The Last Valyrians

by TheOneJackOBlades

'He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire.' Rhaegar believed that his son would be the savior, but Rhaegar was slain on the Trident and his supposed son was murdered by Gregor Clegane. But the real Aegon was not killed that day and his story has not found it's end. Alternate tale of Aegon VI and his role in the future of Westeros.

6. A Game Of Strategy

Tyrion:

As Tyrion woke, he struggled to adjust his vision to the dark room, he stopped dead as he remembered where he was. Suddenly feeling nauseous, he scrambled to his feet and lost his last meal in the corner of his cabin. Still feeling the floor move, he looked around the cabin of the ship and he remembered having boarded it at Varys' directive last night. Right after I killed him … right after I killed my father and Sha- Not letting himself even think her name, Tyrion looked for the nearest window. Upon finding it. he struggled to look through the shuttered window and saw several sailors working on the ship.

Having heard the door open, Tyrion turned in shock. "Where am I?" He simply asked the balding man, while his eyes strained over in the natural light that flooding in.

"We are currently sailing past Rosby, my Lord Lannister." Stated the ox of a man, as he gently placed down a breakfast of pork sausage and what looked to be porridge on the table beside Tyrion's featherbed.

Carefully and cautiously Tyrion approached the food, while he struggled to place a name to the man's face through the dim light leaking through the sole window. Then he carefully examined the bowl of boiled oats while a very appealing smell invaded his nostrils. Turning from the food, Tyrion reached out for a wineskin on his bed and pulled the stopper, only to remember having finished it last night. "If it's not too much of an inconvenience, could you fetch me some wine."

"I'm afraid I cannot do that my Lord."

"Why not? Don't you know that I'm in mourning." Said Tyrion with a tinge of humor before he fell onto his bed in exhaust.

Reaching down to the table and cutting through the sausage, the man explained to Tyrion. "I would be willing to fill that skin if you finish your breakfast though."

Tyrion then weighed his desire to drown himself in wine versus his queasy stomach. It only took him a few moments to let his desire for wine to win. Tyrion forced himself over to the porridge and brings a spoonful to his mouth and tastes the sweetness. "It's not bad." Admitted Tyrion.

"That is fortunate. I did not know how you would enjoy it, so I simply made it as I would make my ward's." The man then took a seat at the edge of Tyrion's bed and retrieved a small vial from a pouch on his belt. "You should take this Lord Tyrion ... if your nausea is too severe that is."

Tyrion gave one sidewards glance at the blue vial before turning his attention back towards the porridge. "The sooner I finish eating, the sooner I get that wine you promised me."

Stowing the vial back in his pouch, the man remarked. "You don't remember me do you." Not caring to try to answer, Tyrion simply speared a piece of pork sausage with his fork and then ate it. "You seemed rather interested in my book a week ago."

"Archmaester Marwyn?" Muttered Tyrion in confusion, as he struggled to recall his last interaction with the man. "I wouldn't have guessed you worked for Varys."

Letting out a hearty laugh, Marwyn vehemently shook his head and clutched at his round belly. "I don't work for the Spider, Lord Tyrion. Our goals simply coincided as it pertains to your fate."

"I didn't know I was considered such a valued person. But you can forgive me for feeling that way, as not one person in King's Landing spoke up in my defense when they accused me of killing Joffrey." Spat Tyrion in anger. Not one of those scheming rats came to my defense.

"You misunderstand me my Lord. While I think you are a competent man, if it was left to me I wouldn't have taken the risk of getting you out of King's Landing." Exclaimed Marwyn unabashedly.

Tyrion then hears a loud crash outside the cabin, accompanied by multiple curses from whom he would guess are from the crewmen. "So tell me, is that bastard really in charge ... or is someone else pulling your strings?"

Instead of giving Tyrion an answer, Marwyn's eyes darted to the still unfinished breakfast. Which forced Tyrion to eat another bite of sausage. "No one is pulling my strings Lord Tyrion, just as no one pulls yours. I believe both of us are free thinkers. And I also believe that both of us have the skills that could save this country from an almost certain destruction."

"And what skill is that?" Asked Tyrion with a sarcastic smile as, he finished the pork sausage.

