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His is the Song of Ice and Fire

Tywin

"He ain't human m'lord," the farmer said, eyes planted firmly towards the ground.

The smallfolk did that a lot. If a man’s crops grew early, he was a wizard, if a woman was nearby when milk went sour, she was a witch. They confused tricks with magic, skill with wizardry; and saw ghosts and monsters hiding behind every corner. The farmer was wrong. There was no such thing as magic.

Then why are you here? A small voice in Tywin’s mind asked. He shook it away.

“Look at me.” The farmers head rose, slowly. That was good. He was afraid. That meant he wouldn’t lie. “How do you know him?”

The farmer gulped. “We, that is, my brother, he first met him in the forest. We were looking for a cow that went missing. He, the healer that is, he was sitting naked in the grass. It was queer m’lord. My brother came back to bring me, and we went out to see him.”

“When did you find out he was a healer?”

“When – when he healed my wife m’lord.”

Tywin breathed sharply. There it is. “Explain.”

“She was sick m’lord. Fever, after the baby. He’d been healing before then, setting bones, fixing up snake bites; we asked if he could do anything to help. He went into my house, stayed there for about an hour, and then he left. When I went back in, she was awake. Weak, tired, but the fever was gone, and she weren’t sick no more.”

Tywin felt the blood rush through his body. The farmer wasn’t lying. “Where can I find this healer?”

The farmer told him. Tywin turned, climbed on top of his horse, and tossed the farmer a gold coin. “For your trouble.” He threw another. "For your silence."

He left.

Tywin felt his brothers’ gazes’ burn into him as he rode. Kevan had never approved, but he was dutiful and said nothing, Tyg thought he had gone mad; and Gerion, who knew what he thought. He’d simply japed about serious Tywin seeking a woodswitch, but had come along without further comment.
The Lannisters Four. Tywin felt odd, no, absurd. That was the word. He felt like a knight in some childs story, delving into the forest to seek a mystical power. The woods looked like they belonged in a story too, dark, damp, littered with dead leaves and rotting branches. He and his brothers rode through the woods, surrounded by silence.

Perhaps they’ll write a song about us.

Tywin was no knight. Tyg, Gerion and Kevan were. Tyg was the best sword in the Westerlands, and there were few men more loyal than Kevan in the seven Kingdoms. Tywin though? Tywin was a man who rebuilt a dynasty, a practical man who did was necessary; who didn’t succumb to foolishness.

So why am I here?

The Lannister boys rode through the woods, surrounded by silence.
“We should’ve brought guards.” Tywin looked up, startled. Kevan had come closer than he’d thought, and his brother wore a worried expression on his face. “I don’t like the look of these woods.”

Tywin snorted. “Afraid of the autumn woods Kevan? That’s not like you.”

“Dressed as we are, brother? I have a right to be. We’re cloaked in full Lannister garb, gold brooches, good steel, fast horses, plus, in that last tavern the landlords daughter spoke of bandits in the woods.”

“If we didn't look as such we wouldn't be respected, and we couldn’t bring the guards.”

“Why not?”

“Oh yes, let’s bring my household guard. Let’s let them see me ride off into the woods to find a witch; so that every man in the Seven Kingdoms can know that the great Tywin of House Lannister has completely lost his sanity. That sounds like an excellent idea brother.” Tywin hadn’t raised his voice once during this outburst. He’d learned a long time ago how to rebuke without shouting.

Kevan kept looking at him. His expression had changed from wary, to concerned. “Brother, we’re worried about you. The maester said, we just have to be patient.”

“That’s not what they said.”

“If we return then for all we know –“

“That’s not what they said!” Tywin raised his voice that time. “What he said was: ‘there is nothing I can do.’ Do you expect me just to accept that?”

Tyg spoke up now. “Tywin, I love Joanna like a sister. We all do. But you know that this won’t work. This man is at best using cures the maesters found out about a long time ago; and at worst he’s a fraud.”

“Actually,” Gerion interrupted, “at worst he’s insane. Insane is worse than fraud, frauds can be reasoned with.”

