Sandor had no idea what he was going to do with Arya now. There was nowhere for her to go. She didn't have any family anymore. He was sure her sisters were still alive, but he hoped to the gods they remained hidden away. If he somehow found them, then no doubt it would be easy for the Lannisters to find them.
He couldn't take her to Riverrun, the Freys had it, he couldn't take her to Winterfell, the Bolton's had it. Her Aunt was dead, so that ruled out the Vale. He already had a headache from the stupid bite on his shoulder, but it was made even worse now that he had to figure out what to do next.
As he moved behind some of the rocks, Arya paused to practice more of her Water Dancing. While he still thought it was stupid, at least it would keep her quiet and it would make sure that she didn't have any stiff muscles if it ever came to a fight.
Left alone for the time being, Arya didn't realize there were people around until she turned to face them. Thankfully, though, they seemed to be friendly enough. It wasn't until Sandor arrived that things turned. "Seven blessings," the woman greeted. "I'm Brienne of Tarth and this is Podrick Payne."
"Do you want something?" He questioned. He didn't really feel like fighting, however, he would if it meant keeping Arya safe.
"That's Sandor Clegane," Podrick said when he saw him. Podrick had seen the man enough to know his face. "The Hound." At that, Brienne looked from Sandor to Arya.
"You're Arya Stark," she said, surprised that she had found her. Sandor scowled, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword.
"I asked if you wanted something,"
"I swore to your mother that I would bring you home," Brienne said to Arya, ignoring the Hound for the time being.
"You're not a Northerner," Arya replied, her eyes narrowed. "If you were supposed to protect her then why didn't you?"
"I was charged to bring Jaime Lannister back to King's Landing," she replied.
"You're paid by the Lannisters," Sandor accused. "You're here for the bounty on me."
"I'm not paid by the Lannisters," Brienne denied. She wasn't working for the Lannisters; she was trying to keep her oath. She wanted very little to do with the Lannisters. Her loyalty could never be bought by anything, it had to be earned.
"No?" Sandor questioned as he walked forward to stand in front of her. "That's a fancy sword you've got there. Where did you get it?" He didn't know this woman, he didn't know if she was telling the truth, and all the dots he was connecting lead him to one conclusion; he couldn't trust her with Arya. "Go on, Brienne of fucking Tarth; tell me that isn't Lannister gold."
"I don't care what you swore, the Bloody Gate is 10 miles," Arya cut in. She didn't trust this woman either; she just wanted to keep moving. She wasn't sure what they were going to do, but really, the last thing she wanted was for more trouble.
"Arya, please,"
"You heard the girl," Sandor cut in. "She's not coming with you."
"She is," Brienne replied, a challenging look flashing in her eyes. A few more words and barbs were traded before Brienne and Sandor crossed swords in a fight. Both Arya and Podrick moved away to watch them fight. In the back of his mind, he knew he should probably be watching Arya, but Podrick worried that the Hound would beat Brienne in a fight.
He knew he wasn't much, but he was ready to help her should she need it. With the lack of supervision, Arya was able to move over to a larger rock and watch the fight. Should Sandor somehow lose, Arya would have an advantage. Had it not been for the festering bite to his neck, Sandor would have been able to fight better.
But with several strikes to the face with a rock and a kick, Sandor Clegane fell over the cliff he stood on. Ignoring Brienne's calls, Arya left her rock and made her way down the mountain to find her traveling companion. He was alive, though terribly injured, with the bone of his leg sticking out from his flesh.
"You're still here," he grunted in surprise when he saw her. "Big bitch saved you. Go on with her, she'll look after her."
"I didn't need saving," Arya replied.
"No, not you, you're a real killer," he stated. There was an almost fond tone in his voice as he spoke about her. At least one thing he did was teach her how to kill, how to properly take care of herself. The two traded more jabs before Sandor grunted again. "Go on, do it. You can cross another name off your list, you kept promising me."
