11 Chapter 11: Revenge

The tourney of Harrenhal is finally coming to an end.

The last bouts should have been done after the trial but was aptly postponed. The main reason is due to the heavy rain that basically ruined the arena. The over muddy grounds were not appropriate for what the Seven Kingdoms would like to call the Greatest Tourney in History.

And so the matches were delayed a full two days and to continue on the third day.

While everyone gossiped about the events of the trial. A troubled Tywin paced at his tent.

"We have to tell him Tywin." said Kevan.

"Tell him what?"

"Tywin-"

"No. Do enlightent me. Am I truly supposed to tell him that one of the people who killed the two children he seemed fond of despite not knowing their names is a knight of the west. A Knightly House of the Westerlands. The same Westerlands who had been vying for his attention from the very beginning. Tell me brother how exactly! am I to tell him this, hmmm?"

"Well...of you word it that way-" tried to jest Tyrion who shut up immediately after his father snapped his attention to him.

"And where have you been in our hours of need?" asked Tywin.

"I was in the Library." Tyrion answered.

"Reading books?"

"I was looking for laws that could help. Or a way to bend the laws in our favor. To save my brother and sister."

"Hmm...it should have entered your mind that those laws meant nothing the moment the King was involved."

"Yes, I had realized that when he still had the balls to punish my sister for crimes that he promised to absolve."

Tywin merely grunted in response.

"Still we owe much to the boy, father. You may not like it but a dept is owed and, as you have always said, 'Lannisters always pay their debts'."

No one spoke for some time. And for Tyrion it was starting to get uncomfortable.

"But I have to admit I was surprised that someone would give up a Valyrian Steel Sword for a girl." jested Tyrion.

"Just like everyone else then." said Genna Lannister as she entered the tent. Receiving a nod of greeting from her siblings and a cup raised by Tyrion. "Still his gamble failed. The King disowned Cersei, making her useless in his hands."

"I don't think he even considered that Genna." said Kevan.

"Why else would he give up such a treasure?" she asked in a mocking tone.

"I have spent much time with the boy. Good lad I tell you. Though it is hard to see him that way sometimes." said Kevan, gaining everyone's attention. "You should see him interact with those children. He smiles, a genuine smile. He even plays with them sometimes. Gods there were even times he would wash their faces with a cloth, personally."

"So he is into little kids...poor Cersei."

"Haha, your stay with those Frey Cunts have twisted your view at things sister." making Genna raise a brow. "He looks like them like how a father looks at his children. Far, far from the way any stranger had looked upon a child. And how he treats them three meals a day, clean clothes, and clean bodies. It was not far from how a father was."

"He didn't seem that soft when he killed two men within his camp. He was brutal from what I heard."

"Oh!" interjected Tyrion. "I was there. Saw him smash a man's face so hard with his fist it caved into his skull. And the other one, he stomped down on until his brains spilled to the ground...it was brutal I tell you."

"Yes he is, to those who earned his ire. He is. But innocent children? Far from it."

"We have gone off topic far enough I believe." said Tywin.

"Tell me Genna, should I or should I not hand over a knight of the West to Arthas or no?"

"I feel there is more to this."

"The man wronged him. Deeply at that, based on what Kevan had just said."

Genna was surprised. But then again, if her brother was truthful then any father would feel wronged. A mighty warrior? Even more so. But the question is...

"Why do you have to hand him over? I mean, would it not be easier for him to take the Knight himself?"

No one spoke for a few seconds until...

"Hahahahaha!" laughed Tyrion. And then followed by Kevan.

"Hahaha, by the gods! It was so simple! Why have we not thought of that!?" laughed out Tyrion. As he smiled mockingly at everyone inside the tent.

"Haaa... Well I blame this on the current situation." Kevan then looked to Tywin. "I shall inform him then?"

Tywin nodded. "See that you do. And make sure you are clear on our stand."

"Aye!"

"And Kevan." said Tywin. "Make the proper arrangements as well. I want this done clean." added Tywin as Kevan left.

"Tyrion, leave." said Tywin.

"Father." said Tyrion with a bow as he left.

Tywin then turned his attention to the only occupant left. He ushered his sister to a seat and then poured a cup of wine for her. Before taking his own seat behind his desk.

