The Heir to Casterly Rock 2
- The Battle of the Blackwater -
The battle was in full swing when the Lannister army joined. They washed over the Baratheon forces with the strength of a tidal wave, spilling through the city and destroying the men of the flaming stag. Street by street they killed their way towards the Red Keep, and unlike the last time they had marched on the capital: they refrained from raping and pillaging.
It would not do to have the people hate their saviors.
Tywin rode his steed through the carnage, his own sword bloodied and his armor stained. He'd only claimed one kill this battle, a Stormlander that managed to break through his guards. He'd died easily enough with a blade through his eye.
The horse under him, a well-trained beast, trots easily through the main thoroughfare of the city towards Maegor's Holdfast. It winds its way past many scenes that would be the climax of stories told throughout the inns of the realm for years to come, but he was not seeking a climax to the war here.
Stannis was already pulling his men back, the horns sounding a retreat. Victory was their, but the war still had other fronts. He would have to think of a way to deal with the Ironborn, and ravens to send to Harrenhal. First, though, would be declaring his victory to his daughter.
He already had his men searching the battlefield for his grandson, sure that the boy would at least be watching the carnage from the ramparts. It would not do to have the King out of the fight, and his son had made sure he would be there.
"My lord," He turns to the girl. Arya Stark had been riding beside him, an honored guest to witness the fight. She looks around them and asks, "Why would he sack a city he wants for himself?"
Him being Stannis, naturally. Tywin smirks at her, "Men are greedy, destructive creatures, girl. Stannis may well have ordered the city spared, but his men would not have followed that order."
"Why aren't yours attacking people, then?" She asks, eyes narrowed, "They didn't mind slaughtering my families household when I was on the run."
"The difference is in their mindset," Tywin tells her, and makes a mental note to reprimand Cersei for being so foolish as to kill the Stark's household. Who was she having serve the Stark girl she still had, whores? He continues, "My men are of a mind to save the city, and Stannis's men are of the mind to take it. Preservation against destruction, good against evil, men find such dichotomies useful in setting themselves apart."
"So… they aren't killing everyone like they do in the Riverlands because they want to be heroes?"
"Very good."
"But everyone already knows they Lannisters are the evil side of the war, why try to change that now?" The girl challenges.
He inhales sharply, "Careful, girl, you speak of my House."
"I know."
"House Lannister is not evil, girl," He growls, "I do what I must to preserve the legacy of my family."
"And what about my family's legacy?" She demands, "My father was murdered by your grandson. And he's a poo."
"A what?"
"A poo, a… a piece of shit," She bows her head at that, embarrassed. He realizes once more that he is talking to a small child, even if she had been forced to deal with a great deal of violence in a short span of time.
He almost smiles, but it would not be appropriate for their current relationship, so instead he tells her, "You are speaking of the king. Mind your tongue, child."
"Or he'll cut it out," She nods. He doesn't though.
Illyn Payne came to mind, a man who had been a loyal knight and a good soldier in his forces. And then Aerys's spies had heard the man say something, and his tongue had been cut out. It was an act that only the Mad King could have done for so petty a reason. The man hadn't been speaking treason, only making a jape with friends.
The girl was sure that his grandson would stoop just as low.
By the gods, how had things gone so far? Tyrion sent reports, naturally, and they were disturbing reports on the nature of the King and how little control anyone truly had over him. He was clearly an inept ruler, but to be a rabid dog along the lines of Clegane?
This would not do well, and it was a good thing he was finally in the capital. He would take things in hand once more.
"Hold!"
The call comes from behind him, and he turns his attention to the back of his guard. Two men approach, one in Lannister colors and the other a simple brown coat covering chainmail. Pulling his horse to a stop, he looks more closely at them.
One was his son's sellsword, the new captain of the city watch, and the other was the dwarf's squire, carrying a large bundle, "Let them through."
