Side Notes: Thank you to all of you who have taken the time to read this story. It's not the best writing, but at least you all like it. The reviews keep the cogs moving. I can't thank you enough!

TYRION

Lord Tywin Lannisters camp spread over miles. Leagues, even. The sounds of hoof beats, chiseling hammers, crackling fires, loud curses, steel ringing on steel, and arrows flying at their straw targets filled the air. Father has brought the whole of the west with him, Tyrion Lannister thought to himself as he and his motley band made their way among the tents and men.

The inn at the crossroads, Ser Flement Brax had told him. That is where he'd find his father. The gods are just after all. I wonder what he's done with the innkeep. "A gold dragon says the woman is hanged somewhere," Tyrion said aloud.

Bronn rode to his side, gazing about the camp, a shine in his blackish eyes. His shaggy, greasy hair shone in the afternoon light, and he looked every bit the sellsword with his scraggly beard and plentiful scars. "I agree with you," the mercenary replied vaguely. "No wager needed."

Tyrion chuckled and looked behind him, examining the faces of his clansmen. Shagga was gaping around him, Chella blank faced, and Timett looked as if he was going to rip someone's head off in a single movement, for no apparent reason. In truth, all of them somewhat looked the same as Timett in terms of head-ripping-capability and a desire to do so.

As they neared the inn, memory came flooding back to Tyrion; it felt like years since he'd last been here, though it was only a few months ago when Catelyn Stark took him prisoner, along with all of her damnable riverlander knights. The place was much as he remembered stables and all. The surrounding village was a blackened husk of burnt wood and shattered foundation, however, a small testament as to what Tywin Lannister was capable of. He will make certain that this village is forgotten by time. All for me; his disappointment.

A makeshift gallows had been erected in front of the inn's main entrance, and from it hanged a body he suspected to be the former innkeep's. Tyrion couldn't tell because of all the ravens, pecking at the pale dead flesh. Dismounting, the dwarf waddled over to shoo the crows away. All that remained of her face was… well, there was little to describe. Most of the flesh had been eaten from her cheeks and lips, baring her red-stained teeth in a hideous grin. Tyrion sighed, and moved to enter the inn. Before doing so, he turned to Bronn. "Have the stablehands deal with the horses. Wait here until I return."

Shagga dismounted hesitantly, and growled Tyrion. "Boyman leaves Shagga here to stand and stare at red tents while the boyman eats food by fire?"

"Boyman," Tyrion retorted, annoyed, "is going to speak with his lord father and inquire as to where Shagga and all of the rest of you will be camped for the night."

"Too many words," Shagga replied, gripping his axe. "But Shagga will wait. But only for more riches."

Tyrion sighed exasperatedly and nodded. "Yes, yes, fine." He looked to Bronn, waving his arm nonchalantly at the other four chieftains behind Shagga. "Make sure they don't kill anyone, would you?"

Bronn sniffled, looked back at the clansmen, then back to Tyrion. "I'll try my damnedest."

Tyrion found Lord Tywin just inside, in the common room of the inn, where Catelyn Stark had taken him, Jyck and Morrec. His uncle, Ser Kevan, stood beside his father, the latter holding a letter so tightly Tyrion thought it might start bleeding.

Kevan looked up in surprise, a frown forming on his brow. "Tyrion," he said.

"Uncle Kevan," Tyrion said with a bow. He turned to Lord Tywin. "A fine camp you've established, my lord, almost as fine as the corpse hanging outside." Tyrion moved to the table, taking a seat right across from his father. A flagon of wine sat to his right, and he helped himself, half expecting Lord Tywin to halt him.

But he didn't; he just stared at the letter in his hand for a full minute, silently, and then lightly tossed it across the table for his son to read. Tyrion frowned, seeing the grim look on Tywin's face, and reached for the parchment. It had been sealed with burgundy wax, the seal being that of the Hand of the King's. He opened it.

