A Song of Weiss and Fire

1-7
It had been over a decade since Weiss had felt this way, the adrenaline coursing through her veins, running away from men, nay, beasts that wished to kill her or perform unspeakable things on her. The scully maids of the Gold Keep had loose lips, Weiss knew some information on the Ironborn. How they worshiped their Drowned god of the deep sea, how they had raided Lannisport countless times throughout its long history, and how they had burned the city at least thrice. Weiss never thought she would live to see it happen a fourth time, or at least, during Lord Tywin's lifetime. The Old Lion was a fearsome man, intelligent and cold, who suffered no opposers to his rule. Weiss' Father had petitioned the man to open the silver mines of Castamere, to no avail. She personally would've given it to a loyal house, or form another cadet branch from one of the lesser Lannisters. Admittedly, the new owners would've had a significant mess to clean out, but there's no sense wasting good silver by leaving it in the ground.


"Don't look back, My Lady!" Ser Tylan's voice was cold and firm as he covered their retreat. Mother, Alis and Alysanne were just ahead of her, with Robart now taking the lead while holding her Mother's wrist. Even from her position near the back, Weiss could see the shadows of his short sword, dark castle forged steel made out of the finest ores. Its length was perfect for fighting in the tight hallways of the Gold Keep, long enough to kill, but short enough to allow a full swing through the corridors. "Their armor weighs them down, we can outrun them."


That was assuming that those intruders were the only Ironborn in the Gold Keep. A bold, yet likely wrong assumption. In order for these Ironborn to have infiltrated the Gold Keep so quickly, the operation had to have been planned. They must've already been in Lannisport to strike so quickly, but without any proof, they were just guesses and fantasy. All Weiss truly knew was the incompetence of the Lannister guards who allowed so many to enter the Gold Keep. Those who died to the Ironborn should consider themselves lucky, especially if they were at fault for this mess.


"Head back from where we came." Ser Tylan yelled towards Robart, having to raise his voice to be heard over the crying that escaped the throats of Alis and Alysanne. Weiss would have preferred if they cried silently to not attract anymore unwanted attention. There could be more raiders in the keep. "We shall fortify one of the rooms there."


A decent idea, if they holed up in one of the rooms they just passed by, the raiders would likely reach them soon. Weiss could hear their footsteps, faint, but drawing ever closer. If only she had Myrtenaster and was at her full strength in a grown woman's body, she'd easily be able to subdue all of them. Their group soon passed another intersection of corridors, with Weiss giving it a brief glance. She regretted it almost instantly.


She spotted three bodies against the floor, parts of their bodies hidden by the shadows of the night, yet the torches that lit the way revealed a brutality that would've traumarize any other girl her age. It looked like a bloodbath, their Lannister armor half scavenged and caked in blood and gore. The air smelled like iron, as if the Stranger himself was stalking through the walls. Weiss swore she saw a few shadows move, at least four men were hiding in the darkness.


Ser Tylan noticed, and used his body to block her view. "Keep going my Lady, I swore to your Lord Father that no harm would come to you and Lady Ceria, and a knight always keeps his vows." He said in between breaths. Ser Tylan was old, and his chain armor was slowing him down. And yet, he sounded almost excited to be in combat once more.


"We need to stop soon!" Weiss said loudly. They had already lost Joston, Byren and Tarik, Weiss wasn't going to lose Ser Tylan too. Alis and Alysanne were also slowing down, not used to running for their lives, and their crying made their breathing erratic. "If we continue like this they'll just pick us off one by one."


While they had the advantage of knowing the layout of the Gold Keep, Weiss also had no idea how many other raiders had infiltrated the castle, and how many guards were still amongst the living. They needed something to even the odds, a more defensible position for instance.


Robart pauses in front of a single door, and letting go of Mother's wrist, struggled with the keys on his belt for a few seconds before finally unlocking the door. "In here my Ladies." She thought the door looked familiar, but she couldn't place it in the dark and with her worry.


The moment the door creaked open, Weiss heard a loud battle crying coming from behind her. She turned her head at just the right angle to see an Ironborn raider charging straight at them with a long axe, alone, with his beard covered in spittle and drops of red. Ser Tylan immediately pushed Weiss in the direction of the storage room before turning to face the mad man.


"Raaaaagh!" The Ironborn yelled as Ser Tylan stared him down, both hands on the grip of his longsword. The Ironborn was faster, younger, and much larger as he crossed the distance in a few seconds.


Yet, Ser Tylan's sword moved like it was an extension of his own body, not fast, but not too slow. His longsword struck the shaft of the axe, using the Ironborn's slowed movements to move out of the way. Ser Tylan's movements were precise and calculated, he fought knowing his own limitations and using his years of experience.


"Die." Ser Tylan growled, lifting his longsword for an overhead strike. The Ironborn barely lifted his axe in time, Ser Tylan's blade impacted the weapon's shaft, causing it to splinter.


Weiss felt Robart lift her up by her armpits. "Into the room, my Lady, we shall handle it from here." She would've felt embarrassed if this wasn't a matter of life or death.


Weiss nodded slowly as she allowed Robart to guide her away, her eyes never leaving Ser Tylan's back as he kept up his assault. The Ironborn stared at him with confused eyes, while giving ground, his rusted and old chain armor clinging to his body. Relaxing his grip, Ser Tylan gave her a brief side glance.


"I shall see you when this is over, Lady Weiss." He gave her a confident grin as he swiped against the Raider's flailing strike, forming a thin red line across his cheek. The Ironborn yelled in pain and rage. Either at the implied humiliation of being toyed with, or just because his prey wasn't dying as easily as he hoped.


"Die old man!" The Ironborn overextended himself, raising his axe high in the air, giving Ser Tylan his opening. His sword sliced into the gap between the Ironborn's helmet and neck guard. Any others curses or yelled died in his throat as he choked on his own blood. Robart tried hiding the view as Weiss reluctantly entered the room.


"Robart! Go get reinforcements and bring them here. I shall protect the Ladies. Where there is one Squid, more are sure to come." Ser Tylan ordered. Mother, Alysanne and Alis were already in the room, near the back wall. "Bar the door."


Battle cries started to draw closer, causing Ser Tylan to look down the hall with a tight jaw.


"Yes Ser." Robart flashed them a sad smile, while Ser Tylan's large grin was the last thing Weiss saw before the door was closed shut. She felt a surge of hope, before it was smothered in some rage at the sheer idiocy she was seeing.


That dolt! He should've joined them in the room! Weiss wanted to yell and scream at the old knight, yet not a single noise escaped her throat. Why were the people here such idiots and morons? Weiss felt her body shake in rage, the letter opener still hidden in the sleeve of her night gown. She felt someone wrap their arms around her small, thin body.


"I'm here, Sweetling." Mother whispered into her ear in the darkness. It took a few seconds for Weiss' eyes to adjust, her aura allowed her to see better than an average human, but was still inferior to the night vision of a faunus. Mother ran her thumb under Weiss' eyes, wiping away an imaginary tear. She probably thought Weiss was crying due to her shaking. It would make sense, and given her age, was to be expected.


"W-What happens now?" Alysanne was the first to speak up. Weiss gave her a brief glance, her two friends were holding each other's hands, their faces marked by rivers of tear marks. She resisted the urge to sneer at their useless nature, they were kids and never even trained for this. It wasn't their fault, not in the least.


"We wait for relief." Weiss answered, her voice hard. "Casterly Rock must've seen the flames and received Maester Harmune's raven. Lord Tywin must be on his way."


With Father fighting off the Ironborn in Lannisport and the docks, reinforcements from Casterly Rock would be their best hope. Lord Tywin could summon hundreds of knights and riders at a moment's notice, Weiss was sure that help would be coming soon. However, it would take time to muster them, especially with the limited technology. Even with Casterly Rock being just over a mile away, it took time to rally troops and start marching.


A deadly silence soon came over them, allowing Weiss to get a good look at the room, as good as it could be in the darkness. It was a large storage room, filled with blankets and covers that would be in use once Winter arrived. Not a single useful weapon, but it did have a sturdy door for an entrance at least.


The silence was soon disturbed by the sound of metal clanging and fighting, just outside of the door. Weiss balled her hands into fist as she heard Ser Tylan yelling curses through the openings. She closed her eyes shut when the fighting died down after who knew how long. Mother held her even closer, so close that Weiss could feel her breath on the skin of her cheeks.


Someone outside the door started struggling with the doorknob, unable to open it without the key Robart had taken with him. It was probably not a good sign, combined with the silence from Ser Tylan, but she held out some hope. Maybe he'd won?


"Fuck." Weiss heard someone groan, their voice little more than whispers in the back of the storage room. It wasn't Ser Tylan's voice, it sounded cruel and dark, like nails scratching a chalkboard. Well, so much for that hope.


"Just use the axe." Another voice said. Mother gasped, pulled Weiss against the back wall. Not even a second later, a loud thud slammed against the reinforced door, and another, and another.


"Weiss, Alysanne, Alis, get behind me." Mother whispered, using her body to shield the three girls. Alysanne started to sob again, her nose dripping with mucus that leaked down to her mouth. Alis cried silently.


"I don't want to be a salt wife." One of them said in between breaths. She couldn't tell which one, their voices sound alike from all the sobbing and terror.


Soon, after what felt like an eternity, an axe head made its way past the wooden door. Even in the darkness, Weiss could see an eye staring at them from the opening.


"We have some pretty ones in here, Lions by the look of it." Another gravelly voice said before disappearing. The axe head returned in its place as the Ironborn continued their efforts, now properly motivated by an actual prize that appeared to be waiting for them.


"Father above, please grant us your justice." Mother started to pray under her breath, holding an arm out in front of Weiss, as if to shield her. "Mother above, please show us your mercy. May the Warrior defend us and give strength to those who fight for our sake."


Weiss slid the letter opener into her waiting hand, hiding it behind her back.


"Most beautiful Maiden please grant us courage, oh mighty Smith give us your strength." Mother continued her chant when the door finally failed them, bursting open. Mother flinched, but remained steadfast and continued her prayer, her voice wavering.


Four Ironborn blocked the exit, mostly wearing boiled leather and light mail shirts. Only one of them wore a half-helm, battered and bloodied. Half-Helm held the long axe, while the other three held short swords.


"You're right Clud." Half-Helm said, turning his head towards his friend to his left. 'Clud' had a pox marked face with a downward curved nose. "They are pretty ones."


"Hehe." Clud formed a lecherous grin. "I told ya."


"Grab 'em, Darron." Half-Helm pushed the short man to his right forward. "I always wanted a high born salt wife." He had a dagger attached to his belt, still in its sheath.


"Mother." Weiss whispered low enough for the older woman to hear. "Close your eyes and don't open them until I tell you, please."


"W-What?" Mother stuttered, drawn out of her prayer.


"Do it, and cover Alysanne and Alis' eyes too." Weiss stepped around her Mother's arm, walking in the direction of the approaching Ironborn. She didn't turn back to see if her Mother had listened to her.


"That's right, come 'ere girl." Darron, a short man with a thick and bushy black mustache, licked his brown teeth. "Good to know these clawless lions taught you we-"


Weiss launched herself forward, using her aura to enhance the strength in her legs. With the letter opener aimed forward, she sliced into Darron's throat without a second thought. That caused warm, red liquids to coat her hand. Before he had even fallen to the ground dead, Weiss was already on the move. One down, three to go.


She formed a glyph beneath her feet, launching herself in Half-Helm's direction. They hadn't expected her to fight back, much less kill one of them. To be fair, expecting a seven year old girl in Remnant to fight back was unexpected, let alone here. Dropping their guard would be a fatal mistake. With adrenaline still coursing through her veins, Weiss jammed the letter opener into Half-Helm's right eye.


"Aagh!" Half-Helm screamed in pain, twisting his head to the side and causing the letter opener to snap in half, leaving Weiss with just the handle. Two down, two to go.


"Damn it." Weiss muttered, throwing away the useless handle and grabbed Half-Helm's spare dagger. She should've used her aura to enhance the letter opener's strength. Half-Helm continued yelling and screaming on the ground, clutching the side of his face with the still impaled blade protruding from his eye like a tower.


Clud and his friend stared at Weiss with wide eyes, confused and frightened by their fellow raiders dying and being gored within the span of a few seconds. Weiss held the dagger in a reverse grip, its handle was too long for her hands, but her aura would ensure she wouldn't drop it. She missed Myrtenaster, this dagger felt foreign in her hands. Weiss preferred rapiers.


"A witch." One of them, not Clud, muttered. Weiss' eyes briefly darted towards her Mother, who was shielding Alysanne and Alis with her body, her blue eyes closed shut. Good, they didn't need to see this right now.


Good, with all the bloodstains that decorated Weiss' nightgown, Mother didn't need anymore stress alongside the threat of being taken a saltwife or killed. Nor did her friends.


"Yah!" Clud suddenly regained his senses, charging Weiss with a wide swing. Weiss dodged it, using her shorter stature to get in close and stabbing the back of his knee with the dagger. It sank into the meat, causing him to stagger and fall forward a bit before regaining his balance.


"Gah." Clud fell to one knee, bringing his short sword back around to try and take off Weiss' head. A quick backstep took care of that, causing the blade to whistle through the air but not hit anything. There was an opening in his elbow, only protected by boiled leather instead of mail.


"Hear me roar." Weiss said coldly, swinging the dagger with all her aura enhanced might, parting Clud's arm from the rest of his body. With the blade strengthened by her aura, it easily sliced into flesh and bone. He stared at her in shock before yelling curses, grasping his stump of an arm. A spray of red coated the two of them. She wasn't too worried, blood loss would take him down, she just had to wait it out.


Weiss was about to finish him off when she sensed a stab in her direction, so she moved her head to the side just enough to allow Clud's friend's short sword to sweep by her. He impaled Clud who kept screaming in pain. Some people just had no luck.


"You four should've attacked me all at once if you wanted to stand a chance." Weiss sighed and narrowed her eyes. Clud's friend tried another swing, but Weiss was faster and her dagger's shorter length allowed her to bury it in his neck without having to adjust its length. Weiss felt his body spray warm liquids onto her cheeks. Three down, one to go.


"M-Monster-" The Ironborn choked out before falling on his side. How ironic, they were the ones who wanted to kidnap Weiss, her Mother, and her friends to rape and do as they pleased. And she was called a monster? Pathetic.


Weiss finally straightened her back with shaky knees, refusing to allow the dagger to slip in between her fingers, just in case any more raiders were bold enough to face them. This wasn't the first time she had killed, Weiss had done so once or twice during the White Fang's invasion of Vale, and during the Breach. She usually didn't see their final moments, and it was hard to remember that the people here were much more fragile due to their lack of Aura. She looked back at Half-Helm, seeing that he'd finally died, or at least whatever graey matter he had inside his head had finally realized he was dead. Four down, all done.


"Weiss? Weiss!" Mother screamed, and a few footsteps later she was fussing over Weiss. "B-Blood! There's so much?" She didn't give the dead bodies another look, Mother already looked like she was about to throw up. She couldn't blame the woman, it was not a pretty sight.


"There is no need to worry, Mother." Weiss gave her a reassuring smile as she wiped a few drops of blood from her forehead with her red stained sleeve. "None of it belongs to me." She felt bad for the maids who would have to clean it, maybe they should have it burned instead. At least it wasn't her outfit back on Remnant, that was considerably more difficult to clean up afterwards.


They were interrupted by the sound of horns and trumpets blasting through the walls, and the loud sound of what could be, hundreds of men pouring into the Gold Keep. Mother licked her dry lips, unsure of what to say. Weiss resisted the urge to make a joke about the cavalry showing up, she wasn't Yang after all.


"You should return to Alysanne and Alis, just in case more Ironborn arrive." Weiss tilted her head to the side cutely, to try and comfort her Mother. Mother nodded slowly, her eyes glazed over and confused as she stumbled back to the two scared ladies. They'd kept their eyes shut even without Mother covering them, so they needed the comfort more, at least at the moment. Maybe later, she'd freak out around her mother.


Weiss turned her attention back to the broken door. She would've preferred a sword, but even with her aura, she wasn't sure how well she would be able to wield it with her current height. The dagger would have to do for now. She grabbed another from Clud's catatonic, if not already dead, body. Two daggers were always better than one, and she was exhausted, not used to having her aura enhance her body.


They lost track of time, with Weiss using all of her strength to keep an eye on the door, when suddenly, she heard the sound of loud footsteps marching. Reinforcements from the Rock? Or was it the other raiders that had infiltrated the Gold Keep?


She relaxed her grip on the daggers, held them too tight and they would fly out of her hands. The marching drew closer, causing Weiss to hold her breath for a few seconds. A familiar face appeared from the right side of the door.


"Robart." Weiss released the breath she was holding. The guard rushed into the room, his eyes confused by the four dead bodies. She could understand why, that was quite a mess, and from someone who was supposedly untrained no less.


"My Ladies! Help has arrived." He flashed them a bruised smile when another figure walked through the door. Robart moved to help Mother and Weiss' friends stand, while casually stomping on the heads of the dead raiders. Evidently he was not going to take any chances with them, seemingly dead or not.


The newcomer wore heavy plate armor, with a golden lion etched onto his red breastplate. The Knight was tall, taller than even Father and thin. His full-helm looked like that of a roaring lion, and hid all but his green eyes which were visible even in the dark. His gaze was aimed at the four dead Ironborn, and the bloody dagger in her hands.


"Did you do this, girl?" His voice was deep, cold, and experienced. He sounded familiar, but for the life of her, she couldn't place him.


"Yes, my Lord." Weiss said respectfully, with a slight nod. For him to wear such expensive and glamorous armor, he must've been from the main Lannister branch. There was no heraldry, just the Lion, so he wasn't a sworn sword, the voice sounded aged and it obviously wasn't her cousin Jaime, but who?


"Impressive." The Knight said, finally removing his helm, revealing an older man with blonde hair that was slowly turning gray. He had a neatly trimmed beard so blonde that it blended in with his skin. "Not many men could take on four warriors and survive, even amongst my best men, even less a young lady such as yourself. Very impressive."


Weiss' eyes widened slowly as she quickly gave him a proper curtsey, pressing her lips into a thin line. "Thank you, my Lord."


It was the proper thing to do when in the presence of the ruler of the Westerlands, Lord Tywin Lannister.


The Old Lion of the West.


A/N

This is the longest chapter in A Song Of Weiss And Fire so far. If I had combined it with the previous chapter, as per my original plan, it would've had over 6 thousand words, maybe even reach 7 thousand.