However, Arya didn't move from where she sat. She wasn't going to kill him, that would be a mercy. Part of her wanted him to suffer; however, another part of her didn't want him dead. She had come to begrudgingly respect him. Had it not been for him, she would have been handed off to her mother and brother and probably would have died alongside them.
Had it not been for him, Arya probably wouldn't have gotten as far as she did when she ran away from the Brotherhood. She owed him a debt, and she wasn't about to let him die. However, Arya also knew that she couldn't save him.
"Come on," he said. "I cut down your butcher's boy," he tried, baiting her to do it. "He pleaded for his life, begging me not to do it." Arya realized now that Sandor only killed her friend because he was ordered to. He swung the sword, but it was because of Joffrey and the Queen that Mycah died. "I remember your sister, your pretty sister Anari," if she wouldn't kill him for her friend, then maybe she would if he mentioned her family. "The night the Blackwater burned, I could have taken her any which way I wanted. At least them I'd have one happy memory."
He regretted the words that came out of his mouth the moment he said them. Not only did Arya's gaze harden and her lips to purse together tightly, her hand flexing on the pommel of Needle, but Sandor would never do anything like that to Anari. No, not to her. He didn't save her from that very fate only to do it to her himself. Anari was too good for something like that to happen to her.
"Do I have to beg you?' he questioned when none of the things he said worked. Arya stood from her rock and walked over to him. Sandor swallowed, his throat dry as he waited for her to kill him. However, instead of sticking her sword through his heart, Arya bent down and took his silver bag.
Without a word, Arya left him on the side of the mountain.
After hours, Sandor's heavy lids closed as he gave in. However, his final thoughts puzzled him, as they were memories. A memory of a sweet voice and grey eyes the color of storms.
I'm not afraid of you, the voice said. I hope we meet again someday, for you truly are a good man. If he could, Sandor would frown. Do you know what I say to death? Not today. You better not die, Sandor Clegane.
He didn't know how long he had been out for when he slowly started to wake up again. His will returning the moment he remembered who said those words to him. He wasn't going to die, not like this. As unbearable as the pain was, Sandor fought past it enough to cough.
"Oh shit!" a startled voice said nearby. He hadn't the strength yet to open his eyes; however, Sandor knew that perhaps now he had a chance. With this new chance at living, Sandor was going to see that wolf girl again. No matter the cost.
~
The sunlight shining in his face was what woke him up. He was lying on his back, his left arm fully extended to his side, and his right arm across his chest. His hands were closed in a fist as if he was holding on to something. For a moment, as his eyes opened, Tyrion swore he could feel a soft hand in his and a warm head pressed into the crook of his neck.
However, the dream was shattered as he looked down and saw that he was alone.
He was not in his chambers, and Anari wasn't at his side. His dream had been sweet, one he never wished he awoke from. It was so much easier to just stay in his dream world where everything was good and right. However, Tyrion was a logical man and knew that it would do him no good to dwell on dreams that would never happen again.
As he sat up, he remembered what day it was. Today would be the day that Oberyn fought the Mountain, and whoever won the fight would decide his fate. Part of him held doubt that Oberyn would lose, that he would die, thus causing Tyrion to die as well.
However, a larger part of him held out hope. Oberyn was a dangerous man in his own right. He was a fighter and a skilled warrior. He was the Red Viper of Dorne; no ordinary man could earn such a title. Running his hands down his face, Tyrion stood up in time to receive possibly his last ever breakfast.
Time seemed to pass quickly for a change, as after forcing himself to eat, Tyrion was visited by Jaime. They spoke at length about other matters, trying their best to keep their minds off of what was about to happen. However, neither of the brothers could ignore the bells ringing, signifying that it was time.
Jaime stood up from where he sat and walked to the door. Before he left, however, he turned to face Tyrion once more. "Good luck today," Tyrion offered a wane smile in response. Soon enough, after the guards came to get him, Tyrion was brought to the courtyard where the trial would take place.