His guards part and the sellsword leads the squire through. Tywin catches sight of the bundle more fully, and he sees that it is his youngest son with a cloth bandage pressed against his face. The sellsword nods his head, "Yer lordship, I'm happy to report that with your help the battle is won."
Tywin nods, "I'd already known that, man. Why is my son injured?"
"One of the Kingsguard tried to kill him," the squire says.
"He was foolish enough to get so close to Stannis?" Tywin demands.
"No, my lord," Podrick Payne, that was his name, "One of King Joffrey's Kingsguard."
Tywin's lips purse into a line. His grandson had tried to assassinate Tyrion in the middle of a battle against enemy forces. A member of his family had tried to murder one of its own. Not even he would dare resort to kinslaying, "How did he survive?"
"I stabbed the knight through the neck, my lord," the boy tells him, "With a spear, his back was turned."
"And which was it?"
"Ser Mandon Moore."
Damn, one of the few competent swordsmen remaining on the Kingsguard as well. How could the boy be this foolish? How could Cersei allow such stupidity? Had she not taught him anything of what he had taught her?
"Is he alright?" Tywin's eyes, as well as his son's men, turn to Arya Stark. The girl looks between them, "What?"
"Who're you?" The sellsword asks. Bronn, Tywin remembers after some thought, that was his name.
"Who she is does not matter," Tywin notes, turning his gaze to the man, "What does, is why you were not guarding my son?"
"He had me fire the arrow into the water," Bronn tells him, "Meant I was a fair distance off when the ships exploded and the fight started."
Tywin nods. If this was true, the man had been invaluable to their victory and deserved some reward. The boy as well, for his success at killing as renown a knight as a member of the Kingsguard while saving his lord.
"Guards, horses," Tywin orders.
Two guards immediately slide from their steeds. They hand the reins to Bronn and Podrick, the younger of which passes Tyrion over before climbing up and taking him back. Once the sellsword mounts as well, they set off once more, heading towards the Red Keep.
- The Red Keep -
Tywin's men part for him easily enough, opening the way for him to stride into the throne room. It is empty aside from his men and the two atop the Iron Throne, his daughter and youngest grandson.
"The battle is over," He declares magnanimously, "We have won!"
He hears the barest tinkling of shattering glass as she stands, pulling her son up with her. She hugs the boy, stroking the lads face. He strides towards her, stopping at the end of the stairs, "Daughter."
"Father."
"We have much to discuss."
"I believe that we do," She agrees.
Turning to his men, he orders, "Have my son's effects moved from the Chamber of the Hand and into quarters further down in the tower. Then call for Maester Pycelle to treat his injuries."
Bronn and Podrick, who had followed after him with the girl, nod and carry their lord off.
"He survived," Cersei tries to sound relieved, but he can hear the dismay and disgust on her lips.
"He does," Tywin turns to glare at her, "And he will continue to do so. He is my son."
"He's a little beast that doesn't know respect," She growls back.
"R-" Arya almost starts to speak, but Tywin's head snaps to her and she stops. Her head drops and her fists ball in impotent rage.
Cersei turns to glare at the girl as well and her eyes widen, "the missing Stark girl."
Arya's eyes raise to glare at the queen, but she has learnt to hold her tongue. It looks to be taking more effort with each passing second, though.
"Yes," Tywin tells the Queen Regent, "She found her way to me in Harrenhal, and acted as my cupbearer until her true identity was revealed."
"Baelish met you in Harrenhal, did he reveal her?" Cersei asks, curious.
Tywin shakes his head, "The girl is avoided showing him her face, and only on her escape was she forced to identify herself so as to avoid death."
"A clever girl, then."
"Clever enough to have done more to impress me in this conflict than you have," Tywin tells her, and she can see the anger, the disappointment, and the shame in his eyes.
Cersei's lips twist into a snarl, "I did all I could to hold the realm together!"
