Hearing his sentence, Tywin was unsurprised.
Indeed, even if Robert had, in a moment of rage, ordered his head struck from his shoulders, Tywin would have been prepared for it.
The true reason he had been brought all the way from the battlefield to King's Landing—aside from separating the leader from his host to prevent mishaps—was to make his fate public, an example to all.
Thus, the announcement of his punishment here before the assembled court was meant for every man and woman present in the throne room to see.
The triumphal procession had been Robert's declaration to his people of the king's victory, his glory, his unshaken power.
The once-mighty House Lannister had fallen; Tywin Lannister stood as his prisoner, his spoil of war.
And now, before the gathered nobles, Robert proclaimed another message: that even the strongest house in the realm would meet ruin should it stand against the Iron Throne, and would end with nothing.
Seeing that his punishment remained unchanged—that he would still be sent to the Wall to don the black and join the Night's Watch—Tywin's lips seemed to twitch upward, as though he almost wished to smile.
But he pressed it down at once.
His gaze drifted from King Robert to the Hand of the King, Lord Eddard Stark, who had, in a sense, secured this punishment for him.
A faint trace of scorn passed through his eyes as they swept over the Hand's face.
Then his gaze turned toward the Master of Coin, Kal Stone, seated beside the Hand.
Looking at the man who sat taller than the Hand even while at rest, Tywin Lannister's pale green eyes, flecked with gold, deepened.
As though struck by some thought, his expression darkened, a glimmer of pain crossing his features.
Quietly clenching his teeth, Tywin withdrew his gaze from Kal and turned away in silence.
Then his eyes fell upon the Hand's family standing in the foremost row of the throne room.
Sansa glared at Tywin, her face full of indignation.
Arya cast him a sharp, disdainful glance before turning her head aside.
But before Tywin's calm, unfathomable gaze—like a still, bottomless pool—Bran felt only fear.
The instant Tywin's gaze fell upon him, Bran could not hold back a startled cry and threw himself behind his mother, Catelyn Stark, hiding beneath the folds of her gown.
He did not want to meet Tywin Lannister's eyes.
"Bran, what is it?"
Catelyn, who had already been displeased by Tywin's gaze upon her family, was momentarily taken aback by her son's sudden reaction. She grasped the trembling Bran tightly and whispered to him.
"I'm scared… there's blood… Robb is bleeding… Grey Wind's head is on his shoulders—he's become a monster… and Winterfell… there's blood everywhere…"
Hearing her son's words, Catelyn suddenly remembered what Bran had been telling her lately.
Ever since that fall from the broken tower, though he had been saved by the king's bastard, Kal Stone, and escaped without injury, he had nonetheless suffered a fright.
And ever since, he had grown a little strange.
He no longer climbed the towers, but from time to time he would speak of ravens, crypts, or bones.
Because of this, Catelyn had gone to Maester Luwin, hoping he could examine Bran's condition and prepare some calming draughts.
But Luwin had tried, to little effect.
Bran was still troubled by those strange dreams.
Luwin could only tell her that the boy had indeed been deeply frightened, and that, having heard the old nurse's tales, he had unconsciously woven those images into his dreams.
So, when the war ended, and Eddard returned safely to King's Landing as Hand of the King, inviting the children to come as well, Catelyn decided to accompany them.
She had brought Bran along deliberately, hoping to take him away from Winterfell—the place that had frightened him—and let him rest and recover in the warmth of the South.
Winterfell was now under Robb's care after his return from the war, with Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik Cassel remaining there to assist him.
Thus, all the younger children, even little Rickon, had come with her to King's Landing.
They had sailed from White Harbor, journeying southward until they reached the capital.
But during the two days since their arrival, Bran had begun to speak again of his dreams—dreams in which Robb was slain.
He said that Grey Wind's head had been sewn onto Robb's body, his corpse hung from the gates of Winterfell, drenched in blood.
Beneath him lay the bodies of many Northmen, piled together, all soaked in the blood dripping from Robb.
Snowflakes drifted through the sky, freezing the dreadful scene before him.
Within the great hall of Winterfell, obscured by shadow, a faint golden light glimmered—like the pained roar of a wounded beast.
Bran did not understand, only that he was afraid.
In his dream, the raven merely stared at him—all three of its eyes fixed upon him—yet said not a single word.
Regarding what Bran had said, Catelyn was naturally worried.
So the first thing she did was to find her husband and send several letters to Winterfell.
But the Seven Kingdoms were vast, and the North was far away.
Even with ravens carrying the messages, it would still take quite some time.
As for Bran's dream, Eddard Stark merely comforted his wife.
After all, what could possibly happen in the North?
That desolate place—frozen, vast, and sparsely populated.
Besides, the realm had just finished a victorious war. His northern host had only just withdrawn, and the bannermen's men-at-arms were all returning to their own keeps.
And in this war, the North could be said to have been the greatest contributor.
Although it seemed that tens of thousands of them had simply marched back and forth accomplishing little, even being extorted by House Frey at Riverrun—
That still could not deny the North's contribution to the Iron Throne.
After all, without that host continuously pursuing Tywin Lannister, could Kal Stone alone have slaughtered the tens of thousands of Westermen under Tywin's command?
Consoled by her husband, Catelyn—whose heart still felt uneasy after hearing Bran's account—also came to realize that yes, what could possibly happen to Robb, safe and sound in Winterfell?
What Bran spoke of was nothing more than the rambling of a frightened child.
Yet when she thought of the trauma Bran had suffered, Catelyn became all the more resolved to stay with the child in King's Landing until his fear was healed—
Even if it took years, or more than ten years.
However—at that thought, Catelyn suddenly remembered the marriage pact her husband Eddard Stark had signed with House Frey during this war.
Could she perhaps make use of Bran's condition to persuade that old fox Walder Frey to annul Bran's betrothal with one of the Frey girls?
Having thought of this, Catelyn felt she ought to discuss the matter properly with her beloved Ned.
As she stroked Bran's hair and held him in her arms, the boy—once frightened and uneasy—gradually calmed down and regained his composure.
And Bran's words caused no ripple.
The nobles around the Hand's family merely smiled at the child, thinking he had simply had a nightmare from being so far from home.
After all, who had not dreamed as a child of being chased by something terrifying?
So no one paid much heed to Bran's words; they just smiled and let them pass.
Soon, everyone's attention shifted toward the throne at the front.
The arrival of Tywin Lannister served as a turning point. After the King delivered his final judgment upon him, the true curtain of this royal audience was finally lifted.
Tywin was once again taken away. In a few days, someone would escort him to the Wall in the North—to become an honorable and "glorious" man of the Night's Watch.
Perhaps when this former Lord of Casterly Rock stood in the Sept—or before a heart tree—to swear the vows of the Watch, his voice would ring louder than most.
With his departure, the atmosphere in the throne hall grew ever more fervent.
People all realized what would come next.
And sure enough, as King Robert gave his signal, the list of rewards—already discussed at the Small Council and personally confirmed by the King—was handed over from the Hand of the King to the chamberlain standing before the throne.
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