile state of Westeros, the Spider for sure and perhaps Stannis. But outside of the Spider's 'little birds' and Stannis being a Baratheon, neither one had the power to hold the realm together. And as much as it angered him to admit, the ones who were clearly the blindest to the fragile state of the land were those within his own family! Namely his daughter, the Queen, and his grandson the Crown Prince.
Just thinking of the debacle Joffrey had almost caused brought such a wave of anger through Tywin that the quill that had been in his hand snapped in half. Instead of using this tourney where all the Lords and Ladies of the realm were gathered to prove himself his father's equal, the boy had done all he could to sully his own name. Had he been anyone else, the boy would either be dead or halfway to the Wall right now for all the slights he had delivered throughout the first few days of the tournament. And it was not just against the wolves either the boy had insulted, though those were indeed the most public of slights. Denying dances. Openly mocking multiple Lords and Ladies. Ordering a Kingsguard to strike a servant bloody just because he felt she brought him the 'wrong boots'. While he was able to cover most of the boy's indiscretions, the gossiping of the smallfolk often went beyond even the King's ability to control, and word was slowly seeping out into the masses of the Prince's behavior.
'The boy needs to be brought to heel.' Tywin seethed. 'And while Robert has started to show himself at least a somewhat capable King as of late, his control of his son is nonexistent. And Cersei refuses to even entertain the idea that the boy is a fool.'
Tywin needed to take the boy in hand. Joffrey was the key to the legacy of House Lannister. Sure, he had the Baratheon name, but everyone knew which family the Crown Prince favored. Which was now proving to be a double-edged sword. Ideally, he would be the one to either squire the boy to teach him what he needed to know, or he would be at the royal court to take the boy in hand. But both options were denied to him. Neither Cersei, nor Robert, would give him leave to take his grandson to squire. And as he was still without a named heir, no matter what Tyrion believed, Tywin was unable to leave the Westerlands for a prolonged stay at the royal court.
"Milord Lannister," the guard stationed outside his chambers called through the closed door. "Lord Gerion, Lady Joy, and Lord Tyrek have arrived."
"Send them in," Tywin ordered, setting aside thoughts of Joffrey and how he would deal with the boy as his brother, niece and nephew all entered his chambers.
His brother entered in his typical fashion, without showing Tywin the respect his position demanded. Mercifully however, both his niece and nephew seemed to have taken their lessons on manners to heart as both either curtseyed or bowed to him upon entering the room. Dismissing the guards with a wave, Tywin waited until the door was closed before approaching Joy first.
His brother's bastard girl had grown well in the North, and she was quickly becoming a beauty that men would eagerly fight for. Add to that her ability to use the Force and her carrying the Lannister name, and she was quickly becoming one of the most valuable members of his family. Despite the girl having returned from her 'Trials' several days ago, this was the first chance he had to speak with the young bastard girl since she passed Lord Nox's Trials and rose to the rank of 'Apprentice'. "You have done our House proud," Tywin began, speaking towards Joy.
Joy smiled politely and curtseyed once again. "Thank you, Lord Tywin."
Her reply was strained. But well masked. She was indeed her father's daughter and carried Gerion's resentment towards himself, though she masked it well. Apparently, the arcane arts and ways of combat were not the only things she had picked up in the North. 'And her value continues to increase,' he thought approvingly as he held out his hand. "I wish to inspect it."
There was no need for him to elaborate on what he meant. Everyone knew what he wanted to see. To her credit, Joy revealed nothing as she reached into the folds of her dress and pulled out the two-handed hilt that she had hidden within. Tywin felt something strange rush through him at seeing the seemingly simple hilt without a cross guard. Something he had not felt in…in a long time. Excitement. "Draw it."
A hiss of quenched steel sounded as the room was bathed in the green light of Joy's lightsaber. Reaching out, Tywin slowly, but firmly, took the lightsaber out of her niece's hands. The blade was…far lighter than he was expecting. In fact, outside of the hilt the blade had almost no weight at all. He'd been curious as to why the Sorcerer had been hoarding the knowledge of these blades for so long, refusing to even forge new blades no matter the coin offered. And now he understood. Unless one trained exclusively with these weapons, no seasoned knight would be able to pick the weapon up and use it without risk of killing themselves.
'And now, after years of waiting…House Lannister finally has one of these blades in our hands,' Tywin thought as he stared into the depths of the green blade. Ideally, he would have preferred the blade to have been yellow or red, but he had not even realized that the blade could change color, let alone how he would go about doing so. And he doubted the Sorcerer would be forthcoming with that information.
"Have you given it a name yet?" he asked, handing the blade back to Joy, who made the blade disappear once it was back in her hands.
"I have not, my lord," Joy answered. "Lord Nox has not named his blade. Nor has Jon or Robb Stark. From what little I have learned of Lord Nox's people; they do not name their blades as we do."
"You will think of a name, one befitting of House Lannister," Tywin commanded before pressing on. "And what have you learned of Lord Nox's origins? Where are his people? From what region does he hail? Beyond the Sunset Sea? Beyond Yi Ti? Sothorous?"