His heart thrummed almost painfully in his chest in anticipation. Everyone in the court was there, his father and siblings included. Looking to his champion, Tyrion couldn't help but feel a nervous twist pull at his gut. "Looks like very light armor,"
"I like to move around," Oberyn replied as he sharpened his blade. His response didn't provide Tyrion any comfort. He sounded almost bored as if he didn't have a care in the world. As if this fight didn't mean the difference between Tyrion's life and death.
"Wear a helmet, at least," Tyrion said nervously. Oberyn glanced towards him, a faint smirk on his lips as he did. The Prince knew he was nervous, but he had little to fear. The people of King's Landing may have heard of his talents, but they hadn't seen them.
It made them underestimate him, something which he was counting on as he handed his sharped spear to the man standing near a pot of poison. If he somehow failed, Oberyn wanted to ensure that any damage he inflicted on the Mountain would still cause his death.
With his hands now free, Oberyn turned and grabbed his goblet of wine. Tyrion nearly blanched at the sight of him drinking. "You shouldn't drink before a fight,"
"I always drink before a fight," Oberyn replied. Any drink could be his last, so he'd rather enjoy what he could.
"It could get you killed," Tyrion said. "It could get me killed." With his last trial by combat, he wasn't nearly as nervous. Aside from his life, he didn't have much to lose or to really live for. But this was different. Tyrion didn't want to die, he didn't want to leave Anari.
Oberyn's smirk widened as he took one last sip from his wine. "Today is not the day that I die," he said. He could see just how nervous he was, and Oberyn decided he would try to distract him. "What will you do when I win? Where will you go?"
Despite himself, a small smile settled onto Tyrion's lips. "I think you already know the answer to that."
"I liked your wife," Oberyn replied. "I only got the chance to meet and speak with her once, but that was all I needed. She's an interesting woman, Lady Anari."
"Yes, she is,' Tyrion agreed.
"Quite beautiful too," Oberyn teased, earning a laugh from Ellaria as she gently hit his arm. Oberyn chuckled as he looked at his paramour. "Don't pretend you didn't think so as well."
It seemed that wherever she went, Anari made an impression on the people she met. More often than not, though, it was a good impression of some kind; whether it resulted in an odd fascination like her relationship with Tywin or a potential friendship like with Jaime. Only a few people seemed to truly dislike Anari.
Earning the affection and love of someone so well received and cared for meant the world to Tyrion. He hoped that he got to see her again. Before the three could continue their light-hearted conversation, however, the Mountain finally arrived.
His steps were heavy on the stones as he walked forward and bowed faintly to where Tywin sat. "You're going to fight that?" Ellaria questioned when she caught sight of him. Her eyes widened in shock at the sheer size of him. She had seen large men before; however, none of them were even remotely similar to the size of Gregor Clegane.
"I'm going to kill that," Oberyn replied as he glanced over at the man himself. All jesting left his voice as he saw his opponent. His once lighthearted mood sobering as he remembered the reason he was there in the first place. Turning, Oberyn washed his hands in the basin on the table.
Much like Oberyn, Tyrion's face fell as his anxiety returned. Thank the gods he had someone to fight for him; Tyrion knew that he was no match for the Mountain. "He's the biggest man that I've ever seen."
"Size does not matter when you are flat on your back," Oberyn replied as he dried his hands.
"Thank the gods," Tyrion muttered. With both champions ready, Grand Maester Pycelle walked forward to begin the trial with a few words. However, before he could continue droning on about it, Tywin signaled for the horn to be blown so that they could move on with things.
"Don't leave me in this world," Ellaria said as she pulled Oberyn into a passionate kiss.
"Never," Oberyn replied. Turning to Tyrion, his smirk returned. "When I win and you find your wife and her sister; you are all very much welcome in Dorne. You will be safe, of that, you have my word." He promised.
Taking hold of his spear, Oberyn walked confidently forward. He twirled the handle of his spear and did a few flips to impress the court before he set his eyes on Gregor. His heart beating painfully in his chest, Tyrion watched as the two clashed. Oberyn was impressive to watch, of that, no one could argue.