Longer chapters such as these are only possible with the help of all my readers! We really enjoy reading all of the comments.
 
1-8
Lannisport was in flames, the outward edges of the city closest to the sea were burning in the distance, and the Lannister fleet was busy sinking to the bottom of the port, with whatever was left above the water on fire. From the balcony that was attached to his solar, Tywin stared into the flames with a tight jaw, lifting a glass of mulled wine to his lips. He took a small, calculated sip before returning it to his cupbearer, a young Crakehall boy, a cousin to Ser Lyle Crakehall who was still within the walls of Casterly Rock.


"Dramen, you fool." Tywin said blankly, in a tone one could mistake for apathy, save for a low undercurrent of absolute rage. Whoever organized this attack was an idiot if they thought they could do so freely, without any sort of pushback. They insulted Tywin, attacking his bannermen and distant kin, they insulted House Lannister, burning his fleet and attempting to sack Lannisport, the largest city in the Westerlands which rivaled King's Landing and Oldtown. The doors to his solar creaked open, with what sounded like half a dozen footsteps following. Tywin kept his hard eyes focused on the burning docks.


"Brother." It was Kevan who spoke up, his voice grave and serious. "We have received a raven from the Gold Keep, the Ironborn wish to sack the city. Lord Dramen calls upon Casterly Rock for help." Well, that answered the question of who would be stupid enough to think this was a 'smart' idea. For a given definition of smart in any event.


"And Casterly Rock shall answer." Tywin said coldly. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a city sacked for a city sacked. If Balon Greyjoy wanted a war, then he shall have it. He finally turned around. Kevan, Gerion and Tygett were both standing behind his desk, all in varying stages of undress. Kevan was already in plate armor, a full-helm in his hands. "Tygett, marshal every rider, available or not and Kevan, I leave you to muster our foot. Gerion, I leave you in command of the Rock until my return. Double the guard, the only Greyjoys I shall in here will be in the dungeons, or have their heads on spikes."


Gerion, his youngest brother, had his trousers sagging along with a shirt that was several sizes too big. His pale face was red, with dark markings along his neck and shoulder. Tywin gave him a sharp glare. Gerion had brought that whore back into the Rock once more had he? His brother's usual lazy grin was gone, replaced by a dower glare, one that Tygett imitated. Tygett had managed to make himself presentable, with a red doublet with a golden lion etched on it.


"As you command." Kevan responded, crossing an armored hand over his chest. He moved to leave, leaving him alone with Gerion and Tygett, but paused when Tywin slowly raised a hand to stop him.


"We leave when I give the word, no sooner and no later." Tywin continued. "We are not common rabble that shall charge in a disorganized manner without a battle plan, we are Lannisters."


And Tywin's reputation was ruined with the burning of Lannisport, if he did not proactively take steps to ensure nobody was going to perform a repeat. Evidently people's memories of the Reynes and the Sack had faltered a bit, so he felt a need to be a bit more creative this time around.. If any Lannister of Lannisport ended up dead or as a saltwife, it would sink even lower. They may not have been members of the main branch, but they still held the name of Lannister. An unprovoked attack on them, was an attack on Tywin himself. He waved them off, his brothers had work to do. Tygett and Gerion left without another word, while Kevan bowed his head ever so slightly.


"Bring my squire." Tywin told the Crakehall boy, who was silently standing in the corner, still holding the goblet of wine. The boy looked up, shocked at being addressed by his superior in such a manner "And have him bring my armor."


"Y-Yes my lord." The boy squeaked like a mouse despite his large size. The Strongboar must've been very disappointed with his kinsman. Still, he was just a boy after all, he would learn. The Crakehall scurried away, leaving Tywin alone in his solar.


The realm would soon know of this embarrassing defeat, yet there was an opportunity at hand, even if it was rather expensive. It seemed that Balon Greyjoy needed to be reminded that Tywin Lannister still had claws, long and sharp enough to cut any squid to shreds with ease. The fool should've learned from the Reynes of Castamere. Tywin narrowed his eyes as he grabbed a quill and an expensive sheet of parchment to write. If that idiot Robert was going to find out, then he would by Tywin's own hand. He felt his jaw tighten as he started to write.


Tywin could already hear that buffoon laughing. Whether at him, or a chance to go out and smash some skulls once more, he was uncertain.









In the end, Tygett had managed to gather four hundred horses, heavily armored knights and lightly armored outriders that should be able to easily run down any unorganized rabble. Kevan gathered double that in foot, drawn from the men-at-arms that were sworn to Casterly Rock, visitors that had brought their entourages, and from nearby garrisons. Even in the night, the banners Crakehall, Marbrand, Brax, Broom and Lorch were easily visible. It was an impressive amount of men, gathered so quickly on such short notice. They were gathered just outside of the south gate, in the direction of Lannisport. Tywin's three brothers were already armored and on horses by the time he arrived, mounted on the finest horse in the Westerlands and wearing an expensive set of armor.


"Brother." Tygett spoke first. His long blonde hair and bushy beard made him look more lion than man. He wore full-plate as all of Tywin's brothers did, with full-helms decorated with lions and lionesses. Two hundred men on horses stood at the edge of the gathered army. Some of the finest knights in the Westerlands were waiting for his orders.


"Take your men and ride for the docks." Tywin said, his horse clopping past his brother, towards the knights chosen as part of the vanguard. "Have your outriders report back how far the Ironborn have penetrated our defenses. Kevan shall follow behind with his foot." Kevan would take half of the foot, heavily armored pikes and swords to drive the entrenched Ironborn out of the streets. He already had his orders, as the most reliable of Tywin's brothers.


"Very well, Brother." Tygett said, his jaw tight and his teeth clenched. He could complain all he wanted, but he would still do his duty for the family. He could work with that. He didn't have to like Tywin, just fear the consequences.


"I will take the rest of our men and reinforce the Gold Keep." Tywin's horse continued walking, each step slow to conserve energy for now. "From there I will organize our defenses and deploy reinforcements as needed." Tywin would lead from the rear, he would leave the fighting to the younger and more foolish men. He knew his strengths, and would play to them in the fullest.


"Ser Lyle, you're with me." Tywin said loud enough for the large man, a knight in full armor with a boar on his surcoat, to hear. The Strongboar was a fierce warrior, one of Tywin's best, and easily controlled, unlike Ser Gregor Clegane. Relieving Lannisport would require a delicate knife, not a warhammer that could possibly kill or rape one of Tywin's kinsmen. Ser Lyle would be a worthy bodyguard for this engagement. "Lorch, bring the banner."


"Yes, my Lord!" Ser Lyle boomed, his great-helm echoing his words. He held a long lance in his hands, with a morningstar strapped to his side. He seemed almost eager to kill, but it was restrained. Tempered, one could say.


Ser Amory Lorch, an ugly pig-faced man, who wore unmarked armor approached Tywin, holding the banner with the Lannister sigil high in the air. Their squires carried torches, providing them light until morning arrived. Tygett approached him, his destrier eager for bloodshed. Tywin raised his hand in the air, and after a few seconds, lowered it.


"Casterly Rock!" Tygett yelled, unsheathing his sword and raising it high in the air. With that he charged, his two hundred men following closely behind with their own shouts and battlecries in battle formation.


"Lannister!"


"Hear Me Roar!"


"Death!"


The two hundred horses soon disappeared into the night, just barely visible due to the torches they carried. Tywin's annoyance was hidden by his great-helm, modeled after a lion with ruby eyes. He urged his horse onward, the infantry and other horses behind him. "Forward!"


It was time for a new song to be written.









The streets of Lannisport were cleared by the time Tywin arrived. Honest smallfolk had long barricaded themselves in their dwellings, hoping for the fighting to end before it reached their homes. That didn't matter, if Lannisport had to be burned to ashes in order to create a better, richer city, Tywin would throw the first torch himself. Still, that didn't stop the smallfolk cheering from their windows as Tywin's army entered the city, the gates opened by the members of the City Watch left to guard the rear. It still felt gratifying, knowing all his efforts would be appreciated, even if it was by the sheep of his flock.


"Go on ahead and take a score of riders to the Gold Keep, ensure the area is secured." Tywin ordered Ser Lyle, not even giving the Strongboar a second look. The lions did not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep, they would do as commanded.


"As you command, Lord Lannister." Ser Lyle boomed before riding off, yelling at the dozens of lances that marched ahead of them. Kevan had already parted ways, leading his four hundred foot to reinforce Tygett and Lord Dramen's forces fighting at the dockyard.


Lorch lowered the banner just slightly, his armored arm likely tired.


"Lower that banner another inch and I shall have you sent into the thickest part of the fighting." Tywin said evenly. Lorch was a bloodthirsty beast, but even monsters had some sort of self preservation. And it would not do to keep them where they would be left unsupervised.


"Yes, my Lord." Lorch responded, his high pitched voice doing little to hide his anxiety. Tywin would've chosen a better, more competent man to hold the Lannister banner, but he needed those men to lead sorties to drive the Ironborn out of Lannisport by the time morning came. If nothing else, Lorch was useful in this aspect.


The rest of the march continued in silence, with knights covering the front, sides, and rear of Tywin's advance, just in case an Ironborn or two decided to be even more daring. The sound of his foot marching, their armor clanging and battle cries from around the city formed what sounded like music. They soon reached the outskirts of the Gold Keep, Ser Lyle and his riders forming a defensive position close to the drawbridge. Tywin's guards opened their ranks, allowing him to push his destrier onward in a trot.


"Why hasn't the drawbridge been lowered?" Tywin gave the moat a glare. A fortress in the middle of the city, the Gold Keep was built centuries ago by the first Lannisters of Lannisport, built to withstand attacks from the Ironborn. Each time they had sacked the city, the Lannisters would rebuild stronger and better, learning from their past mistakes.


"They have not been answering our calls." Ser Lyle explained. He could hear the faint sound of swords clanging and men yelling coming from within the keep.


"Lorch, secure the drawbridge." Tywin narrowed his eyes. Something was not right here. Even if Dramen had been incompetent in defending Lannisport, he should've at least left a heavy guard to ensure the safety of the Gold Keep. If only to preserve his family.


"My Lord?" Lorch was only a few paces behind Tywin, alongside two knights in Lannister armor. Apparently Lorch hadn't learned to stop questioning his betters, and was keen on being in the vanguard.


"Hand the banner to Ser Damion and take the drawbridge." Tywin did not like having to repeat himself. "You do have experience scaling walls, don't you? Take thirty men, that should be more than enough."


Lorch shivered in his armor and nodded as much as he could with his heavy armor. "I shall do as you command, my Lord."


"Bring our crossbows forward, I want no surprises." Tywin started his short ride back to the column of men-at-arms, Ser Lyle following closely behind him. If Lord Dramen had lost the Gold Keep, then he was more incompetent than Tywin had thought.


What an embarrassment to the family. At least he wasn't as bad as the Imp was, but Dramen was rapidly proving himself a equal before too long.









To Ser Amory Lorch's credit, he had quickly taken the walls after commandeering long ladders and crossing the moat. The man was brave enough to scale the walls of the Red Keep, and was the perfect pawn to use. They threw a dead body over the walls, splashing into the waters below. The body turned the nearby water red, and wore a chain shirt over boiled leather, an Ironborn. With the Gold Keep captured, Tywin's organization of Lannisport's defenses would have to be delayed. Especially after a bloody skirmish in the courtyard that had three of his men injured and one dead.


Still, the Ironborn had taken heavy losses before they retreated back into the Keep itself. That was the last thing Tywin needed, a siege within a siege even if he had the advantage of numbers on his side. He remained on his horse, overseeing the men-at-arms that formed a defensive position around him.


"Captain Vylarr, take your men and hunt down those filthy Ironborn that remain." Tywin kept a firm grip on the horses' reins. Ser Lyle had dismounted, and stood a few paces ahead of him, his morningstar in his hands.


A man in Lannister half-plate and mail armor stepped forward, his face hidden by his half-helm. Vylarr kept his hand on the pommel of his sword. Before he could speak, the large set of double doors slammed opened as best as they could. Within seconds two dozen crossbows were aimed at the newcomer, an older, bloodied man wearing Lannister armor. He dropped a bloody short sword on the ground before approaching and dropping to his knees before the wall of armored soldiers.


"M-My Lord! You have arrived just in time." The strange man looked up, attempting to meet Tywin's eyes that were hidden by his great-helm. "M-My Ladies Lannister, the raiders wished to take them as saltwives, they've taken the keep! Lady Lefford and Peckledon as well!" The crazed man rambled and yelled.


The squids wished to take Tywin's kinsmen as saltwives? An insult to all who bore the name Lannister and his bannermen, this was not an insult that Tywin was not going to take lightly. Tonight was just proving that the madness of House Targaryean was causing yet another mess for him to clean up. And this time it wasn't even Aery's fault.


"Do you know where the Ladies are?" Ser Lyle was the one who spoke up. His voice was calm, and yet, there was an undertone of eagerness in it that said he was anxious to fight and kill, actual foes no less.


"Yes! I can lead you to them." The man groveled. Tywin pursed his lips together for a few seconds before dismounting from his horse. He ignored his squire who attempted to help him.


"Lead onwards." Tywin placed a hand on the handle of his ruby encrusted sword.


"My Lord, this could be an attempt to ambush you." Ser Damion approached, his visor lifted. He was not much of a fighter, despite earning the title of 'ser'. Where had the knights of his childhood gone? If any of the knights he'd served with as a squire had seen this excuse for a knight, they'd rip the spurs right off his armor.


"I will not sit here and continue to watch the family name ruined." Tywin kept the growl out of his voice, turning his attention back to the lowly guard. "Lead onward. Ser Lyle, if he attempts to betray us, kill him first." He was sure the Strongboar grinned under his helm.


The Guard bowed his head once more. "Y-Yes my Lord."









Within minutes the halls of the Gold Keep were filled by Lannister soldiers, killing and exterminating any Ironborn they came across like the vermin they were. Robart, as the guard called himself, led Tywin and a score of knights down several twists and turns. Dead guards seemed to litter every hallway, their blood coating the dark walls of the Gold Keep. A waste, but a sign that at least Draven had left a fairly strong garrison in the Gold Keep.


"Through here, my Lords." Robart said loudly, his voice echoing through the corridors as they turned right at the next section. There was a body beside a door that was smashed open. Robart scurried towards the door, popping his head in. "My Ladies! Help has arrived."


Tywin heard the whispering of women not even a second later. Raising a fist, he ordered Ser Lyle and the other knights to remain behind by a few paces and approached the door, grabbing a nearby torch. There were three bodies near the door, not just one.


Two wore old armor, and died with a snarl on their faces. They were several feet apart, and died like animals, as they deserved. The third body was the closest to the door, wearing expensive chain and boiled leather, with a longsword of castle forged steel in his hands. It was an older man, around Tywin's age. His green eyes were still open, yet they held no signs of life, with his chest caved in. He must've been a distant Lantell or Lanny, from a minor cadet branch. He vaguely recognized him from somewhere in his past, but he was not certain where. Still, he had done his duty, and would receive the honors he was due in death.


Without another look, Tywin entered the dark room. Robart was near the back of the room, helping a woman with long silver hair to her feet, along with the two girls that accompanied her. They looked disgusted and were on the verge of vomiting due to the four dead bodies that laid on the ground closest to the entrance. All four laid in a pool of their own blood, with one missing an arm, two with their throats slashed, and another with a broken blade protruding from his right eye.


Tywin felt his eyes drawn toward the only girl standing in the room, her gaze focused on the Lord of Casterly Rock. She was a small thing, her night gown caked in blood and gore. Even with the light from the torches, her white hair was stained red, and the dagger in one of her hands bloody. Her pale hands firmly held onto her two blades, one redder than the other. She looked like she had walked through a warzone.


Yet, what caught his attention the most, was her eyes. Sapphire blue, cold, and unyielding, the girl stared at Tywin without fear. She had her knees slightly bent, ready to pounce like a lion, like a Lannister. For some reason, they sent a slight shiver down his spine, they reminded him of when Ser Clegane had been knighted, he had the same look in his eyes when swearing the oaths.


"Did you do this, girl?" Tywin asked. He doubted that a little girl could take on four full grown men, Ironborn raiders at that, and live to tell the tale. Yet, if she wasn't the one who massacred them, who did? There was no window or other door to the room, and she was covered in blood. A maester would be able to determine how injured she was, and the dead Ironborn.


"Yes, my Lord." The girl said respectfully, bowing her head. At the very least, she knew her place in this world.


"Impressive." Tywin removed his helmet. The girl's cold blue eyes slightly widened in shock, showing she wasn't just putting on a mask. "Not many men could take on four warriors and survive, even amongst my best men, even less a lady such as yourself. Very impressive."


He would play along for now, at least until he had enough proof to prove that it wasn't this little girl that killed those men. She wasn't Jaime, but she could always prove to be useful in other ways. And if she was, well, he could see the advantage of a blade being able to go places where a knight could not go.


"Thank you, my Lord." The girl curtseyed, recognizing him as her overlord. She certainly knew her manners.


"What is your name, girl?" Tywin ignored the knights that entered the room behind him, assisting Robart the lowly guard with the three other ladies. His attention was solely on the waif who had proven to be quite the interesting figure thus far.


"Weiss of House Lannister of Lannisport, my Lord." Lady Weiss said, her light voice even and calm despite all of the death she had seen. She didn't speak like a girl, instead she sounded like a woman far older. "Daughter of Lord Dramen Lannister and Lady Ceria Velaryon." A distant relative then, Dramen's grandmother had been a Lannister of the Rock, one of Tywin's aunts.


How interesting.


A/N

Welcome to another long chapter! We really enjoyed reading and discussing all those comments, it's been fun even when some got really close to guessing some plot points.


Leaving that out there to fuel more guessing, but we won't say who/what idea was getting a bit too close. And like Night_Stalker confirmed, RBJY are somewhere else, and will eventually appear. The circumstances will be a closely held secret for now.


We hope today's chapter was fun!
 
1-9
By the time the dawn arrived, the surviving Ironborn had been driven back to their longships, with their fleet sailing out of view of the sentries placed at the highest points of Lannisport. It had been a long night, the Ironborn had caught them off guard, and the City Watch barely managed to turn the fighting into a stalemate under the command of Lord Commander Tytos, until he took an axe to the neck. Dramen would have to find a replacement soon enough. Still, at least they had been able to turn the tide once reinforcements from Casterly Rock arrived, driving the Ironborn raiders out of the city.


