Chapter 7: The Lion's Den

They arrived in King's Landing through the God's Gate a few days later. Arya had last passed beneath that gate a year ago, back when she still believed in the immortality of people she loved. How different she had been then. How naïve. Now, the air made her sick with the awful memories of the past, and she felt bile in the back of her throat when she saw the sept of Baelor in the distance.

Ser Illyn. Bring me his head.

Approaching the Red Keep, she could almost smell the blood. All of the Stark household had been killed here. Septa Mordane, who always chided Arya for her needle work. The guards who used to escort her places. All of her father's most trusted soldiers. Syrio, her dancing master. Everyone associated with the name Stark had been slayed in the castle.

Except for Arya.

And Sansa.

When they stopped at the stables, Arya saw a familiar face flanked by Lannister guards. She was preparing for the long journey home and every bit of her face looked relieved. It had been so long since Arya had seen her sister that she almost stopped breathing.

Sansa looked up at saw her. "Arya…" she murmured.

No one could stop Arya from vaulting off of her horse and rushing toward her sister. She hugged her as tightly as she could. The last time they saw each other they had been fighting about something stupid. Arya would have deeply regretted it if they had never seen each other again.

Sansa wrapped her arms around her, holding her close. "Oh, Arya. It's good to see you. I thought you might be dead."

"I'm not," Arya pulled back at her. "I'm all right. Between the two of us, you were in more danger."

Sansa gave her a small smile. Her smiles were sadder now, with none of their old optimistic brightness. In fact Sansa's skin looked much paler, and her body more deflated. She used to shine in the capitol. Time and tragedy had sapped her strength.

"It's all right. You get to go home now," Arya murmured. "I've seen mother. She misses you. She'll be so glad to be with you again."

"I wish I could take you with me," Sansa murmured. "I wish we could both go home."

Arya's chest ached. Yes, she wished that too. It would be nice to have all of the family together again. "I'll be all right."

"You will." Sansa pulled her into another hug. But this time she whispered in her ear. "Be careful Arya. Joffrey is worse than he ever was. I know you're fierce, but you must be careful and play their game. Otherwise, you'll suffer."

Arya swallowed hard. She could hardly imagine Joffrey worse, but she believed Sansa. "Play their game?"

"Keep your head down. Don't act rashly. Be a shadow." Sansa pulled back. "Promise me."

"I promise," Arya murmured.

"Good." Sansa squeezed her shoulders.

"Lady Sansa," one of the guards stepped up beside her. It took Arya a moment to see that it was not a man but a giant of a woman. Her eyes widened. "We're ready to leave."

"Of course," Sansa murmured. "Oh… Lady Brienne, this is my sister, Arya."

"I'm not a lady," Brienne murmured. She gave Arya a bow. "I'm pleased to meet you Lady Arya."

"Mother sent her ahead to help guide me north," Sansa said. "She doesn't trust the Lannister guards."

"She shouldn't," Arya looked up at Brienne. "I've… I've never seen a lady knight. I've only read about them."

Brienne seemed taken aback by the admiration in her voice. "Do you like reading about knights, lady Arya?"

"Arya's always talking about knights. She would be one if she had the chance," Sansa said.

"Perhaps, one day you'll have that chance," Brienne smiled a bit. "I apologize that we cannot take you with us, lady Arya."

Arya swallowed hard. Yes, she would like very much to go with them. "Protect Sansa. I'll be fine here."

Sansa gave her a sad smile. "Goodbye. We'll see each other again." Then she turned away from Arya, stepping into the cart. Arya watched her sister leave, fighting the urge to jump in the back with her. She would not get far. She was a prisoner of this place now.

She could only hope to follow in her sister's footsteps one day, and make the long journey home.

"It's ridiculous," Cersei said. "It's completely ridiculous."

"So you've said," Tywin said without looking up from his letters. "Three times now."

