A Lion for a Lion- Part 2

AN: As always, thanks for voting in the poll and I hope you enjoy!

“What possessed you to go out into the woods at night with naught but two young girls to accompany you?” Tywin’s voice was hard as steel, his jaw firmly set. She’d seen her father angry before, it was tinged with grief after the death of her mother, but it was rarely ever directed toward her. This was the version of her father that men feared, the one that at only twenty destroyed a rebellion. It was one thing to hear the stories, and another thing entirely to see it for herself.

They were in her father’s private solar. While the tourney was being held in Lannisport, he’d had her brought back to the Rock. He had no intention of reprimanding her where the king could see it. He was sitting behind his desk, staring at her with all the sternness you would expect of a disappointed father.

He hadn’t even allowed her to sit down. Swallowing, it was harder to find her voice than she expected. Her mind worked to come up with some explanation, any explanation, that might satisfy her father.

He spoke again before she managed it, “I’d remind you that I’ve already spoken with Jeyne Farman and Melara Heatherspoon.”

Cersei forced herself not to fidget. She doubted that either of the other two girls had the guile or the fortitude to lie to her father’s face. The potential repercussions for their families would be enough to guarantee their honesty.

Feeling as though she had no other option than to admit defeat, she spoke softly, trying her hardest to sound contrite, “Melara heard rumors from the serving girls about Maggy the Frog, that she could curse men, make them fall in love, even tell the future. I knew you wouldn’t approve but I was curious of my future… of what would become of me and the prince.”

Tywin took a deep breath and was visibly keeping himself in check at that news. She continued more quickly, “Jeyne was against it. She was afraid, but we convinced her to come along. She tried talking us out of it right up until we could see the tent.” Cersei couldn’t help but feel grateful that they’d managed to convince her now. Otherwise, I doubt Melara or I would’ve had the good sense to go and retrieve the guard.

Her father seemed to calm, and she imagined he was pleased that she was telling him the same story that he’d already heard, “Prophecy and portents aren’t to be trusted, Cersei. Believing in such things gives them life. Count yourself lucky that you didn’t find what you were looking for.”

Despite her epiphany earlier that very evening, she couldn’t help but point out, “What of Daenys the Dreamer? Her prophecies saved the Targaryen’s from the Doom, father?”

“And for every Daenys there was an Aerion Brightflame who was driven mad by his visions.” It was true, Targaryen history was filled with great and terrible men in equal measure and more than one claimed to have the dragon dreams. Her father leaned over his desk, “Now tell me what happened next.”

“I…” she furrowed her brow as she thought back on it. Even now it was hard enough to believe, let alone explain, “There was light and heat, so intense that I had to turn away. Melara was hurt. Trees, the ground, everything around burned, and there was a young man standing in the center of it all. It appeared that he’d been untouched by any of it.”

“This heat, it came from where? The sky? The ground?” It was a rare thing to see Tywin Lannister perplexed, but this was one of those instances. Not that I can blame him.

Cersei’s licked her dry lips, “It came from nowhere, father. One second there was nothing there, and then there was blinding heat and the destruction it left behind.”

“And this young man, did you recognize him?”

“No.” Not that Cersei could say she knew many young men outside of Casterly Rock.

“You instructed the guard to bring him back to the Rock. Why?” He didn’t sound upset at her decision.

“Something… impossible happened, and he was at the center of it. If anyone might be capable of telling you what happened, I thought it’d be him.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was all that her father needed to know.

Tywin sat back in his chair, tapping his finger on the arm as he thought. Again resisting that urge to fidget, she waited for her father to speak. When it came, it was far kinder than she thought to hope for, “You were incredibly foolish, Cersei. You could’ve met any number of troubles in the woods at night, some more terrible than others. There must be a punishment.” There was no common born girl that served as her whipping girl to dole out corporal punishment in her stead, and her father wouldn’t harm her in such a way.