Yet, even with that victory, the loss of the Lannister Fleet stung, the pride of Dramen's Father and his father before him. Without the fleet, any form of a counterattack would be delayed by years, if not decades without help from the Reach or King's Landing. Rebuilding the fleet would be a princely endeavor, one that would likely come from Dramen's pocket. And with the docks in desperate need of repairs, the coffers of House Lannister of Lannisport were likely going to be much emptier for the next year or so. That was fine, Lannisters always rebuilt, stronger and better than before. The districts closest to the docks had been hit the hardest, with the fire that engulfed the fleet spreading quickly despite the best efforts of the City Watch.


All those buildings and ships were expensive and would take time to rebuild. With the docks in desperate need of repair, it would take months if not a year to start building new ships, and even longer to regain the trust of the merchants that had lost merchandise and coin in the attack. At least some of the ships could be refloated from where they had sunk in port.


Those thoughts did little to stop a frown from forming on Dramen's face as he rode to the Gold Keep, with Ser Larys, Ser Tygett, and Ser Kevan by his side. A collection of other knights, mounted men-at-arms and squires followed behind them. Dramen and Ser Lary's armor were the dirtiest of the four, caked in blood and dirt, they smelled awful.


"I am very appreciative." Dramen drawled, doing his best to hide his lack of sleep in his voice. "Had Casterly Rock not answered our call, I fear driving the raiders out would have taken much longer."


Ser Tygett's lips curled upwards. "Casterly Rock always remains poised to defend its bannermen, especially family." They were distant cousins, since Dramen's grandmother had been their aunt. Still, family was family, even if the bonds could be somewhat distant at times.


"There's no greater bond than blood." Ser Kevan added. Both brothers had removed their helmets, leaving them only in their Lannister plate armor decorated with images of a golden lion on red. Ser Kevan's wife, a daughter of House Swyft had a mansion in Lannisport, she was lucky she had been visiting Casterly Rock when the attack had occurred. He shuddered to imagine what would happen if she had been targeted. As it was, he was going to have to act very carefully to keep his head.


"On that I can agree." Dramen nodded. Ser Larys remained silent, holding the banner of House Lannister of Lannisport with an aching swordhand. He had refused to allow a squire to hold it. The Lantell had been in the thickest part of the fighting, never leaving Dramen's side. Such loyalty would have to be rewarded.


The rest of the trot to the Gold Keep was in silence, with the fighting long over the smallfolk had slowly started to come out of hiding, emerging from their homes with wide and confused eyes. None stood in their way, out of fear of being trampled by their destriers and war horses, or out of sheer shyness. Under the rule of Lord Tywin, the Lannister name had become more respected and feared than loved. That didn't stop some from cheering.


"Lions of Lannisters!" A little girl in a ragged old dress shrieked.


"Lannister!" An older man in a fine doublet boomed, raising his fist in the air. Others began to join in with their own cries.


"Casterly Rock!" A whore wearing a revealing dress shouted from the balcony of her brothel.


"Lannisport!" A bruised and battered member of the City Watch walking the streets raised his spear high in the air.


"Lannister!"


"Lannister!"


Dramen pressed his lips together, remaining silent even as the knights, soldiers and squires cheered along with the crowd. He just wanted to get home and see his family. Under the care of Ser Tylan, they should've been safe and sound, far away from any fighting. Weiss should still be asleep at this hour even if the news somehow had somehow awoken her.


It took longer than he had expected, due to the streets suddenly becoming full of cheers and shouts, but in the end the Gold Keep soon came into view, with its high walls and moat. The drawbridge was lowered, with at least a dozen mounted men-at-arms guarding the entrance, and about double that in foot. Scores more patrolled the walls, crossbows and short swords in hand.


Urging his mount into a faster trot, Dramen and his companions soon reached the drawbridge. A massive knight on a dark destrier was waiting for them, his heavy steel plate armor covered by a surcoat with the image of a boar. The Crakehall had his helm by his side, revealing his dark and bushy mustache that was connected to his side whiskers. His long black hair fell to just below his shoulders.


"Ser Lyle! A pleasure to see you again, though I wish it had been under better circumstances." Dramen spoke first, approaching the large man. The Strongboar was a regular visitor to Lannisport and Casterly Rock, often visiting for tourneys or to visit the brothels.


"Lord Dramen." Ser Lyle Crakehall bowed his head slightly. "Ser Kevan, Ser Tygett." He didn't give Ser Larys a glance. The Strongboar looked serious for once. That was not a good sign.


"Is Lord Tywin present?" Dramen inquired. Kevan Lannister was rarely far from Lord Tywin's presence. Where one was spotted, the other was sure to be nearby.


"Aye, Lord Tywin requested that you be escorted to the Great Hall as soon as you arrive." Ser Lyle answered, his voice deep and low.


Dramen frowned. "Allow me to wash up and I shall meet him as soon as possible."


Ser Lyle shook his head side to side. "Lord Tywin specifically commanded to escort you the moment you arrived."


This was not good. Family they may be, but Lord Tywin was still a hard man, exterminating the Reynes to the last child when they opposed him. And as the Lannister in charge of presiding over the single largest defeat in recent memory, Dramen's position was fragile.


He wrinkled his nose and gave the Strongboar a single nod. "Very well, lead onward Ser Lyle." He wouldn't shirk his responsibility, or the consequences therein. He had failed, and it was time to pay the Stranger.


As Lord Tywin often said, a Lannister always paid their debts.









The halls and corridors of the Gold Keep were lined with soldiers, each clad in the finest armor available, and armed with short swords and spears. Dramen didn't recognize many of them. Evidently they were some of Lord Tywin's foot, which did not bode well for his own forces. Their armor was cleaned and polished, while the Lord of Lannisport looked like he had just emerged from the battlefield.


Ser Lyle led him to the foyer of the Great Hall, where dozens of knights and lordlings were already breaking their fast. Dramen could feel some of their stares, he looked out of place with his battered armor, blood stained beard and greasy hair. He felt another pair of eyes trained on him, green with flecks of gold in them. Lord Tywin sat at the high table, in Dramen's seat. Taking a sharp breath, the younger Lord approached.


"Lord Tywin." Dramen paused before the high table to bow, an embarrassing thing to do in one's home. Under the circumstances though, it couldn't be helped. And if it was all the price he had to pay, he'd do so gladly. "I must thank you for your assistance, Lannisport owes you greatly."


Lord Tywin stared at him for a few seconds with cold eyes, before turning to the parchment beside his plate of grapes, imported from the Reach. "The Westerlands are now the laughing stock of all Seven Kingdoms."


Dramen remained silent, hardening his eyes and doing his best to keep his composure. This was not a time to speak. Not unless he had a sudden desire to travel North and wear black for the rest of his life.


"Our fleet sits at the bottom of the bay, and Lannisport is half burnt to the ground." Lord Tywin continued speaking. He was exaggerating about the second point, the majority of Lannisport remained untouched. "Do you know how this makes us look?"


Dramen licked his lips and bowed his head, avoiding Lord Tywin's accusing glare. "Weak, my Lord."


"Weak." Lord Tywin scoffed. "We look like fools allowing my fleet to burn, we look like buffoons who will now have to rely on King Robert's strength just to muster a reprisal. We can match the Greyjoys on land on our own, but without a fleet my armies are useless. The Sunset Sea is their fortress, and without our battering rams our superior numbers are useless."


Dramen clenched his fist. It was well known that Lord Tywin only cared about his reputation.


"I have already sent a raven to King's Landing, requesting help from the Royal Fleet." Lord Tywin's jaw was tight. "I have no doubt that Robert will send his younger brother, Stannis, to take command as Master-of-Ships."


Stannis Baratheon, the Iron Stag who had held Storms End for over a year while the Tyrells and Redwynes did their best to starve him out during Robert's Rebellion. The man had held onto the ancient castle until the end of the war, when Ned Stark marched south to relieve him. He seemed to be a fine commander, but he was unblooded at sea, untested and raw. King Robert naming him Master-of-Ships had caused quite an uproar in all the houses with any sort of naval tradition. That soon turned into whispers in between cups once it was made known that Stannis was stripped of Storms End and given Dragonstone instead.


Why was Lord Tywin saying all of this in a room full of other men, instead of in his solar? Was this his way of punishing and embarrassing Dramen in front of his bannermen? He was already embarrassed as it was, his port was burned to the ground and he had to beg for help from his liege lord.


"And you, you couldn't even protect your family correctly." Lord Tywin's voice level dropped, sounding more like a growl than a whisper. Dramen felt his heartbeat skip, his hands released from his fist.


"M-My Lord?" Dramen nearly croaked, his lips dry. Was that supposed to be a threat? He resisted the urge to try to strangle his cousin. If he'd pulled another repeat of what had happened to Lady Martell and her child as an abject lesson to him, he would kill the man, kinslaying be damned.


Lord Tywin's cold eyes seemed amused. "It appeared that this attack coincided with a raid on the Gold Keep. The Ironborn had managed to pierce your defenses, and had attempted to make off with your wife, daughter and their companions."


Ceria and Weiss were nearly taken as saltwives? Where was Ser Tylan? Their safety had been his responsibility!


"Fortunately, my forces arrived before they could escape with their ill-gotten gains." Lord Tywin reached for the pitcher of wine, serving himself a small glass. "Your wife and daughter are safe, the Maester should be seeing to any injuries they have about now."


Lord Tywin raised the cup of Myrish glass to his lips and took a small sip. "Go and see how they fare. We will have much to discuss with war on our horizon, and wash up. You reek of death."


Dramen bowed his head deeply once more, anxious to see his wife and daughter. He would find Ser Tylan once he was done and get an explanation from the old knight.


"Yes, my Lord."









The Maester's Tower was located at the far end of the Gold Keep, towards the east away from the coast. Maester Harmune had been in the service of the Lannister of Lannisport for decades, and had helped Ceria when she had given birth to Weiss all those years ago. The old Maester was one of Dramen's closest advisors, alongside Ser Larys, Ser Tylan and Joff the steward of the Gold Keep.


Not bothering to strip off his armor, Dramen sped towards the Maester's Tower, with servants and guards doing their best to stay out of his way. It worried him somewhat that there seemed to be far less of the later than the former, at least, in his house's colors. It took longer than he would've liked to arrive at the Tower, or at least it appeared to take longer. Catching sight of the door to Maester Harmune's room, Dramen shoved the door open without a word, wiping his armor as best as he could with a wool cloth he had grabbed from a cleaning maid.


Ceria was sitting on a cot, her already pale skin lighter than usual, with one of her hands covering her mouth as she shook softly. She was crying, and Maester Harmune was nowhere to be found.


"My Lady!" Dramen ran to his wife's side, and got on one knee, stripping his hands of the gloves and gauntlets that he wore. He took her free hand into his own hands, seeking to comfort her. "Are you injured?"


Ceria shook her head, her silver-white hair cascading over her shoulders. She smelled of lavender-berries, and wore a simple red dress. Her blue eyes were puffy, red and swollen from her tears. "I am fine, husband. Maester Harmune assured me that I suffered no injuries."


That was good, excellent even. Dramen pressed a soft kiss to the back of her hands, doing his best to avoid touching her with his dirty armor. She didn't seem to mind though, her cheeks reddening.


"Maester Harmune is currently examining our daughter." Ceria croaked. That only made her tears seem to fall even more, though she whispered prayers under her breath. Strange, his Lady Wife had never been a particular devout follower of the Seven.


"Weiss? How is she?" Dramen's heart dropped. "W-Was she-"


Ceria shook her head once more. "She was not touched by those men, n-not in the way you may think she was."


That only made him more anxious. Then what had happened to cause his wife to be in such a state? "What do you mean, my Lady?"


His Wife started to speak.


A/N

Another quick update though it's not as long as the previous two. We'll be jumping back to Weiss' POV next chapter to see how she's holding up.


I hope everyone has been enjoying these constant updates.
 
1-10
Weiss


After a rather thorough examination by Maester Harmune, Weiss sighed. She wasn't used to using her aura in prolonged engagements, despite her limited exercise with it after she unlocked her own aura. That and her body was still young, having only seen seven namedays. Her body was young and weak, and her aura, the very representation of her soul, was too strong for it, unused to a new body. Even using it in such a minimal manner had greatly drained her stamina.


Weiss was exhausted and starving, she needed to eat to replenish the energy she had lost. Then she could complain to her Mother and Father about Lord Tywin's order. Admittedly they couldn't do anything, but it would make her feel a bit better and fit her age. She was never going to forgive Lord Tywin for this humiliation.


"Her maidenhead remains intact." Septa Loria said after what felt like an eternity. Weiss already had a low opinion of the older woman, one that she hid behind polite smiles and girly giggles. This only served to strengthen her opinions. She swore Loria got the position only out of political reasoning, and not any proper religious convictions.


"My Lords and Lady Lannister shall be elated." Maester Harmune bowed his head. Weiss rolled her eyes as she finally sat up and started adjusting her dress with some help from the Septa. This whole fiasco shouldn't have needed to happen, Weiss had killed those men before they could touch her, her Mother and her friends.


Weiss' breath got caught in her throat. That's right, she was a killer now, not an accidental one like back on Remnant. No, this time she had aimed for deadly blows, attacking those Ironborn raiders where she knew would end up killing them. She had felt the warmth of their blood on her skin, felt how the letter opener and dagger sunk into their flesh, Weiss had seen the light slowly fade from their eyes. All four men, slain by her very hands. She looked down at her hands, which even after considerable scrubbing, still had some faint red tinting the skin. That would go away with time according to Maester Harmune. She felt like throwing up. Weiss had nearly died once before, at Haven when Cinder had pierced her abdomen with that spear in the middle of her fight with Vernal. Weiss remembered how weak she felt, and the pain, those memories had been some of the hardest to relive when they returned.


Knowing she had been on the verge of death once before.


"My Lady." Maester Harmune's voice tore Weiss away from her thoughts. She formed a practiced smile. "How are you feeling?" Weiss resisted the urge to tell how she actually felt, which would likely end with her confined to a lonely tower in some isolated part of the Westerlands as a madwoman.


Septa Loria moved to the side as Maester Harmune drew closer now that Weiss was fully dressed. He had his apprentices look after Alis and Alysanne in another room, focusing all of his attention on Weiss and her Mother. It was one part reassuring, one part another privilege she hated.


"Relieved." Weiss admitted. She had taken three baths to scrub the blood off of her skin, and used expensive oils and shampoos to clean her white hair back to its original shade. One of her maids had thrown up while scrubbing her, which earned Weiss a third bath instead of the originally planned two.


Mother had been distant after the attack, but was still conscious enough to demand that Weiss be bathed in seven different shampoos, and coated in seven different smelling oils. As the Lady of the Gold Keep, Maester Harmune had seen to her first. Weiss had no objections, her mother was the eldest, after all.


"I am as well, my Lady." Maester Harmune nodded. Based on what Weiss had heard, the guards of the Maester's Tower barricaded the doors, preventing the raiders from entering.


Those cowards had left them to die. Admittedly, they did have a goal in saving the Maester and his records, but it still stuck in her craw something awful.


Weiss had left Ser Tylan to die. Joston, Tarik, and Byren, all of them were dead now. She should've done something, she could've acted sooner. They wouldn't have died if Weiss had engaged those Ironborn, but then what? Her aura would've run low, and even with all of the skills provided by her muscle memory, she would've died or worse. Mother, Alysanne, and Alis would've been raped in their own home and taken as saltwives. She had made the right choice, but that still didn't stop the guilt from overflowing. Weiss had cried in the bath, using the steam from the hot water to hide her tears from the maids.


She had gotten a glimpse of Ser Tylan's body. Robart had tried shielding her eyes with his much larger body, but Weiss had managed to catch a glimpse of her former sworn sword. Ser Tylan had fought and died for her, just feet away, just out of reach. The old knight had managed to kill another Ironborn before he was overwhelmed, his chest caved in by a great axe. And in the end, Weiss had avenged him, killing his murderers, two of them with their own weapons. Her hands were now stained with death, figuratively and literally.


What would the others think? Sure they may have done the same as Weiss, with a few accidents here and there, but to have killed someone deliberately? She hoped they would be able to understand. Westeros was a cruel land after all. On the other hand, they had been there as well in the Breach, Ruby had no qualms literally mutilating Tyrian, Jaune had told her about that fight, and Blake was a former terrorist after all.


"You have much to think about?" Maester Harmune asked, grabbing an old, but firm chair and sitting across from Weiss, who sat on a cot. He gave Septa Loria a sharp glare, who quickly said her farewells and left the room.


"Yes." Weiss' smile dropped only for a second. She bit her bottom lip and hesitated. "I was just wondering what would've happened, if we had chosen a different path, maybe then Ser Tylan would've lived."


She should've ordered him to join them in the storage room. She should've used one of her summons, even if it may have been too much for her body to handle.


"I'm no Septon." Maester Harmune said, running a wrinkled hand through his long gray beard. His neck dipped from years of wearing the heavy chains of a maester. "But I have done my readings and have come to this conclusion."


Weiss raised an eyebrow while Maester Harmune's gaze, with his soft eyes, seemed to stare straight into her soul. "And that is?"


"Every decision we make comes with consequences, whether we face them now or in the future." Maester Harmune's voice was light and old. "There are countless possibilities, wealth, fame, treasures, love, each different depending on the path we take."


Weiss furrowed her brows together. What was with old people and talking in riddles? "What do you mean?"


"What I mean, my Lady..." Maester Harmune paused for a few seconds. "...is that we need to keep moving forward with the decisions we make, whether good or bad. To wallow in misery, would mean nothing more than an early death. Grieve, but never forget, and move on."


He did know she was seven right? Far too young for heavy discussions such as these, yet, he did have a point. To live life and remember those who had passed, Weiss would have to keep moving forward.


"Thank you, Maester Harmune." Weiss gave him a small smile. It was a heartfelt one though, while he wasn't too helpful, his advice was useful in some aspects.


"Oho, I'm just an old man rambling." Maester Harmune waved her off, standing and returning his seat from where he had grabbed it. He extended a wrinkled hand. "Come, I'm sure your Lord Father and Lady Mother are worried about their favorite daughter."


"I'm their only daughter." Weiss faked a giggle at the horrible joke and took his hand. The faux laughter did little to stop a pit from growing in her stomach. It felt nice though, going to see her parents once more. After her injury in Atlas, Willow hadn't bothered to come, and the less one could say about Jacques, the better. But here? She had parents who loved her.