He moved his body with such fluidity and speed that no ordinary person would be able to pull off. Tyrion let out a huff of disbelief when he saw Oberyn wound Gregor. He had seen that his spear was dipped in poison, so he knew that any mark made would bring on Gregor's death.
Still, Tyrion watched in anticipation as the fight continued. Once cut wasn't going to put a man as large as the Mountain down that easily. Oberyn would have to wound him several times for the poison to fully take effect. Tyrion glanced at Ellaria and saw that, while confident in her lover's capabilities, there was a nervous glint in her eyes.
When the Mountain split Oberyn's spear, Tyrion felt his heart drop. However, with a quick movement, the Prince got out of the way in time to replace his spear and continue the fight. Letting out a breath of relief, Tyrion continued to watch. He was so anxious and wanted it to be over soon. Please, he prayed silently. Don't let me die. Tyrion didn't want to die, he had so much to live for now.
He had things he never thought he would ever get. He couldn't let his family win now, he couldn't. It seemed his prayers were answered as Oberyn sliced through Gregor's ankle, effectively putting him down. However, to add to it, Oberyn leaped up and pierced his blade through Gregor's chest.
Relief flowed through him as he realized that this was it. Oberyn was going to win, Tyrion was going to live. After he was freed, Tyrion was going to leave King's Landing for good. He was going to figure out a way to find Anari and Sansa and take them to safety. Tyrion didn't know when it was that being at her side became a necessity for him, but it did.
Tyrion needed her; he needed Anari, his wife. He had his strengths, things he was good at, but he also had his weaknesses. However, his weaknesses became less of an issue when Anari was around. He didn't drink nearly as often as he used to, and he hadn't felt the need to visit any brothels considering he had previously had Shae, but he also had Anari.
She made him feel strong; she made him see himself as the man he could be, not the man he was. Anari was the only person besides Jaime that ever gave him a chance. Anari showed him what real love looked like; she had shown him what it looked like for a sister to love her family and how it felt when a wife loved her husband. Together, they had created a special little world, a world in which Tyrion desperately wanted to return to. What he felt for Anari was love, it had to be.
Tyrion didn't know what love felt like; he hadn't felt it for someone before really. His first marriage was pure lust, not love. Tyrion had been naïve and young, having not known any better. Even though what he had with Anari was real, Tyrion knew that neither of his marriages was perfect. But oh did it feel so whenever he was with Anari.
So lost in his thoughts was he, that Tyrion didn't realize that Oberyn hadn't yet killed the Mountain. Instead, he took to taunting the man, demanding justice for his sister. It was in his arrogance that he had won enough that cost him. Tyrion was brought out of his reverie when he heard the Mountain's loud roar.
"Elia Martell!" He growled as he brought Oberyn to the ground and rolled on top of him. "I killed her children, and I raped her. Then I crushed in her skull, like this!"
Oberyn screamed as Gregor pressed his thumbs into his eyes before he squeezed the sides of his head. Tyrion flinched as Ellaria screamed at the wet crunching sound that happened before Gregor rolled back over onto his back, succumbing to his wounds.
Tyrion's stomach dropped as his hand went up to cover his gaping mouth. No, no, this could not be. Even as he stared at Oberyn's body in horrified shock, Tyrion knew what was to happen now.
"The gods have made their intent known," Grand Maester Pycelle said. Tyrion barely heard him through the roaring of his heartbeat in his ears. "Tyrion Lannister, in the name of King Tommen of the House Baratheon, first of his name, you are hereby sentenced to death."
~
As Melissandre walks through the courtyard of Castle Black, she finds the man she was looking for. Hair black as ebony and skin as pale as snow, through a burning brazier, she sees his purpose. Jon Snow was important, he would move on to do great things, but not alone.
No, not alone, he would need help. As he took notice of her, still through the dancing flames, Melissandre could see her. Eyes of ice stared back at her through Jon's brown gaze. She was far away, the owner of these eyes, and she would not easily be found.
