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The Lion Lord and the Little Wolf Girl	By : White Glove Literature Category: G through L > Game of Thrones Views: 27883 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I neither own Game of Thrones nor make money from this story.

Chapter List
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Arya moaned softly, the bed creaking beneath her as her small body shook. Behind her, her lord gripped her small hips, his eyes shut tight as he roughly thrust himself in and out of her. It had been more than a month since her lord had confessed his feelings for her in his sleep and he had begun treating her differently than he had before.
He was kinder, more affectionate when he was alone with her. Often holding and kissing her, whispering sweet words in her ear, stroking her cheek and so on. Indeed, his whole general outlook on the world had altered to a point. Granted, in public or when others were nearby, he was still the stern, cold and indifferent lord she remembered, but with her, he was only her beloved lord. Snapping out of her thoughts, she bit her lip, wincing slightly as her Lord took her hard. Tywin Lannister could never be called a gentle man, but she loved him regardless.
That morning while her lord had been training in the practice grounds a raven arrived bearing news from the Crown’s spies. After reading it, her lord informed her of its contents, stating that the Iron Islanders had invaded the North and had begun attacking villages along the coast. Worse still was the news that Theon Greyjoy, her brother's best friend had turned traitor and captured Winterfell. Her younger brothers were now prisoners in their own home. Anger burned through her at the news and she had vowed revenge on the traitor Theon Greyjoy. His name now added to the long list she whispered before sleeping.
Behind her, her lord stiffened spending himself inside her. She smiled to herself as he moved to lay beside her on the bed, the warmth of his seed coating her thighs. She moved to lay against his side, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his fingers toying with a stray lock of her dark hair which had begun to grow longer, once again. Happily, she allowed herself to enjoy his embrace. They lay together, cuddling for a while before he sat up, dressing and heading to his solar.
Arya pulled her smallclothes on and fixed her gown before walking over to stand at the edge of the room, watching him as he worked silently at his desk. Examining and signing documents, he seemed entirely at peace at this moment and she wondered if it had anything to do with her and their relationship.
In recent weeks, the River lords had suffered countless defeats at the hands of the determined Lannister forces under the command of Ser Devan Lannister and Ser Gregor Clegane. They had captured several holdfasts and villages including Raventree, Wendish Town and Seagaurd. Only Riverrun and the Twins remained the last great fortresses in the Riverlands to hold out. The bulk of the Northern forces under the command of Roose Bolton had retreated, heading North to drive out the Iron Islanders, leaving the remaining Northern troops under the command of Robb Stark along with the River lords to oppose the onslaught of Lannister troops. Meanwhile, reports stated that Stannis Baratheon was putting together a fleet to attack King's Landing.
A knock at the door sounded and Lord Tywin looked up. "Enter." He called.
A man entered, dressed in Lannister red, a golden lion stitched into the upper right corner of his crimson wool tunic. Stafford Lannister bowed before him, looking up and offered a sealed letter which Tywin took. He broke the wax seal and unrolled the scroll reading carefully. The letter was written in the neat script of his daughter, Cersei. Wondering what it could be he began reading.
“The Reach has agreed to the betrothal of Margaery Tyrell to my son. Lord Mace Tyrell is amassing his forces, and our spies state that Stannis’s fleet is nearly assembled. We’re told he has more than one hundred thousand men and he’ll be ready to assault King’s Landing in a weeks’ time. Plans have been made to defend the city, but due to unfortunate circumstances, we are unable to withstand a prolonged siege. You must move south to our aid. Bring your forces to the capital and defend the Crown lands.
Cersei of House Lannister. Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”
Tywin sighed and set the letter down before turning to face the messenger. “Go and fetch Ser Amory Lorch.” He said.
At once, Stafford Lannister bowed and turned, leaving the chamber.
Tywin ran a hand through his thinning hair and shook his head, wondering once again how this whole mess had started. Inwardly, he cursed Joffrey for cutting off Ned Stark’s head and Cersei for letting him. The boy would need to be reined in properly, judging by the stories he’d heard from his sources at court. “I’m getting too old for this,” He thought to himself.
Shortly, Ser Amory Lorch knocked at the door and entered the solar, bowing low. “You summoned me, my lord.” He spoke quietly.
Tywin looked at the man, considering him for a moment. “I’m traveling south with the army to King’s Landing. I’m leaving you here in command of Harrenhal with 2,000 men. You’re to remain here at Harrenhal and maintain the Crown’s control of the Riverlands at all costs. Do not take any unnecessary risks. Do you understand?” He asked, gazing sternly at the other man.
