Through a series of letters, Tywin Lannister and Robb Stark agreed on the terms of their meeting. They agreed on how many men each would bring. They agreed on the place. Tywin sent spies ahead to make sure the boy wouldn't trick him. Robb was far more willing to use tricks on the battlefield than his father had been. Tywin respected that, to a point, but he wouldn't fall for any more of his games.
In this case, Robb Stark kept his word. From the hill, Tywin could see the small group of Stark tents. It looked like the number they had agreed on.
Tywin had brought Jaime with him. He fully expected the Stark boy to lie and claim he still held his son hostage. Besides Jaime, he brought only the best soldiers from his personal guard. And the girl.
She sat on a horse between him and Jaime. Her face was blank and calm, as if she wasn't worried at all about the coming talk. But Tywin could see the pale white of her knuckles as she gripped the saddle. She was afraid. Afraid for her family, and for herself.
Tywin would not enjoy killing the girl, if it came to that. He would do it himself, and he'd make it clean and quick. But it would be a shame to lose her as his cupbearer. Hopefully, the threat of losing a daughter would force Catelyn Stark to see things his way.
In his mind, he already knew how this negotiation would go. They would call him dishonorable, like most Starks did. As if honor had any place in a war. But in the end, if they were smart, they would accept his terms.
Their lives—the survival of House Stark—depended on this night.
It was the first time Tywin had seen Robb Stark face-to-face. He looked more like his mother than his father, with hints of Tully red in his brown hair. But he had the Stark eyes—the cold gray of the North. Tywin recognized those same eyes in Arya.
Robb's expression was fierce when Tywin entered the tent, but he remembered his manners. This was a truce, and no blood would be shed here. It would be a great dishonor to break such a vow, and no Stark would do it.
Tywin would, if he needed to. So would the Freys and the Boltons. This meeting would decide if he still needed their help.
"I was surprised to get your letter," Robb Stark said. "You know my terms. There won't be peace unless you accept them."
He started with a hard stance. It was a smart move that would scare most men. But Tywin Lannister was not most men. "I've read your terms. At one point, maybe, you had the power to ask for them. Now, you don't."
"We've won many battles against your armies," Robb said. "We've had a few losses, but nothing compared to yours. Why shouldn't we keep fighting and winning?"
"I suppose it depends on how much you value your sisters' lives," Tywin said calmly.
"You may have my sisters, but we have your son," Robb muttered. "So be careful about making threats."
There it was. The lie Tywin was waiting for. He spoke with such confidence that Tywin might have believed him if he didn't know better. "Really? And where are you keeping my son?"
"I wouldn't tell you that, Lannister," Robb said.
"That's all right. You don't have to," Tywin said. "Because you don't have my son." He glanced over his shoulder, and Jaime entered the tent, taking off his helm. He looked more like a Lannister now that he'd cut his hair and shaved his beard. He was no longer ragged from his time as a prisoner, and he looked more than a little smug as he stared at the King in the North.
"Hello again, Lord Stark."
Robb glared at him, and Catelyn Stark gripped the edge of the table. "Did your son also mention that I was the one who sent him?" she asked Tywin. "Or did he break that vow?"
"Always assuming the worst of me, aren't you?" Jaime asked her. "Yes, as it happens, I did tell my father that you sent me, and what you wanted in return."
"And?" Lady Stark looked at Tywin. She wanted her daughters back very badly. Her love for them had made her make a tremendously stupid decision, one that worked perfectly for Tywin.
"And it's only because you returned my son that I offered this meeting," Tywin said. "To discuss the future of this war, and your family's future in Westeros."
"Don't pretend you hold all the cards here, Lannister," Robb said. "We still have more victories—"
"Victories on the battlefield aren't the only way to win a war," Tywin cut in. "I promise you, I know how to win wars without them. You've proven to be a good commander, willing to take risks. I respect your skill on the battlefield, but I won't waste any more time with it."
"If you can win the war, then why offer peace at all?" Robb asked. "I know your history, Lord Tywin. You've broken many people who defied you, and you did it without mercy. If you want to make peace with me, there must be a reason."
"Of course there is," Tywin said. "It's always better to keep a Stark in Winterfell. If I put anyone else there, it will split the North. I'll also have to handle the Greyjoy rebellion on my own. I'll do it if I have to, but I'd rather not waste more Lannister lives on those fools. To use your own words, winter is coming, and I don't plan to fight the North in the cold."
"Then maybe you should give us our independence," Robb said. "And you won't have to."
"How well do you think you'd do on your own?" Tywin asked. "The North has grown to depend on food from the South during winter. Since you've been at war, you haven't been able to gather as many crops. Without help from the crown, your people will starve. How will independence taste to them then?"
"I don't claim it would be easy," Robb said. "But Northmen are tough. We're used to the cold. We'll manage."
"Perhaps you will. And when summer comes again, my armies will be stronger," Tywin said. "And that's assuming I let you live until summer, which I won't."
"I can't bend the knee to the boy who murdered my father. It's out of the question," Robb stated.
"Then let me give you a reason to bring it back into the question." Tywin stood and snapped his fingers at Jaime, who opened the tent flap again.
Arya Stark stepped into the room.