But, would they still love her if they knew she was a killer?











The room Weiss had been examined in was connected to Maester Harmune's main quarters, seperated by a simple wooden door. Maester Harmune opened it and angled his body, allowing Weiss to walk in first. Her Mother was in the same spot Weiss had left her, except she had company this time. Father was kneeling in front of her, with Mother's lips whispering into his ears. They froze at Weiss' appearance. Father shot up onto his feet and quickly pulled Weiss into a tight embrace.


"Lady Weiss is unharmed, not even bruised." Maester Harmune declared, allowing her Mother to release a sigh of relief.


Weiss' nose wrinkled at the smell of blood, sweat and death. He was still wearing his red and black Lannister armor, which was filthy and getting her blue dress dirty. It felt weird and yet, it made Weiss feel warm inside. She really was messed up, if having a hug from her parent felt this way.


"I'm glad you're unharmed." Father said after what felt like an eternity, pulling away from the embrace. He seemed to have aged overnight, with his dirty beard and tired bloodshot eyes.


"Thank you, Father." Weiss smiled. "I didn't know if I would be able to see you again."


That was something an innocent child would say, right? Either way, that made her Mother tear up again, so she probably should've chosen to say something else. Why was this so hard? She could run circles around a room full of rich people, yet saying something heartfelt came out so wrong.


Father placed an unarmored hand on her shoulder and stared into her eyes, green meeting blue. "I would travel through all Seven Hells if it meant I would see my daughter again, even if I had to fight thousands of Ironborn raiders myself. I thank the Seven for keeping my family safe."


Those words caused something inside of Weiss to snap. Suddenly, she felt the skin on her cheeks moisten as two rivers of tears started to flow down her face. Her breath got caught in her throat as she threw her arms around her Father once more, the events of the night finally crashing down on the girl who had only seen seven namedays, yet was far older. Another pair of arms soon wrapped around them, far softer and smoother. Weiss' nose was assaulted by the smell of blood on her Father's armor, and the seven different oils and perfumes her Mother had dosed the young girl in. It was an atrocious smell, yet Weiss did not mind it.


This was her family.











Dramen

After ensuring that Weiss and his Lady Wife were safe and unharmed, Dramen had them escorted to his quarters to sleep. His mind was still reeling from the experiences told by Lady Ceria, so he retreated to his solar after being stripped of his armor and taking a long, warm bath to scrub off the smell of gore that refused to go away. He changed into a red doublet made of soft leather with a golden lion stitched over its left breast. Taking a seat behind his desk, the Lord of Lannisport finally allowed his shoulders to slump. A knock came from the door.


"Come in." Dramen said, keeping the sleep out of his voice. The door creaked open, revealing his beautiful wife. Her silver-white hair was simply done, and she had changed out of her red dress into a yellow one, plain and ordinary. It wasn't fit for a Lady of Lannisport, yet she seemed to want something a bit more comfortable. He could relate, sometimes you just had to wear clothes that weren't your usual fare when you were tired. "Shouldn't you be asleep? You must be tired."


"Lady Lefford and Lady Peckledon are struggling to sleep after what happened." Ceria sighed, sitting on a cushioned bench, filled with expensive feathers from the Summer Isles. "They're sleeping with Weiss, in your bed."


"Let it be known that you're the one who brought strange women into my bed." Dramen japed, to try and ease the tension. The news Ceria had told him about Weiss was dangerous, especially if members of the Faith were to find out. Or really, anyone outside the family.


Ceria gave him a playful glare, before standing up and making her way to the desk. She swung her slender hips side to side and leaned forward over the desk. Her modest dress hid her modest bosom. "During our bedding my Lord said that I was the only woman he would ever need."


"My words still ring true, my Lady." Dramen leaned back in his seat. He was exhausted, and had much to think about. He furrowed his brow together, deep in thought.


Ceria's smirk easily turned into a frown. "You do not believe me, about our daughter." It was a statement, something she believed in, not a question.


"I do." Dramen's shoulders sagged. His daughter being able to kill four men at the same time? At such a young age and without training? He would've taken it for a bad joke if anyone else had informed him. And if it didn't come with four bodies to back it up. Maester Harmune already confirmed that the blade stuck in one's eye was half a letter opener.


Ceria bit her bottom lip. "I had been praying to the Seven, just before it happened, calling upon them for help. They chose her for a reason Dramen, you should have been there and seen the look in her eyes."


"I am well aware I should have been here." Dramen said dryly. Ceria placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. He was tired, yet he wanted more. Just the thought of losing his wife made him yearn for her even more.


"You know what I mean." Ceria whispered. "You were doing your duty as Lord of Lannisport, Weiss and I understand." Left unsaid was that he arguably failed at that duty, and nearly failed at his duty as a father as well.


His family had almost been killed or worse. And where had he been? Busy putting out fires in his city, leaving their safety to an old knight he was going to retire in the coming months. Ser Tylan had been a fine knight, Dramen had planned on granting him a keep in the countryside for his children to inherit.


Ceria's eyes looked unfocused. "It was as if the Warrior himself had taken control of her, Dramen. She moved faster than any horse, and fought as if she'd been trained by the finest knights in the realm. The Seven looked after us this night, they answered my prayer."


Dramen Lannister had never been the most devout of men, but he knew better than to question his wife, especially when there were witnesses, even if they were women. Instead of answering her, he pressed his own kiss to her cheek, and lifted her onto his desk. Ceria didn't argue nor did she fight back, instead she wrapped her arms around his neck.


"We will pay our respects in the Motherhouse, once everyone has rested on the seventh day." Dramen murmured. He felt his wife run her hands through his still wet hair. A proper Thanksgiving service is what everyone needed after this, a good distraction, give some comfort to the smallfolk, and it wouldn't hurt to thank the Seven for their blessings, if true.


"Tonight has also reminded me of another thing, my Lord." Ceria sighed, holding him closely to her chest. He pulled away, yet didn't let go of her, if only to meet Ceria's eyes.


"And what is that, my Lady Wife?" Dramen eyes widened when she pulled down her dress over one shoulder, revealing her bare pale skin.


"How much I love you." Ceria took his face into her hands and planted a wet kiss on his lips, one he eagerly returned.


There would be no rest for Dramen that morning.


A/N

Ceria wanting to sleep with Dramen after seeing her life flash before her eyes should be normal. They want to feel alive and comforted. And this is ASOIAF/GOT after all.


And I promise Dramen will start having less POV chapters in the future, I just need him to stand in for Lord/Adult business.


Weiss will remain the MC of the story, even when others eventually appear. This is the first story where I have planned for the other members of Team RWBYJN to appear, and their roles have been chosen for a specific reason.
 
1-11
The days after the attack on Lannisport had passed by slowly, at least in Weiss' opinion. After the burst of adrenaline following the fight, everything seemed dull and boring. Sadly, Father and Mother turned protective, and rarely allowed Weiss to see the outside world without seven guards, at the minimum. Robart, well Ser Robart now that Father had knighted him, was placed in charge of her security after the death of Ser Tylan, at least until another sworn sword could be chosen. While Father was appreciative of the now Ser Robart Bronzehill of Lannisport for his role in 'saving' Weiss, he was far from being a skilled warrior, and as a Lannister, she needed to have the best protecting her, according to Father at least. It would take time before another could take Ser Tylan's place.


At least the gardens of the Gold Keep were beautiful, and remained untouched during the Ironborn raid. And the weather was perfect for a tea party and needlework outside. Even if she despised needlework, it was still better than just sitting around doing nothing.


"You have such lovely work, Lady Weiss." Alis gushed as she looked over at Weiss' piece, a white lion on a background of red. It was decent at best, yet the two ladies seemed to worship the very ground Weiss walked on, changed ever since the raid. She could understand why, intellectually, but it felt weird now, her friends were worshiping her, far more than they used to.


"Yours is much better." Weiss said with a smile, placing her needles and expensive twine to the side. She grabbed a lemon cake, and started to nibble at it despite the urge to stuff it all in her mouth at once. She was raised better, both in this world and in Remnant.


Alysanne took a small sip of her tea, exported from Yi Ti and considered one of the finest in the world. It was sweet, yet tangy with a slight touch of honey despite not a single drop being added as the leaves brewed. It was Weiss' favorite since it seemed that coffee didn't exist in this world. "Why a lion of white? And not gold?" She asked.


Weiss' smile didn't disappear, and grabbed a lock of her hair, as white as snow. "I may be a Lannister, but Velayron blood still runs through my veins." Plus, to be fair, gold everywhere would be boring fast.


The blood of Old Valyria, Weiss' ancestors had been dragon riders if the history books the maesters wrote were telling the truth. House Velayron had been one of House Targaryen's most ancient allies, with both families often marrying members to each other since before Aegon's Conquest. They had once been the richest house in all Seven Kingdoms, but had fallen on hard times. Grandfather, the late Lucerys Velayron, had been the Mad King's Master-of-Ships, until a freak storm smashed his ships on the rocks of Dragonstone near the end of Robert's Rebellion before Stannis Baratheon could. Weiss' uncle, Lord Monford Velayron, succeeded him as Lord of Driftmark and the Lord of Tides. She had another uncle, one that Mother rarely spoke of, one of Grandfather's bastards.


Aurane Waters was just a few years older than Weiss, about twelve years or so, and was still her uncle. That was a weird thing to think about.


"House Velayron has such a long history." Alis added. "Being a descendant of the Sea Snake and the Oakenfist! It must be quite an honor."


"And Lann the Clever." Weiss smirked, turning her gaze towards Casterly Rock, easily visible to the north of the Gold Keep. She was far down the line of succession for the mountain turned castle, but that wasn't something Weiss wished for. Weiss was content with the things she had, and from what she had heard, Lord Tywin as a father would've been terrible. She finished the lemon cake and grabbed another.


"Careful, my Lady. Eat too many of those and you'll be as fat as a cow." It wasn't Ser Robart who spoke up, he was still standing several feet away on the pathway, wearing his newly gifted armor. No, this voice was higher pitched, and sounded like an idiot.


"Robert." Alysanne narrowed her eyes as they turned to look at the newcomer. It was Robert Brax, the second son of Andros Brax the Lord of Hornvale, and her Father's squire. His family was one of Lord Tywin's principal bannermen, making his position as Father's squire a political move. "I don't believe you were invited to this lunch."


"Lady Lannister, Lady Lefford." Robert said in greeting as he formed a lazy grin. He ignored Alis, likely due to her lower status from a knightly house. That made Weiss angry, but she concealed it. Even if he was a second son, she shouldn't ruin any political movement her Father was involved in. "I am not here to keep you company, I have been ordered by Lord Lannister to escort Lady Weiss to his solar."


Weiss rolled her eyes and stuffed the rest of her lemon cake in her mouth to spite the squire. She spoke once she swallowed the sweet treat. "Please continue without me. I'll try to convince my Father to let us go hawking."


"How lovely!" Alis pressed her hands together, a large smile on her face. She was always easy to read, and smiling.


"Indeed." Alysanne agreed. Her Father, Lord Leo Lefford was already marching towards Lannisport with five hundred men and at least a hundred knights. From what Weiss had overheard in her Father's conversations with Mother, Lord Lefford had been enraged, being the first lord to raise his banners in the name of Lord Tywin, ready to cross the Sunset Sea once they had a fleet to transport their troops.


The two girls were doing their best to try and forget the events from six days ago, attempting to move on and act like nothing had happened. Weiss wasn't sure if they had opened their eyes during her fight with the four Ironborn, but if they had, they revealed nothing behind their polite smiles.


"Let us go, Robert." Weiss said simply, standing from her seat and handing her needlework supplies to a servant who approached the moment she stood up. It was weird having servants. Back in Remnant, all she had was Klein, and he was more than enough for her.


The Brax extended his elbow, a common courtesy, yet not without meaning. He was a second son, and would not inherit the Hornvale unless something would happen to his slightly older brother. His only chance to advance in life was to gain a knighthood and be a part of his brother's household, or be married off to another family. As the Heiress to Lannisport, and Father's only child so far, Weiss must've been an interesting target. Many houses would grovel at the chance to marry a Lannister, unless they were named Tyrion and born a dwarf like her distant cousin, the infamous Imp.


Weiss slid her arm into the opening as she allowed the squire to take the lead. She spotted Ser Robart moving to follow her out of the corner of her eye, leaving the other six guards to keep an eye on her two lady friends.


"You grow more beautiful with each passing day, my Lady." Robert said once they were out of earshot of Alis and Alysanne. His cheeks, still with baby fat, turned a slight shade of red. Oh great, another lovesick fool loving the ideal of Weiss Lannister, not who she actually was. At least this one wasn't blonde. It seemed commonplace here, but marrying a cousin was still disgusting to her.


"Would you still believe that when I grow fat from eating sweets?" Weiss responded dryly. She wasn't going to forgive him easily for that comment. Robert Brax was only a few years older than her, around the same age as her bastard uncle if she had to guess.


Robert cleared his throat and looked away awkwardly. "I, uh, meant no offense, my Lady. I was only concerned with your health."


What a lame excuse, but then again, he was a child. They exited the gardens, passing by two guards in full armor and armed with spears. Security around the Gold Keep had also been increased, with Father raising more guards and increasing the number of the City Watch. Fortunately, there was no shortage of candidates, either to avenge their losses, or just to protect what was theirs. With the war with the Iron Islands just starting, the countryside around Lannisport and Casterly Rock would be filled with tents and bannermen from all over the Westerlands, and possibly the Seven Kingdoms. She swore she could hear the merchants salivating from here, given all the new customers who were about to descend on them.


"My health is my own concern, and that of my family, Lord Brax." Weiss spoke firmly. Calling him 'Lord' was a subtle insult, one that likely flew over his head. "There is no need to fret."


Robert pursed his lips to speak, but decided against it in the end, responding only with a single nod. A girl she may be, with only seven namedays, but she was still a Lannister and the Heiress to Lannisport. Unless she was married or dealing with more powerful bannermen, her word would carry weight anywhere in the Westerlands.


They continued the rest of the walk to Father's solar in silence.








The door to Father's solar was guarded by another pair of guards, these ones knights in gleaming armor instead of normal men-at-arms. Their armor was covered by surcoats of golden lions on red, likely Lannys, Lantells, or Lannetts. Father was taking no chances, it seemed. Not that she could blame him.


Weiss released her arm from Robert's hold, placing both hands in front of her. "Thank you for your escort."


"It was my pleasure, Lady Weiss." The Brax boy flushed and bowed his head politely. Evidently he was hoping for something more. A kiss, perhaps?


Giving him a fake smile, Weiss turned to the knights that guarded her Father's solar. They allowed her to pass, knocking on the door and announcing her before she could even speak.


"Lady Weiss Lannister." One of them boomed. He had a sword strapped to his side, his hand casually resting on the pommel.


"Enter." She heard her Father's muffled voice, and the other knight instantly opened the door for her.


"Thank you." Weiss said to neither in particular. Their faces were hidden by their helms, so she couldn't tell if they were annoyed with her presence or actually smiling. Mind, it wouldn't have mattered, they had their duties, and she had hers.


Father was seated behind his desk, dressed in a fine doublet that was likely made out of silk and wearing several golden rings, he looked every bit a lord as his eyes remained focused on one of many letters on his desk. Mother was also present, seated in an expensive chair that must've been brought in earlier. She sat beside Father, in a beautiful green dress that was complemented by her Valyrian pale skin. Mother didn't look as tired as she had been several days ago, unlike Father who had dark bags under his eyes.


"Father, Mother." Weiss greeted with a proper bow. She had seen them earlier that morning when they broke their fast together, but their busy schedules kept them apart.


"Hello Sweetling." Mother said, she was slowly returning back to normal with every passing day. It felt nice having a proper mother figure, especially one who didn't reek of vodka and hang out in the garden all the time.


"Weiss." Father briefly looked up from a letter before returning his attention to it. The windows to his solar were open, revealing the magnificence that was Casterly Rock before it. Not that she could blame him, the view was fantastic and well worth every penny.


"You summoned me?" Weiss asked, already knowing the answer.


"Yes-Yes." Father sighed as he placed the letter back onto his desk. "As my heir, it's time we keep you updated with some of the news that's been arriving by raven." He motioned towards the extra seat that sat in front of his desk. She took it, keeping her back straight and not allowing her back to touch the back of the chair. If she did then her legs would be dangling in the air even more.


"Thank you, Father." Weiss smiled sweetly. More responsibility should be fun, and help to alleviate some of her boredom now that Ser Tylan wasn't around to tell her stories. His funeral would be on the morrow, and Weiss was sure to attend.


Father nodded and grabbed a letter, one with a broken seal that she couldn't make out. "The Lord Hand has answered Lord Tywin's raven, in King Robert's name."


Ah, so King Robert would be deploying the Royal Fleet? The Westerlands had no shortage of soldiers, hedge knights were already arriving for a chance to win glory and gain the attention of lordly houses. Already she could see the foundations of the camps springing up around Lannisport, tents flying up as they were staked out.


"Lord Stannis Baratheon the Master-of-Ships has raised anchor with the Royal Fleet and has begun his journey to the Sunset Sea." Father said, skimming over the letter. Weiss had only heard whispers about the man, he was the most unpopular of the Baratheon brothers, and was her uncle Lord Monford's liege lord. "King Robert marches with five thousand men, drawn from the Crownlands and the Stormlands for Lannisport."


Oh, that was different. Why would King Robert come himself? Was it to defend his good-father, or did he have another motive? She didn't know much about their new king, who had overthrown the Targaryen dynasty when she was just a babe, but she had heard that he was a fierce warrior, and had a love of women. Obviously Yang would have loved the guy if she met him.


"The Lord Hand, Jon Arryn, has sent a call to all Seven Kingdoms to raise their banners, and marshal their ships to face this rebellion." Father continued speaking with a dour tone. "Lord Stark sent us a raven, he marches south with two thousand men, and from the Vale of Arryn, another three thousand under the command of Lord Yohn Royce."


That was at least ten thousand soldiers, not counting the banners from the Westerlands, and more would likely join on their march, minor lords, hedge knights and freeriders. Yet, their numbers would be useless if Lord Stannis fails to defeat the Iron Fleet at sea. It would be up to the Westerlands to feed them, unless they brought their own supply trains. And that would likely necessitate a deal with the Reach, who would charge them exorbitant prices for such a deal.


