Chapter 2

Varys had come to him in the middle of the night and had urged him to wake up. "You'd best have a very good reason to disturb my sleep," Tyrion had grunted. Varys had giggled. "Surely I have not yet led you astray," he'd replied.

Tyrion had begrudgingly agreed. "Your brother paid me a visit," Varys had told him. That had truly woken him up. "He has?! Jaime?" It had filled his heart with pride and made him bolder as well. "What did he have to say?"

"Your sister seems to fancy herself to be your father's true heir. After the Sept of Baelor, she intends to make a similar move, this time at the Dragon Pit."

"And Jaime told you?" Tyrion could scarcely believe it.

"I still have my uses," Varys smirked. "He wishes to see certain individuals safe should they be present, you being one of them."

"I can't think who else," Tyrion muttered. "Surely most will be his enemies, or will become so regardless."

Varys giggled again with that soft voice of his. "There's this… woman he seems desperate to protect." When Tyrion did not respond, he said: "She seems to possess giant's blood?"

"Brienne of Tarth," Tyrion sighed, shaking his head. "I will never understand his taste in women."

"She does seem quite a far cry from your sister," Varys agreed, and continued, "though in reflection that might be the point."

Tyrion bit his lip. "It might," he said. "His imprisonment changed him. I'm sure father's death did too."

"There's also the loss of the children," Varys said. "No one would call him care-free anymore, whatever his rank or station."

Tyrion frowned. "Precisely so. A man with nothing to lose can be quite dangerous. When he tried to attack Drogon, my heart dropped. The sheer madness of it! Using his mind is not his strong suit…"

Varys wisely said nothing at all.

"You're to make sure Cersei does not leave the Pit by the staircase. The old one, where they used to let the prisoners in..? She's planning on escaping herself, and letting all the rest of you crumble to pieces."

Tyrion nodded. "Understood. Loud and clear. What about Jaime or Brienne?"

"Jaime will leave himself and wants to take her with him, if she's there. Only her stubbornness may be an obstacle. Personally, I don't think the Northerners will respond to Cersei's summons," he said in a whispering voice. "After all, they don't take to the South very well. "

"Not a fail proof plan, I hear," Tyrion growled. "What has she planned? My dear sister, I mean?"
"Pray you will never know," Varys replied dramatically. "He hasn't informed me of such. These were my instructions, nothing more. Though I do believe Qyburn plays a role of some significance."

"Surely not wildfire again?" Tyrion wondered. "Though it is her favorite plaything, it would seem."

"I wouldn't know," Varys repeated. "Just make sure she doesn't run. She won't be able to execute the plan and you should be safe."

Some consolation, Tyrion thought as Varys left, and he lay once again down on his feather bed. "We should be quite safe," he muttered. "Then why do I feel such apprehension?" Wine was the only solution to such thoughts. He crawled out of his bed in search of a decent vintage.

Tyrion stood in the Dragon Pit. He had hidden a small sharp knife beneath the folds of his tunic. His Queen and his sister were talking. It seemed amiable but he knew better. Neither of them was prepared to give in. He looked up at the dragons. They should protect them, though there were only two of them left. Daenerys had become fiercely protective of them. She had begun to fear the scorpion too, now that one of her children had fallen. The Mountain lingered near Cersei the entire time, as did Euron Greyjoy. Apparently he'd set his eyes on Cersei, even though she was carrying Jaime's child. Tyrion wondered if perhaps Euron could be the father. Cersei had never been that faithful, though he suspected Jaime had.

Qyburn was nowhere to be seen. Tyrion thought this especially troubling. Where was the former maester? As he looked around him, he noticed that Jaime had gone. Jaime and Varys and Brienne. It wouldn't be long now, he thought, but how can I ever reach Cersei with the Mountain so nearby? When he saw his sister slowly making for the staircase as Daenerys went towards Jon, Tyrion felt an urge of bravery. Or perhaps it was desperation. Desperate courage. He ran as fast as his wobbly legs carried him, reaching for his knife.

He had almost reached her, almost, when a large hand grabbed him by his tunic, and he was thrown a few feet away, into the stands. The Mountain had gotten to him. As he was flying through the air, Tyrion aimed his knife, but it missed, hitting an unsuspecting Tormund in the leg. The red-bearded man looked up, disturbed, while searching for his attacker. "I'm sorry," Tyrion mumbled, before he crashed into the stands, and lay there, with a broken body. Just before he faded away, he noticed a greenish hue and it seemed as if the earth vanished beneath him. "A sinkhole. A true pit," he thought, just before the darkness took him.