"I fear I cannot answer any of those questions, my lord," Joy answered, not meeting his eyes as she did so as the shame of her failure in this regard showed clearly. "Lord Nox…does not speak of his past nor his people unless he does so to teach a lesson. And even then, the details of his people and their home is kept minimal at best."
Tywin was not necessarily expecting a lot, but he had been hopeful for at least some scrap of information. The only clue he'd had for years as to Nox's place of birth had been when the man had mentioned a creature known as a 'bantha'. But no matter who he sent the inquiry to, no one could answer as to where such a creature might exist. He'd been hoping that with Joy as his student she might be able to learn something of his place of birth, but apparently, he had either overestimated Joy's ability or underestimated Nox's desire not to speak of his people.
"You will continue to do everything in your power to learn of his place of birth," Tywin commanded before setting the topic aside and pressing on. "Now, with both elder Stark boys no longer available for your hand, we must seek another. Tell me, what do you know of the King's bastard, the boy Gendry?"
The slightest touches of red rose in Joy's cheeks, and off to the side he could see his brother stiffen. Clearly both knew where he was heading with this inquiry. "I – He is a fine man, my lord. Serious about his craft and his studies. He may not have a head for some areas such as literature or other such pursuits. And his skill with the blade is nowhere near Jon's or even Robb's or Arya's. But give him a hammer and a good forge, and he knows no equal. Even Lord Nox has acknowledged his skill in forging to be better than the Sorcerer's own."
That was not something Tywin had known. That Nox was well known to have few equals no matter what he did. To know Gendry's skill in the forge was beyond even the Sorcerer's only solidified his decision. "Good. Tonight, the King will be making several announcements, most of which are expected. But regardless of what he announces, you will stay with the Sorcerer and specifically Gendry. And you will do your utmost to ensure that you catch the eyes of the King's bastard as a woman, not just as a fellow Apprentice of the Sorcerer."
"For fuck's sake, Tywin. This is my gods damned daughter we're talking about here, not a piece of livestock," Gerion growled, taking a protective step towards Joy.
"And almost all girls of her age and status are betrothed by now, or even wedded and bedded. It is far past time that a match is arranged for her." Tywin responded calmly, meeting his brother's eyes, and daring him to try and contradict him. "Catch the bastard's eyes and ensure he does not start wandering to whores as young men his age often do. Your father and I will soon begin negotiations with the King regarding a match between the two of you. And speaking of betrothals, you will also be lending your aid to Tyrek so that he can start making inroads into his own potential betrothal as well."
"W-What?!" his nephew, clearly not expecting to be called upon, nearly shouted.
"Did you believe that I called you to my chambers to stand around like a piece of furniture as I have heard Robert often does?" Tywin asked rhetorically. "Just as with Joy, you are now of age. And while you are still just a squire, you are a squire to the King which puts you above the others. Joy, while you have the time, you will tell Tyrek everything you know about Arya Stark. Particularly her interests and what Tyrek will need to do to catch and keep her attention."
He doubted his nephew's eyes could have gotten any larger if he'd tried. "My—My Lord…Arya Star—"
"Lady Arya Stark," Tywin corrected, to which Joy almost immediately corrected him.
"She does not like to be called a 'Lady', my Lord. She is a…warrior woman at heart. If she could, she would have donned a set of armor and joined the melee for this very tournament. And when she is of age, I doubt that anyone will be able to stop her from doing so."
"Apprentice Arya Stark then," Tywin nodded. He did not mind his niece's correction, but only because she had provided them a useful piece of information that would aid them.
Tyrek nodded, "Lad – I mean Apprentice Arya Stark…she…umm…"
"Do you find her unpleasing to look at?" Tywin asked, not that it truly mattered. He would marry Tyrek, or any in his family, to a babe if it meant strengthening House Lannister's standing.
"No! But…She is a bit younger than me." It was a feeble excuse at best. Even the boy himself seemed to know this even as he said it.
"Lady Sansa Stark is betrothed to Lord Willas Tyrell, who is nearly a decade her senior. The difference between yourself and Arya is far less than that. And by the time she is of age to wed, the difference between your ages will not matter." Pausing, Tywin made his way back behind his desk and retook his seat. "At the feast tonight, you will introduce yourself to Arya Stark. Joy will tell you what she knows of the young girl, and you will use that to make an impression on her. Dance with her if the opportunity presents itself. Or spend the entire evening by her side. That is all. Leave, and prepare yourselves for tonight."
His niece and nephew both made a hasty retreat at his dismissal. His brother followed their example as well, but not before throwing a glare at Tywin and shutting the door with far more force than what was necessary. Alone once more, Tywin leaned back and began plotting out just how he would broach the subject of marriage to both the King and Lord Stark. He was under no delusions that either negotiation would be easy, or even welcome for that matter. But in the end, he would get what he wanted. He would ensure that the legacy of House Lannister remained one to be feared and respected even after his death.