"Do you know what this means, Weiss?" Father asked, placing the letter down. Of course she did, she didn't need a grown woman's memories in her head to tell her the answer.


"It means our guest rooms are going to be full." Weiss answered with something a child would say, while also being very factually true. That earned her a light chuckle from Father.


"Clever girl." Father nodded. "You shall be assisting your Mother in accommodating our guest. King Robert and Lord Stark shall likely be staying in the rooms of Casterly Rock, our duty is to welcome those who would be staying in the Gold Keep."


"I shall do my best." Weiss bowed her head. If she did well, maybe she could get more responsibilities once the war ended. Father's hand hovered over another letter.


"We know you will, Sweetling." Mother smiled, her shoulders suddenly stiff. She eyed the last letter suspiciously. Was it a betrothal? Or something worse?


"This letter is from Lord Tywin." Father licked his lips, his green eyes briefly darting towards Mother. Was Lord Tywin curious about the reason why Weiss was able to kill those four men? "I have already spoken to him in person, but he still penned this command despite my protest."


Weiss took a deep breath.


"Lord Tywin does not believe that Lord Stannis and the Royal Fleet are capable of defeating the Ironborn at sea." Father started. "And as such, has come to an agreement with Paxter Redwyne, Lord of the Arbor."


Oh no, the Redwyne's had the largest fleet in all the Seven Kingdoms, only rivaled by the Royal Fleet and that of the Hightowers. Weiss had a lot of time to read up on powerful houses the past few days. Mother looked away, her small hands clenched into fist.


"You are to be betrothed to Lord Paxter's nephew, Stuar Redwyne, any children you bear shall carry the name of Lannister, unless a son should be born to me. In exchange, the Redwyne's shall join their strength with the Royal Fleet, under the command of the Master-of-Ships, Stannis Baratheon." Father continued, but Weiss had stopped paying attention. She had always known she would be married off, likely to an older man three or four times her age, which was disgusting, but she never had expected that so soon


Damn it! And what was Lord Tywin thinking? The entire realm knew that Lord Stannis hated Reachmen with a passion, everyone from the Wall to Dorne knew.


"And he wishes to see you in Casterly Rock, before the next moon." Father sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Our liege lord didn't mention why."


They did, Mother and Father just didn't want to admit it was because Weiss had killed those four men without an issue. Was he going to continue to question her on that? What was she going to do about it, in that case? Weiss had no idea. One thing she did know for certain, was that the future was going to be cloudy and dangerous.


There was a reason why lions had claws, and Weiss' were long and sharp.


A/N

There'll be a few more timeskips in the future, and as usual, we will try to use minor canon characters such as Robert Brax and Alysanne Lefford. I'm not great at creating OCs.


My RWBY merch from Roosterteeths last sale has started to arrive which has been a great inspiration booth. The Weiss tiki cup stares at me while I write.
 
1-12
The next day was the seventh since the attack, and according to most believers of the Seven, was the correct day to hold a funeral for the dead. The bodies had been taken by the Silent Sisters to be prepared for burial, Maester Harmune hadn't gone into much detail about how that went due to her age, but Weiss had taken a book when he wasn't looking. The Silent Sisters would remove any organs, drain the bodies of blood, and then stuff them with fragrant herbs and salts to prevent decomposition for as long as possible. It was quite fascinating really, reading about such differences between Westeros and Remnant.


What Weiss did not find fascinating however, was the Septon that was preaching and praying loudly before all of the fallen bodies. There were too many for Weiss to count from her seat, and she really doubted that she would be allowed to leave anytime soon. She was personally only here for Ser Tylan, Joston, Tarik and Byren who had given their lives to save hers, but Mother had helped organize everything, paying the costs out of their House's pockets as a way of giving thanks to the families of the deceased.


"Father above, judge Tylan of House Lannett justly." The Septon prayed as he stood before the bier that held the old knight's body. Weiss had already cried enough the days following his death, and she was sure to mourn him in the months and years to come. He had been a dear friend, family even, always keeping watch over her. He was her Klein, and she was going to miss him dearly over the coming years.


The morning prayers, which were exclusive for the nobility, would be the only one Weiss would attend. The afternoon and evening prayers would be full of smallfolk, families that would take their own time to mourn the dead in the Great Sept of Lannisport. The faith held strong influence in the Westerlands, not as strong as in the Reach or the Vale of Aryn, but the smallfolk still remained devout. Weiss on the other hand, had no care for the 'gods', new or old, Westeros, Essoi or from Remnant. They were fickle beings that cared about no one but themselves, especially the Two Brothers Grimm. And the less one said about their servants, the better. Just thinking about them made Weiss angry.


"You must remain strong." Mother whispered as she took Weiss' hand into her own. She sat to Weiss' left, wearing a yellow dress with elaborate stitching and Myrish lace with her hair done up. Did she think Weiss was crying? Weiss bit the inside of her cheek. Oh, she must've been shaking from rage and Mother misunderstood her.


"Yes Mother." Weiss whispered back, bowing her head slightly. As the Lannisters of Lannisport, they held the seat of honor ahead of the other minor houses that were present, Lannetts, Lantells, Lannys and visiting Houses. The only ones who could move them to another seat would be those of Casterly Rock, the King, or from one of the Great Ruling Houses. Father sat to Weiss' left, his gaze aimed straight forward, though it seemed he also wasn't paying much attention.


She turned her attention back to the body of the fallen knight, two coins with eyes had been placed over his eyelids. The Septon had moved on by now onto the other guards, having been ordered by Father to give them a proper funeral prayer.


"Father above, grant these men mercy, for they have done the duty of the Warrior, giving their lives to defeat the heresy of the Drowned god." The Septon raised his hands in the air. "Guide them to the Seven Heavens, and forgive them of their sins so that they may not pass through the Seven Hells." Weiss pressed her lips together as the old, bald man continued to speak.


The gods were nothing but cruel.









Despite the sanctity of the Great Sept and the presence of the nearby Motherhouse, Father ensured that at least a hundred members of the City Watch were present to keep the peace, as well as reinforcements from their household guards and knights. The Great Sept of Lannisport, despite their wealth, was far from the greatest in the Seven Kingdoms. The Starry Sept of Oldtown was far older and majestic, or at least Weiss had heard, and the Great Sept of Baelor in King's Landing was the seat of the Faith, where the High Septon resided. Even if Weiss wasn't a fan of the Seven, she did have to admire their taste in architecture.


"You like you have much on your mind." Father said, his voice soft as they walked side by side, their arms interlocked by the elbows. She was taking in the sights of the Great Sept, awaying from roaming eyes in areas where the public, save for the few septons, septas and silent sisters were allowed.


"It is not everyday I get betrothed, Father, and receive an invitation from Lord Tywin to visit Casterly Rock." Weiss said cheekily while still remaining respectful. She was still physically young, which should allow her some leeway. "I was wondering about my soon to be husband, his eyes, the color of his hair, his age, what is his personality like?"


And how she could murder him in his sleep went unsaid. Weiss already had to deal with arranged marriages back on Remnant, but none of them ever came to fruition after she decided to become a huntress. At least they were roughly her age, and she'd at least met them once or twice.


Father nodded slowly at her words, no doubt having expected them. "I have never met the boy, but Lord Tywin's letter does mention that he is a few namedays older than you, and is currently serving as a squire for Ser Edmund Ambrose."


Weiss had never heard of House Ambrose, which meant they were unimportant and a minor family. For her betrothed to squire for such a minor knight, he must've been low in the line to inherit the Arbor. The Redwynes would be gaining more in this deal Lord Tywin had made. And yet, what was her father getting out of this? Her value as a bride would be immense, there is no way he'd accept her being married off to some squire for a minor knight unless there was more involved. What was he scheming?


"He shall be arriving with the Redwyne Fleet, Ser Edmund has been given command of a galley and Stuar Redwyne shall join him." Father continued speaking. Hm, that was fast. The wedding likely wouldn't happen for a few more years until she flowered whenever puberty decided to hit her this time around. She'd probably be fourteen or older by then. "They'll sail for Lannisport once they meet up with Stannis Baratheon I believe."


How did Father know all of this? Did he know a lot more than he was letting on?


"They mean to have him knighted before our wedding then?" Weiss asked. That made sense, depending how old he was, the title of 'Ser' would likely be the only one he could earn, until Weiss became the Lady of Lannisport and he became her consort, should her Father never have a son at least.


"It is easier to earn knighthood during times of war than during times of peace." Father admitted. "Having the boy see fighting and earn a title would prove to our bannermen that he would be a worthy husband for my dear daughter."


That must've been Father's idea. Weiss held his arm tighter. She just gained this new family, she didn't want to lose them too. If nothing else, he would prove to have some skill with fighting, a step above Jacques.


"I have no plans on sending you away, my dear Weiss." Father reassured her, a small, but sad smile on his lips. "You may be marrying a Redwyne, but you will always be a Lannister. The blood of the lion runs through your veins." And that of the Seahorse went unsaid.


"Thank you Father." Weiss returned his smile with a ladylike one. She was thankful for her new family, for her new, normal, loving, family.


"Come, we will have a long day tomorrow." Father nodded, leading Weiss back to the public areas where Mother was no doubt waiting. She had been meeting the ladies of the minor houses of Lannisport, unlanded and powerless, but still capable of causing issues should they be offended. "Tomorrow we shall be paying Lord Tywin a visit."


Ah yes, the visit that their liege lord practically demanded to happen as soon as possible, likely due to the vast amount of visitors the Westerlands would soon have. Weiss still had no idea what he wanted, considering Lord Tywin decided to marry her off to some Reachman, but at least she had until the morrow to prepare both mentally and physically. Eating plenty of snacks had enabled her aura to return quickly, so if he should try something, Weiss should be able to take him down with her. Weiss' grip on her Father's arm never lessened.


She wasn't going to let some old lion bully her into submission, she may be a Lannister now, but she was still Weiss Schnee.


A/N

A lot shorter than my previous chapters, but this is more of a relaxing/filler update. Not a lot will be revealed at first, bit by bit as the story unfolds.


The next chapter is a quarter finished and should hopefully be out by tomorrow, or within the next few days. It feels like a longer chapter to make up for this one.
 
1-13
If the view of Casterly Rock from Lannisport was magnificent, then seeing it up close was simply breathtaking. Even back on Remnant, with all of its advanced technology and feats, many from all Four Kingdoms would've been impressed at the sheer scale and size of the Rock. An entire mountain, a gold mine at that, hollowed out and filled with enough rooms to fill an entire city. It included more than just the castle that sat on top of the mountain, and was said to be even taller than the Wall in the far north. From a distance when the sun was starting to kiss the horizon, it even looked like a lion if she squinted her eyes. Weiss had only visited once several years ago, before her memories of another life returned to her. She didn't remember much of the visit, or why she had been there, since the memories of Weiss Schnee had given her nightmares for over a year, the days all seemed like a blur. Plus, she was a babe at the time, remembering anything back then was nigh impossible.


"As you well know. Lord Tywin is our liege lord." Father spoke softly, riding in the carriage alongside Weiss and her Mother. He wore a fine doublet of deep red with the stitching of a golden lion while Mother wore a matching dress with long sleeves, strange considering it wasn't winter yet. "You've always been a respectful child, so I won't have to remind you to keep your manners."


"Yes Father." Weiss bowed her head slightly. Between his reputation and his status as her liege lord, she wouldn't start anything. The last thing she wanted was to get married to someone from Skagos, or any other of the Northern Houses, despite her love of cold weather. Father sat across from her with Mother by his side. He looked nervous, and kept running his hands over his cleanly cropped beard. Mother held his free hand in her own, a tight smile on her face that Weiss knew she practiced in the Myrish mirror before they left the Gold Keep.


"Do not speak unless spoken to." He continued. It took all of Weiss' self-control to not roll her eyes. Father was treating her like a child, which technically, she was. That didn't stop it from being annoying. Still, she could at least understand he was trying to make things easier for her. "And do not mention the Imp."


"Yes Father." Weiss repeated, allowing her sapphire eyes to drift out the opening of the carriage, staring off into the sea as they approached the entrance to Casterly Rock. Soon they would have to leave the carriage behind, and using smaller horses, climb the great stone stairway that would lead them to the Lion's Mouth, the grand entrance into the greatest castle in all of the Seven Kingdoms.


Grabbing a fistful of the expensive fabric of her red dress, a version of the one her Mother wore, better suited for her much smaller frame, Weiss formed a small smile. Weiss still had to keep up appearances, after all, the entire world believed she was a normal girl. Even if she was so much more.


"I will do my best to bring honor to the Lannisters of Lannisport." Weiss said softly. Kin they may be to Lord Tywin Lannister, yet Weiss knew better than to trust family just because they were related by blood.


Father's grim smile did little to comfort her as he squeezed Mother's hand. "I know you will, Weiss."


She hoped he wasn't lying.








The entrance to the stairway was heavily guarded, with Weiss counting at least fifty guards. She was sure that there were more, hidden and kept in reserve. It was a fortified structure that could easily be sealed off in the event of a siege, which had rarely happened in the long history of Casterly Rock. Lannisport may have been sacked and the Gold Keep burnt, but Casterly Rock had never been taken since Lann the Clever stole the fortress from House Casterly. It felt a bit excessive, but she supposed after an attack on Lannisport, it was probably just prudence.


Ser Larys, Father's faithful shadow, stood outside the wheelhouse's door, helping Father and Mother to dismount before turning his attention to Weiss, gently taking her hand into his own. He didn't wear armor this time, it would've been an insult to Lord Tywin, though Ser Larys did bring his longsword. The guards allowed them to pass without much fanfare, most only gave her Father a slight bow of the head.


A man with long golden hair and bright green eyes was already waiting for them at the foot of the stairway, mounted on a fine mare with a brown coat and black mane. He was handsome, despite appearing to be a few years older than her Father.


"Ser Gerion, a pleasure to see you as always." Father said loudly. Ser Gerion, Lord Tywin's youngest brother, gave her Father a lazy grin. She didn't think any of Casterly Rock's Lannisters could smile, all the rumors being pretty clear on the subject.


"Coz." Ser Gerion's voice was different from his brother's, light and carefree, fun even. "My Ladies." He gave Weiss and her Mother a wink. Quite the dashing rogue, this one. Jaune should've taken notes from him back when they were students at Beacon, not that she was interested in him in any romantic life. "My brother has been expecting you all, and has charged me with escorting Lady Weiss to his solar."


If Weiss remembered her Lannisters correctly, he had a bastard daughter born in the last year, which had caused quite a scandal amongst the cadet branches in Lannisport. Ser Gerion was unmarried, and many had hoped to join the Lannister family. Clearly, he enjoyed the bachelor life, sleeping with maids and whores. It was commonplace here, or at least more obvious than back on Remnant, where such activities were done behind closed doors. Weiss would be lucky if her future husband doesnt have a bastard by the time he reached sixteen namedays. Even Lord Eddard Stark, known throughout all Seven Kingdoms for his honor, had a bastard son. What hope did she have in not being forced to contend with a visible reminder of her husband's infidelity?


"Alone?" Father asked, his voice tense. Weiss looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. Did he have a bastard stashed away somewhere? Not even a legitimized bastard son could stand before her in the line of inheritance, so likely not, and it would break her poor Mother's heart.


Ser Gerion did not answer, instead, he changed the conversation, motioning three stable boys that had been standing off to the side. One of the horses was smaller than the other two, a youngling that could carry a child. "Going up the stairway can take quite a while by foot, we have prepared these mares to make the trip enjoyable."


That made sense given the sheer size of Casterly Rock, and if Ser Gerion thought changing the conversation worked, then he was sorely mistaken.


Even a child could see through that.









The Lion's Mouth was as impressive as Weiss had imagined, though it didn't really look like the mouth of a lion, just a really large cavern. With such a large castle sitting on top of the mountain, and the rest of Casterly Rock hidden beneath rocks and under the ground, traversing the famed fortress must've been quite an undertaking. To go from the top castle to the lower levels would mean walking thousands of stairs, or taking winch cages that acted as elevators. As the richest family in Westeros, plenty of make-shift elevators abounded, mainly for the use of the higher-born nobles. Weiss and her family rode such a cage with Ser Gerion, with the young girl standing closest to Lord Tywin's brother.


"What do you know of Lann the Clever, my Lady?" Ser Gerion's voice was kind, evidently he had some practice using it.


"They say that he is the first Lannister." Weiss answered. "And tricked House Casterly out of the Rock using nothing but his wit." A neutral and common answer, many people believed that Lann the Clever didn't exist, or that the truth had been distorted throughout the centuries into the version that was now commonly held as true. Many houses had their legendary hero that they claimed to be descendants of, such as Bran the Builder and the Starks. So did some of the families in Atlas, claiming to be descended from the Storm Kings or in some of the more delusional cases, to be descended from the Brothers themselves.


"It's true." Ser Gerion grinned. "I've seen him."


And now he was telling childish stories. Weiss would have preferred to continue their ascent in silence, yet she also didn't want to appear rude to their hosts. Plus, to be fair, she had seen a seemingly dead man walking around in Remnant.


"Really?" Weiss widened her eyes and placed a hand near her mouth, acting as child-like as she could.


"Aye." Ser Gerion placed a hand on the pommel of his longsword. It looked more like a ceremonial blade rather than a true weapon of war, with the pommel having the head of a lion, and the handle being lavishly decorated in fine red leather. The sheath was just as decorated, with the sigil of House Lannister. "They say his ghost still lurks the caverns."


Weiss spotted her Father discreetly shaking his head disapprovingly out of the corner of her eye. Ser Gerion didn't seem to notice, amused by Weiss pretending to be scared, allowing the hand that covered her mouth to shake.


This was tedious.








The interior of Casterly Rock was teeming with servants, guards, knights and visiting nobles. The floor that Ser Gerion led them to, somewhere in the upper castle on the top of the mountain, wasn't nearly as full as the lower levels. Weiss only spotted the occasional servant, however, guards did become more common. After 'scaring' Weiss with the false tale about the ghost of Lann the Clever still roaming Casterly Rock, Ser Gerion turned his attention back to her Father, talking hushed grown-up business ahead of her and Mother. Their arms were interlocked.


"Be strong." Mother whispered, her already pale face turning another shade of white. "Pray to the Seven for strength."


Now that was one piece of advice that Weiss would definitely not be following. Even if the gods were real, that didn't mean they automatically deserved her worship. Still, she had to put up a facade for her Mother, and in public. Wouldn't be the most distasteful thing she had to do, she supposed.