"Making peace with Robb Stark is borderline madness," Cersei said. "He took up arms against the throne-against your grandson-and you offered him a deal? You should have destroyed every single one of the Starks, like you did the Reynes, starting with that insufferable girl."

Tywin exhaled. Cersei had been raving about this for what seemed like hours now. Recent events had made her more wild and paranoid than ever. He set down his quill. "The North would have stopped their rebellion long ago if you had managed to control your son. You made everything much more difficult when you stood by and let Ned Stark die."

"I didn't expect him too-"

"No. You didn't. But you should have," Tywin said. "You love your children, but you are blind to their faults. You should have seen Joffrey's untamed cruelty a long time ago and learned how to manage it when he was still young. Now, it's too late. He will no longer listen to you. The blame for that rests on your shoulders."

Cersei fell into a sullen silence, just like she always did when she did not have a retort. The years had hardened her, but some things had stayed the same.

"Would you like me to explain why I made peace with the North?" Tywin asked. "Or would you like to continue to make wild accusations?"

Cersei glared at him. "Explain then."

"The Starks are not the Reynes," Tywin said. "The Reynes owed loyalty to house Lannister, but they were not necessary for the survival of the Westerlands. Furthermore, your grandfather had let the Lannister name sit so long in the mud that an extreme response was required to change the views of the other houses. I crushed them soundly because I did not need them and they made an example to the rest of the world. The point is not to destroy every enemy because every enemy is not the same. Sometimes we go to war. Sometimes we make peace. Sometimes we form marriage alliances or take hostages."

"And you made peace with the Starks," Cersei said. "Why is that necessary?"

"You really shouldn't need to ask me that question," Tywin said. "They're one of the oldest families in Westeros for a reason. There has always been a Stark in Winterfell and changing that would destabilize the north. I preferred not to throw one realm into chaos with winter on the way. Furthermore, Robb Stark didn't rise in rebellion because he did not respect the Lannister name or the throne. He rose in rebellion to defend his father. Enemy or not, he would have been weak and disloyal if he did not come to Eddard Stark's defense."

"Do you respect him now?" Cersei sneered.

"A boy of seventeen with a great many victories under his belt? Yes," Tywin said. "He's smart and willing to make sacrifices. He will make a strong leader in the north. We need strong leadership."

Cersei looked away, the look of a sullen child crossing her face. "You told me once… that everyone who isn't us is an enemy."

"I told you that everyone who isn't us could become an enemy. There is a difference," Tywin said. "And it is possible to respect one's enemies. Make peace with them. Keep them close. If you look down on every one of your enemies, you begin to underestimate them and they have the opportunity to rise up and destroy you. That's what happened to the Targaryens." He picked up his quill to write. "I do not intend to follow them."

"Our enemies can't harm us if they are all dead," Cersei said quietly.

"That's a child's way to deal with a problem. You can't kill everyone in the world. Then the world would not turn properly anymore." Tywin went back to writing. " You will make peace with Arya Stark."

Cersei's shoulders rose like the hackles of an enraged lioness. "I will not -"

"You will," Tywin said. "A child's squabble between her and Joffrey is not a reason for you to bare a grudge. And if Joffrey senses your hatred, he may see that as an excuse to kill her just as he killed Ned Stark. I need her alive and unharmed so you will do your part to see that happens."

"She's as wild as an actual wolf. You should have sent her back to the north and kept Sansa here," Cersei said.

"But I didn't, and my decision is not negotiable," Tywin looked up at her again. "Make peace with the girl. Make sure Joffrey understands her value. Then you are both free to ignore her completely."

Cersei gritted her teeth together and stood. "As you say, father." Then she swept from the room.

She's going to cause trouble, Tywin thought as soon as she left. He set his quill down again, rubbing a hand over his face. If anyone was wild now, it was his daughter. She barely made an attempt to conceal her true feelings anymore.

He was more concerned about controlling her than Arya Stark.