Lord Tywin Lannister,

Your pillaging of the riverlands and all the domains of the Houses of the region, falling under the jurisdiction of House Tully of Riverrun, and furthermore under the protection of King Joffrey, the First of His Name, must cease immediately. You are disrupting the king's peace blatantly and without remorse, and His Grace is most distressed to hear of it. Consider this as your final warning: withdraw all westerlander armies from the riverlands, and return them to the lands that fall under your own jurisdiction, or you and all lords, knights, and men-at-arms that follow you will be branded enemies of the crown and traitors to the realm. Furthermore, you are to ride for King's Landing immediately, to answer for your crimes against House Tully and their bannermen and their smallfolk. Failure to comply with this will also result in your being named a traitor.

Done in the sight of gods old and new, under the sign and seal of Eddard of House Stark, Lord Regent, Protector of the Realm, Hand of the King, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.

Tyrion's mouth gaped by the time he had reached the fourth sentence of the passage. "Does this mean that our beloved King Robert has passed, then?"

"What do you think?" Tywin snapped at him, quite angrily in fact.

Tyrion sniffled, and then set the letter down carefully, his hands shaking lightly. "Apparently Ned Stark is more power hungry than we initially thought. I have a feeling he has more than just the title of Lord Protector as his shield against us."

"We have assumed as such, as well," Kevan replied.

Tyrion glanced at Lord Tywin, then back to the letter. I need wine, he thought, pouring himself a cup and taking a gulp. "At least we can take comfort in the fact that Joffrey and Tommen and Myrcella are still living. Cersei, however…"

"She still lives," Tywin declared, brooking now argument. "Stark wouldn't harm them if there was no reason to. He will use them against us until they are useless to him."

Tyrion knew that to be true; Ned Stark was not a man to kill children. He remembered Jaime telling him all about how Stark had been a strong advocate against killing Rhaegar Targaryen's children, even though the deed had already been done by the time the Mountain got to the royal apartments. "True, my lord, but what are we to do of the whole situation? With the royal family in captivity, I see not the purpose in fighting any longer."

His father looked on him with disdain. "That is because you do not have a mind for warfare." Lord Tywin pulled a map seemingly out of nowhere and laid it out on top of the table. From the look in his gold flecked eyes, it seemed the Lord of Casterly Rock suddenly forgot about their situation. "When the lion leaves his den, there is naught to do but to finish what he left for. From what I have heard, you are the one that started all of this. If you would not have submitted to capture to a woman so meekly, the royal family would be free, still."

"Well, perhaps if it were Jaime, things would have been different. Perhaps Catelyn Stark's head would be the cause of all this mess instead of my meekness."

Tywin continued, undeterred. "The honor of our House was at stake, and if I did not ride, the Seven Kingdoms would have mocked us. No man or woman sheds Lannister blood with impunity."

Tyrion grinned. "Hear Me Roar. You will be happy to know, however, that barely a hair on my head was harmed, lord father, much less bled. Morrec and Jyck were killed."

Lord Tywin looked aggravated. "We cannot discuss the trivialities of your adventures at the present time. We have a war to fight."

Tyrion frowned. "Surely you don't mean to continue? Not with Joff and the rest in Stark captivity?"

"And why not," his father asked. "The Starks and their allies need to learn that Lannisters pay their debts. And we owe them a significant one."

"Indeed," his uncle said. "And that debt is being paid in full. The Tullys could not withstand us, and by the time Ser Edmure knew what was happening, we had pushed deep into his territory."

"Your brother has been covering himself in glory," Lord Tywin stated. "After defeating the forces of Houses Piper and Vance beneath the Golden Tooth, Jaime smashed the massed force of the riverlords beneath the walls of Riverrun. The riverlords have been put to rout, and Ser Edmure has been taken captive, along with several other of Hoster Tully's bannermen and knights. Tytos Blackwood led the few survivors back into Riverrun, and Jaime has them under siege. The Trident is open to us, now, and none of the riverlords can stand in the way of Lannister vengeance."

Kevan shook his head and pointed to both Seagard and the Twins. "All but the Mallisters and Freys, that is. Lord Walder may be counted on to do nothing, but Lord Jason on the other hand is a loyal servant of the Tullys. He will not give up too easily."