"Of course, Mother." Weiss whispered back, her voice low enough to only be heard by her Mother. Ser Gerion and Father soon stopped a set of double doors, elaborately decorated. The handles that would allow them to be pulled outwards were the heads of a lion, with red rubies for eyes. The red wood was carved to have the image of two lions, each on their hind legs mid-roar, and painted gold. Two guards in heavy plate stood guard with spears.


"This is where we shall leave Lady Weiss." Ser Gerion said. Mother tightened her grip on Weiss' arm, just loose enough for it not to hurt if she didn't have any aura. Father's lips were pressed into a thin line. "My brother awaits."


Weiss weaseled her arm out of her Mother's grip, using her smaller wrists and held her arms in front of her. She gave her Mother a soft smile. "I shall return soon, Mother, Father."


Ser Gerion led her parents away, with the two of them giving her one last look before they disappeared around the corner. The moment they were out of view, Weiss' smile disappeared and her eyes hardened. Now she had to deal with this annoyance without any help from her parents. If everything ended in blows, Weiss was confident she could survive, all she had to do was jump out a window, but that wasn't accounting for her parents' presence. Hopefully the meeting wasn't anything too serious.


Who was she trying to fool, this was Tywin Lannister after all, any summons by him were serious. The rumors said he never smiled, and Lord Tywin wouldn't have summoned her for anything other then the most serious of matters.


"Announce me." Weiss said simply, not giving either of the guards another glance. She kept her back straight, chin held evenly, and her hands in front of her. She was a Schnee Lannister, and she was not afraid.


"Lady Weiss has arrived, my Lord." The guard to the right droned while the one to the left pulled the door open for her.


She walked in without another word, and the moment she was within the solar they closed the door behind her with a soft thud. The solar of the Lord of Casterly Rock was impressive, with two golden lions standing guard beside each side of his desk. The rest of the room was lavishly decorated with portraits of lords long deceased, paintings and statues decorated the walls, and an Essoi carpet sat in between two chairs of finely carved wood close to their fireplace.


Lord Tywin was seated behind his desk, his green eyes with flecks of gold staring at several documents. He didn't bother to look up as Weiss approached, her head bowed respectfully. She came to a stop at least three feet from his desk, which brought back memories of visiting Jacques in his office. The white haired girl kept her face impassive, as she used to when she was the Schnee heiress attending board meetings.


He didn't acknowledge her as he continued to review several documents for a few minutes. Lord Tywin must've been testing her, since he was well known as one of the most ruthless lords in all of the Seven Kingdoms. Was he hoping for Weiss to break and speak first? Was he waiting for her to ask a question about her betrothal? If so, then he must be sorely disappointed. She remained impassive and unchanged as Weiss waited for him to speak up.


It took five more minutes for him to even look up from his papers.


"You're a brave girl." Lord Tywin spoke first, leaning back in his expensive chair. It looked so old, it might have belonged to his grandfather's grandfather. "Most men would squirm at having to be in my mere presence, yet you didn't even blink."


Weiss remained silent. He left that opening there for her to accept the compliment, only to twist his words into an insult. The man was skilled with words, it seemed.


"It is customary for one to accept a compliment from one's better." Lord Tywin raised an eyebrow. He seemed amused, knowing that Weiss had spotted his trap. She wasn't sure if it was a good thing being the subject of his amusement or not, given well, her current status and all.


"Thank you, my Lord." Weiss said with a slight bow before straightening her back once more. She kept her voice even, without a hint of emotion.


"You're arrogant, but then again, you do have some Lannister blood in you, even if you look more Valyrian." Lord Tywin was now throwing an indirect insult towards her Mother. He left an opening for her to respond.


"I may carry the Valyrian look, but my loyalties still remain with House Lannister." Proving your loyalty was always a good move, especially since Weiss was nothing more than a child in his eyes.


Lord Tywin's eyes remained cold and calculating as he took in her words. "You don't speak like a girl of seven namedays, or carry yourself like a child."


Damn it, Weiss should've allowed herself to shiver when she first entered, maybe with a calculated flinch. She should've prepared better for such a meeting. Weiss merely bowed once more silently. Lord Tywin pulled out a drawer and reached into his desk. He held out a sheathed blade, holding the handle out for Weiss. "Take it."


Weiss did as she was commanded, taking the dagger into her hands. It was heavy, the handle was well-worn and felt familiar-oh-


"Do you recognize this blade?" Lord Tywin asked. He didn't seem to care that he had just handed her a weapon, he did have her family as hostages should she kill him. Yet, she didn't have a reason to. Lord Tywin was the head of the family, the Lannisters of Lannisport answered to him. And whatever his faults, he was dedicated to them. He wouldn't simply kill them or her for her actions, if only as that would be a disgrace to the family name.


"I do." It was the Ironborn's blade that she had used to kill her attackers, she could tell even if the blade itself was sheathed. Her hand felt every bump and scratch on the hilt, and it felt almost as if it was a part of her arm now.


"With that blade you sliced a man's arm off, cutting through flesh and bone as if it was Valyrian steel." Lord Tywin scoffed. "Or so the Maester claims. The deaths of the other three was unnatural, no girl your size and age should've been able to kill one, much less all four. How did you do it?"


Weiss had to answer carefully to avoid revealing aura and her memories, while also convincing him. "I used to watch my Father's knights spar in the training yard."


"You've watched your Father's men training to kill men by aiming for their necks?" Lord Tywin said dryly. "That still doesn't account for that dull knife cutting like Valyrian steel, nor how you managed to escape without a single scratch or bruise. Did none of them try fighting back?"


"They did, my Lord." Weiss admitted. She would've looked like an idiot if she tried lying. There was no way four Ironborn raiders were just going to lay down and die.


"You claim to have been fast enough to dodge their attacks?" Lord Tywin didn't look like he believed her. "You're not even old enough to be a squire." And had no combat experience went unsaid.


Weiss had a feeling that if she had been born a boy instead of a girl, nobody would've questioned her about the killing of those four men. Still, even if she had excuses for how she did it, there was no excuse for the blade. Without her aura to strengthen the blade, its integrity would remain the same.


"Could you do it again?" Lord Tywin's question caught her off guard. He wanted her to kill four men, again? Or did he mean, face someone else in public and win with witnesses as proof of what she had done.


She could always refuse and pretend that it was a miracle, a gift from the Seven, or Weiss could go along with his request. If she did, what could she gain? If she impressed him enough Lord Tywin could give her leave to continue her training in public. It'd make hiding her aura workouts much easier, but what would be the cost? Would she be turned into his personal weapon and have the Redwyne betrothal annulled?


"I don't believe my Lord Father would approve." Weiss answered meekly, yet her soft tone did not reach her eyes. Those words only seemed to have made him mad.


"And what makes you believe that I need your Father's approval?" Lord Tywin narrowed his eyes. "A Lannister he may be, but only of a cadet branch, and the Lannisters of Lannisport are my bannermen. He cost me my fleet, and now we have to rely on Stannis Baratheon and Paxter Redwyne to invade the Iron Islands. You should consider yourself lucky that I even arranged such a favorable match."


A favorable match? Weiss remained silent as the Old Lion continued to speak, who remained seated in his chair. It irked her that he was blaming her Father for his mistakes. Admittedly, there wasn't exactly a lot of warning ahead of time.


"The Lannisters of Lannisport may be kin and one of the richest houses in the Westerlands, yet you are far from my strongest bannermen." Lord Tywin's nostrils widened as he ranted. "Brax, Lefford, and Crakehall, just to name a few, can gather more levies than your Father. A match with a Redwyne, one of the Tyrell's closest and most powerful allies, is a better match than you could normally hope for." And would bring him more ships to replace the ones lost at the Burning of Lannisport most likely. Lord Tywim likely included ships instead of coin for her dowry, since it was a matrilineal marriage.


If Lord Tywin thought he was doing Weiss a favor, then he was sorely mistaken. She didn't wish to get married, not anytime soon at least, and if she did, it would be someone by Weiss' own choosing.


"So I will ask you one last time." Lord Tywin stared into her eyes, doing his best to intimidate her. Weiss only stared back impassibly, her expression bored and blank. "Could you do it again?"


"Yes, my Lord." Weiss answered for the sake of her parents. At least she had won, Lord Tywin was the one who had broken and gotten angry first. Weiss did the best she could with what she had available. She'd managed to outlast the Lion of the West. She resisted the urge to smirk, that was an impressive feat indeed.


Lord Tywin formed a tight, fake, and unbelieving smirk. "Good, I have already chosen who your opponent shall be. The match shall be in a few hours. For now, you shall be returned to your Father and Mother, and given rooms for the duration of your stay."


Weiss hid her frown with a small smile, bowing the upper half of her body just slightly. "As you command, my Lord."


She really hoped it wasn't the Mountain, Weiss wasn't ready to face him.


Not yet at least.



A/N

Weiss' conversation with Tywin was one of the harder scenes I've had to write, though I'm sure they'll become easier with time.
 
1-14
Weiss



After Weiss' conversation with Lord Tywin in his solar, he had one of his knights escort her back to her parents. The knight was a large man, a boar of a man one could even say, judging by his clothing being decorated with the image of a black boar. That bad attempt at a pun left a bad taste in Weiss' mouth, that had always been Yang's specialty, before the Fall of Beacon and the loss of her arm. Weiss missed the blonde, and the rest of Team RWBY. Without them, Myrtenaster, and even Dust, it felt like parts of her soul were missing, even if this body never had a chance to grab the handle of her long-lost rapier.


"You're a strange girl." Her Escort spoke up, his voice low yet loud. It sounded as deep as an ocean floor. Ser Lyle Crakehall was among the most famous knights in all the Westerlands, with such a large frame and often clad in heavy plate armor with the surcoat of a black boar. He was often considered second only to Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain that Rides in terms of size. The Strongboar looked funny, with a nose that had been broken several times, long black hair and a bushy mustache that connected to his sideburns.


"That wouldn't be the first time today I've been called that, Ser Strongboar." Weiss said with a light giggle. It was a fake giggle, forced and childlike. She had the image of a child to keep up, so Wesis did her best to imitate Ruby from their first semester at Beacon. She ignored the pang of pain in her chest as she did so.


Ser Lyle gave her a brief glance out of the corner of his dark eyes. From an angle, he really did look more boar than human, with his sideburns looking like tusks. He seemed amused at her words. "I mean no offense, my Lady."


"Of course, Ser Strongboar." Weiss bowed her head slightly. She really hoped he also wasn't the opponent chosen by Lord Tywin, Ser Lyle was considered better skilled at arms than the Mountain, who relied on pure strength.


At her full strength, Weiss was confident she could take the both of them on at the same time and win without too much difficulty. In the body of the little girl she had been reincarnated into however, her odds lessened greatly. This body was weak and wasn't used to using a fully unlocked aura for long periods of time. She'd have to put more effort in strengthening both her body, mind and soul once Weiss was done here. It'd take some time, but she would soon be at full strength. Without Myrtenaster and Dust, Weiss was going to have to become creative with her glyphs, using them as best as she could without any witnesses around. Which was going to be an issue, given her father basically had her shadowed by Ser Robart and several guardsmen since the attack on Lannisport.


Ser Lyle puffed his chest up, proud at even a little girl knowing and remembering his moniker of 'Strongboar'. Weiss had a feeling he would've been fast friends with Professor Port, once they got over the cultural differences, with how loud the two of them were. They continued the rest of their walk in an awkward silence, Ser Lyle disinterested in a conversation with a child and Weiss busy with observing any servants that they came across.


That was one way someone could tell how a Lord or Lady treated them, the way they walked, if their bellies were full, how bright or dull their eyes appeared to be. Weiss had to learn that lesson the hard way as the Schnee heiress, before Jacques stripped away the title that had been hers for years, ever since Winter gave it up. She should've done more, treated the faunus that the Schnee Dust Company employed better, and been a better person. Granted, she didn't have much ability to do anything without it being contradicted by Jacques, but still.


Even as the Lady of Lannisport, any changes she made would be relatively small and insignificant, even the reforms done by Aegon the Unlikely were undone after his death, by Tywin no less, but that wouldn't stop Weiss from trying. Rebelling was one of the many things the huntress was good at, every from the way she styled her hair back on, to her music back on Remnant. It was just a matter of figuring out how to rebel in such a way she expressed her displeasure without drawing too much ire. It should be easy enough for her.


No matter what her name was, Schnee, Lannister, or any names she'd have to take on if she got married, there was one thing she knew for certain. She would always be Weiss, and nothing could ever change that, not being stranded in some archaic world, and certainly not an Old Lion.


Lord Tywin was going to have to learn the hard way.








Weiss was eventually led to the room where her parents were waiting, no doubt full of stress and anxiety despite any assurances Ser Gerion had given them. Not that she could blame them, it would be stressful for almost anyone in their position.


"Allow me, my Lady." Ser Lyle opened the heavy door with ease, the knight in shining armor, even if he was wearing leather and linen at the moment. He gave her a crooked smile.


"Thank you, Ser Lyle." Weiss courtseyed with one of her own, prim and proper. Acting like a Lady was the only way she could survive in this world.


The moment she walked into the room and the door behind her closed, her Mother instantly threw her arms around the much smaller girl. Weiss suddenly couldn't breathe for a few seconds, until Mother pulled away, running her soft hands over Weiss' face and dress.


"I am unharmed, Mother." Weiss said, the pitch of her voice higher than usual, since her Mother's hands were pressed against her cheeks. It felt nice being cared for like this, oddly enough.


Mother released a sigh of relief and finally gave Weiss her personal space, allowing her to finally get a glimpse of the room her parents had been waiting in. It was lavishly decorated, though not to the extent of Lord Tywin's solar, yet most of the decorations and furniture in this simple room were more expensive than some poorer lords' entire holdings. Father stood in front of a chair wide enough to hold two people, evidently having just stood up once she entered. His expression was unabashed joy at seeing her safe return.


"Weiss." Father sounded relieved. He quickly approached her and went to one knee, taking one of her hands into his own. Father paused, licking his lips before speaking again. "How did you fare?"


"I fared well." Weiss said with a small smile. It made her feel warm inside whenever her new parents fussed over her. "Lord Tywin summoned me here for a test."


"A test?" It was Mother who spoke this time, her voice shaking a little as she did so. "What kind of test?"


Weiss' smile turned into a grimace. Now this was going to be one of the most awkward conversations she ever had, aside from Klein giving her the 'talk'. No noble family would want to see one of their daughters fight, unless they were Dornish or from the North. Yet, there was a precedent, such as the Lady Blackwood from the Dance, Weiss had dived deep into those records, as preparation for such an event.


"Lord Tywin wishes me to spar with one of his men." Weiss a tad too calmly. Her parents reacted instantly, with fear spreading onto her Mother's face, and Father lighting up with anger.


"Lord Tywin has gone too far!" Father shook with rage. "I shall go and speak with him, this is unacceptable."


Weiss gently grabbed his hand as Father tried walking by. "We both know that's not the best idea." Weiss said softly. Left unsaid was that his position was fragile, and giving Tywin an excuse to remove him would be ill advised. Even if it did feel nice knowing he was willing to risk it all for her.


"He disrespects me as your Father, and as the Lord of Lannisport." Father seethed. It felt weirdly nice having a father figure care for her first, his position second.


"As did the Tarbecks and the Reynes." Weiss countered. "Lady Elyn Reyne had been married to his uncle before his death, yet that didn't stop Lord Tywin from exterminating her and her household." Even if she didn't have any children with Tion Lannister, she had been Lord Tywin's aunt.


Even if she disliked him, Lord Tywin did have a point. The Lannisters of Lannisport couldn't raise as many levies as the other Houses, with many of their men belonging to the City Watch. Their strength was in their fleet and coin made from trade. Most of which was no longer an option, given Lannisport was well, being rebuilt.


"This is still unacceptable." Mother joined Father. "Perhaps we should appeal to King Robert?"


Ah yes, good King Robert who was married to Lord Tywin's daughter. He wasn't going to be able to do anything, and if he did, it would backfire on them the moment the war was over and King Robert left. Worse, all that means is Tywin would get creative, which would be far worse.


Father shook his head, both of his hands clenched into fists at the situation. "No, Lord Tywin is his good-father."


A silence overcame them for a few seconds, while Mother held Weiss in her arms in a light embrace, ensuring that skin met skin. Mother, while scared, didn't seem too surprised when Weiss revealed the true nature of Lord Tywin summoning them. She did see the aftermath of the fighting, and saw a bloodied Weiss standing amongst the carnage. Perhaps she opened her eyes and saw Weiss kill those Ironborn?


"You saw what happened to those men, didn't you Mother?" Weiss said, the childlike energy she had been trying to manifest disappearing in an instant. Father flinched, which meant Mother had told him about what had happened. Great, just what she needed. What else was going to go wrong for her? A plague of locusts? Sentient rat men digging their way out from underneath Lannisport?


"Y-Yes." Mother looked away, refusing to meet Weiss' eyes. Was Mother scared of her? That made Weiss feel guilty, and anxious that her fears would be coming true. Father remained silent, observing their conversation. She didn't want this, she loved her parents, a sentence she hadn't thought since she was a child back in Remnant.


"Are you scared of me, Mother?" Those words left Weiss' lips before she knew what she was saying. Father immediately dropped to one knee and placed a hand on her shoulder. It weighed on her, both physically, and mentally, knowing she was keeping so much hidden from them. It sickened her, yet at the same time, was necessary for their survival, and hers.


They could never know about her past life.


"No." Mother said, her voice sounding like a breath. "Our survival was an answer from the Seven, they blessed you and gave you the strength to protect us." Mother's voice cracked near the end. Weiss couldn't get a good look at her face, but it sounded like she was starting to cry. She resisted the urge to start crying as well.


"We would never be fearful of you, Weiss." Father said. If Weiss had been born a man, they wouldn't have been having this conversation. Her parents wrapped her in a warm embrace, comforting her as best they could.


"Good." Weiss sighed. Her parent's words had been comforting at least, and she knew once they got back home, odds are life would not go back to how it was. "I will face Lord Tywin's champion and win." She didn't give her parents any room to argue.


Weiss kinda felt bad for the poor bastard she'll be fighting.









