A father to three, yet now it seems,
That Tywin would claim another,
A young girl who has noble dreams,
That the old man will not smother.
A Lannister Lord, not quite so cold,
As many have proclaimed,
To share his secrets never told,
With a girl so falsely named.
A father figure here is shown,
So truly unexpected,
A brilliant mind, already known,
Yet kindness, too, reflected.
Two keen minds in a single room,
One bordering on danger,
For around her still the shadows loom,
One slip, she’ll meet the stranger.
For Tywin seems now to suspect,
She is not who she claims,
No mason’s daughter could reflect,
On the history she names.
Yet still his fondness seems to grow,
Not merciless, as yet,
He does not yet wish for her to go,
So keeps her as his pet.
Alas, his dark side may soon show,
No remorse, such is his fame,
If Lord Tywin should come to know,
Poor Arya’s real name.