“You’re to be confined to the Rock for the remainder of the tourney.” It felt like a blow to the gut. For months, she dreamt of this tourney, of the prince, of watching him win the joust and naming her the Queen of Love and Beauty. Those dreams only felt more real when she heard him sing that first night, or when her Aunt Genna confided that she was to be betrothed, and the announcement was to happen at the final feast.

But she knew her father well enough. No amount of pleading or tears would sway him. He’d made up his mind, and there was no changing it. With tears threatening to spill at the corner of her eyes, she nodded her head, “I understand.”

“Good, now off to bed with you. It’s already much too late.”

She put one foot toward the door but hesitated and turned back, “Father, what of Melara?”

“Maester Hulman attended to her. Her burns were severe and will surely scar, but she’ll live.” He informed her, “You may speak with her tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” There was still one more thing she needed to say though. Walking to his desk, she reached into her dress to pull out the long, thin stick that she’d taken from the young man earlier that night.

As she placed it on the desk, Tywin looked up with a furrowed brow, “What’s this?”

“He was pointing this at us before he collapsed. I thought it might be important, so I made sure to bring it with me. I thought you should have it… for whenever you speak with him.” Cersei was certain that he would be interrogating him just as soon as she left.

Her father took it from her, turning it over in his hands. It was obvious that he was skeptical, and she couldn’t blame him.

“Very well, I’ll keep it with me.” He nodded his head toward the door, “Now off with you.”

“Yes, goodnight, father.” With that she finally turned and left. She was joined by a guard who escorted her back to her rooms. When her head finally hit her pillows, she found sleep hard to come by.

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Harry sputtered awake as cold water covered his head and upper body, “Good you’re awake.” A large, gauntleted hand wrapped around his upper arm, and he was pulled to his feet, “With me.”

Head pounding, his vision blurred but not in the usual way. He felt as though he were about to wretch but managed to keep it down. His throat burned, painfully parched. He croaked out his words through ragged breaths, “Where… where am I?”

The man ignored him as he dragged him out into a corridor. His vision cleared little by little and he found himself in a place not wholly dissimilar to Hogwarts. It appeared to be a castle from what he could see. The corridor was stone, the doors they passed banded in iron. There was an opulence to the place. Everywhere he looked there was filigree and decoration of intricately worked gold, even down to the gilding on the frames of the portraits they passed. Which are most certainly not moving. So just where in Merlin’s name am I?

He managed to find his feet, and while the guard didn’t let go of him, it stopped his shoulder from twinging in pain. With his free arm, he tried searching himself, hoping, despite the unlikelihood, that his wand was still on him.

They went up a set of stairs, passing an arrow slit in the process and Harry realized just how high up they were. It was brief, no more than a moment, but even in the darkness he could see the faint lights of a city far below and the sea just beyond.

Finally, the guard turned and opened the door, almost throwing him into the room before taking up his station within. There was a man sitting behind a desk and another standing just behind and to his right. The one at the desk was in his mid-thirties with a head of golden hair and bushy side whiskers. His eyes were as green as Harry’s own but flecked with gold. There was a stern set to his jaw.

He appeared fit and healthy, well-muscled but not bulky. His clothes were finely tailored. Attired in crimson and gold, there was a roaring lion on his chest. It looked a great deal like the Gryffindor House symbol on his own chest, but it wasn’t scarlet. The man behind him looked similar, close enough that Harry assumed they were brothers.

Authority radiated from the man without him ever saying a word. Pointing in front of the desk, he directed him, “Stand before me.” Defying him seemed like an unwise decision, and so he moved himself, “You wear a golden lion on your chest, and yet I know you’re not one of my house. Who are you?”

“Harry, sir.” He didn’t think his last name would matter much.

“You’re speaking to Lord Tywin Lannister, Warden of the West and Hand of the King. Show him the proper respect.” The correction came from the man behind him.