"The Mallisters lack the men to fight us," Tywin replied. "Walder Frey will bend the knee easy enough, as well. But there is another obstacle ahead of us that we need to address." Tywin ran his hand along the entirety of the north as he spoke. "Ned Stark will no doubt send ravens, calling his banners and whoever else will assist him to King's Landing. The northerners will obey him, of course, and the Arryns may well come to the aid of the traitor."

Tyrion leaned over the table, trying to get a good overview of the map. "I highly doubt the latter; Lady Arryn seemed predisposed toward not assisting her family in any way. She will sit in the Eyrie and wait out the storm until it passes."

"The longer she sits sedentary in her mountain fortress, the better," Tywin replied. "The little lord Arryn will listen to whatever she has to say, I have no doubt." His father turned his eyes to Winterfell. "The eldest Stark boy, however, is another story. Ned Stark will no doubt want one of his bannermen to command the northern force, but his son will hear none of it. Robb Stark will command the northern army, and we will meet him on the field of battle."

Tyrion frowned once again. "If we capture Robb Stark, we can broker a prisoner exchange."

Tywin's gold flecked eyes scanned his son's own. "Yes." His father turned back to the map. "The northerners will not march to face us, however. Ned Stark will command them explicitly to march for the capital, to protect the city against assault."

"Which means," Tyrion said, "you will need to make certain they don't make it there."

Lord Tywin traced his fingers along the kingsroad, from Winterfell to King's Landing. "The Stark boy will follow the kingsroad, unless Ned Stark commands him otherwise, but it is the quickest way to the capital for an army on the move. Any man versed in warfare knows that." His father's fingers rested on the Trident, the ruby ford specifically – their current location. "We will intercept the Stark host here. We need not move until they arrive, and with that amount of time, we can use the surrounding woodland to create a palisade and be ready for any sort of attack. Meanwhile, once we repel the Stark forces, Jaime will have ample time to secure Riverrun and the Tullys inside of it. Once we get a hold of Lord Hoster, and Robb Stark, we will send word to King's Landing that a prisoner exchange is at hand."

"And what," Tyrion asked, "lord father, makes you believe that Ned Stark will exchange the only people that allow him to keep his head for his wife's family and perhaps his son?" Tyrion reached across the table to grab the wine pitcher, but Lord Tywin stopped him, a glassy and angered look in his eyes. Tyrion grimaced and sat back down. "Surely Lord Eddard will want to keep his son's head on his shoulders, but Catelyn Tully's family is another ordeal entirely. The wolf and the trout love eachother dearly, to be sure, but something tells me that Lord Stark will not give up the royal family for two Tullys and his son. Should he be captured, that is…"

Lord Tywin Lannister's eyes gleamed for a moment, and without even turning his head or waving his hand, he said, commandingly, "Kevan, leave us for a moment."

His uncle looked flabbergasted for a split second, but recovered almost immediately for a moment, and then bowed. As he got to the door, however, the thing burst open and nothing could have stopped Ser Kevan from falling as the wooden planks slammed into his face, landing against the cobblestone hearth nearby with a curse. Shagga stomped into the room, the captain of his father's guards being dragged by the hair close behind him, and threw him down before Tyrion as he propelled himself from the bench. Shagga's stench followed his entrance, and Tyrion found himself scowling. "What is the meaning of this?"

The big lumbering oaf of a Stone Crow spit full on in the guard's face, then sniffed, looking down on Tyrion with a raised chin. "The redcape drew steel on Shagga, so the son of Dolf has brought him in to chop off his manhood and cook them in a stew."

Tyrion scoffed and turned back to the table, just noticing a plate of cheese and another platter of bread. "No goats, I take it," he muttered. He nonchalantly grabbed a piece of the cheese and wrapped a bit of bread around it. Bronn followed the barbaric fool in, along with the other clansmen. Tyrion glared at the sellsword. "I told you to watch them and keep them in line."

Bronn shrugged. "I watched Shagga, it didn't help. And it's hard to keep a lot like this in line, m'lord. Even for me."