Lord Tywin provided clothes to fight in, which was perfectly fine in Weiss' opinion as long as they fit her. They didn't. The trousers were too big, the legs baggy and tailored for someone with much thicker legs. The doublet, with a small lion sewed on, was just as ill fitting, with longer sleeves and was tight around her chest. It almost felt like Weiss was given these as an insult, which it probably was. Or could be another test, to see how she can handle herself in ill fitting clothes. Either way, the clothes made her look like an idiot, but in the end that would mean nothing, Weiss would still beat her opponent's ass.


Ser Lyle returned as her escort and kept giving her amused side glances. She doubted Lord Tywin gave him much information outside of escorting her to the chosen training yard, but that was still a testament to his loyalty to the Lord of the Westerlands. If nothing else, Tywin could pick good loyal men.


"Don't hurt him too badly, my Lady." Ser Lyle said, stopping at the exit that would lead them to the training yard. He had a smash of pig fat on his cheek, likely from a thick slice of bacon. She knew that he was making fun of her, but it didn't matter.


Weiss knew what she was capable of.


"I will do my best." Weiss played along for now. She still had no idea who she was facing. It couldn't have been the Mountain or any of his more elite knights, Tywin wanted a test, not a body. So who could it be? If he had her fight any captured Ironborn, he'd alienate Father even if Lord Tywin was the Shield of Lannisport. She considered it being her cousin, the Imp, but disregarded that. Beating up a dwarf wasn't exactly very useful for Tywin, and she had never met him before.


Ser Lyle opened the door, swinging it open revealing the sunny training yard. "After you, my Lady."


The Strongboar followed her a few seconds later. The training yard chosen was private, hidden deep within the halls of Casterly Rock, and away from any prying eyes. It was a large square room carved into the rock with an opening in the roof to allow sunlight in. The room was sparsely furnished, mostly consisting of racks full of blunted and live-steel weapons lining the walls. The training yard was built more like a coliseum, with raised seatings on three sides.


There were already people gathered. Lord Tywin sat at the highest chair, in a fine wooden seat that looked like it was overlaid with gold. Father and another Lannister, likely one of his brothers, sat beside him. Mother was the only woman present, and was seated at Father's left. Unlike everyone else, both of her parents appeared nervous, but Mother wasn't hiding it as easily as her husband.


An ugly, pig faced man was already waiting for her. He wore boiled leather under a heavy hauberk, more armored than Weiss, but no doubt slower. A steel half-helm sat upon his head. The Knight, judging by the manticore on his shield, was none other than Ser Amory Lorch, one of Lord Tywin's closest men. The Strongboar was likely present to stop the butcher from going too far in attempting to injure Weiss.


It didn't matter, Weiss was going to leave here without a scratch. The same could not be said about 'Ser' Lorch. She wondered if this was deliberate, a tool had finally proven to be not worth the headaches, so he was being sent to the slaughterhouse?


"A child?" Weiss heard Lorch complain under his breath, his voice high and sounding like a pig's squeal. She could tell this was going to be very cathartic for her, and likely for more than a few other people in the audience. His brutality was well known throughout the Westerlands, second only to Ser Gregor Clegane. She could use that against him, playing up her age and lack of strength to catch him off guard.


"A pig?" Weiss retorted. Ser Amory Lorch's pink skin turned a shade of red, starting from his ears. Even if he was sworn directly to Casterly Rock, the Lorchs were still just a knightly house. If that, their sole claim to fame was having a monster like Amory signed with Tywin.


"Choose your weapons so we may begin." Ser Lyle boomed, after receiving a signal from Lord Tywin, it was simple and barely noticeable, but Weiss saw it. It was the way the Old Lion tapped the side of his chair. This was a very smoothly laid out operation, she had to admit. She won, he lost nothing of real value, and if she lost, well, a message would be sent, one way or another.


Giving Lorch a discreet smirk, Weiss made her way to the blunted weapon rack, her sapphire blue eyes scanning each weapon.


Hmmm, who should she choose? The tall blonde? The brunette? Or the redhead? Weiss always did have a soft spot for redheads.


She wished Ruby was here.








Dramen

This entire affair was an insult to the Lannisters of Lannisport, an insult to Dramen, and an insult to his family. Yet, how could he disobey? To disobey meant death or extreme punishment, not just for Dramen, but for his family as well. Casterly Rock could instantly put Lannisport to siege, and without the docks and his fleet, Dramen's family would starve or be taken into the Rock in chains after the smallfolk would inevitably betray them. And that was before Lannisport had fallen under his watch. No, he would have to sit and bear it, at least for now. But a Lannister always paid his debts, be he from Casterly Rock or Lannisport.


Lord Tywin was insane, choosing a butcher like Lorch to face his daughter in single combat. The knight, no, not knight, the very beast that had butchered Princess Rhaenys during the Sack of King's Landing. It took all of Dramen's self control to not try and strangle his liege lord and cousin for putting his daughter in danger. If he tried, Ser Kevan would no doubt slay him with the blade he had at his side.


Dramen was forced to watch as his daughter struggled to choose a weapon. She grabbed a tourney longsword, and struggled to lift it. That earned her a round of laughter from Ser Kyle and Lorch. Weiss grabbed a short sword, and could barely lift it in the air. She shook her head and placed it back where it belonged and reached for a pair of blunted daggers. A bit unconventional, but it would at least make sense with her size and age. Still, he worried for her. His own flesh and blood, put in danger for simply defending herself.


They looked oversized in Weiss' hands, and made Dramen feel like doubting his wife's words. He could hear her praying under her breath, just barely. Ceria had become more devout since the attack. Not that he could blame her, under the circumstances, he'd even pray to one of the Northerners' blasphemous trees if he thought it would help.


"Father above, please grant your justice." Ceria prayed over and over. "Mother above, please continue to show us your mercy."


Weiss took her position several feet away from Lorch, and took up a weird and foreign stance. It almost resembled a dancing stance, but not one he had ever seen.


"May the Warrior guard our daughter and guide her blows." Ceria made the symbol of the Seven-pointed star over her bosom. "Oh beautiful Maiden, grant her your courage, Mighty Smith may you grant her strength."


No one else seemed to notice her prayer, other than Weiss. Even from a distance Dramen spotted her blue eyes landing upon her Mother. His beautiful daughter stared for a few seconds, when she suddenly raised the dagger in her left hand in the air, and began making the symbol of the Seven over her chest. That caused Ceria to calm, surprisingly.


Weiss returned to her foreign stance. Ser Lyle stood beside the weapon rack, several feet away from Weiss and Lorch. He glanced in Lord Tywin's direction for only a single moment before he boomed.


"Begin!"









Dramen felt his breathing slow the moment Ser Amory Lorch started moving. The man started with an open swing, charging in Weiss' direction. Time seemed to have slowed as the blunted blade nearly reached his beautiful daughter's neck, just for Weiss to take a single step back, avoiding the strike. Lorch tried another one, this time with an overhead swing, just for Weiss to avoid that one too.


His daughter looked like she was dancing, moving in between Lorch's strikes, who got more and more frustrated with every miss. The stout man was shorter than Dramen, yet he still towered over Weiss, who dodged another strike. Weiss had a small, cold smile on her face the entire time, on the verge of showing her white teeth.


T-Those weren't the eyes of his beloved daughter, but of the Warrior himself! Dramen gripped the handles of his seat, realizing maybe his wife's sudden devotion was based in fact. Everyone else watched in silence, the only sound coming from Lorch's sword swinging through the air and hitting the ground with a thud.


"Fight!" Lorch squealed, reminiscent of the pig that had obviously slept with his mother. His swings were starting to slow despite not wearing plate. He had started the spar too aggressively, and was out of shape. Lorch threw his shield to the side and held his blade with both hands. Truly he was a disgrace to being a knight in every sense of the word. What idiot had felt he was apparently worthy of being called a 'Ser'?


"Hm?" Weiss raised an eyebrow, she looked even younger with the ill fitting clothes. "Should I?"


She ducked underneath an overextended swing and moved in close. Lorch moved to jab his knee into her gut, but Weiss was faster and used her dagger to stab at the back of his knee. He howled and bent over, before swinging back at her, but missed, again. Dramen glanced over at Lord Tywin, and could judge from the scowl on his face that this was not going as he intended.


Weiss was fast, faster than Dramen had ever thought she could be. She jabbed Lorch with the dagger in her right hand in his left arm and quickly retreated. His daughter fought like a water dancer, yet not even that was completely accurate. It was similar to how the Bravos would fight, and yet, it was that one touch off.


"Yah!" Lorch swung his blade once again, just for Weiss to meet it with her daggers crossed over each other forming an X. Lorch's blade, much to everyone's surprise, couldn't even part the two daggers, much less push Weiss down on her knees. No, Weiss stood proudly, and tilted her head.


"I grow tired of this." She used the daggers and pushed him back, beginning her own barrage of strikes. Weiss' blunted daggers drew no blood, but they still left ugly and purple bruises under Lorch's armor. She still avoided his counterstrikes, getting in close enough to jab his other knee with a dagger, forcing Lorch to one knee, who dropped his sword in panic or simply from shock. In a simple, calculated motion, her other dagger rested against his fat neck. "Yield!"


Lorch stared at her in awe, his small and beady eyes full of confusion and rage. He reached for his sword, only for Weiss to press the blunted blade even deeper into his neck. He swore he could start to see a trickle of red bubble from the fat pig's neck where she pushed the blunted blade. "Yield!"


Ser Lyle moved towards them, to separate them, if need be, when a casual wave from Lord Tywin stopped the Strongboar in his tracks.


"I yield." Lorch finally admitted, drawing his eyes away from Weiss'. Weiss removed her dagger, revealing a thin red line. A small wound, and far from a fatal one. She turned slowly, her cold smile gone, replaced by an indifferent expression. If they had used live steel, Lorch would've been limb dead.


"Blessed are the faithful of the Seven." Ceria whispered loudly.


Weiss gave Lord Tywin a sarcastic and over dramatic bow, and threw a lock of her hair over her shoulder. A bit over the top, but he had just tried to have her fight one of the more infamous knights of the Westerlands. Some audacity was to be expected.


"You have a dangerous daughter, Dramen." Lord Tywin said when Weiss moved to return the daggers. Ser Lyle helped Lorch to his feet with a single hand begrudgingly. Dramen turned to look at his liege lord, who kept staring at Weiss. Lord Tywin's face revealed nothing. "She'll be a fine Lady of Lannisport, should your wife not bear you a son."


"Thank you, my Lord." Was all that Dramen could say. Even he was confused at his daughter's skill with a weapon. Did Ser Tylan give her lessons before he passed without Dramen knowing? Or was Ceria right in some way, that their daughter had been blessed by the Seven?


"Focus on repairing the docks." Lord Tywin finally stood up slowly, followed by Ser Kevan. "We can rebuild the fleet once the war is over." Left unsaid was that House Lannister would need to find other ways to show the flag in this war. How and why was a matter for another time though.


"As you command, my Lord." Dramen bowed his head, all tension leaving his shoulders. His head was remaining attached, at the very least.


Yet, the pit in his stomach kept growing deeper, and not even this victory could change that.


A/N

Welcome to the new longest chapter in A Song of Weiss and Fire! We hope it was enjoyable as usual.


Time for a short timeskip.
 
1-15
Cedric Payne


War had come to the Westerlands, it'd been decades since the lands of the Lannisters had come under attack, long before Lord Tywin's reign as Hand under the Mad King. Yet, while it did cause suffering for some, war was an opportunity for others. War would bring glory, fame and wealth, should Cedric manage to capture a lord or knight and ransom them back to their house. A member of House Payne he may be, with one of their very own as the King's Justice, but that didn't mean Cedric has much coin to his name. Still, at least he was richer than Rod.


"Are we almost there yet, Coz?" Rodrick, Cedric's cousin and squire, complained. Rod was a few years younger than Cedric, slower and poorer too. Cedric already told him it would take a few days to reach Lannisport a few hours ago. Rod swayed back and forth as he rode Nut, Cedric's steed that carried their supplies.


"No." Cedric sighed. He rode Lemonhead, a mare palfrey that was gentle and kind. Trotting beside him was Cheese, his war horse that he only rode into battle or when he could afford to enter a tourney. He didn't trust Rod to not startle the well-trained beast, which could lead to him having to explain to his family why Rod was being buried with a horseshoe embedded in his face. "We are at least two days from Lannisport, same as when you asked me last time."


He could tell due to all of the visitors they started having when they made camp every night. Outriders, sellwords and hedge knights were all making their way to Lannisport and Casterly Rock for the war, hoping to catch the eye of a well-to-do lord and enter their service, even if it was temporary. If they fought well enough, perhaps they could even be invited to join a household, and finally have a roof over their head and not worry about what they were to eat every day. And with the knights and sellswords came the camp followers and supporters. Blacksmiths, minstrels, seamstresses, 'seamstresses', you name it, they'd follow the coin.


Rod nodded slowly. Their progress was slowed with the roads being full, though the two of them were able to slip ahead since they didn't carry much aside from their tent, food, and arms. Cedric's longsword was attached to his side, and wore boiled leather. He'd wear the heavy chain and his half-helm once he was in a proper battle. The boiled leather, sword and shield with the sigil of House Payne should be enough to ward off any bandits or thieves.


"I'd like to buy a house there soon." Rod said slowly. Neither of them would ever be able to claim Payne's Peak; that honor would belong to Ser Ilyn's older brother, Ser Rover Payne. Still, there was something to be said about making your own path as opposed to trying to claim something with great expectations.


The only way for the two of them to ever have a home would be as household knights, or being gifted a keep by a generous lord. Both were unlikely to ever happen, and homes in Lannisport were expensive. Though they might be a bit less expensive given some of them were burned to the ground and looted by now.


"I told you not to get that whore with a babe." Cedric muttered under his breath. Rod had gotten married to a chandler's daughter, and now had a son that had already seen a name day or three. The least he could've done was marry a rich daughter, not one that had less coin than them and would be gaining more with a match.


The Payne's may have been a knightly house, but they were still well-known through the Westerlands thanks to Cousin Ilyn getting his tongue pulled out by Mad King Aerys. Still, there were worse ways to be famous, look at House Frey. Cedric refused to do business with them, Lord Walder already had enough bastards to form his own army, and was notoriously skinflint as well.


"She's not a whore." Rod mumbled under his breath. "She loves me."


"She loves your name more." Cedric snarked. Podrick Payne was Cedric's newest cousin, straight from Rod's loins. "Now quiet, your nattering has me wishing we could afford milk of the poppy to ease the pain of having to hear your voice."


They continued the rest of the trot in silence and in hunger. Cedric wouldn't be able to eat until they made camp for the night, and he refused to buy any food from the traveling merchants, the coin gougers that they were, taking advantage of a hungry knight and his squire. Rationing their limited food supply would allow them to save enough coin for a real hot meal in Lannisport, and a night or two in an inn before they struck their tent in the outskirts. Cedric was going to have to find previous lords he had served, or get lucky enough to get chosen to be out on a warship for the Iron Islands.


The sun eventually started to kiss the horizon when Cedric and Rod started to make camp. The duo moved off of the Goldroad and into the bush. Picking out a decent campsite that wasn't claimed already was tricky, but they found one in a thicket that would suffice. Even if there were more than a few bugs around.


"Get the tent set up." Cedric ordered as he dismounted Lemonhead, tying the mare to a nearby tree. "I'll get the fire started." The last time Cedric had Rod start the fire the dumb sod burned an entire field of wheat, ready to harvest. The two were forced to flee in the night as the smallfolk attempted to put out the fire. It was probably a good idea that they'd left so fast, if they'd found out who lit the fire, they would've strung them up or tossed them into the fire to roast.


"Aye." Rod grumbled as he grabbed the tent with the sigil of House Payne from Nut's saddlebags. The cloth still held traces of ash, and was tinted with soot. Still, it was better than sleeping under the stars, a lesson he had learned in the Stormlands the hard way.


Grabbing several old and dry branches that laid on the ground, Cedric threw them into the old fire pit. Soon they would have dried meat and hard bread for supper, along with watered-down beer to wash it down. Cedric grabbed his flint from his knapsack and got to work on the fire.


"If we ride hard early in the morrow we can make for Lannisport faster." Cedric said, thinking out loud. He didn't need Rodrick's opinion to make any decisions. Nor would he trust Rodrick's judgment in this case, or almost any others.


"Weather is too nice to wake up early." Rod sighed, struggling to put up their tent. Lemonhead, Nut and Cheese neighed, appearing to be laughing at him Great, being laughed at by his steeds would teach him a lesson ideally.


"Then shut your mouth and stop complaining about how long it'll take us to arrive." Cedric's flints managed to light a small fire that eventually engulfed the dry twigs and leaves. He'd have to gather more if he didn't want it to die out soon. "You'll take first watch, and don't let me catch you eating all of our food again."


Rod flinched, remembering the beating that Cedric had given him, and nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, Ser."


Who was Cedrc kidding, Rod likely only remembered that the two starved for a week until a septon took pity on them and gifted them each a silver stag. They found the septon hanged a week later down the same road, done in by robber knights and wandering bandits. The Knight grabbed a few more pieces of wood, and gently placed them into the fire.


Cedric stared into the flames for a few seconds, taking a seat on the ground, when he was pulled away by the tent collapsing on top of Rodrick.


"Help! Coz!" Rod yelled, caught in the tent's cloth. It sounded like the horses laughed again at the younger Payne's misfortune. Cedric sighed and slowly stood back up. Out of all the possible squires he could've gotten, he got this one. Obviously the Gods were laughing at him, all Seven of them.


He likely wouldn't end up with too much sleep that night.









Stannis Baratheon

It was easier to sleep at sea than it was at Dragonstone. The very presence of the ancient Targaryen stronghold reminded Stannis everyday of what had been stripped away from him. While he could feel the history in the stones and furnishings, it felt tainted. It was the site of his greatest humiliation. Nevermind that the storm had literally ripped gargoyles off of the walls and sunk ships at anchor, and tossed him and his fleet around like a bucking warhorse, all Robert was concerned with was a dragonspawn and his mewling welp of a sister had somehow escaped. Storm's End was his by right as the second oldest of the Baratheon brothers, and Robert stripped Stannis' home away from him. The site of his greatest victory, a deed that should be immortalized in ballads and stories, handed off to Renly. Who didn't even live there, or rarely visit more than once in a moon, and even then just to collect the tax revenues.


Stannis ground his teeth as he slowly sat up from the bed in his quarters. His flagship, Fury, was the pride of the Royal Fleet, if a bit big for his taste. Ser Davos bemoaned how it handled akin to a three legged cow. Fury was a triple decked war galley, with scorpions on all sides and catapults at the fore and aft. The Lord of Dragonstone started to dress himself, changing into clothes better meant for land.