"Things have turned for the worst as you and everyone else now knows. But what I said holds true. It is only a matter of time now."

"How could you possibly be certain?"

"Because I did not speak against him duringthe execution."

"....Tywin did you-"

"No I did not gamble with my children's lives. No. Jamie should have been saved from the block and my deal with the Arryn boy would have ensured Cersei's life at the very least. But none of us expected the King's actions."

"No one expected the King's actions." Corrected Genna.

"Hm." grunted Tywin. "Regardless, my inaction have emboldened him. And it will only deteriorate from here."

"You forget Rhaegar brother. His son may just have what it takes to correct all this. He is the only reason the people of King's Landing even tolerate the King after all."

"And outside of it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Rhaegar is known for his harp, his beautiful voice, skill with a sword as much as a lance, and a face that makes women swoon. But do not misunderstand sister. This are the rumors of the Silver Prince outside of King's Landing. Rumors..."

"Are you saying he is not as popular as I think he is?"

"Oh he is popular, just not as loved as you thought."

"Most of the times popularity is all it takes to obtain the crowd's heart.*

"Reputation is what it takes to gather the crowd's heart. And the prince is about to lose his."

"How exactly?"

"He made an enemy of a boy that does care about his princely status. That's why. It will show, I assure you. That is why you will still be moving to Casterly Rock." Tywin then handed a sealed scroll to his sister. "Something for Old Walder Frey. I do not want him misunderstanding my intentions."

Grabbing the scroll, Genna decided to ask a question.

"What of Tyrion?"

"What of Tyrion?"

"He is now your heir, he sh-"

"HE! is not my heir!" said Tywin harshly.

"....Why do you hate him so Tywin?" whispered Genna.

Tywin merely turned his head and paced. Refusing to acknowledge her words.

"You didn't kill him. I knew you wanted to. Many had urged you to. And yet you didn't."

Seeing no reaction Genna pushed on. "I loved Joanna, Tywin. She was all we could have asked for a Lannister. But-"

"She begged me. On her death bed, begged me to love him." whispered Tywin.

"I did not wish to hate him. I didn't, no matter what he thought. I wanted to throw him to the Sea, let the waves wash him clean off of this world. Instead I kept him. As my son. Clothed him, fed him, educated him. And what does he do with that...he prances around like a fool walking on his hands a top the dining table! He marries a whore, complete disregarding the Lannister name for love! He spends coin like there was no tomorrow! I had seen the expenditures of Jamie and myself and the boy barely half my size could still spend three times more! He-"

"Is just like our father." Genna interrupted making Tywin pause. "The 'laughing lion' who made a fool of himself with his jovial nature. He married for love, a whore as you have said. Discarding the Lannister name like our father did by marrying me off to the Freys. Marrying a lowborn, angering our banner men. All whom looked to us and him aswell despite being a dwarf. And spends coin like no tomorrow? Have you seen how much Cersei spent on her dress....

A third son, the third child. our father lost his fighting for the Targaryens. He lost his to the Targaryens. Both of whom were never meant to inherit the rock." said Genna with a knowing smile.

Tywin sighed and then spoke. "If he becomes my heir. All that we have worked for. All that we have endured. All that we've sacrificed, will be undone.....leave sister."

Genna smiled sadly. "Goodnight Tywin. And truth be told, Tyrion is not our father reborn."

Tywin sank at his seat, refusing to think about a future with another Tytos Lannister as Warden of the West. The loss of his son was trying but not as much as his daughter. The trade should never have happened in the first place. Slavery is illegall in the Seven Kingdoms. And yet the King discarded the laws just to mock him. The King discarded his words just to hurt him. Tywin sighed not knowing how to bring back his daughter to the fold. But despite his weary mind, Tywin sought comfort in rage. Rage that is slowly consuming him.