He already had his suspicions that he was far from Scotland and home, but the confirmation had his eyes widening. How is it that I always find myself in this sort of situation? Deciding that it was best not to insult a man who currently had his life in his hands, he bowed his head, “Apologies, lord, I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

“No, and yet this very night you nearly harmed my daughter and her ladies and burned a considerable portion of the wood south of Lannisport.” He stared at Harry in a way that was entirely disconcerting, as though word, every movement, was being weighed in the balance, “The story of your arrival there is outlandish as she tells it to me. And yet, I’ve never known her to be a one for flights of fancy.”

There were only vague memories of his arrival, the smell of soot, the heat of fire, two girls with fear in their eyes and one quite clearly in pain, but he remembered everything that happened before that. There was no way of knowing just how mad the explanation was going to sound though.

For all he knew, dragons were commonplace, “There was a dragon… and its fire.” He could still remember the moment of acceptance and the expectation of death, “Then there was blinding pain that felt like it was going to rip my head open. And when I opened my eyes again, I was there, in the forest where your daughter found me.”

The man behind Tywin Lannister guffawed, “A dragon… there’ve been no dragons for nearly a hundred years. He’s mad.”

“And yet, all three girls tell the same story. He appeared in the wood from nowhere, Kevan.” Tywin kept his eyes fixed firmly on Harry, “Where are you from?

Whether he said Hogwarts, or Surrey, or London, none of it would mean anything to this man. His story was already incredible enough, there was no use making it any worse. He decided to lie, “I… I can’t quite remember, lord. Everything has been quite fuzzy since… the dragon.”

It was hard to know whether he believed that or not, but he didn’t push the point any further, “You speak well,” it seemed an odd segue to Harry, “as though you come from nobility.”

The Potter Family was one of the oldest magical families in Britain, and did have noble status within the Wizengamot, but his upbringing had been a far cry from noble. Harry thought it best not to respond and waited for the actual question, “Do you read and write as well?”

“Yes, lord.”

Pushing a book across his desk, he directed him, “Read it.”

Harry’s word alone wasn’t enough to convince him. Peering at the pages, he read off, “Aegon the Conqueror landed his invasion force at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush where he constructed the Aegonfort. Houses Rosby and Stokeworth surrendered to Visenya upon Vhagar. The first battle was one against Houses Darklyn and Mooton.” None of the names meant anything to him, but he was clearly reading some small snippet of history from this kingdom he’d found himself in.

“That’s enough.” Tywin pulled the book back, “And you know your numbers as well I take it.” He assumed that he meant basic arithmetic and nodded his head. He didn’t require a demonstration of that particular skill. He wasn’t sure why these questions mattered, but thought it would be foolish not to answer them. He could only imagine he was searching out any clue that might tell him who Harry was or where he was from. Not that he’s going to have any luck.

The lord frowned at him, “What to do with you?” He didn’t think this was a man prone to indecision, “You harmed a noble lady. In most cases a punishment would be necessary. A few weeks in a cell at the least. If you were noble perhaps a measure of gold to paid in restitution.  But if your story is to be believed, it was pure happenstance that the accident occurred.” Harry didn’t like the sound of imprisonment one bit but thought it wiser to keep his mouth shut for the time being.

He reached to his right and pulled out a drawer of the desk. As he brought it back up, he was holding something that brought Harry genuine elation. My wand. Thank Merlin!

“My daughter tells me that you were holding this on your arrival. That you pointed it at her. I can’t help but think you wouldn’t do that unless it were capable of something.” He took it in both hands and flexed it.

Harry swallowed as his hand instinctively fisted at his side. It didn’t escape Tywin’s notice, “It’s important to you, why?”

If he could get his wand, he could get out of there. Two spells is all it would take. But another voice spoke up, one that sounded familiar and yet not. And go where? This isn’t your home. There’s no Hogwarts to run back to. Harm him in any way and how many will be looking for you. This man has wealth, power and the will to use both… gain him as an ally and you have somewhere where you’re fed, can lay your head, and plan for what comes next.

