Disclaimer: GOT belongs to George R. R. Martin, I own nothing. Lines that seem like they're from the show/book, are.

A/N: This whole story was inspired by A Wolf Amongst Lions by Kallypso. Other works have also been quoted/adapted for parts of this story, and they will be referenced.

What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger

Chapter 1

After all that she endured to escape King's Landing Arya Stark found herself right back where she started; at the mercy of the Lannisters. She'd seen the dirty, envious glares she received when Lord Tywin had taken her from the hell pit of prisoners and named her his new cupbearer. She knew she should consider herself lucky to be saved from whatever horrors the rest of the lot had been subjected to, but in her mind this was the worst thing that could have happened.

Now she was right under the enemy's nose. She had to bow and serve this evil monster who had done awful things to her family. Arya remembered her father once saying he'd sooner entrust a child to a pit viper than to Tywin Lannister. But since being on the road, she had learned to curb some of her more rash tendencies, if only to survive. By no means was the wolf gone, merely hidden, biding its time. She would play this role for now.

As Tywin Lannister's cupbearer Arya became privy to things she'd only dreamed of. The war council proved to be very educational, and by far the most entertaining. Listening to him rage and berate his advisors like children gave Arya great satisfaction. Even she, who was by no means trained on warfare, would have been able to come up with better ideas than those old farts. Of course, Lord Tywin picked up on her smirks, and smug air. When he confronted her, instead of apologizing she simply said,

"I see now I was mistaken in thinking you were losing this war due to the brilliance of your opponent." At her response he let out a short bark of laughter.

"You're a sharp thing, aren't you? Go on." He said, indicating her dismissal. To her surprise, she found that his reaction pleased her, and she strived to do it again.

As the weeks wore on, and the battles continued her view of Tywin Lannister began to shift. Her hatred slowly turned into begrudging respect for the man. He was neither humble, nor arrogant; simply confident. And, as much as she hated each and every decision he made against Robb, they were driven by pragmatism, and she had to admit she would have done the same in his position.

It seemed that he, too, sought her out, because he started keeping her behind after after all his generals had been dismissed. He would ask for her thoughts on one general or another, depending on who had made themselves a fool that day. Arya now looked forward to these moments with him. He let her speak her mind, and she made it a game to see how many times she could get him to break his stoic expression. She hadn't realized until this point that she missed having someone to talk to; though she tried not to dwell too long on the fact that he was still an enemy.

If anyone else had been privy to their conversations they would have sworn he was an imposter. Tywin Lannister was known as a formidable lord who left no room for defiance or incompetence. Letting a lowly servant talk back to him was unthinkable. And yet he did. He did not know why he allowed her such freedoms, but her words had become a welcome respite from the ineptitude of his bannermen.

Besides, she was no servant, of that he was certain. Her knowledge of Westerosi history, her mannerisms, and the way she carried herself around the most noble of his men indicated that she was high born. Moreover, she possessed physical features that were distinctly of Northern descent. Her dark eyes, and dark hair were a striking contrast against her ivory skin. He had briefly entertained the idea of trying to use her in the war, but ultimately figured it would be unlikely for Robb Stark to be moved by someone's cousin from one of the lesser houses.

One afternoon, he lost his patience much sooner than usual. He had been up all night strategizing with his commanders, and yet they were no closer to even a semblance of a plan. Time was not on their side, but the war council continued to bombard him with foolish suggestions.

"We cannot wait for him to make a mistake, because he won't." He finally snapped.

"He is winning battle after battle, and his support grows. You are all treating him like the fool you want him to be, rather than the commander he's proved himself to be." Tywin took his time to glare at every single person sitting at the table.

"Girl." He barked.

"You're obviously from the North. Tell me, what do they say about Robb Stark in the North?" He had never spoken directly to her during his council, but she quietly stepped forward and raised her head.

"They say he rides into battle on the back of a direwolf. They say he can turn into a wolf himself if he wants. They say he can't be killed." Thinking about her brother caused a small smile to appear.

"And do you believe them?" Tywin asked.

"No, my lord." Arya met his gaze.

"Anyone can be killed." The slight quirk of his mouth was gone in an instant; the only indication he was amused to begin with. She quickly dropped her gaze and went back to work, angrily berating herself. Even though he allowed her more liberties than the average servant, it was not wise to forget who she was dealing with. As the meeting continued, she hoped that he'd forget her foolish remark. Arya made an effort to stick to the shadows, and planned to slip out with the last of his generals, but Lord Tywin had other plans.

"Not you, girl." She stopped in her tracks, and turned slowly towards him. He was going to punish her for stepping out of line. He waited until she was in front of him.

"Anyone can be killed?" She kept her head down.

"And how would you kill Robb Stark, girl?" Arya looked up, startled. That was not what he was supposed to say. Before she had time to think, words spilled out of her mouth as if they had been waiting for the chance.

"The one who passes the sentence should swing the sword." Those were the words she'd heard her father say a thousand times. If Arya wanted to kill someone, she'd opt to run them through with a sword herself. But Tywin didn't react to her words, as if waiting for her to elaborate.

"But in terms of warfare, you said you cannot wait for him to make a mistake." She continued.

"So you've got to lead him to one. The death of pragmatism is emotion. Play to that weakness. He may be gifted on the battlefield, but he's still green when it comes to politics. Offer his sister in return for his fealty to the crown."

"That's an interesting notion." He said thoughtfully.

"Go now." Arya cursed herself as she left. Lord Tywin had an uncanny talent for getting her to talk. She had essentially betrayed her brother, and she felt the guilt rise up within her. The only assurance she had was that it was simply another one of his games, nothing more. The Hand of the King would never take military advice from his cupbearer— and a girl no less.

The one who passes the sentence should swing the sword.

Her words echoed in his mind long after he'd dismissed her. They were oddly familiar to him, but he had no idea where he'd heard them before. And yet, he had an inkling those words might tell him something about who his cupbearer really was. It was a rather noble notion after all. He had also noticed she had been rather loose lipped when he'd questioned her earlier. Maybe, if he played his cards right, he'd be able to get the information out of her.

As for her ideas about Robb Stark, he was actually quite impressed. It was certainly better than anything his generals had come up with. If only she had been a Lannister; he would have enjoyed cultivating her sharp mind. As he thought about her suggestion, he nodded to himself. The beginnings of a plan were taking shape. He pulled out a quill and parchment. First, he needed the two Stark girls delivered from King's Landing.

While his letter made its way to King's Landing, he found himself testing the girl more and more, to pass the time. He first asked her where she was from. She gave a solid lie about being from Barrowton, even remembering their house and sigil. Then he quizzed her on the neighboring towns, to which she also answered correctly; yet more evidence that she was of noble birth. What lowborn, unworldly girl would know the house and sigil of other places?

Arya, too, was growing more comfortable around Lord Tywin. She made less of an effort to hide her disdain at his generals during their meetings, and he even asked her opinion in front of them more than once. She had become quite satisfied with her standing. However, her increased comfortability also caused her to lower her guard. And in enemy territory, one was never safe.

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