Arya's mind raced. Lord Tywin was riding out tonight, and she had to find Jaqen before he left. If she could kill Tywin, it might cripple the Lannister army in their fight against Robb. It was the right choice, she knew. The best possible name for her third wish.
The Lord of Casterly Rock was a surprise. She'd heard terrible stories about him, and while he was certainly a man to be feared, she didn't fear him as she thought she should. She hated him for being a Lannister and for the war he waged against her brother, but he hadn't wronged her personally. He was miles away when Joffrey took her father's head.
His name was a strange one to have on her list; she didn't have a direct reason to blame him yet. But she would still do it. She would find Jaqen and give him the name.
"Girl. Come here a moment."
Arya froze, fighting the urge to curse. She had to find Jaqen now. She turned around slowly to face Tywin. "Yes, my lord?"
He gestured to the chair across from him. It wasn't a request. Arya moved cautiously to the table and perched on the edge of the seat, ready to run if she needed to.
He seemed to notice. "Are you planning to run?" Tywin asked, tilting his head slightly. "What do you think I'm going to do to you?"
Arya shook her head. She didn't know, but this felt wrong. "Do you… mean to take me with you? As your cupbearer?"
"I do plan to take you with me, yes," Tywin said, his eyes fixed on hers. "What's your name, girl? You never said."
The question caught her off guard. He'd never asked before. She scrambled for an answer, grabbing the first name that came to mind. "Jeyne… Poole," she managed to say.
A corner of Tywin's mouth twitched. "You seem uncertain."
"I'm not," Arya insisted firmly. "It's Jeyne Poole."
"You're lying," he said flatly. "Let's try again. Tell me your name."
An icy dread filled her chest, and her hands began to shake. He looked at her like a man who already knew the answer. "Do you… already know my name, my lord?" she whispered.
"Yes," Tywin said. "I do. I may not have known your face, but Lord Baelish did. You must have suspected he would. You grew very tense whenever he was near."
Arya swallowed the lump in her throat. Then she bolted.
He was ready for it. He rose in the same instant she did, his hands clamping down on her shoulders. She twisted and fought, but his grip was like iron. Her small size was no advantage here; he was far too strong.
"Let me go!" she demanded.
"You know I'm not going to do that," he said calmly.
Arya squirmed, trying to break free, but his grip only tightened. "Settle yourself, Lady Arya. You'll never make it out of this castle without one of my soldiers catching you. And they might not treat you as kindly as I have."
Her heart hammered against her ribs. She wanted to claw his eyes out, to feel a wolf's strength surge through her and rip out his throat. But caught in the lion's jaws, she was just a small, helpless girl. She stopped struggling and took a few deep breaths.
He looked down at her. "Are you done?"
Arya gave a small, defeated nod.
Tywin held her for another moment before letting go. "Good. Sit."
She sank back into her chair. "You've known? Since Littlefinger came?"
"Yes."
"Then why didn't you say anything?"
"It wasn't necessary then," he replied. "And I wanted to see how well you would lie."
Arya looked up at him. "How did I lie?"
"Well enough," Tywin admitted. "For someone who comes from such an honest family." He tilted his head. "You must hate me a great deal. It's a wonder you didn't poison my wine."
"I hate your family," she corrected him. "They killed my father."
"King Joffrey killed your father, yes," Tywin agreed. "It was a dreadfully stupid thing to do. Your father could have been the key to peace with the North. I very much wish he were still alive."
"Not as much as I do," Arya muttered.
He watched her for a long moment. "No. Not as much as you do."
"I was there that day," she said, her hands clenching into fists. "My father confessed to everything they wanted, and Joffrey still took his head just because the crowd wanted it. I would kill him if I could."
"I imagine you would. But you can't," Tywin stated simply.
"Kings die all the time," Arya shot back. "Everyone dies."
"You should mind that tongue of yours," he warned. "Being so honest is what gets you Starks into trouble."
"I'm already in trouble," she said. "You know my name. You won't let me escape."
"I won't," he agreed.
"Will you send me back to King's Landing?"
"I've thought about it," Tywin said. "I don't suppose it would be pleasant for you. A captive in the Red Keep with your sister… Joffrey despises you for that business with your wolf. He wouldn't treat you kindly. And I don't think my daughter likes you very much either."
"I don't like her," Arya muttered.
"Yes, but she has more power in this situation, so how you feel doesn't matter."
Arya shivered. The thought of the Red Keep terrified her. Sansa was still there, somehow. Arya didn't think she could last a week without wanting to throw herself from a tower.
"I can offer you an alternative," Tywin said. "One that might be more favorable."
Arya raised an eyebrow. "Will you let me go?"
"Of course not. I'm not a fool. But I might need a bargaining chip on the battlefield. You could continue to pose as my nameless cupbearer for a time. I won't let you out of my sight, and neither will my generals." He leaned forward. "But if you try to run, you will be caught, and I will ship you back to King's Landing to be at the mercy of Joffrey and his mother."
Arya pressed her lips into a tight line. It was a choice between two cages. But she far preferred Tywin to his grandson. And being on the battlefield might put her closer to Robb.
She knew Tywin wouldn't tolerate an escape attempt. He would keep her on a short leash.
"Well?" he asked.
Arya nodded once. "I'll take your offer… my lord."
Tywin gave a single nod, as if he expected nothing less. "I don't imagine you have any possessions to gather."
She shook her head. Everything had been taken from her long ago. Her sword, her family… and now her freedom. She had nothing left but her name, and even that felt like a curse.
"Good," Tywin said, standing. "We ride tonight."