“We are only saying this because we love you Tywin. We should turn back. If we find him, and he can’t save her, that will only make this ordeal worse.” Kevan held his hand out.

Tywin looked at his brothers’ hand. Then he looked at each of his brothers, Kevan first, then Tyg, then Gerion. The youngest was the first to understand.

“Or,” Gerion said, “we could keep moving into the dark and dangerous forest in order to search for the supposedly magical madman. That’s the second option.”

Tywin moved his horse forward without saying a word.

“Second option it is.” Gerion muttered.

They rode for about an hour. The sun started to set; its light fell through layers of leaves and broken branches before resting on the dark brown ground. With the evening wind came the songs of the wild, wolves and deer, birds and snake.

Tywin smelled smoke. Small amounts at first, a hint here, a wisp there, but as he rode further along the path he smelled the fire, the scent of coke; he heard the clanging of metal and the roar of the billows. Someone had built a forge in the forest, his healer, if the farmer could be believed.

Cold winds started rising. The light of the sunset mixed with the light of the moonrise, and shadows danced on the floor.

“Turn back.”

“For the last time Kevan,” Tywin said, “we are not turning back.” Kevan stared at him, frowning. “What now?” Tywin asked.

Kevan mouth hung open, as if the words wouldn’t come. “I, I didn’t say anything brother. None of us did.”

Tywin looked at each of his brothers; they all stared at him, eyes, wide open. He looked side to side and saw nothing. He heard only the rustling of the trees, the clanging of metal and the roar of the billows.

“Come on,” he said, “he can’t be much farther, not when he’s making all that noise.”

But the further they went, the less they saw. The wind blew harder and harder, and when the night came the mist started to rise.

“Stay close!” Tywin shouted, “We don’t want to lose each other.”

His brothers were shadows now, red and gold slivers, hidden by the evening fog.

“Turn back.”

He ignored the voice this time. He had no time for it. Whether the illusion of a demon or a sign of his own fractured mind; he had no time for it. His wife was dying, that was all that mattered.

“There is nothing for you here.”

The mist looked almost solid in places; a wall of white with leaves and shadows leaking through the cracks.

“Brother!” he heard Kevan cry, “There are creatures in the mist!”

He heard someone draw a sword. He heard the whinny of a horse, and his brother cry as he fell down.

“Kevan!” he shouted, but there was no answer.

“Tyg!” he cried, but there was no response.

“Gerion!” he pleaded, but there was only silence.

The mist disappeared. He looked left, and right, he turned his horse all the way around, but only trees and moss received him.

He drew his sword, slowly. The woods were silent. He dismounted his horse. He heard something snap behind him, and span around suddenly; raising the hilt of his sword.

Iron greeted him. A large iron gate with a ring of steel through a fox’s mouth for its handle. He reached forward, his hands shaking, and knocked three times. The first thud echoed loudly, shaking his teeth. The second sent tremors through the ground and with the third came only a whisper.

“Turn back.”

Tywin

He breathed in deeply.

There is no blood on the floor. There were only tracks. Three grooves in the dirt where his brothers had been dragged away. The conclusion had to be that his brothers weren't dead; the healer, or his servants must have taken them away.

And then?. Tywin shook his head. His brothers were alive. They wouldn't be taken away just to be killed, not when the ambush had worked perfectly. Killing them now would've been the smart thing, only idiots gloated.

So what now? He had two options: Follow his brothers tracks, or enter. The voice had said: Turn back. If his brothers were taken away, it must be so that he would run to find them. But that could take hours, days even. No, trying to find them wasn't an option.

He could stay. They would eventually come back to the trail, and unless the mist came back up, or there was some other trick, they'd reach the gate again as well. But that might take hours, or days, and he hadn't come here without a task. The Healer had been willing to help that peasant from the village, and close to a hundred others if the rumours were true; he would help the Warden of the West. And if Tywin found the Healer, he'd find his brothers as well.

The only option was to enter.

The door was thick wood. He wouldn't kick it down. He tried looking for some trick to open it. There was no keyhole, nor any handle or bar lock; there was only the handle on the door, a fox's mouth with an iron ring through it.