Tywin waves a hand, and the guards that had remained at the doors pull back, leaving only the two adults and two children in the vast chamber. The lord growls in turn, his anger billowing as he stalks up the steps.
"You did nothing to halt Lord Stark's execution, arranged for his entire household to be slaughtered, ordered babes be murdered in their mother's arms," Tywin stops right in front of her, " After that, you did nothing to quell the growing unease within the city, feasting while the people starved."
Cersei looks to want to start objecting, but Tywin raises a hand, not done.
"You let your son incite a riot while you were in the middle of the streets, even allowed him to take pot shots at peasants with a crossbow! He beat our one bargaining chip with the Starks!" Tywin does not should, but his dark reprimand may as well have been a bellowing roar for the effect it was having.
There may have been a world in which he was satisfied, or at least not so angry at his daughter's failings. But in that world he had not stopped to talk with the girl and been caught up by his son's men. In that world he did not know that his daughter was willing to stoop to kinslaying. And in a world like that, what depravities wasn't she willing to perform?
It was in this world that he existed, where the words of his most disappointing son had first been dismissed but now needed to be taken as holy writ, that he existed. It was in this world that the sister of his current greatest enemy was a more acceptable daughter than the one he had by blood.
"You attempted to arrange the murder of my son, your brother," He tells her, his anger freezing in his stomach, cool disgust pausing the roiling rage within.
Cersei glares at him, but wisely does not say anymore. He would forgive her failings, for now. He did the same with all his children, even Tyrion. They disappointed him, always, and they would likely continue to do so until the day he died.
Jaime, his shining son, was a vain fool of a knight. He thought that glory was on the battlefield, in guarding whatever wastrel sat upon the Iron Throne. He didn't think in the long term or plan ahead. He lived so closely in the moment that he forgot that there could be consequences for his actions.
Cersei, his beautiful daughter, was so much like him and yet was not at the same time. She carried his intelligence, his wrath, his anger, and she had her mother's intelligence. As dearly as he had loved her, Johanna was not as intelligent as he was. She had been kind, loving, and caring in all the ways that he was not, a truly great woman to know and love. Cersei had lost any resemblance to her mother when Tyrion had killed her.
Tyrion was the greatest disappointment of all, because Tywin knew that he was the best of his children. The wasteful little dwarf had his intelligence and his mother's heart, but it was encapsulated in the layabout that was Tyrion Lannister. He was a smug little drunk that knew he was smarter than anyone else, but lacked the tact needed to put that fact to good use. Tywin, privately, blamed himself for this failing. He had needed to teach Tyrion a harsh lesson on whores early in his youth and allowed his hatred for the dwarf to take it too far.
He takes a breath, "Tomorrow, your son will name me Hand of the King, he will set aside Sansa Stark and betroth himself to Margaery Tyrell."
Cersei narrows her eyes; she had not been consulted on this new arrangement. It had been made on the march, after all, and there had been no time to waste ravens on the capital. She dared not object, though.
"Tommen," Tywin looks down, and sees the boy has begun cowering behind his mother.
"Tommen has no part in the affairs of the kingdom," Cersei finally objects, the care of her youngest son bringing forth the will to stand up to her father.
The Lord of Casterly Rock turns his eyes back to her, "He does now. With Joffrey setting aside the Stark girl, we will have no connection to the North when Robb Stark and his mother are killed."
"So you intend to wed her to my son?" She demands to know.
"Not the elder girl, no," He tells her.
Cersei's eyes are drawn to the bottom of the stairs, where Arya Stark still glares at her with more hate than a twelve year old child should be able to muster, "no."
"Yes."
"I refuse to allow my son to be wed to that rabid wolf!"
"You have no choice in the matter," Tywin tells her, his growl returning."
"I am Tommen's mother!"
"And I am the Hand of the King and your father."
"No!"
"Tommen," The boy looks at him past his mother's skirts, "Go speak with Lady Stark, she is to be your wife and you should get to know her."