Though, to get to her, Melissandre would have to use Jon. Both were destined for great things, but they needed each other to do it. There is power in Jon's blood; there is power in his family. He will need his family in the wars to come.
~
In the early evening, Jaime made his way through the halls of the Red Keep. He needed to do something; he couldn't just stand idly by. Finding the right chambers was harder than he expected, but he was certain he had done so when he knocked on the door and opened it once he was permitted entrance.
"Ser Jaime,"
"Lord Varys," Jaime greeted as he shut the door. "Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't need to ask for your help."
"But these aren't normal circumstances,"
"No," Jaime agreed. "I need a favor, one that must stay between only you and me."
"What do you think I can do for you?" Varys questioned.
"Not for me, for Tyrion," Jaime replied. "I want to get him out of King's Landing, tonight." Varys pursed his lips with interest.
He had already been roughly outlining something for Tyrion, but he wasn't sure how he was going to actually do it. With Jaime's assistance, he would have better luck being able to pull it off. Varys knew that he needed Tyrion alive, the realm needed Tyrion alive.
"I'm listening," Varys replied.
~
He laid on his back, staring at the darkened ceiling as silent tears rolled down his face. He felt defeated, truly, and utterly defeated. He seemed no matter what he did, how much he had changed, he would still be forever branded. Even when he changed for the better, Tyrion was still going to die at the hands of his family.
The moment he had finally found someone worth living for, someone who made him want to be better; she was snatched from him. Now, it was his turn to do the leaving. Only this time, there wasn't going to be a chance to see one another again. I'm sorry, he thought. I'm so sorry, Anari.
Closing his eyes as he resigned himself to his fate, he could see her. Her face, forever branded into his memory. Her laugh, her smile, even her tears, and her anger. Why did love seem to hurt? Why did he have to feel pain, knowing he would never see her again?
A sigh left him as his thoughts took a cynical turn. As much as he hated to admit it, his father was right; the Gods had no mercy, they were against him from the start. Hearing footsteps and keys rattling, Tyrion sat up. He wouldn't let them see his tears, if he was to die, then he would die with dignity.
"Why don't you just get on with it, you son of a whore," Tyrion grit when it seemed to take whoever was opening the door longer than usual.
"Is that any way to talk about our mother?" Jaime questioned as he entered the cell with a torch. Eyes widening in surprise, Tyrion stood. Waking to his brother, Jaime crouched; in his hand was a ring of keys. Keys that he used to release Tyrion from his chains
"What are you doing?" He questioned.
"What do you think I'm doing?" Jaime questioned back with a small smile. He wasn't about to let his little brother die, he couldn't. Jaime loved Tyrion, and he didn't want to see him die. Besides, Anari was still out there, and she would need Tyrion whenever it was the next time they saw one another again.
Jaime was no fool; he could see the affection the two had for each other. He knew they had somehow formed a strong bond. Jaime hoped that the two would somehow find one another, as Jaime had also grown fond of Anari. Quickly, Jaime led Tyrion out of the cells and to a set of stairs leading to a door.
"A galley is waiting in the bay for you," Jaime said. "It's bound for the Free Cities, you'll be safe there."
"Who is helping you?" Tyrion questioned. While he knew his brother was clever and smart in his own right, he also knew that he couldn't be doing this on his own.
"Varys," Jaime replied.
"Varys?"
"You have more friends than you thought," Jaime smiled. "At the top of the stairs, there's a locked door. Knock twice, then twice again, Varys will open." Overcome with relief and gratitude, Tyrion embraced his brother tightly.
"Thank you, Jaime," Tyrion said. "For my life."
"Farewell, little brother." Jaime smiled sadly. It was difficult, knowing he wouldn't see his brother again for a long time, if at all. However, if that was the price he paid for doing what was right, then Jaime was glad to pay it.
Soon, Jaime left Tyrion alone, walking down a hall. Tyrion went up the first two steps before pausing. He couldn't leave, not yet. Walking down a different hall, Tyrion used a secret tunnel that led him up to the main chambers. Before going to his desired location, however, Tyrion went to his old chambers.