"Common sense." Deadpanned Marwyn as the old ox of a man stood. Reaching into his belt he retrieved a wineskin and tossed it to Tyrion. "I think you'll find I know my wine much better than Maric." Turning to leave the room he took one sideways glance toward Tyrion's vomit, before he added. "Try not to get too drunk, as Maric wishes to talk with you later." Marwyn then left the room and shut the door tight.

After pulling the stopper on the wineskin, Tyrion swallowed down a mouthful of the sweet dornish summerwine. Through the door Tyrion called out. "It will take much more than a single skin for that."

Finishing the rest of his breakfast, Tyrion laid back on the feather bed. Varys didn't tell me where I was going before he loaded me on the ship. Feeling the soft bed below him, he the questioned why he was given a room this lush on the ship. Drifting his thoughts to Shae, her dead body splayed out on the feather bed flashed through his mind. As he swallowed down another swig of wine, he shut his heavy eyes to stop the tears, content on sleeping to escape his pain.

After several very unrestful hours of attempting to drink himself to sleep, Tyrion heard a quick succession of knocks on his door, accompanied by a high pitched voice. "M'lord." Screeched the voice over and over, along with more knocks only harder and louder. "M'lord. It's time to wake."

"What is it?!" Shouted Tyrion in annoyance as the knocking continued on his door.

'Sorry M'lord, but the chain wearing man ordered me." Replied a young voice through the door.

Gripping the bed for balance, Tyrion pulled himself to his feet and slurped down the last remaining drops from his skin of wine. Still struggling to gain his balance in the rocking ship, he opened the door and watched as the face of a windburned boy of what looks to be eight, slowly processed Tyrion's scarred face. "Do you mind telling me what else this … chain wearing man told you?" As Tyrion finished talking he could almost see the horror building in the boy's eyes.

"He-he told … I mean he said to br-bring you to the M'lord's chamber." Stuttered out the boy, as his eyes fearfully shifted to where Tyrion's nose once existed.

"Well lead the way then." Spat out Tyrion, as the boy turned and quickly walked down a darkened path. Looking out of his door, Tyrion spotted the railing of the ship. Walking closer to the edge, he saw distant lights through a dense fog over the dark, but calm waters of the Blackwater. We must be nearing Duskendale by now. Pondered Tyrion.

"Please this way M'lord." Spouted the boy at the end of the walkway.

Turning to follow the shaggy mouse haired boy, Tyrion nearly fell over several times, but managed to make it to the deck of the large carrack. As the boy began climbing a narrow staircase, Tyrion himself came to a stop and looked at several sailors working around the ship diligently. Tyrion then mused to himself how the sailors have quieted down from earlier, and thinks Marwyn somehow was involved. They must have felt Tyrion's stares, as they suddenly turned to him. As many whispers and snickers break out amongst them, Tyrion thinks they almost look of fishwife's whispering and gossiping to themselves.

Turning after the boy, Tyrion climbed up the slick stairs behind him. Tyrion still struggling to keep his balance, reached out for the railing to maintain his balance. Looking at the small boy he japed. "It seems I don't have my sea legs as you do."

"And he smiled and he laughed and he sung." Echoed a melodious and gentle voice from the top of the stairs.

Without turning to face Tyrion, the boy shrugged and whispered back. "I don't know what you mean M'lord."

The voice echoed out again with noticeable sadness. "Brother's, oh brothers, my days here are done. The Dornishman's taken my life."

As they reached the top of the stairs, Tyrion asked. "Does he sing often?"

The boy nodded his head quickly and excitedly replied. "He does, and he sings much better then my mum at that, M'lord." Reaching out to knock on the door, he paused.

"But what does it matter, for all men must die, and I've tasted the Dornishman's wife."

The boy gingerly knocked on the door. "M'lord, I brought your guest."

"Ahh, bring him him." Was the response through the rough hewn door.

Carefully opening the door, the child stepped out of Tyrion's way to allow him access. Tyrion examined the room carefully, first spotting the young Maric seated precariously on an open window and spots an opulently designed lute on his lap. Shifting his vision to the left side of the room he saw a simple table made of elm wood, and on it sat a cyvasse board. Looking to the foot of a similar looking featherbed to his own, Tywin then spotted a red cask printed with the Redwyne seal.