The boy looks up at his mother, and his mother looks at Tywin. The glare she receives finally cows her, "Go on, sweetling."
The boy quietly steps out from behind his mother and starts walking down the steps. Tywin and Cersei watch him reach the bottom and stop in front of the girl. The two stare at each other for a few seconds, then Tommen says quietly, "Hello."
Arya looks the boy over, and Tywin can see hatred warring with indifference within her. Tommen had committed no crime against her and her family, just as she had committed none before the war began.
Finally, she replies, "Hello."
"I'm glad you're not dead," the young prince tells her, and she smiles faintly.
"I'm glad I'm not dead, too."
"I'm sorry about Bran and Rickon."
"So am I."
"Do you want to go play with Ser Pounce?"
"Joffrey hasn't killed it yet?"
"I keep him safe!"
Arya looks up at Tywin, and the lord nods. She looks back to Tommen and tells him, "Okay, it's been a while since I played with cats."
Tommen smiles, takes her hand, and begins to drag her from the room, "We can say hello to Lady Sansa, too! She wanted to stay in her rooms for the battle but Joffrey made her give him a kiss good luck, so she's around. All of us can play together."
"Sansa," Tywin can hear Arya exhale an almost relieved sigh as she says her sister's name, and she starts walking at an even pace with the prince.
Once they depart, a guard starting to follow them as soon as they exit the throne room, Tywin turns his eyes back to his daughter. There was much more that needed to be said between them, but the time would come later. He takes a breath and tells her, "We must find the king and offer him our congratulations."
"Yes," Cersei agrees, "The first of many battles won by my brave Joffrey."
Tywin scoffs and descends the stairs to the throne, Cersei following after, "I saw nothing that told me a great victory was being won by your boy."
"But if he was not victorious, how could you have routed Stannis so quickly?"
"Stannis was routed because Tyrion's sellsword ignited Wildfire in the Blackwater and Lord Baelish was able to make an arrangement between our Houses."
Cersei snorts, "Tyrion? Ha! The up-jumped little imp stole my plot and changed it, he did nothing but act as the parasite he is."
"It was your idea to use the wildfire, was it?"
"Yes it was."
"And how were you going to get it to Stannis's fleet?"
"Catapults."
Tywin stops and turns to her, "The city lacks siege weapons, how would you have made your catapults?"
"There is an entire wood outside our gates."
"And who would have built them?"
"The peasants."
"The same peasants that tore apart the High Septon? That feasted upon his corpse because you have been unable to provide them with anything to eat?"
"They would have been made to work."
"And you would have faced another riot," Tywin growls, disappointed once again, "Power means little if the smallfolk are willing rise up against you! They will obey me because I saved them and have brought them food, but had Stannis come even a month from now and I were still embroiled in the west, the peasants would have thrown the gates open and invited him in."
"They wouldn't dare."
Tywin stops, forcing Cersei to do so as well. He stares at his daughter, not quite sure who he was speaking with. It looked like his daughter, but when last they'd spoken face to face she had been far cleverer than this, though still not as clever as she believed. It was as though the absolute power she had taken when Stark was imprisoned had poisoned her. It had seeped into her thoughts and taken all sense from her actions. There was no rhyme or reason to her follies, and there were many.
He would need to find a way to bring her back, because the woman now before him was less his daughter and more a political opponent to be crushed. He loved his golden twins, as disappointing as they both were, and he would not lose them to their own arrogance and stupidity.
"We will have a long talk about your thoughts on the smallfolk, very soon," He tells her, then sets off once more for his army at the entrance to the Red Keep.
Outside, his army cheered at his reappearance. He gives them a nod, they'd done good work, "Men, find your commanders, they will arrange for lodgings either within the city or in camp outside the walls. Commanders, assign teams of men to search the city for any stragglers from Stannis's assault. Kill them if you find them, but leave the commonfolk in peace. We are the saviors of the day, let's not change that!"