Once he closed the door, he breathed a small sigh. It was just as he and Anari had left it. Walking over to where Anari's things were, his eyes scanned her vanity table. He wanted something, to take a piece of him with her. Spotting her small jewelry box, he opened it.
Inside he found a delicate bracelet, one he had remembered seeing her wearing before they had left Winterfell. It was too large for him to wear, however, he would still keep it safe. The bracelet was made of silver, two small pearls on both sides of a large gem.
It was simple, yet elegant. Closing his hand tightly around the accessory, Tyrion closed his eyes. He prayed to the gods he would see her again. Quickly leaving his chambers, Tyrion made his way to the room he had meant to go to earlier.
Carefully making his way to the chambers, Tyrion's brows came together as he saw a figure lying on the bed. However, it didn't look like his father. Tyrion was proven correct when the figure spoke. "Tywin?" The woman questioned. "My lion." Tyrion felt his stomach drop when he saw Shae raise her head.
He had cared for her, tried to protect her, and she had done this to him? Betrayed him, was willing to let him die, filled Anari's mouth with words she didn't say. Was Shae this cruel and heartless? How had he cared for someone like this?
Alarm coursed through Shae at the sight of Tyrion. He was supposed to be in his cells, not here. Glancing at the tray at the foot of the bed, Shae moved to grab it. Upon seeing what she was doing, Tyrion was quick to grab her wrist. The two struggled, Tyrion proving stronger than he looked as he kept a firm grip on the wrist holding the knife.
Not knowing what else to do, Shae roughly hit him away. Moving quickly again, however, Tyrion tried to pin her arms to the bed to get her to stop. During their struggle, Tyrion was dislodged and fell off the bed. Scrambling for purchase, he grabbed onto the gold chain of the necklace he had gifted her.
Sitting on the floor, Tyrion began to pull, twisting the chain so it wrapped tightly around her neck. She gasped and struggled, pulling fruitlessly on the chain. Tears rolled down his cheeks as Tyrion didn't stop pulling until Shae stopped struggling.
"I'm sorry," he whispered as he finally let go of the chain. Sniffling and wiping away the tears, Tyrion looked up to see a crossbow hanging on the wall. Standing, Tyrion left Shae on the bed and proceeded to take the crossbow and load it, taking care to have three extra arrows just in case.
Walking down the hall not far from the Hand's chambers, Tyrion knew where to go. "Tyrion," Tywin stated when he saw him. He was surprised to see his son standing before him, however, his surprise was veiled with arrogance as he noted the crossbow in his hands. "Put down the crossbow," he stated. However, Tyrion merely stared back at him, unmoving.
Tywin was the man at the source of many of Tyrion's problems. He made him feel worthless, made him out to be a joke, letting people make fun of him, and hurt him. Tywin made plots and plans that usually didn't end well for Tyrion, treating him poorly every chance he got. Ironically, however, Tywin also lead him to his wife and figuring out just how much he loved her and how much she loved him.
Though, it is because of Tywin that they were parted. "I suspect it was your brother who released you," Tywin said. "He always did have a soft spot for you. No matter, come, we'll go talk in my chambers." However, even still, Tyrion didn't move. Tywin's face settled into an unimpressed expression. "This is how you wish to speak with me? Shaming your father has always given you pleasure."
"All my life," Tyrion began. "You've wanted me dead."
"Yes," Tywin admitted. "But you've refused to die; I respect that, I even admire it. You fight for what's yours and for what you want. I'd never let them execute you, is that what you feared? I never would have let Illyn Payne take your head. You're a Lannister, you're my son."
Tyrion faltered briefly at hearing his father call him that. Tywin all but ignored that fact his entire life, but to hear him say it once caused him to pause briefly. However, his anger, hatred, and resentment pushed him through enough to keep his crossbow level.
He hated Tywin; he hated him for what he did to him. He hated him for what he let happen to Anari and her sister. "I loved her,"
"Who?" Tywin questioned, raising an eyebrow.