Rage against the Dragons. 'A Lannister always pay their debts'. Mark my words Aerys I will repay you a thousand fold for this. Even if I have to bathe King's Landing in blood.'

~~~ Break ~~~

Two days after the Trial the melee had been announced to officially begin as there are still two bouts to go through. From the countless participants, only two hundred remained. And they will be cut in half once more.

In the waiting room the men who will be participating in the melee are either eager or nervous, either way, they all still turned to the one who just joined their ranks.

Arthas walked in with a black cloak that nearly covered his whole form, looking slightly burnt and without his helmet but a hood laid down. And one plain looking greatsword at his shoulder. Compared to his height, it looked comically oversized as the blade itself is as tall as him. But then he spun it with one hand as he laid it down. Reminding the onlookers of his superior strength that defied common sense.

But while chastised, there are those who couldn't help but mock him while his back was turned. Calling him an idiot for 'giving up a treasure for a fancy pussy' as they had eloquently said.

Arthas of course did not let it slide. He slowly but surely turned towards the man. Who cowed and looked away as he did. The announcement then rang and everyone stepped in. The first to step through is Arthas himself as he pulled his hood up.

The people cheered as the Master of Ceremonies hyped up the crowed with the mention of respected names like Barristan, Martell, and then he heard it...Lorch and Grafton. The two names he had been hoping to hear.

Arthas looked towards Tywin the two having a staredown that neither are willing to step back. Those who noticed decided to keep a short distance, the rest were too enamored by the crowed.

And then the announcement came and slowly, Arthas pulled his greatsword off his shoulder and held it both hands with the blade held pointed up to the sky. The sheer size of the sword was made even more menacing in the boy's hands.

And then. He charged first to his closest target, The Grafton knight.

Arthas swing towards the man's waist, and Grafton leveled his shield but to the shock of the crowed *bang!* The man's shield arm was thrown back by the sheer force of the swing. And with unnatural level of strength and flexibility, Arthas was able to halt the sword midswing twisting it to a downward slash. The sword fell at incredible speed towards the poor man's knee. *Crack!* He shouted in pain only for it to cut short as Arthas flexed his arms and twisted his blade back up and struck him to the chin making the man bite down in his tounge in bloody gore. With his head raised up, Arthas stepped in, twisting his body with both his hands upon his sword in a powerful swing. And with a grunt of great effort he let the swing fly straight at the man's neck. Separating it in a very messy way. The head flew off leaving a trail of blood and then rolled towards the edge of the arena while the body crumpled to the ground.

The stunned crowd looked on with wide eyes as the now fallen corpse that had its head removed looked as if it had been ripped off of it by sheer brute force.

None dared to speak as Arthas stood with ragged breathing as looked down at the corpse. He then felt it, a relief blossoming within his chest. As if a wrong was finally corrected. All of a sudden he turned his attention to the second one.

Armory Lorch felt fear, unprecedented fear as he looked upon Arthas' hooded form. His youthful visage working in contrast with his eyes that seemed to shine in malevolence, fixed angrily upon him. And then he stepped forward.

With a cry of panic and fear, Armory turned around and tried to ran. Only to be brutally struck at his legs. Looking down, he saw the bones potruding from his shin as it was bent the wrong way. He wailed in pain as he sat there with his hands not knowing what to do to mitigate the pain. Seating in the ground he saw his armored boots and the tattered cloak first. Slowly Armory Lorch looked up as the subject of his fear looked down on him. His greatsword still held before him, covering most of his face, but his eye was clear as day. As if shining through the shadow cast upon his face. It was judging, it was angry, and most of all, unforgiving.

He didn't see it coming as the sword found it's way between his armor striking him just between the chest plate and the shoulder. His cries of pain echoed across the Arena. And then again. And again. And again. And again. And then slowly Arthas raised his blood caked sword once more as he stared coldly at the utterly broken form of Armory Lorch. And with final swing. He planted his sword at his head, completely cleaving it in half. Softly he removed his sword from the corpse, standing aloft at the middle of the Arena.

His bloodied armor, burnt hooded cloak and greatsword caked in human flesh and blood gave him a menacing form.

Coherence soon returned and whispers started. Amongs the participants some just walked away, others threw their weapons to the ground as they did. By the end of it, only half have remained.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his sword in a wide stance with the blade pointed back and held in both hands.