Another cheer and he turns his attention to Kevan, standing at the head of his army, "The King?"
"He has been located," Kevan nods, then looks to Cersei, "Her grace ordered the King be brought back to the Red Keep to ensure his safety in the middle of the battle."
Tywin turns his glare back to his daughter, then after a moment he takes a breath and asks, "If the King was not on the front, who led the charge against Stannis on the beach?"
"Tyrion," Kevan tells him, and Tywin glares at the smug glint in his brother's eye. The man had always had more faith in the dwarf than he, and it looked like his faith was being rewarded. Then Kevan turns a glare to Cersei and adds, "He would still be there, if a member of the Kingsguard had not turned against him."
"Ser Mandon, I know. His squire and sellsword met me on the way to the Red Keep," Tywin tells him, "Where is the King now?"
"He is in the guard house," Kevan tells him, "From what Lancel says, he was willing to stay on the field, but answered his mother's call."
"Then why is he there, instead of here?" Tywin asks.
"Ser Meryn Trant pulled escorted him there, and then had to defend him from Baratheon soldiers," Kevan tells him.
Tywin nods, glad that his grandson was not a complete disappointment. He takes a breath, "Let us go and meet the king.
He, Kevan, and Cersei made their way out of the Red Keep a ways, ending their walk just outside the castle walls. The guard house of the Goldcloaks was far more opulent than when he had been Hand. He raises an eyebrow at it, wondering what called for the city guards to dwell within such extravagance. If he were to make a casual guess, this was but one of the reasons Tyrion had sent Janos Slynt, former commander of the Goldcloaks, to the Wall.
Inside, the King stood at the end of a round table. He was staring at a map of King's Landing laid out on it, only looking up when Tywin clears his throat. He smiles grimly, "Lord Tywin?"
"King Joffrey," Tywin nods. Looking to the map, he asks, "What has your interest, your grace?"
"Where will my uncle's men flee?" Joffrey asks, "Your forces have them surrounded by land, and their ships have already cast off. So where will the traitors flee?"
"I have men hunting them as we speak, they will be put to the sword on sight," Tywin tells the boy, and watches as he smiles.
"Good," Joffrey nods, "We have much we need to do so we can repair the realm. Now that Stannis has been routed, he'll run like the coward he is."
"Stannis is no coward, your grace," Tywin corrects, "he is a pragmatist."
"The difference?"
"He will return when he has the men and the resources."
"He will not be able to claim either, he's lost most of his men, the Tyrells are ours, and Storm's End is open for taking."
"We cannot go to Storm's End."
"No, but I'm sure the Tyrells will be happy to go on our behalf," Joffrey chuckles,.
"You would give them your father's ancestral home?" Tywin asks, eyebrow raised.
"Not for long," Joffrey shakes his head, "It is Tommen's after all. He can buy it back when he's old enough."
Tywin narrows his eyes, "I think we should concern ourselves with the enemy that still remains, rather than things to come; at least for now. Stannis will return, Robb Stark is to our North, and it is only a matter of time before the Ironborn attack."
"They already have," Joffrey smirks, "They've attacked the North."
"Yes, but they've not held back from the rest of the Kingdoms in the past, why would they do so now?"
"Perhaps we can offer them something worth their continued loyalty," Joffrey muses.
"Such as?"
"The Ironborn once ruled most of the Riverlands, before the time of the Seven Kingdoms," the King smiles, "It seems fitting to give it back to them if they swear their fealty to me."
Tywin frowns, old hatred swelling within him. The Ironborn had burnt his fleets less than a decade ago, he was not going to give them anything but the sword, "We can discuss who will receive what boon when the war is done."
"Yes, now isn't the time," Joffrey agrees. He smiles widely, "Now you are here, grandfather, my rein as King is secure."
"As secure as I can make it."
Joffrey nods, "Tell me, Lord Tywin, what have you done to secure my realm?"