"You've looked better." Remarked Maric as he hopped off the window. "But I suppose you look better this way, then if your head was on the city gates." Walking up to the table, he gestured for Tyrion to sit down and then turned to the boy. "Derran, fetch a basin of water."

The boy then skipped from the room, leaving Tyrion and Maric alone. "I would much prefer that Arbor Gold, then water." Remarked Tyrion while he eyed the cask the over Maric's shoulder.

"I wasn't offering you water. I had a cask of Dornish strongwine brought up for you though." Explained Maric as he directed Tyrion to a opened cask beside the door. "Please go ahead." Implored Maric as he takes the seat across from Tyrion.

Getting up from his seat, Tyrion paced over to the cask and retrieved an empty goblet from beside it. "Your Maester said you wanted to have a word with me." Mentioned Tyrion as he filled his cup with the blood red wine.

"I do."

Tyrion then let out a small chuckle. "So should I start asking the questions or would you like to begin? The sooner you allow me to drown myself in a barrel of wine-" Tyrion's eyes darted to the barrel of Arbor Gold. "And I would very much enjoy it to be that one there … the better." Returning to his chair Tyrion looked over the set up board of cyvasse. "Or did you just wish to play a game?"

Smirking in amusement at Tyrion, he replied. "I thought we could do both. It certainly passes the time well. And while you may not be aware of this, sailor's do make for boring opponents."

"I've played a great many times before, even with sailor's and some could surprise you." Moving the rabble piece first. Tyrion added. "I do believe we both want something from each other." Tyrion waited for a quick nod from Maric before going on. "How about we add some extra rules to this game? For every piece you lose, you take a drink, and I get to ask a question and you must answer."

"And what about for every piece you lose?"

Letting out a burst of laughter, Tyrion replied. "Such a bold Lord you are. What are you ten and seven? And from what you've told me, you have a weakness for wine." Grabbing an empty flagon from the table , Tyrion returned to the opened cask and filled it. "For every piece you remove I'll take a drink and I'll answer one of your questions." Placing a empty goblet in front of Maric, Tyrion poured it to the brim and noticed a momentary look of hesitance in the young man's eyes, as he asked him. "Deal?"

Reaching down to the board, Maric pushed a crossbowmen piece forward. "Not quite, what's the reward for when I win?"

"Well besides the fact that you won't win, if you do manage to somehow steal my victory, you will be most assuredly roaring drunk. How about you tell me what you want from me, so I can match that offer with what I want?"

"If I win you swear yourself to me." Deadpanned Maric without a hint a humor in his voice.

Unable to contain himself, Tyrion laughed in Maric's face. "You certainly didn't mince words with me. I respect that, so tell me then, what would a bastard like yourself want with me? Seeing as how my reputation dictates me as being a Kingslayer and now a Kinslayer?"

"If you want to know that, then you'll have to play me for the answer." Replied the dark haired boy in a cheeky manner.

Moving another rabble piece forward, Tyrion relented. "I accept your conditions, but when I win I get that cask of Arbor Gold behind you to myself."

"I was planning to seduce the Iron Bank with it, but if those are your conditions I accept as well." Reaching to the board he pushed a rabble piece around a mountain, and admitted. "Truthfully, I thought you would have demanded the entire cellar of wine."

"That cask alone is larger than I am." Tyrion pointed out as he moved a crossbowmen. "I'm sure it will be more than enough ... at least for a few days that is."

As both men carefully moved their pieces and played around each other, they each attempted to find a weakness in each other's strategies. After nearly twenty moves from each man, Tyrion finally worked out Maric's strategy. He patiently waits and tries to surround any lone piece and when he attacks, he throws all his strength at it before retreating again. But using his experience, Tyrion caught an unguarded spearman piece.

"Take a drink." Ordered Tyrion, just as the door swung open and the boy from earlier teetered in with a basin of clear water.

Quickly swallowing down the sweet substance, Maric looked at the boy and asked. "What took you so long?"

The boy timedly placed the basin on a table beside the cask of Arbor Gold, and stuttered. "Sorry M'lord, but I didn't know if you wanted drinking water or salt water. So I brought fresh water."