Arya's room was smaller than most in King's Landing, but larger than her chambers at Winterfell. King's Landing had far more room to spare, it seemed, even for hostages.

Arya hated the room. She hated the smell of this place. It was all perfumes just barely covering the stench of death and deceit. She hated the silk of the sheets too. Silk was such a useless sort of fabric. There was no security in it. In the North, nothing was made of silk. Sansa used to lament that fact, but Arya loved it. She always preferred leather and fur and wool.

She wondered if they would dress her in King's Landing garb as well. She would not like that at all.

Arya paced around her room, looking for something she could use as a weapon. A knife perhaps. She did not know what she would do with a weapon, but it would be good to have just in case. She could not find anything sharp, however. Only a hairbrush on the dresser, and she wasn't sure it was heavy enough to beat someone with.

Arya's shoulders sagged and she looked up at her reflection in the mirror. She was annoyed that she did not look stronger. More fearless. She wanted to be a wolf, but she could see the fear in her own eyes.

It would not do to be afraid. She had to be strong in this place to survive. She straightened her back and raised her chin, looking defiantly at her own reflection.

The door creaked open behind her and she saw a flash of blonde hair. Arya spun around as the Queen Regent herself entered the room. Her grip tightened on the hair brush. It was the only thing she had.

Play their game, Sansa's words flashed through her head. Otherwise you'll suffer.

"Your Grace," Arya forced the words from her lips. They tasted bitter. "I was not expecting you."

"Clearly," Cersei said. "Courtesies don't sit right on your lips, do they Lady Arya?"

"No, your grace. Septa Mordane always said the same," Arya replied. "What brings you here?"

Cersei smiled. It was perhaps the least convincing expression Arya had ever seen. "Perhaps I wanted to welcome you back to King's Landing, and make sure you were comfortable."

Arya could not keep the incredulous look off her face.

"No. You know better than that, don't you?" Cersei asked. The gleam in her green eyes made her smile sharp as a razor. "My father insists that you are important to keep the peace. I can understand that perhaps. But that does not mean I have to pretend to like you."

Arya raised her chin. "Of course not. Then why are you here?"

"To give you a warning," Cersei said. "I know you're wild and I know that you must be plotting something in that head of yours. Your father died here. Perhaps you want revenge for that. But if you come anywhere near my children, I will have your throat cut."

She was short and to the point. Arya almost preferred her this way. Better an open threat than false flattery.

"Do you really think I want anything to do with Joffrey?" Arya asked. "I'll stay clear of him if I can. I'll stay clear of Tommen as well if it please your grace." She spoke her courtesies with the sweetest lilt she could manage. Sansa always made that sort of thing sound so much more convincing.

"It would please me," Cersei said. "I would do anything to protect my family, Lady Arya. Even the most distasteful acts. Your father tested me once. I don't recommend you make the same mistakes."

"I won't," Arya said. "I plan to learn from my father's mistakes, your grace."

Because if I move against you, I will be smarter, she thought. I would do anything for my family as well.

"Good," Cersei said flatly. "Then we are at an understanding." She swept back toward the door. "You may tell my father that we made peace. Then I won't hear any more about it from him."

He won't believe it if I do, Arya thought, but she did not speak those thoughts. "Very well." She tilted her head to the side. "Your grace?"

Cersei stopped and looked back at her. "Yes, Lady Arya?"

"If you don't pretend to like me… Does that mean I don't have to pretend to like you?" Arya asked. There was ice beneath the sweetness of her tone. Ice and steel. And Cersei clearly heard it. Her eyes narrowed and her lip curled back in disgust. Then she left, slamming the door behind her.

Is that a yes or a no? Arya thought.

Arya released the hair brush, still clutched in her left hand. It had left marks on her palm from how hard she gripped it. There were many threats to Arya in this place, but Cersei was at the top of the list of dangers.

Just as well. She was also at the top of Arya's list of names.