Ser Amory Lorch stood up straight and nodded. “Yes, my lord. I’ll hold the castle and the Riverlands as you command.” He replied.
With that Tywin waved his hand and Ser Amory Lorch left. Tywin turned to face Arya who bowed, awaiting his orders. “Begin packing my things. We leave for King’s landing tomorrow.” He stated looking to her.
XxxxxxxxxxxX
The next day with the first rays of sunlight shining in the morning sky, the huge column of Lannister soldiers set out, riding through the gates of Harrenhal. Lord Tywin sat mounted on the back of his huge black destrier, riding at the head of the column. The line stretched for over three miles as the column of eighteen thousand Lannister troops journeyed through the countryside, heading south along the King’s Road towards the capital.
Above them, birds flew overhead, and the sun slowly rose behind the clouds. Tywin took a sip from his waterskin and stowed it back at his side, eating a dried apple as he rode. He had insisted on setting out at first light and so the men ate as they marched. Looking around he determined that it would be a long journey to King’s Landing, even if they marched from morning to sundown each day with only occasional breaks to rest.
After eight hours of hard marching, they had passed the Isle of Faces and were moving steadily south along the King’s Road. They had stopped twice to rest, once every four hours, the men exhausted and unable to go on they spent an hour each break recovering their strength and dining on their rations. Tywin shifted in his saddle, looking to his left. Riding on a palfrey a short distance away, dressed in Lannister livery was Arya.
He watched her as she looked around excitedly at the surroundings. Clearly, she had never traveled with an army before and appeared to be fascinated by all that took place around her. She had been worried at first that she would be left behind but Tywin reassured her, refusing to leave her behind at Harrenhal, insisting she was too valuable a hostage to trust to the care of Amory Lorch. He had revealed to a select few trusted officers that she was, in fact, Arya Stark of Winterfell.
They had spent the last five days traveling along the King’s Road and it was nearly sundown. They were deep inside the Crownlands now and the army had made camp at Rosby. Lord Rosby had laid out a small feast to welcome them. Outside the castle, the common soldiers sat around lean-tos and cook fires, dining on meat and mead provided by Lord Rosby. They laughed and drank, flirting with camp followers as the sun set while inside the castle Lord Tywin and his officers sat around tables in the Great Hall, listening to musicians playing while they feasted and drank.
Tywin sighed, never one for celebrating or overindulging in wine, but it had been a long march and his officers and soldiers were tired and needed to rest. Still, he ordered the mead the soldiers drank be watered down so as not to affect them too harshly the next morning. Beside him to the right, Arya sat eating quietly as she looked around the hall, clearly uncomfortable. Recalling that Northerners weren’t fond of indulging in elaborate feats and music he sympathized with her. Reaching over, he gripped her hand under the table and spared her a brief and reassuring glance, making her smile up at him, before turning back to face the hall.
Earlier that day their scouts had informed them Lord Mace Tyrell was on the march and would meet up with them the following day. Suddenly, there was a commotion as the doors to the dining hall opened and a balding Maester rushed in running straight for the head table. He bowed and faced Lord Tywin.
“My lord, Stannis Baratheon’s fleet is sailing from Dragonstone and his infantry are laying siege to King’s landing as we speak. The situation is urgent.” He stated breathless and panting.
Tywin swore silently and faced his gathered officers. “Order the men to pack up camp. We march in one hour.” He barked.
With that there was a rush as officers dashed out of the castle, issuing orders to their men. Tywin stood, leaving the hall and headed towards the chambers set aside for him to change into his armor. Arya eagerly helped him into his armor, grinning excitedly.
“Will we be meeting up with Lord Tyrell’s forces on the way there, or will they meet us at King’s Landing?” Arya asked animatedly.
Tywin strapped his sword belt on, before turning to look at her. “We? You’re staying here. The battlefield is no place for children. Especially girls.” He replied.
Arya frowned, staring up at him angry. “But I can fight. I’ve been practicing. My father even hired a water dancing master from Braavos for me.” Arya stubbornly protested.
Tywin shook his head, eyes stern as he gazed at her. “Practicing is not the same as doing. This battle is going to be fierce. Stannis Baratheon is a skilled commander and I can’t be sure of the outcome. I won’t place you at risk. I lov…care to much about you to risk losing you.” He said, looking down at her.
