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“You asked for me, my Lord?”
Tywin hears the door shut behind his cupbearer. He nods without looking up from his documents. “I did.”
She takes a step inside the room and then stops. “What do you need, my Lord? Something to drink or eat?”
“No, none of that now.” He signs the bottom of the current parchment and then sets it aside to dry. He’s quiet as he turns to the girl. “Sit, girl.” He gestures to the chair opposite him. “I’ve got something for you to read.”
“Something for me to read?” A flicker of confusion crosses her face but she sits as she’s told. She knows he’s perfectly capable of reading himself, so she knows this must be some kind of test.
“Yes. Something important.” He passes her the parchment he’s just signed and watches her intently.
She takes the parchment with a subtle frown as her eyes scan the neat handwriting. Her frown deepens as she reads in a mumble under her breath, but reads louder when the confusion grows.
“–henceforth, I, Tywin, Lord of House Lannister, first of his name, shall take the orphan Arry into House Lannister to be educated and instated as my heir–” Her attention turns to him immediately with wide eyes. She grips the parchment tightly. “I… don’t understand, my Lord. I believe there’s some sort of mistake–”
Tywin laces his hands and rests them on his desk. “Do you think I would write something egregiously incorrect?”
“Well, no, my Lord, but this–”
“It’s as it is written. I intend to give you the Lannister name and have you educated. One day, when I’m good and dead, you’ll be the Lady of the House.”
She swallows thickly and stares once again at the paper. To bear the Lannister name and become heir to the very House that destroyed her family? It was a nauseating thought. She clears her throat to maintain her composure.
“My Lord, surely, this couldn’t be possible. I’m– I’m no one. A lowborn orphan. I can’t become a Lady. No noble House would do such a thing–”
“You have a sharper mind than half of the prattling Lords of other Houses and their heirs. A sharp mind wasted on the life of an orphan child of a stonemason turned cupbearer. You have far more potential than half the heirs of other noble Houses, and House Lannister needs good stock to secure our future.”
She swallows again. Her eyes move over the parchment to be sure she’s read it correctly, but the text remains the same. “House Lannister’s line is already secured, isn’t it, my Lord? Your grandson is the King, and you have other children.”
“My grandson comes from my blood, yes, but he is a Baratheon, not a Lannister. My eldest son, Jaime, is sworn to the life of a Kingsguard. He cannot take a wife, he cannot father children. My daughter, Cersei, is tied to House Baratheon through marriage. What does that leave me with, hm?” He picks up his goblet to swirl it before taking a drink. His sharp eyes watch her over the cup. “An imp of an heir that no Lord would want their daughters to marry. A well-read imp, but a lecherous imp all the same.”
Her jaw tightens slightly before it relaxes. Her gaze lifts from the document to look at him once more. “Even if his appearance isn’t desirable, he bears the Lannister name and a marriage bond to House Lannister is enough to attract proposals, my Lord.”
Tywin takes another sip and sets the goblet down. “Of course the Lannister name attracts interest, however, do you think there are any noble girls in Westeros who want to bed a dwarf? Marital duty is not enough to ensure a bride is willing. And Tyrion, though he has more strength and some skill with a blade than one would expect, does not have the stature nor the constitution to force a reluctant bride into submission in their wedding bed. He’s far too soft, and would possibly go so far as to allow any wife of his to keep a lover so he can claim her bastard children as his own.”
With another sip, he holds her gaze. “It should be obvious that a bastard can never hold legitimate power or rule a House, and so, House Lannister’s bloodline would end because of a dwarf who failed to produce heirs. With that likely outcome, it is preferable to take on new blood who would better suit House Lannister than to resign to our fate at the hands or loins of a weak link. I am the Lord of Casterly Rock and the Hand of the King. No one has the authority or audacity to deny any adoption or appointment I make within my own House, and the other Houses would do the same if they had an imp for an heir.”
Tywin takes up his goblet again to observe her expression. When she’s quiet, he chuckles.
“You’re thinking of a reason to reject this.” He speaks in a statement rather than a question. “Any other lowborn orphan girl would be grateful to be adopted into a noble House.”
She swallows down the bitter mix of emotions burning in her throat. “I wouldn’t make a very suitable Lady, my Lord. I’m not good at anything for girls, sewing and the like. I always spent my time with the local boys. Getting dirty and using sticks as swords. It’s more interesting than sitting inside with needlework.”
Tywin chuckles. “You fancy yourself a swordsman, girl?”
She quickly looks down and presses her lips together. “I didn’t claim to be good at it, my Lord. Only that I took an interest in it. I don’t like the idea of needing anyone to protect me if someone tried to kill me the way my father was killed.”
“Ah, a practical girl. You don’t trust others to keep you safe, do you? Smart.” He chuckles again. “As a Lannister, you’ll learn to be a proper lady. No more playing as a boy or working as a cupbearer.”
“Isn’t it also proper, my Lord, not to have a lowborn leading a noble House? But it is what you intend anyway.”
He raises a brow at her brazen quip and a faint smile quirks at the corners of his thin lips. “Careful, girl, your tongue dares to be too sharp.” He takes another sip. “But yes, that is my intent.”
“I’ve heard about Brienne of Tarth, who is nearly unmatched as a knight and is also a lady of her House. If she’s well-regarded, then why can’t the Lannisters have a Lady capable of swordplay as well, my Lord?”
“Hm.” Tywin swirls his goblet again and observes the movement of the liquid with a hum. He takes a drink and sets the empty goblet aside. “Now that, girl, is a sound argument befitting a Lannister.”
She bristles at the compliment and tries to mask her true reaction as she looks downward.
“Very well. Should you agree to become a Lannister and do well enough in your studies, I will allow you to have lessons in swordplay or archery as you like. Advance quickly enough in your education and learn what you must to be a proper lady, and I’ll even have Brienne of Tarth herself come to train you. What do you say to that?”
She feels her stomach knot but her breath catches in her throat at the offer. The idea of becoming a Lannister, of calling herself family to these people, is disgusting. And yet, there is the appeal of being encouraged to learn to fight, even with conditions… More importantly, the more she learns of the Lannisters and gains his trust, the more easily she can take revenge for House Stark when the opportunity presents itself.
She places the parchment on his desk with trembling hands and meets his gaze. “It’s a good deal, my Lord. I would be foolish not to accept.”
“Good.” Tywin sits upright and takes the parchment back to write below his name. “You’ll take on a new name. Something more befitting a noble girl than a simple name such as ‘Arry’.” He finishes writing and returns his quill to his stand. “Arryelle Lannister, then. Keeps the name from your father but in a manner better suited for a noble girl.”
Arryelle Lannister. The name burns like fire in her veins and acid in her mouth. She swallows it down. “A good name, my Lord. Thank you.”
“I expect you to also grow out your hair and dress properly once you’re a Lannister. There will be no more need to make yourself into a boy for safety with the Lannister name and guards.” Tywin writes a bit more before he leans back in his chair. “You may go for now. Get yourself something to eat and bring me more wine.”
“Yes, my Lord.” She curtsies slightly and casts her gaze to the floor.
“It goes without saying that this conversation is strictly confidential between you and I until I’ve gotten all formalities in order.”
“Yes, my Lord. I won’t say a word of it to anyone.”
“Good. You may go now.”