The camp was quiet that night, tense beyond belief. Only Tywin Lannister seemed calm as he sat at his desk, writing letters. It seemed he was always writing letters these days, using them to start and end wars. He had such power over the kingdom that a single raven from him could change the course of the country.
Jaime could never imagine having that kind of power. His father wanted him to become "the man he was born to be." But if that meant becoming like Tywin, he wasn't sure he could do it. His father had ten times his ambition and ten times his ruthlessness. Jaime had no desire for power or for Casterly Rock. But even though he wore a white cloak, his father still saw him as his heir.
"You're calm tonight," Jaime said. "You don't seem worried about their decision."
"It doesn't matter either way," Tywin said without looking up. "I can end this war whether they accept my terms or not. One path is slightly cleaner, but I have a plan for both."
"Naturally," Jaime said. "But I'm sure you have a preference."
Tywin looked up at him. "Why would I have a preference?"
His father's expression was like stone, impossible to read—for most people. But Jaime had studied his father his whole life, and he could see the tiny differences in his moods.
Jaime shrugged. "Why take Arya as a ward instead of Sansa?"
"What do you mean?" Tywin asked.
"If Robb Stark accepts peace. Why take Arya? Sansa would be more valuable, technically. She's the oldest Stark daughter. And she's already in King's Landing. From what I've seen, she seems much calmer than her younger sister. So why not keep her?"
"I offered Sansa back to the Starks because she's more valuable," Tywin explained. "It makes them more likely to accept the offer."
"So you do have a preference," Jaime pointed out.
Tywin set down his pen and leaned back in his chair. "What's the point of these questions, Jaime?"
"Maybe I'm just trying to figure out how your mind works. You've always told me to follow in your footsteps," Jaime said.
"Don't play games with me," Tywin warned. "Say what you mean, or leave me alone."
Jaime met his father's gaze. "You like that girl. Arya Stark. You don't want to kill her."
He expected his father to deny it. But Tywin was always brutally honest, even with himself. "No. I don't want to kill her," he admitted. "But I will. I'll do what needs to be done, whatever the Starks decide. What I think of the girl doesn't matter."
Jaime let out a breath. His father never let any weakness show. He wondered if Lord Tywin even felt emotions anymore, or if his heart had become an empty shell.
"If you truly want to know how my mind works, then know this," Tywin said, his voice cold. "It's never about personal feelings or glory. It's about the family. It's about the Lannister name. If you want to truly serve the family, you must be willing to put aside all of your selfish emotions."
Jaime shook his head, a humorless smile on his face. "That's a nice idea, father. You should tell that to Tyrion."
Tywin's gaze hardened, and in an instant, Jaime knew he had gone too far. "Get out. Now."
Jaime didn't argue. He wanted to escape the conversation anyway. It was true, his father wanted nothing more than to serve the family. Personal feelings didn't matter, he said. But those words meant nothing when it came to his blind hatred for Tyrion. Tyrion would always be the one thing that could break Lord Tywin's cold logic.
At least Tywin had a breaking point. That meant he was human, like everyone else.
Arya felt smaller than ever, sitting on the floor of her small tent. It was late, but she knew she wouldn't sleep. She would spend the whole night waiting for the dawn... waiting for her brother's decision.
She wondered what it would be like to die. How much would it hurt? Where would she go?
There is only one thing we say to the god of death: Not today.
"Not today," she muttered, pulling her knees to her chest. "Not today."
The tent flap opened, and she tensed. She wondered if Tywin had come for her, if Robb had already made his decision. Maybe this was her last night.
Instead, Jaime Lannister stepped inside.
She started to get up, but he held out a hand. "Don't get up."
Arya swallowed and looked away. "Does your father need something, ser?"
"No," Jaime said.
She looked up at him, suspicious. "Do you?"
"Not really," Jaime said. "But I can't sleep tonight. I figured you might be awake, too."
"Of course I'm awake," Arya said sharply. "Why would I sleep if I might die tomorrow?"
"My point exactly," Jaime said. "You shouldn't worry too much, my lady. I doubt your brother will sacrifice you for his war. He seems like a good lad."
"Robb is worth ten of any of you," Arya said, her fear making her bold. Why not speak her mind if she could be dead by morning?
"Depends on what you value. But yes, probably," Jaime agreed, tilting his head. "Do you talk to my father that bluntly?"
"Yes. When I'm feeling brave," Arya admitted.
Jaime laughed once and sat on the stool across from her. "I'd call that brave or stupid. Most people wouldn't dare say a word against him. It's a wonder he likes you so much."
Arya frowned. "He doesn't like me. I'm his hostage."
"His hostage who he keeps as a cupbearer," Jaime pointed out. "If he didn't like you, he would've sent you to King's Landing long ago. My father doesn't keep company with people he doesn't like."
Arya didn't know what to say to that.
"I know it's hard to tell," Jaime continued. "I'm not sure he even remembers how to smile. And laughing... that's even rarer. But I'm his son, so I can tell. He only lets you get away with that mouth of yours because he likes you."
"I don't like him," Arya muttered.
"Of course you don't," Jaime said. "Most people don't like my father. Half the time, his own children don't like him. But it will be good for you if you're going to become a Lannister ward."
A Lannister ward. The words made Arya shiver. She just wanted to go home to Winterfell. Instead, she might go back to King's Landing, the place where her father lost his head.
"At least Sansa will get to leave," Arya murmured. "She must hate it there. I always felt awful... for leaving her behind."
"Your sister seems more delicate than you," Jaime said. "And King's Landing isn't gentle with delicate people. You'll do better there than her, I'm sure."
"Will I? I'm a Stark," Arya said quietly. Starks didn't do well in King's Landing. Her grandfather, her uncle, her father... they had all died there. She looked the most like a Stark out of all her siblings. She wouldn't last.
"Yes, but you're smart," Jaime said. "My father wouldn't have kept you as his cupbearer if you weren't. I'm sure you'll find a way."
Arya rested her chin on her knees. "Why did you come here, ser? To try to make me feel better?"
"No," Jaime said. "Curiosity, I suppose. I barely noticed you when I was last at Winterfell. But if you come to King's Landing, we're going to be seeing a lot more of each other."
Arya just nodded. It was strange... she used to admire Jaime Lannister, back when she only read about him in books. He was supposed to be one of the greatest knights in Westeros. But her father had hated the Kingslayer. He said he was a man without honor. Her father was usually right about people.
But whether he had honor or not, he didn't seem cruel. Not right now, anyway.
The tent flap opened again, and a messenger poked his head inside. "Ser Jaime. Your father sent me to get the girl."
"For what?" Jaime asked.
"Robb Stark has made his decision."
Arya swallowed hard. It wasn't dawn yet, but it was time to face her fate.