Tygett plays with the wretch.
His brother is poetry in motion, a furious and stalking lion with his teeth bared in a parody of a smile. He taunts and ploys the wretch into believing he has a chance at winning.
Tywin Lannister approves.
The girl beside him does as well.
He knows little of the girl. Melara Hetherspoon, child of the famed Ser Tybalt Hetherspoon, and his distant kinswoman, Lady Rosalind Marbrand. He knew he was his daughter's friend, he knew she caused no trouble with the Septa for he had never heard it, and he knows that his wife thinks very well of her from the way she looked at her.
He can see why.
She did well today. Very well in her behavior in wake of this nonsense coming to light. She was standing, still, palms folded in front of her. He watched her eyes, and they carefully followed Tygett's blows with a steady and vicious dedication.
It was, after all, a debt that Tygett was paying on her behalf.
Tywin approved, viciously at the prevention of what would have been humiliation and a great loss for the small House of Hetherspoon. And the audacity of this fool to play at defying him in his own House. When Tybalt Lannister had come to him, years ago, and petitioned for the line of succession to be kept to his daughter… Tywin had initially been hesitant. A mere babe of a girl, to inherit before the Uncle? It was not the way it was generally done. But Ser Tybalt had been, perhaps not eloquent, but firm in his measure of his brother.
"He's a fool, Lord Tywin. Greedy. I gave him charge of our pearl fishing and he nearly ruined the lagoon that has provided wealth for the Hetherspoons for nearly five centuries. If my daughter had not gone swimming, we have lost it all to his stupidity," said Ser Tybalt, eyes distant, "And while I believe well of him on the battlefield, I cannot grant him leave of my House. It must be my Melara."
Tywin Lannister lifted a brow.
"You have traveled all the way to King's Landing for this?"
Ser Tybalt shrugged. But his eyes were firm and looking at Tywin with a look he couldn't quite interpret.
"Would you not do the same? If you had been the father of your own foolish father, would you have not done your damndest to prevent his inheritance to the Rock?"
Tywin felt his jaw clench, but he made his face smooth out. It was perhaps daring of Ser Tybalt to mention his father. But it was also a touch infuriating.
Tywin waited for a moment. But then he realized his daring had worked on him to some extent. A fool would make that comparison in jest. A desperate man would make it to get his point across. Tybalt had been a beast in the War of Nine Penny Kings. But his prowess had been little in comparison to his battle tactics, ready to adapt at a moment's notice. In all of the Houses, only House Hetherspoons two-thousand men had come home.
All two thousand of them. Not a single casualty. Injuries, and maimings, but the men had returned to their home.
Tywin could respect competence. And if that same man saw ill tidings in a foolish relative- Who was Tywin to ignore him?
"Send him to the Rock, my brother will measure his character," Tywin decided, "And I will review this after that."
Ser Tybalt stood.
"Thank you, Lord Lannister. Truly."
Tywin had gotten a review of Micheal Hetherspoon and had invited the Lord of his House to install a proclamation in the event of his death. Melara Hetherspoon would inherit her father's seat as its Lady when she came of age or married. Simple as that.
"Are you upset that he will not be lashed?" He asks her, voice quiet, and he leaned down to whisper in her ear.
The girl tensed. He expected no less of child who had been frequently beaten by a grown man and woman in his Keep. But she did not cower.
She did not flinch from him.
Glittering sea green eyes stayed focused on the 'fight'.
"His humiliation in front of his peers is much more just than mere whipping. The woman will still be whipped?" She replied, just as quietly.
Tywin felt his lips twitch in almost smile.
"Indeed."
"Than I consider myself satisfied, Lord Tywin."