If his predictions were correct, they would reach Oldtown by midday after being delayed in the Arbor. Paxter Redwyne was a stingy man, only providing Stannis with an additional thirty war galleys and dromonds, all undermanned, and some of them barely seaworthy. The Redwynes only provided enough men to fill the rowers, with the knights and men-at-arms at half strength. The mere remembrance made Stannis grind his teeth even harder. Of all the times for him to be stingy, this was when he chose to do so? When his ancestral foe stood a chance of being slain to the last?


Paxter Redwyne's ships were at full strength when he blockaded Storm's End and tried starving Stannis and the garrison to death. Apparently he only risked his full strength against foes who stood no chance of winning. Damn Robert for forcing him to come on bended knee to plead for aid from his old foes. Stannis pulled on his gloves made out of black leather and made his way to exit his cabin.


Ser Edmund Ambrose held command of the Redwyne ships, though in the end, they would all answer to Stannis as dictated by his position on Robert's Small Council. At least that was the theory at least.


"M'lord." Ser Davos was already waiting for him, his dark beard already starting to turn a shade of gray. His well-weathered face looked down, to avoid Stannis' eyes. It was hardly his fault, the man had been rapidly promoted and was feeling a bit out of his depth.


"My Lord." Stannis corrected, continuing onwards onto the deck with Ser Davos following closely behind. "What's the status of the fleet?"


"The Redwyne's ships have been able to match our speed." Ser Davos staring ahead. Off in the distance, a figure could be spotted, shooting upwards into the sky, the Hightower, from which the ancient Reach House claimed its name. "We shall reach Oldtown by midday should the winds favor us, my Lord."


Good, he's learning. Already that puts him a step above some of the other Knights he's had to deal with.


"Good." Stannis turned away to head towards the top deck near the rear of the Fury, where he normally broke his fast with hard bread and water with a squeeze of lemon. Ser Davos followed, grabbing the pouch that was wrapped around his neck. Stannis briefly gave his fleet a glance.


Velayron, Celtigar, Arryn, and Redwyne banners flew in the seawind, yet the one that towered over all of them was the black stag on a yellow field with a crown over its antlers, the sigil of House Baratheon. Each war galley and dromond would answer to him as Master-of-Ships, unless they wished to suffer the consequences.


"Shall I send for Aurane Waters?" Ser Davos asked as Stannis stood his position beside the helmsman. Aurane Waters, a bastard, was Stannis' squire, and chosen to help quell the murmurings of the lords of the Narrow Sea. He wouldn't have been the first bastard to seek freedom as a sailor, nor will he be the last.


"No, the boy knows his duties." Stannis knew the whispers, that he would fail in his mission, that Victorian Greyjoy and his Iron Fleet would smash him. He would prove those whispers wrong, not with words, but by deeds. The Ironborn were raiders, plain and simple, not suited for straight battle. Worse, they were sloppy, arrogant, assuming that they and they alone were the masters of the sea. Stannis would prove them wrong, and break their arrogance, one longship at a time, with his bare hands if he had too.


Stannis stopped his teeth from grinding, it was a habit that his daughter was trying to stop, she wanted him to stop before his return and his lady-wife's birth. By the time he returned from war, he would have another child, hopefully a boy.


"Aye, my Lord." Ser Davos bowed his head, yet Stannis paid him no mind, his gaze focused on the growing vision of the Hightower. Ravens would start to fly once he arrived, he needed men to fill the Redwyne ships, and to inform Robert of his progress. Time to see how generous his good-father was feeling on this tedious day. Stannis started grinding his teeth once more.


His daughter was going to be disappointed, it seemed.


A/N

Shorter than the last few, but still longer than what I usually write.


We've been really happy to see all of the support, I never expected to write this much in such little time. If you've read my other stories, you'll know that I rarely write over 2k chapters.
 
1-16
Weiss

The weeks following Weiss' duel with Ser Amory Lorch passed by quickly, with Lord Tywin having to arrange the stay of countless lords, knights, and King Robert, who drew closer with every passing day. That didn't mean everything was comfortable. Mother had become more devoted to the Seven, visiting the Sept every seven days, and she made sure to drag Weiss along, much to the white haired girl's annoyance. Still, it was Weiss' fault in the end for forming the symbol of the Seven over her chest before her fight with Ser Amory Lorch started. Father and Mother kept their promise about always caring for her as their daughter, but there was always something hidden behind their eyes, apprehension and anxiety. It made Weiss nervous, but there was nothing she could do aside from reassuring her parents that she would be fine with Lord Tywin's latest command.


Weiss would be allowed to join the men in the training yard and practice her swordsmanship under the eye of the Master-at-Arms of the Gold Keep, Ser Janas Ruthermont, as long as it didn't interfere with the lessons taught to her by Septa Loria about being a lady. Ser Janas was an old man, even older than Ser Tylan, and was ten times the grouch. The ancient knight had managed to survive the Ironborn attack on the Gold Keep, with the rumors saying that he had killed five men before sounding the alarm before retreating to gather any surviving guards. He also didn't happen to like Weiss joining the other squires and knights in the training yard. Whether out of sexism or her upsetting a delicate routine, or even just him being a grouch was up in the air.


Dressed in brown trousers with a simple red leather shirt, and her hair tied back into a ponytail with a red ribbon, Weiss looked out of place amongst the squires and knights gathered in the training yard of the Gold Keep. Nearly everyone towered over her, including Robert Brax who kept sending her discreet glances when he thought she wasn't looking. Admittedly, she was used to that, even Ruby was taller than her petite form.


"Keep that sword up!" Ser Janas boomed, his shrill voice screaming at the pair of young squires that were in the middle of a spar. He hadn't allowed Weiss to join a single match since she had joined them. Her duel with Ser Amory Lorch didn't have many witnesses, only the four Lannister brothers, her parents, Ser Lyle Crakehall, and a few other men sworn to secrecy. That did little to stop the spread of rumors, even with the threat of punishment by Lord Tywin looming over everyone. Not helped that the Strongboar had loudly demanded his money from Lorch after the duel, and when the pig had refused, found himself beaten into the training ground again.


Nobody who wasn't present at the duel believed that she was capable of defeating a full grown man, which was fine. Weiss would rather have people underestimate her than being fully prepared, and it was Lorch, he barely counted as a knight in any event. It was a bit annoying though, not being able to spar against other people and focusing only on her drills. Roger Lannett, Ser Tylan's grandson, was one of the squires in the spar, against some Westerling boy named Raynald.


"I hope he doesn't end up injured." Alysanne whispered beside Weiss. Her Father had long arrived at Lannisport, and was staying in Casterly Rock as one of Lord Tywin's closest commanders. Leo Lefford may not have been the greatest warrior or strategist, but he was good with numbers and organization. Weiss knew that her friend was relieved her Father would be far from any fighting.


"He has a handsome face." Alis added in agreement. They were talking about Roger since he had the regular features of a Lannister, with blonde hair, green eyes, and a pointed nose. No one would cheer for Raynald, House Westerling had once been an influential family, but had now fallen on hard times. Raynald's Mother was from House Spicer, a rather new house founded by merchants given a lordship by Tytos Lannister, Lord Tywin's Father. That had improved their fortunes, but lowered their standing amongst the lordly houses. Weiss didn't particularly care, someone could be of noble blood and still be an idiot, while a person of so called 'low-birth' could prove themself to be of a much higher caliber. Still, she had to consider appearances and such, so she had to be careful how she reacted.


"They're both just swinging their sword-arms." Weiss shrugged. She stood away from the boys and watchful men, with Alysanne and Alis standing by her side. The two girls liked to join her, not being intimidated by her despite the rumors that had started to float around Weiss. The Lannister heiress suspected that they only joined her in the training yard to stare at the sweaty men and boys.


"Strong arms." Alis giggled. She was staring at Roger alongside Alysanne, her cheeks a shade of red. Weiss was personally tired of blondes, most of them were related to her in some way, and she wasn't keen on checking out any would-be cousins. That and she was betrothed now to a Redwyne, a boy she had never met before.


Roger and Raynald remained evenly matched, with both trying their best to slam their tourney swords onto the other's chest. It was rather boring if Weiss was being honest, no one here could match the skills of her friends from Remnant, though she could admit they were prodigies, and had trained for far longer than these boys had trained. She hoped Ser Janas would allow her to have a spar today. Sure she could use her Father's title to get what she wanted, but that would only bring back unwanted memories. Back when she was the spoiled heiress to the SDC, and would throw around the Schnee name like it was a weapon.


Raynald eventually managed to slip past Roger's defenses, and slammed his tourney sword against the Lannett's side, sending him to the ground. Alysanne and Alis winced while the other squires cheered. Once she was done here, Weiss was going to have to take a bath before assisting her Mother with the matters of the Gold Keep and then joining Septa Loria for her evening lessons. Today Weiss would be singing hymns of the Seven, Septa Loria and Mother often claimed she had the loveliest voice in all the kingdoms.


It was true of course, Weiss was a classically trained musician and singer. She missed her guitar, piano and drums. Perhaps she could try and recreate her old instruments? If nothing else, she was going to find a way to bring some of her old catalog back, if only to shake up the variety of what she had to listen to.


Raynald extended his arm to help Roger up, who only gave him a glare and slapped his arm away. Roger got up on his own and stomped away, joining the other boys who were now cheering. Someone was a bit of a sore loser, it seemed.


"Do better next time Lannett!" Ser Lanas shook his head. "Your grandsire would've beaten him in a single minute." Hearing other mention Ser Tylan still made Weiss feel guilty. Not that she could've done much in that case, but guilt didn't care for being reasonable.


"Brax, you're up." Ser Lanas turned to her Father's squire. "Who shall you challenge to a duel?"


Robert would probably try fighting another squire, with the levies from around the Westerlands slowly arriving, more and more noblemen were arriving to prepare for the invasion of the Iron Islands. Even now, the banners of the Crakehalls, Leffords, Brax, Marbrands, Prester, and Lydden were easily found, not even counting the minor lords and knightly houses. More would be arriving, except the Houses who were closest to the coast, they would likely be fortifying their positions to avoid an attack. And King Robert's immediate arrival meant that houses from the Crownlands, Stormlands, Riverlands, the Vale and the North would bring countless banners Weiss wouldn't be able to recognize.


"I wish to face Lady Weiss." Robert declared. That caught everyone by surprise, including Weiss who stared at him with wide eyes, and earned the young Brax a round of whispers and giggles from the other boys. Either someone was a fool, or had lost a bet.


Even Ser Janas looked like he wanted to burst out laughing, his thick neck wiggling softly as he clenched his jaw. He had a clean shaven face with a balding head with a few white hairs on top. Alysanne gave Robert a sharp glare, who puffed his chest out from his side of the training yard.


"Do you actually plan on fighting him?" Alis whispered, not that Weiss paid her companion any mind. Instead, she crossed her arms.


"Do you accept, Lady Weiss?" Ser Janas said with a slight sneer hidden beneath a veneer of politeness. He wasn't happy with being forced to 'train' a woman, not that Weiss needed any. She'd much prefer practicing the skills from her past life, and working out her body as best as she could as a seven year old girl.


"I accept." Weiss said, stepping forward. She'd just use her aura to enhance her strength just enough to wield the blunted tourney blades. As efficient as she was with daggers, Weiss always felt comfortable with an actual sword in her hands.


Weiss' answer only caused the laughter to spread, with even Roger Lannett joining in. Well, it was time to prove them all wrong, even if she had to beat them one by one, or all at once if she had to. She wasn't going to kill Robert, or maim him, he was just a little kid. Weiss was just going to hurt him, a little. Better a pint of sweat in the training yard then a pint of blood in the field, as Winter had put it.


Yeah right, it was going to hurt a lot once she was done with him.









Tywin

"King Robert has arrived at Pinkmaiden, my Lord." Maester Creylin announced, his brown eyes staring down at a pile of letters that had arrived by raven. It was a hefty stack, necessitating the Maester to have one of his apprentices carry them in a bag down from the rookery.


Tywin sat at the head of a long table in one of Casterly Rock's many large rooms, where he'd preplaced maps, an imitation of Dragonstone's fabled Chamber of the Painted Table. All of his brothers were present, along with the lords of the Westerlands, his chosen commanders for the upcoming war with the Ironborn. Kevan sat to his right, while the old Maester sat directly to Tywin's left, passing him each letter as needed.


"His Grace's progress has been slow." Leo Lefford grumbled. His daughter had been present in the Gold Keep during the Ironborn raid, one of Lady Weiss' female companions. The Lord of the Golden Tooth was eager to get revenge on those who would dare try to turn his only child into a saltwife. He was far from a decent commander or fighter and would better serve in the rear in charge of supplies. Still, he was at least aware of that weakness of his, and would serve in the rear, while not happily, but efficiently.


"The Lord Hand's excuse would likely state that King Robert is gathering more men, drawn from Hoster Tully's levies." Damon Marbrant of Ashemark spoke up, one of Tywin's cousins through his Mother. He spoke the truth, yet the entire realm knew better. Robert was only good for fighting and fucking whores. Well, if nothing else, he was going to get his wishes fulfilled in droves when he finally showed up.


Tywin remained silent, allowing his bannermen to bicker amongst themselves as the Maester continued with the letters.


"We have received a raven from Oldtown, penned by Lord Stannis Baratheon." Maester Creylin croaked. He was a Frey bastard if Tywin remembered correctly, and was recently appointed to serve the Rock.


"Excellent." Dramen said, near the far end of the table seated between Lord Roland Crakehall and Ser Harys Swyft, Kevan's goodfather. "He must've met up with the fleet sent by the Redwynes."


The fool was lucky he was Tywin's kin, and for having a daughter as competent as Lady Weiss. Even after witnessing her duel with Ser Amory Lorch, who had been specifically ordered not to show any mercy or hold back, it was hard to believe that she was capable of defeating four Ironborn, and one of Tywin's knights. It almost made him regret having her betrothed to the Redwynes, such skill at killing must be cultivated, even if she happened to be a girl who had only seen seven namedays. Still, who knows? War changes the plans of men all the time. Perhaps a more deserving candidate for her hand would appear? Another Lannister cousin perhaps?


"What does the letter say?" Tywin finally spoke, taking a small sip of Arbor red. Stannie Baratheon was a hard man, unblooded in naval warfare, and had only gained the position as Robert's brother. Still, he was tenacious, any man who was willing to starve himself and his men, while keeping their loyalty, was to be respected.


"Lord Stannis reports that he has met up with the Redwyne and Hightower fleets that will assist in the battle to come. His goodfather, Lord Leyton Hightower, has provided forty war galleys." Maester Creylin started his summary. Tywin would read the details himself once he was alone. "However, the twenty galleys from the Redwyne fleet are undermanned, and have only provided enough men for the rowers."


Those Reach bastards. Tywin clenched his jaw, his cold eyes hard. The Redwynes believe they could cheat him? They would soon learn that a Lannister always paid their debts. Fortunately, he could see an easy solution for this problem, while also allowing some of his subordinates a chance at glory.


"The Master-of-Ships requests that we provide enough fighting men to fill the Redwyne ships." Maester Creylin finished awkwardly. His bannermen immediately started arguing, with even Tygett joining in. Tywin remained silent, aloof, considering his options.


"Stannis Baratheon does not request, he demands!" Lord Antario Jast complained.


"Filthy Reachmen." Ser Stafford Lannister muttered loudly. They were correct, the Redwynes had the strongest fleet in all of the Seven Kingdoms, and for them to provide half-manned ships was an insult, especially after the betrothal Tywin had arranged. Especially since this was a chance at them finally removing their hated foe, the Ironborn, at long last. Tywin made a note that he was going to increase the tariffs any Reach merchantmen would be receiving in the Westerlands in the coming moons.


"We will not send our levies." Tywin spoke up after a few seconds, his eyes scanning each of his bannermen. "My army is needed for the invasion of the Iron Islands, not to fill some Redwyne ships." Lannister pikes and crossbows at sea would be nearly useless without any prior training.


"Lannisport is full of sellswords and hedge knights my Lord." Dramen said, his daughter would be an excellent asset in the future. For those reasons Tywin allowed her to train with the men, and had rumors spread despite his outward order of containing them. Image was everything, and hers would be tied directly with the Lannisters. Tywin paused, considering Dramen's words carefully.


"Coin is easier to replace than men." Kevin added to Lord Dramen's words. Kevin wasn't wrong, and it was better to sacrifice sellswords and hedge knights vs actually valuable levies. Besides, if anyone stood out as particularly competent, well, he could use a replacement, given 'ser' Lorch had proven to be useless.


"Very well." Tywin gave them a single nod of his head. "Lord Dramen, I leave you the task of hiring these sellswords. Casterly Rock shall provide the funds, since you must be busy rebuilding Lannisport." A subtle jab for being the cause of having to rely on the Redwynes and Stannis Baratheon.


Dramen's face flushed red as he bowed his head. "As you command, my Lord." Apparently he was keen to make up for his past errors. Whether or not he would succeed was another matter altogether.


"Gerion shall have command of the sellswords." Tywin continued. His younger brother enjoyed being out on the sea, and only a handful of ships from his fleet had survived, those hidden in the small harbor within Casterly Rock. "He shall drill them, and make them into something worthy of the Lannister name."


They had a war to win, and much to organize before that oaf Robert arrived.









Weiss

A battered and bruised Robert Brax laid on the ground. He stared up at Weiss with wide and confused eyes. She only gave him a smug smirk, having defeated him in ten moves, and that was her holding back. Though, to be fair to the boy, she hadn't humiliated him like she had for Lorch. Robert hadn't even gotten a chance to land a single strike on her, not for lack of trying on his part, as Weiss had used her tourney blade to guide his blows away from her, controlling his movements until she finally tripped him up.


"Anyone else?" Weiss shrugged, turning to look at the gathered group of squires that stared at her with wide eyes alongside Ser Janas. She hadn't even broken a sweat. In the background, Brax still laid there, gasping for breath. Winded and bruised, yet still intact.


A dozen hands shot in the air. Whether out of a masochistic desire to be stepped on, or a desire to avenge their comrade, she was unsure. Be them one or a dozen, she would break them all.


She was a Lannister. Hear Her Roar.


A/N

Sorry this took a bit longer than usual, there were some small details that had to be hammered out. Two surprises are also on the way, so keep an eye out for that.
 
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