"And that is what I wanted. Thank you Derran, now leave us." Waiting for the boy to leave, he waited several more seconds. "So what will you know?"

Tapping his fingertip to his chin, Tyrion made a show of acting as if he needed to think on it, when truthfully he had decided before they even started. "Why did you get me out of Kings Landing?"

"Because Varys asked me to." Stated Maric, with the threat of a smile looming on his lips.

"Is that truly how you mean to play this game my Lord?"

"I'd like think we are friends now, given the current situation. So please, call me Maric." Said Maric, who then received a nod from Tyrion in agreement. "It's because I believe that your death would have been an egregious waste. In my opinion you are worth more than most of the lords in Kings Landing put together. So that's why I got you away from King's Landing, Tyrion." Tapping a catapult piece with his finger he added. "And with that." He then removed two of Tyrion's rabble pieces. "I believe that is two drinks."

Looking down at the board, Tyrion realized his mistake too late. He lured me in hoping that I would get impatient of his pussyfooting and attack. And he had his catapult within range to strike if I did. Rather clever move, but now he's exhausted it. "Fair play." Tyrion admitted in between drinks. "So come out with it then, what do you want to know?"

"Did you kill Joffrey?"

Snickering at Maric's question, Tyrion shook his head. "I told you before and I told all of King's Landing … I did not kill Joffrey and I don't know who did."

"So I guess that means you aren't a Kingslayer like your brother." And as Maric said it, Tyrion swore he heard his voice rise at the word brother. "So to my next question, do you know where your wife Sansa is?"

Shaking his head, Tyrion tried to look for a reason Maric would ask that question. Failing to find a look of lust or hate on his face, Tyrion responded. "I was just as surprised as everyone else she disappeared. So no I don't know where she is."

Pushing a light horse piece over one of Maric's rabble piece, Tyrion asked. "Do you know who killed Joffrey?"

"Yes." Answered Maric simply.

"Then why did you ask me if I did it, since you already knew the answer?"

"I wanted to know if you would play honestly, and so far I think you have." Retrieving a cloth from the basin of water, Maric wiped at his brow and added. "And before you ask, I won't tell you who did. Not unless you swear yourself to me that is."

Thinking hard on how much he wishes to know who did kill Joffrey, Tyrion makes his decision and replied. "I believe it's your move."

After carefully playing around each other for minutes, Tyrion caught Maric off guard with a feint and then removed an elephant from play. So he then asked. "What has Marwyn been teaching you all these years?"

"He's taught me many languages such as Tyroshi, Myrish, Lyseni, Braavosi, High Valyrian, and I even learned Trade Talk at an early age. Besides that I've learned advanced mathematics such as geometry, though I do detest it. Marwyn also insisted that I learn the basic sciences." Maric then looked to his lute resting on his bed. "While he didn't encourage me to pick up music, he did find me many teachers when he learned of my talent. It may not be something I let on, but I also trained in swordplay since I was eight."

As Tyrion processed the information, admitted to himself that Maric was taught more than most maesters. "He certainly took quite an interest in you. You learned much more than half the lords of Westeros. Some would wonder why a bastard like yourself has been given such advantages. I've met your eldest brother Donnel, and If I'm to be honest, he could have used a fraction of what was taught to you. Seeing as how he will one day inherit your … Father's lands."

"What are you getting at Tyrion?" Asked Maric, as he forced his voice to sound of confusion, all while a smirk threatened to break his cool composure.

"Oh nothing, just musing to myself is all."

As both men continued to play, they traded questions and answers between each other equally. Tyrion finds surprise at how few pieces he has had to sacrifice to keep the game seem equal, as Maric himself was more than competent opponent. During an especially long wait for Maric to make his move Tyrion took the opportunity to truly study him. Still finding himself drawn to the contrast between Maric's eyes and hair, he forced himself to look past that. Staring around Maric's eyes he noticed the skin around them discolored and at first thought he'd been crying, but then he blamed it on the wine.

Suddenly he looked over to Tyrion and replied. "Your move." As he pushed his dragon piece far into the field beside a crossbowmen.