Some of them actually sighed a bit of relief once they saw it and resolved to fight.

The battle begun once again with fifty men rushing against one. And still, just like before, they were losing. The crowed was pleased that the brutality seemed to have ended, though there were still those who were badly injured, none was as horrible as the first two. The cheers began as people wanted to see the outcome of it all. And most of all, people wanted to see who could beat Arthas. The one who had painted himself as an unstopped force of power.

At the side, Ser Barristan looked stoicly as he gazed upon the boy. His movements his techniques, his fighting habits. He measured it all. And he was impressed as he is baffled. Wondering what it would have taken for such a youth to rise to such a level. A teaching method lost to time, monstrous talent unheard of or both?

"You are taking your time Ser Barristan." Barristan turned to see Oberyn Martell leaning by the fence with his spear wrapped around an arm not far away from him.

"As are you my prince."

"Nah I ain't stupid enough to get in the middle of that. But I admit, I am a little excited." declared Oberyn with a smile.

"Truly? I didn't know the royal family thinks so."

"Oh they don't. I have even taken it upon myself unto warning my dear sister about keeping a distance from the boy. As he didn't seem to mind stepping on other people's toes."

Barristan merely grunted. Not wanting to delve into the answer called, Politics.

*crash!* The two turned to the spot between them and saw an unconscious individual. Turning to the source.

They saw a whole floor worth of groaning and unconscious men right at Arthas feet. The youth simple looking at them with a tilt of his head.

Oberyn was sweating a little as he gazed upon the shining eyes of the boy that seemed to pierce through the darkness and to his heart. It was cold and cruel. A look that held him and his life in complete disregard.

Steeling his heart he was about to step forward when Ser Barristan held him by the shoulder and pushed him back. Barristan then stepped forward as he drew his sword holding it pointedly against Arthas.

Arthas responded with a small smile. He then spun his sword to the side before resuming the same pose at the old knight.

The cheering crowed began to go silent. As the two focus on only one another.

And as if performed with some unknown signal. The two clashed, sword per sword. The exchange was magnificent as unlike with Arthur, Barristan Selmy was showing all his experience and skill that surpassed the Sword of the Morning.

The two exchanged for several minutes and to the crowds joy, Barristan was landing hits. Though Arthas was able to guard some of them with his reinforced gauntlets, it was still a testament to the old man's prowess as he is able to manuever around Arthas' defense and land several blows.

Half an hour passed and then as if feeling a click in his mind Ser Barristan leaped back all of a sudden. While most disregarded his actions as him just catching his breath. Oberyn, Arthur and the veterans like Brynden Blackfish Tully, Rickard Stark and Tywin Lannister couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed at what they just saw.

Barristan as if confirming his fears. Charged once more, only for his movements to be halted by a familiar move. He stepped back again, took a deep breath and again they exchanged. The clanging metal was all everyone heard for a whole minute until the heard it. *Crack!*

Forced to a step back, Barristan knew he had a crack in his armor. But his eyes were too narrowed at the boy just infront of him. Barely breathing heavily at all, but what truly sent Barristan on edge was his moves.

They were his moves. Moves developed through years of fighting. Moves that took him months to perfect and learn. And Arthas was performing them after seeing them.

"...what monstroust talent..." he whispered.

Feeling eager and emboldened, Ser Barristan jumped into the fight once more. And as expected, Arthas had begun closing the openings he once had and began pushing back against Selmy. As slowly but surely, Arthas had begun incorporating his techniques as his own. Making Barristan even more eager to push forward.

The crowed watched in awe and the cheers continued despite the bout not showing any signs of stopping. An hour passed and the people couldn't care less.

Barristan was tiring but he still continued to exchange swords and most of all.

"Why is he smiling?" asked Brandon.

"*sigh* Watch closely, you should be able to recognize it." said Rickard.

"I can't point it out but it feels...familiar." said Eddard.

"That's cause it is." Said Lyanna gaining their attention at the same time. "This is what I have been looking at for years. It's just like a mentor and his pupil. Like how you were while training with the master at arms. Barristan is teaching him. That's why he is smiling." said Lyanna with a soft smile.

And then *CLANG!* a sword flew off. Landing to the edge. In the center of the arena now stood Arthas with his sword trained at the old knight's throat.

"...yield..." said Arthas.

Barristan smiled in a satisfied manner and said jovially. "I yield."

And with the loud cry of the crowd the tourney of Harrenhal went closer into it's final conclusion.