"Anari," Tyrion replied. "I loved her, I grew to love her more than anything. Yet you would have had her hunted down. You would have let her lose her head for something she didn't do."
"Oh, Tyrion," Tywin scoffed. "Put down that crossbow." Tywin couldn't say he was all that surprised by his admission, after all, he had seen the way the two looked at one another. He had seen how they interacted; they had a bond, that much was undeniable.
"I sent her away," Tyrion continued. "I was there, I was with her when she fled, and that's why I was near the water when I was found. I told her to run because I knew what would happen had she stayed or had I gone with her."
Tywin was quiet for a moment as he formulated his response. Once he had it, he spoke. "It doesn't matter," he said, shaking his head. Tywin had plans for the Stark girls; he never would have let them die. No, he still needed them. He needed Anari to give an heir, and he needed Sansa for future alliances.
Anari was an interesting woman, she intrigued him. There were many layers to her character, and her complexity surprised him. Tywin hadn't met an interesting woman like her in quite some time; it would have been a waste to kill her.
As harsh a thought as it was, Anari was everything Tywin could have ever hoped for in a daughter. Cersei had mostly proven to be a disappointment; fighting back at every turn, not doing as she was told. While Anari fought back, she knew when to play along, she knew when to hold her tongue and wait things out.
Tywin had seen firsthand what Anari was capable of when she allowed her emotions to get the better of her. Cersei thought she was smarter than everyone, above everyone. Her entitlement and her desire for power allowed her emotions to get the best of her.
If only Tywin had the opportunity to speak with her longer, to properly get to know her. He was close to figuring her out, in figuring out what he needed to do and how he needed to plan for her. "Do you really think I would have let them execute Anari and Sansa Stark?" He questioned. "No, I had different plans for them."
Despite his words, however, Tyrion had yet to lower the crossbow. Tyrion didn't like the idea of knowing Tywin had plans for the girls. He didn't like that Tywin took such an interest in Anari. Tywin was just as much Anari's enemy as he was Tyrion's. Tywin orchestrated the death of her family, something in which Tyrion knew Anari would never forgive.
"We'll find her, sooner or later, we'll find where she and her sister have gone and bring them back," Tywin stated. He scoffed as he saw that nothing he was saying was getting Tyrion to lower his crossbow. "So you fell in love with the Northern girl, you're not the first, you won't be the last. Come, let's talk in my chambers."
"I can't, she's in there," Tyrion replied.
"Who are you talking about now?"
"Shae," Tyrion replied. "I cared about her too, I may not have loved her, but I cared for her. I murdered her, I killed her with my own hands." He hated that Shae and Tywin made him do that, that last thing he ever wanted to do was to kill anyone if he could help it.
Tywin exhaled through his nose as he regarded his son. "It doesn't matter," he stated again. "She was a whore, of course, it doesn't matter. You think you're the only one who's killed a whore?"
"Say that word again," Tyrion grit through clenched teeth. He hated the word being thrown around so casually about women, especially ones he cared about. While yes, that was Shae's profession, that didn't mean that defined her. As for his wife, Tyrion knew that Cersei, in particular, liked throwing that word at her.
Anari was the furthest thing from a whore. The word was abhorrent, and Tyrion detested it. "Or what?" Tywin questioned, raising a brow. "You'll kill your own father in the privy?" He scoffed. No, he knew Tyrion better than that, he knew that he wouldn't do anything like that. Hate him or not, Tywin held serious doubts he would fire the crossbow. "Now, enough, enough of this nonsense. You are my son."
"I am your son," Tyrion agreed. "Yet you sentenced me to die; you knew I didn't poison Joffrey, but you sentenced me all the same. Why?" He questioned. "Why did you do it?"
Tywin sneered in response as he squared his shoulders. "Come, we'll go back to my chambers and speak with some dignity." Tywin wanted to go back so he could speak to his son properly. This was ridiculous; they should be having this conversation elsewhere, not in the hall privy. It was beneath him, it was beneath both of them, frankly.