It was true, he was in a foreign place with no coin to his name. It meant a life of skulking and stealing that would surely be made easier by his magic, but wasn’t appealing in the slightest.

His hesitation didn’t go unnoticed, “Well, speak up man!” Kevan commanded from behind.

Reaching a decision, Harry looked Tywin in the eye, “It’s a wand, lord. With it, I can perform great feats of magic.” That was a slight exaggeration of his own ability, but he was hoping that such things weren’t commonplace here. They did have dragons at some point, after all.

Kevan’s chortle was enough to give him hope though, “Tywin, I say again, he’s mad.”

“Perhaps, he is, but there are plenty of stories of magic in the far east, in Qarth and Asshai.” Tywin tapped his finger along the holly wand, “So perhaps, he’s telling the truth. It’s easy enough thing to find out for ourselves.”  Then he placed the wand on his desk and gestured to it, “Take it and show me.”

Taking up his wand, he felt the familiar warmth. Just having it in his hand made him feel safer, more secure. Stepping back, he pointed his wand at the book on the desk, “Accio.” It shot straight to him and  Harry had to reach up to keep it from barreling into his chest.

It was a simple piece of magic, but he felt that it proved his point. Tywin seemed neither awestruck nor impressed, instead he asked, “Is that all?”

“No, there’s much more.” He pointed his wand at the book once again and incanted, “Geminia.” The Doubling Charm hit the book and suddenly there were two, identical in size and styling, sitting in his hand. Carrying them over to the desk, he placed them down and opened them to the first page to show that the words had been duplicated as well. Magical publishers placed charms on their books to avoid that sort of thing, but he wasn’t going to run into that problem here.

“Interesting, and the replica is as durable as the original?”

“No, it will decay and deteriorate more quickly, but it can be done more than once.”  Tywin hummed to himself, but that clearly detracted from the effect.

These were simple spells of utility that certainly had their uses but didn’t have the desired effect. Deciding to take a chance, he asked, “Could you call your guard in, lord. There are spells designed for battle, and I wouldn’t presume to demonstrate them on either of you.”

That intrigued him, Tywin called out, “Mattis, join us.” The guard entered and stood at attention before the desk, “Draw your sword, you’re about to fight this young man.” Mattis understandably looked confused. His lord’s solar wasn’t a place he ever expected to draw his sword, but he did as he was commanded. Standing across from Harry, Tywin commanded, “Attack him.”

It spoke volumes of the fear and respect that Tywin commanded that the guard didn’t question him for one second, not even in the face of a seemingly unarmed opponent. Or it speaks of this man’s cruelty, but I’ll be generous.  He charge and as he drew nearer, Harry brought his wand up and loudly cast, “Expelliarmus.” The spell hit him square in the chest and sent him flying backward as his sword shot from his hand and smacked the stone wall behind him. Even Harry was surprised by the raw power of the spell, but he didn’t let it show.

Though Mattis was clearly shocked by the bit of magic, it didn’t stop him from charging forward a second time with his gauntleted fist raised, “Aguamenti.” Water poured from his wand and covered the floor. That didn’t stop him but a quick, “Glacius” turned the water to ice, and he went sliding across the floor. Harry deftly side stepped and let him bang his head against the opposite wall. As he struggled to his feet, Harry flicked his wand one last time, “Stupefy.”  He crumpled to the ground unconscious. Flicking his wand, he removed the conjured water in an instant. He doubted that he just fought the most skilled swordsman in the world but wagered that he put on a good showing regardless.

Though it was only Tywin’s opinion that mattered. His face was unreadable, “Impressive.”

“Thank you, lord.”

“The last… spell that you cast.” He still seemed skeptical of his magic, but it was difficult to deny what happened right in front of his eyes, “It left Mattis unconscious. Could you have cast it first?”