He grabbed the handle and and twisted it. The mouth turned. He twisted harder, and the fox's head turned on its side. There was a sound like an intake of breath, and the door opened.

Standing in front of him, roughly three feet away, was a small peasant girl, perhaps ten years of age, holding a slab of raw meat in one hand, and a long knife in the other.

"Hello." she said.

"Hello." he replied.

She scratched at her nose with the knife. They stood there, in silence for a while. Her scratching, and Tywin twitching over hand sword.

"So. You coming in?"

Tywin looked around. Everything behind the girl was covered in fog. "What waits beyond if I do?"

She shrugged. "Dunno. It's different for everyone. The ways aren't always the same." She looked up at him. "You don't have to. He's the one who told me to come check who was at the door. I've done it now, I'm going back." She turned around.

"Wait!" Tywin called. "Who's He?"

She smiled. "There's only one Him. Just like there's only one me, and only one you. Tywin."

And with that, she disappeared into the fog.

Another trick. One that knows my name. He took his horse his hand, and stepped into the fog.

He started to hear things in the distance; metallic clanking, grass rustling in the wind. He smelled copper, tasted it in the back of the throat, the way you taste iron in a rusted fork. Or blood. He heard horses whinnying and men screaming and the quiet whistle of an arrow flying past ones ear.

“It’s called battle.” A man said, appearing to his side. Tywin turned to face him, saying nothing. The old man was sitting next to a fire, poking it with his sword. Tywin wasn’t concerned anymore. It was another trick, some illusion meant to scare him away.

“I’m not leaving.” Tywin said.
The man smiled. “’Course you aren’t. The great Lord Tywin never takes half measures.” He gestured. “You want to take a seat by my fire?”

Tywin ignored him, and started walking.

“You won’t get far!” the man called. “It’s like she said. The ways aren’t always the same. I know the trick. I can get you to him.”

Tywin frowned at him. “And how do I know you aren’t a trick?”

He grinned and stuck out his hand. Tywin reached out, tentatively. The man’s hand was solid.

“See.” He said, grinning. “I’m no trick. Got some good food here if you want it?”

Tywin shook his head. “You said you know the way?”

The man nodded. “He brought me here. Told me to send any travellers to him, them that wanted to see and weren’t looking to steal.”

“You left your village to sit in the dirt and play highwayman?” Tywin said, sitting opposite the man, “Some healer he must be, to inspire such loyalty.”

The man snorted. “I didn’t leave ‘cause of him. I left ‘cause of war.”

“War affects us all.” Tywin said. “I need to find him. I’m not here to steal. I need my brothers back. I need him to heal someone.”

The man said nothing. He just kept stoking his fire.

“If you send me to him, I’ll reward you handsomely. Lannisters pay their debts.”

“I know all about Lannisters and their debts m’lord.” He stared at Tywin then. “We’ve met before you know. You rode in front of us before the battle. Said how brave we were. Said our names would live forever in glory.” His hair started to thin. “Do you think my brothers care? Do you think they care about my glory?” His skin started to shrink. “And when I got rode down for running, like any sane man would, you think they cared, that it was done so you could pay your fucking debts?”

He swung his sword then. Tywin ducked back, and the sword only opened a shallow cut in his neck.

“You fucking High Lords. Ever since He brought me back I’ve been hoping you’d come here.” He stood, a thin grey monster wrapped in fur, a long iron sword at his side. “Time to die, m’lord.”

Tywin drew his sword, parrying blows as they came. The abomination hit hard, each blow hammering at his steel, sending tremors through his wrist and up to his shoulder. He twisted to the side as the abomination attempted to cut upwards through his neck; then lashed out in retaliation, his sword gouging through the creatures stomach. Only air and dust spilled out.

It smiled. “Already dead. Time for you to join me.”

Tywin dropped his sword.

It laughed. “Scared to death already, how can you –”

Tywin jumped forward, grabbing the creature by the waist and pulling it down. He grabbed the back of its head and pushed it into the fire. The abomination screamed something that tugged a smile to his cheeks.