Lord Tywin stood, pushing the bench back with a screech of wood on wood. "Who are your… companions, Tyrion?"

Tyrion wiped his mouth; the cheese was more than ripe, but it still filled the belly. "My saviors, really. Whilst I and my friend, Bronn here, were making our merry way through the Vale of Arryn, after we were so kindly escorted from the Eyrie, Shagga here found us, and saw us through the mountains." Tyrion turned to regard them all, a sort of pride welling up inside of him. "The rest, well, I recruited."

Ser Kevan, still shocked after his sudden fall, rose to his feet, rubbing his face. "Recruited? You recruited these savages with naught but your words?"

"Savages?!" Conn's bellow echoed throughout the room. "We are free men, lowlander."

"And women," Chella daughter of Cheyk reminded the Stone Crow.

Lord Tywin had remained still and silent until then. "Tyrion, you have yet to introduce us to our guests."

Tyrion glanced longingly at the wine pitcher, but turned toward his clansmen. "With pleasure, my lord."

After he introduced them all to his father, Tyrion began to list all of Lord Tywin's many titles, but soon after he began, a messenger rushed into the still open door, and after a worried glance towards the clansmen, the man kneeled before his father. "Forgive the intrusion, my lord, but Ser Addam commanded me to ride here with all haste. The Stark host has been sighted moving down the causeway in the Neck, and is close to the Twins by now."

Tyrion flinched lightly at that; he did not expect the Starks to react so quickly. Lord Eddard is efficient indeed; he must have sent ravens as soon as he consolidated his power.

Lord Tywin Lannister did not smile at the news, but Tyrion had learned to read his father, and he could tell he was pleased at the news. "The sooner the pup marches south, the better. Ride back to Ser Addam and tell him to fall back for now, and to not engage the northern host, but to harass their flanks. That will draw them further south."

The rider nodded firmly and swiftly exited as he had entered; glancing nervously at the clansmen.

Lord Tywin seemed to analyze the whole of the room, even the empty parts, before turning back to the clansmen. "I shall arrange for a solitary part of the camp for you to rest," he said to all of them. "In the meantime… Kevan, I trust you can handle our honored guests and find them some proper steel?"

Ser Kevan blinked for a moment, still rubbing his nose, and nodded reluctantly. "I can, my lord." His uncle moved cautiously around the clansmen, but had to stop at the door because they were all looking at Tyrion rather than following him.

The dwarf blinked and looked at them each in turn, Bronn being the last. "Well, go on. My uncle is a kind man, I am sure you will enjoy him."

"I will enjoy what I want to enjoy, little man," Timett replied angrily. "You do not command Timett son of Timett."

"Fine, fair enough, leave me to my cheese." Tyrion angrily grabbed his cheese and stuffed it in his mouth, as if to prove a point.

After Bronn and Kevan and the rest left, it was only Tyrion and his beloved father in the room he was captured in. Lord Tywin sat down once again, and poured some wine into a mug sitting off to the side. Before Tyrion could even think about pouring his own, his father slid the mug across the table. The son analyzed the father, frowning, before taking a sip.

Lord Tywin rubbed his chin with two fingers, looking on his son. "You are correct about Ned Stark. He will not give up the royal family for two Tullys. And we do not yet know if we will capture the wolf pup yet."

Tyrion was taken aback; his father never admitted he was right, about anything. "Well, if my large head houses anything, it must be a large wit, then."

Lord Tywin's face brooked no laughter or disapproval at the jape; stone, is how Tyrion would describe it. "And you will use it again, before your part in this war is over." When Tyrion frowned confusedly, his father rose, leaning over the map again. "Your wildlings may be of use in this as well."

"You speak of this as if I know what this is," Tyrion said.

Lord Tywin rested a finger on King's Landing. "You will ride for King's Landing within the week, with twenty of your best savages, along with five knights of my own choosing."

Tyrion's mouth gaped, his brow furrowed. "And do what, exactly, my lord father?"

Tywin Lannister turned toward his son, his gold-flecked eyes burrowing into Tyrion's own. "Save your sister, of course."