“Yes.”

“Then you should have. When facing an opponent finishing things quickly and efficiently is always the best course of action.” It sounded almost like he was trying to teach Harry a lesson.

“True, but sometimes a point needs to be made.” That saw a slight turn to Tywin’s lips, though he didn’t smile. Harry doubted that happened very often, “One spell alone wouldn’t have painted the whole picture.”

“True, Harry, very true.” He shook his head, “This certainly lends credence to the stories I’ve heard, but it brings me no closer to knowing what should be done with you.”

Make him an offer. Leverage the idea of your magic in whatever way necessary. Trying not to sound as nervous as he felt, he said, “Lord Tywin, I think you understand that I’m far from home with nothing but my wand and my magic to my name.” He was sure those two things could take him a long way if he wanted them too, but he was far from a fully trained wizard.

“That much is obvious, yes.”

“And so, I have a proposition.” He doubted that many people were quite so bold in the face of this man, but he wasn’t in Gryffindor for nothing, “I ask only for a place to sleep and food to fill my stomach. In return, you have my magic and anything else I can offer.” He could read and write as well, after all.

“What makes you think I have need of your magic?” The fact he wasn’t denied outright was a good sign.

“I doubt the Warden of the West and Hand of the King is a man without enemies. Magic could be another proverbially… arrow in your quiver should the need for it ever arise. What you’ve seen here tonight isn’t everything I have to offer. I’m certain that there’s some way I can be of use to you if you let me.”

Tywin leaned back in his chair, one hand going to his chin as the other tapped against the arm. When he finally made a decision, he spoke to his brother, “Are there any free beds amongst the serving quarters, Kevan?”

“There are, yes.” His earlier disbelief was no longer there. He was looking at Harry entirely differently now.

Tywin nodded and gestured to the unconscious Mattis, “Wake him.”

“Reenervate.”  Without looking, he pointed his wand and the colorless spell woke him in an instant. Mattis scrambled to his feet, ready to follow through on his lord’s last orders.

“Mattis,” Tywin’s stern voice stopped him before he could reach Harry, “escort Harry down to the servants’ quarter. We’ll see him put to work on the morrow.” The guard scowled but nodded obediently.

Gathering his sword, he returned to Harry and tersely commanded, “Follow me.”

“See that he’s given a mirror and bowl of water so he can clean himself up as well.” Those were the last words that Tywin said before they left him and his brother behind.

The walk through the castle was silent. They passed a handful of guards on their way who gave their comrade odd looks but didn’t stop them. The servants’ quarter was a separate building from the enormity of the main keep. It was well out of the way and sat along one of the outer walls. There were at least forty people there by Harry’s reckoning, most of them asleep though the light from the moon outside kept it from pitch darkness.

While far from extravagant, it was clean and warm. That’s good enough for the time being. Mattis escorted him to the far end where there was an open cot, “Here.”

He sat down without argument. It was far from the comfort of a Hogwart’s mattress but was still better than where he slept under the cupboard as a boy. The guard went to the far side of the room and retrieved a small basin and filled it with water and grabbed a mirror as he was told. Handing them to Harry, he bit out, “Clean yourself up. But be quick about it.”

It was only when he looked into the dirty mirror that he saw the line of blood that ran down his face from his scar all the way down to the hollow of his neck.  Well, that’s never happened before. Brilliant, just something else that I need to worry about.

Wiping it away, he handed them back to Mattis before the guard left him alone. He could feel curious eyes on him, but he ignored them. Adrenaline gave way to exhaustion, and within just a few seconds of his head hitting the pillow, he fell into a dreamless sleep.

AN: So, Harry has met Tywin and is now a part of his household in a small way. This is gonna have a similar sort of burn to 'Taming a Dragon' or 'Scourge of the Heathen'. There needs to be some character development to get to that point, but I think it started with Cersei never hearing the prophecy.

Thanks for reading!