“Should’ve killed me when you head the chance.” He said, shoving it’s head further into the embers. “Where is the way!” he yelled, pulling its head out of the fire. He got only screams in response. He shoved its hand into the fire, and then pulled it out again. “Which fucking way?”

Something appeared in the fog, first a black shadow, and then the fog parted like curtains. A narrow footpath appeared in the distance, leading up a hill towards the castle.

“That way.” It said, sobbing. “That way.”

Tywin let It go, picked up his sword and sheathed it. He got on top of his horse, and then said:

“You died as a coward. Punished for slinking away from battle like dog. Worse even. Dogs are at least faithful to their masters. Your family were better without you.”

And with that he turned, and galloped towards the Wizards Castle.

When his horse had climbed the hill, he found himself at a gate similar to the one before. He turned the handle, a bear this time, then watched the doors open.

There was a narrow hall. A man sat at the end of the hall, kneeling in front of a statue of a woman. Beside him stood the girl from the gate, still holding that damned slab of meat. She turned to him, and looked at him for a moment, then turned to the man and whispered in his ear. Tywin rode his horse into the castle and ignored the doors slamming behind him.

The man stood. Tywin was surprised when he turned around. The man was shorter than he’d imagined though heavily muscled. A Summer Islander as well by the look of things, with the dark brown skin and thick black hair that such folk had. As he rode closer, Tywin noticed that the man’s eyes were pale white. He wore no clothing on his upper half, just typical peasant trousers, and thick leather boots.

When Tywin’s horse stopped in front of him, the man said nothing.

“He says welcome.” The girl said.

“He cannot speak for himself?” Tywin asked. She shook her head. Tywin looked at him. “I have seen strange things tonight. I have seen mist, called from nowhere. Little girls have disappeared and returned half a mile away. Dead men have tried to kill me. My brothers are gone. In the end, a blind mute seems almost disappointing.”

The man smiled.

“Your brothers are alive.” she said. “They’ll be brought here soon.”

“They won’t receive a welcome like mine?” Tywin asked. “That highway keeper tried to kill me.”

She looked at the man. “He wasn’t expecting someone like you. Mostly it’s been bandits trying to kidnap or rob him. Everyone here died years back. He didn’t think they’d run into someone that they knew.”

“You’re dead as well.” Tywin said.

She nodded. “It’s why I can talk to him, even when he doesn’t speak. He could say what he wanted to you directly, but, he has something called a Thu’um. He says it’s dangerous.”

Tywin dismounted. “Does he know why I’m here?” The man shook his head. Tywin continued. “My name is Tywin Lannister. Have you heard of me?”

The man nodded. “Only from us.” The girl explained.

“There is someone I need healed. She is feverish, from the birthing bed. She hasn’t woken from her sleep in days. The maesters say, they say she may die.”

The man scratched his chin. “He can heal her, if that is what you wish.”

Tywin nodded. “It is.”

“He asks something in return.”

Tywin drew back. He thought from his wording that the man might have done so from altruism. But that was not the way of the world. “What?”

“Recognition. A title. Lands. Their quality does not matter.”

Tywin looked at the man, frowning. Such a thing was well within his reach, and in truth was what he had intended to offer in the first place. But still, this man was no Summer Islander; a foreigner could be accepted, but whatever this man was…

Still. He had no choice.

Tywin nodded. “After he heals the woman.”

The man smiled and reached out his hand. Tywin clasped it and shook, once.

“Your brothers are close now. Once they arrive, we’ll see to your woman.”

Tywin looked deeply into the man’s eyes. “She is my wife and the mother of my children. If this is some trick, my gift for punishment runs deep.”

The man simply grinned. “There is no trick. He shall heal her, then the deal will be granted." The man looked at Tywin, his grin faded. He spoke this time, a slow, quiet whisper. "My gifts for punishment run deep also.”

The thudding of Tywin's heart played beat to the shaking of the castle. Tywin simply shrugged. He was a Lannister. Lannisters do not show fear.

I am intrigued.

I don't see how Star Wars could be involved but it's interesting.