Arya glared up at him, her dark eyes flashing in a rage. “I’m not your whore, Tywin. I’ll be your equal or nothing. I may be a girl, but I demand equal treatment and respect for my ideas.” She harshly replied.
Startled by the hostility in her tone, Tywin towered above her, eerily calm and she feared she had pushed him too far but finally his shoulders slumped, and he conceded defeat. “Fine. You can come along but you’ll remain on the sidelines of the battle with the squires and the reserve troops under the command of my cousin Stafford Lannister. You’re not to do anything stupid, and if the battle goes ill for us, you’ll retreat to Rosby and he’ll arrange your passage to Casterly Rock. Understood?” He asked facing her.
“Yes, my lord.” She replied feeling relieved.
“Good. Now let’s get moving.” He said with a nod.
With that, they headed back down the hall and out into the courtyard of the keep where the horses were saddled and waiting. Tywin helped Arya mount up before climbing into his own saddle and they set out, Tywin supervising the officers who were busily mobilizing the army.
After a lot of shouting as soldiers hurried this way and that the Lannister army was ready to march and they set out, back along the King’s Road. Tywin set a forced march once again and they traveled through the night along the King’s road making for the juncture where they would meet up with the Tyrell host. Tywin shifted in his saddle and flexed his arms, his stiff muscles protesting. It was times like this that he began to feel his age.
They had been on the march for over two hours and finally, the Tyrell host was in sight. They were just a few miles from King’s landing now Tywin noted as he pulled on his horse’s reins and came to a stop as Lord Mace Tyrell rode up to greet him. Beside him was a young man mounted on a chestnut charger wearing green and gold armor with an antlered helm.
“Good evening, my lord. We have been waiting for you. Shall we get going?” Lord Tyrell said an oafish grin on his face.
Tywin’s face set in a grim line as he looked over the pair. Mace Tyrell noticed his gaze and turned.
“Oh. This is Garlan, my son, and heir.” He said, placing a hand on Garlan’s shoulder.
Garlan bowed his head. “An honor to meet you, my lord.” He said in a polite tone.
Tywin nodded his head, offering a polite reply and steered his horse forward. They rode forth, the combined army following behind. Further back, near the rear of the column, Arya rode alongside Stafford Lannister, chatting excitedly with the man, who despite his best efforts to ignore her found himself answering most if not all her questions.
Tywin rode in silence, a frown marring his features as beside him Mace Tyrell rambled on about this and that. It seemed the man never shut up. Tywin was beginning to reach the limits of his patience with the dull-witted man, his grip tightening on his reins when the sound of shouting was heard, and the enemy appeared through a break in the tree line ahead of them.
Tywin drew his sword, shouting orders as the Lannister-Tyrell host burst through the tree line, surprising the enemy. With a final command, they charged into the clearing and Tywin steered his horse forward, riding straight into the enemy ranks, his sword arm swinging, cutting down enemy after enemy as all around him soldiers screamed and shouted, the clang of steel on steel ringing as soldiers traded blows, swords striking armor and shields, the occasional cry of pain as a blow found purchase, the soldier falling.
Around them, arrows whizzed by sinking into the flesh of the men running to and fro. Tywin swore as his horse was struck by an arrow that bounced off the steel chainmail covering its flank. It frightened the beast, however, causing It to rear back, but he managed to hold on, struggling to bring the beast under control. Behind him amongst the tree line, Lannister archers fired volley after volley into the enemy ranks, far ahead of him, cutting down the Baratheon infantry as they regrouped further ahead.
All around him, Tywin saw his forces fighting off against groups of the Baratheon infantry, slowly gaining the edge as Stannis’s troops were pushed back bit by bit towards the city walls, the archers on the battlements above, firing down on them from behind. Suddenly a horn sounded, and Tywin looked up, his eyes zeroing in on the sound. A short distance ahead deep within the enemy lines, illuminated by the light of torches and bonfires, a huge banner was waving, a fiery heart emblazoned on the golden fabric as a figure on a huge white destrier appeared, shouting orders to his men.
Stannis Baratheon had finally shown himself. Tywin looked around him and rallied his men. “To me. To me.” He shouted as his men regrouped around him. The Tyrell cavalry had rallied and was turning around for a second charge into the center of the enemy ranks, following the figure in green and gold armor who cut down foe after foe, his sword swinging this way and that. Taking a moment to catch his breath, Tywin grabbed one of his nearby lieutenants by the shoulder.