"I can't," Tyrion disagreed. He couldn't face Shae's body, not again. Seeing it once had been enough, he didn't want to go back there knowing what he had done. What his father had made him do.
"What, you're afraid of a dead whore?" As soon as the word left his lips, the arrow embedded itself into his chest. Tywin jolted back as a groan of pain crawled from his throat. Fighting through the pain, Tywin looked at the wound incredulously before looking back up at Tyrion. "You shot me," he didn't think he would do it. He didn't think Tyrion had it in him to shoot him. "You're no son of mine."
Tyrion didn't respond as he walked over to the other arrows he had set out and reloaded the crossbow. He knew that the moment he let the bolt fly that he had no choice but to finish it. "I am your son," he said as he lifted the crossbow again. "But you, you have never been my father." Letting the second bolt loose, Tyrion's aim was true.
Tywin groaned again as the second bolt pierced his flesh. Dropping the crossbow, Tyrion walked away, knowing that without anyone around to help; Tywin would die. His face was grim as a frown settled on his lips, there was hardly any expression on his face, yet his eyes told a different story.
He had only ever wanted to make his father proud, but he knew he would never be able to. Tywin was never going to be proud of him; he was never going to love him. There was nothing he could do now; the only move he could make would be to flee the city.
So it was, Tyrion went up the stairs to the door Jaime had taken him to. Knocking the appropriate amount of times on the door, Varys opened as promised. However, his face was drawn into a frown as he looked at Tyrion. "What have you done?" He questioned. He knew that Tyrion had done something he shouldn't have.
He had taken much too long to knock on the door, so it was obvious he went off-script. Not waiting for an answer, however, Varys quickly ushered him inside the room. The pair moved quickly before Varys lead Tyrion to a large crate. They had little time as it was, but they now had less after whatever stunt Tyrion had pulled before he knocked.
"Quickly," Varys said. When Tyrion gave him a doubtful look, Varys merely smiled. "Trust me, my friend. I have brought you this far." With only a moment's hesitation, Tyrion got into the crate and allowed himself to be sealed inside.
Quickly, Varys had the crate taken down to the docks where Tyrion was brought onto a ship. He was going to the Free Cities, but he wasn't sure where. Vaguely, Tyrion couldn't help but wonder if it was Varys who had smuggled Anari and Sansa out.
It was smart, then, on his part. If it was true that Varys had gotten the girls out, then it wouldn't be too long before he was reunited with Anari. The thought brought him comfort, it truly did. So, for the moment, Tyrion allowed himself to relax.
Varys wasn't planning on joining Tyrion, as he still had a few things he wanted to do. However, the moment he heard the shouting and the bells beginning to ring, Varys knew the choice was made for him. If he was seen entering the city now, he would surely die.
Deciding it wasn't worth tempting fate; Varys turned around and boarded the ship. He could only assume what it was Tyrion had done, and while he did not completely fault him, killing Tywin Lannister was not the right move to make at this time.
With nothing more to do, Varys sat next to the crate as he began plotting their next move.
Inside the wooden box, Tyrion carefully removed the bracelet from his pocket. The metal glinted softly in the moonlight as the ship left the harbor. Soon, he promised himself. Soon, he would see his wife again. Until then, he would face whatever challenges arose along the way.
Nothing would keep her from him, not now. "Death shan't take me from you, nor will I let the winds distract me from returning to your side." He whispered to himself.
~
Looking out from her window, her grey eyes stared at the moon. "I shall be filled with longing and will woefully await your return," she whispered. Turning from where she had perched herself on the sill, Anari sat down on her bed and glanced at the flames of the candle nearby. "And should you not, then surely my heart will break." Her arms went around her abdomen as if to shield herself.
Live, she thought. Live, and come find me. The candle in the room flickered as if in answer before Anari opened her eyes and blew it out. As she lay in the now dark tent, she was unaware of what the future held. Good or bad, however. She would face it with courage.
While afraid to go down the road she was set to, Anari knew it was her only chance. Tomorrow, she would set her plan in motion.