“Give the order for the men to rally. We need to organize and prepare for another onslaught.” He shouted, to be heard above the din.
Nodding that he understood, the lieutenant turned, blowing a loud blast on a horn at his waist and issued orders for the Lannister forces to fall back for a breather. Once they had sufficiently recovered and were organized into a spearhead formation, Tywin gave the order and they once again prepared to charge into battle as the Tyrell cavalry took their cue to retire, falling back to the sidelines once again.
Looking over his shoulder, Tywin called to the archers. “Give them a volley. Aim for the large clusters of enemy troops. Make them panic and scatter. Fire!” He shouted, charging forward, his men following him as they crashed into the enemy formation.
The Baratheon forces were beginning to panic, exhausted from the repeated onslaughts and fleeing the field as Stannis worked to maintain order among his ranks. Spotting him on the field Tywin urged his horse forward when suddenly a nearby Baratheon officer swung his sword, cutting the beast’s legs out from under it. The huge destrier collapsed beneath him screaming loudly and writhing in agony as it died. Tywin roughly climbed out of the saddle and standing quickly he slashed out with his sword, the unlucky officer’s head rolling from his shoulders as his body hit the ground in a heap.
Around him, the battle raged fiercely, and Tywin cut down enemy soldiers left and right, looking around as he searched for Stannis. Suddenly to the right rushing towards him on foot, his steel plate armor glinting dully in the firelight and spattered with blood, his sword aglow was Stannis Baratheon. Tywin turned to face him as he charged, sword held high. He raised his sword as Stannis swung, the blades striking hard as Tywin parried his attack.
In that first blow, Tywin felt his sword arm jar, the force of Stannis’s blow nearly making his arm go numb. Tywin ground his teeth and tried to stay calm. “This would not be an easy fight.” He thought to himself.
They traded blows, swords clanging, and Tywin braced himself, sweat dripping into his eyes as he fought off Stannis’s attacks. “That glowing sword of his gives him such unnatural strength.” He noted as Stannis kicked Tywin’s feet out from under him and Tywin stumbled, falling to his knees, his sword raised as above him, Stannis sneered, face set in a grim line. “Now you die,” he said as he knocked Tywin’s sword aside with a mailed fist and raised his sword to strike.
Tywin was certain this was the end when Stannis suddenly froze, his sword raised above his head before collapsing, in a heap as he grunted, a slight scream escaping his lips as he grabbed his side, blood spurting between his fingers. Behind him, a short figure stood holding a dagger. Relieved, Tywin stood quickly and knocked Stannis’s sword aside before raising his own, his blade swinging in an arc.
Stannis’s head flew from his shoulders as Arya gasped, shocked before rushing into her Lord's arms. Around them the battle slowly died down, the Baratheon soldiers taking note of the death of their commander, they threw down their swords surrendering all at once. Lannister and Tyrell soldiers cheered and shouted as they rounded up the enemy, herding them into small groups and binding them with ropes.
Sliding off his helmet, Tywin leaned down, a frown on his face as he placed a hand on Arya’s shoulder. Before he could say anything however the city gates opened, and King Joffrey came out surrounded by his Kingsguard and the gold cloaks, smirking and boasting as he waved at the gathered soldiers.
“One would think he won the battle singlehandedly the way he gloated,” Arya thought, scowling at him from her place at Tywin’s side.
Tywin led Arya past him, heading into the city at the head of a column of Lannister and Tyrell forces, while behind him Joffrey shouted angry at being ignored and followed them, acting the part of a petulant child. Arya walked beside Tywin nervous and afraid at being back in the capital, but Tywin placed a hand on her shoulder, reassuring her with a smile as he led her towards the Red Keep.
Marching into the Red Keep, Tywin headed towards the throne room, flanked by Arya and two of his captains. To his right Garlan Tyrell marched alongside him, his green and gold armor dented and stained red with blood, his antlered helm clutched securely under his right arm. Reaching the throne room, Tywin pushed the doors open.
The Throne Room was nearly empty, save for Cersei perched on the Iron Throne, Little Tommen in her lap as she stared ahead, terrified. Seeing her father, she visibly slumped in relief, as Tommen jumped up, running towards his grandfather. Slowly, Cersei stood and walked forward approaching her father…
TBC
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The Lion Lord and the Little Wolf Girl