Studying the board quickly, Tyrion deduced his strategy. He hopes that by moving his dragon within range of my trebuchet, that I'll forget about his crossbowman. "You are far too willing to part with your dragon." Lectured Tyrion, as he toppled the dragon with his hand and removed it from the board. "Now take your drink, and tell me who you really are." Deadpanned Tyrion.

Grabbing the goblet with both hands, he lifted it to his mouth as if it weighed more than Tyrion himself. Maric then made his inebriation more than apparent as he downed the contents of his cup. Crudely wiping his mouth with his sleeve, Tyrion suppressed a snicker as Maric unknowingly stained his white tunic. "I already told you who I was." Slurred Maric as his usually clear voice was caught on the last word.

"And I now want the truth." Demanded Tyrion who looked deep into Maric's eyes for any signs of deception.

In response Maric shifted his vision to the board and tapped on his crossbowmen. "As history has told us of late, even Kingly figures can be killed by something as simple as a bolt of wood." Tipping Tyrion's King over, he finished with a smirk. "And with that … I win."

Tyrion simply smiled at Maric's ignorance, but he didn't miss the true meaning behind his words. "While it is true any man can be killed with a crossbolt-" Standing his king back up to it's vertical position. Tyrion traced a finger along the three squares separating his king and Maric's crossbowman. "You also can't miss. Your piece can only fire over two squares, and he currently is three squares away. So no, you do not win."

Looking at Tyrion in rage, Maric looked as if he meant to flip the board, but instead he bit his lip and slowly pushed the crossbowmen one space forward. "Go ahead."

Smirking in satisfaction at his victory, Tyrion reached across the table and pushed his heavy horse over Maric's white king, signifying his victory. "And with that ... I win." If he didn't throw his dragon in the crossfire, he could have blocked my horse and left my king open for his crossbow. Pity he lost his patience or he would have won. Grabbing the flagon off of the table, Tyrion held it up to his lips and downed the remaining content. "And I do believe you owe me one more answer and that cask."

Standing up from the chair quickly, Maric nearly toppled the table if not for Tyrion steadying it. After he strutted over to the window, he looked out to the sea in silence. Content in waiting for his response, Tyrion took the flagon with him to the opened cask and refilled it. "Do you still want to know who killed your little shit of a nephew?" Seeing the fire in Maric's eyes, Tyrion remained silent. Taking that as his answer, Maric explained. "The plot was much larger than anyone guessed it was. I went in with the intention of making up a story of some foreigner from Lys who sold you the poison, but Mace Tyrell proved so incompetent in his position as Master of Ships, that I got free reign over the harbor and freely changed the ship logs to suit my needs. And to my amazement, no one gave two shits who helped kill the king. All your sister cared for was making sure you got blamed. And now that your father is rightfully rotting in the seven hells along with his dog Gregor Clegane, no one will ever question how you did it. Which means no one will ever figure out that you nor Sansa killed Joffrey."

Not missing the emphasis put on Gregor's and his father's name, Tyrion asked. "So who was it, Varys?"

After an unsettling laugh left his mouth, Maric vehemently shook his head. "The Spider didn't have the gall to kill Joffrey in such a public manner, no you need to look in the opposite direction and ask yourself … who seems to gain the least from it?" Before letting Tyrion answer, he quickly answered for him. "Your predecessor Littlefinger." After rushing over to a chest by his bed, Maric threw open the lid and grabbed a heavy tome. "From your short time as Master of coin, you had nearly discovered the charade he's been playing for years." Maric then slammed the book in front of Tyrion, sending several game pieces flying off in multiple directions. As Tyrion examined the book, he recognized it as the financial logs he'd been studying while he was Master of Coin. "If you don't get it yet, then I'll inform you. It took Marwyn nearly a day to learn that despite the fact that the fat and bloated oaf of a King Robert Baratheon died, along with his expensive lifestyle … the amount of money the crown was losing never stopped. He must of known you were close to figuring it out, because he offered you up as the sacrificial lamb and Olenna had no qualms with you losing your head."

Trying to wrap his head around the stunning conclusion, Tyrion's thoughts drifted to Sansa and her fate. "So-"

Now on a drunken rampage and not willing to stop his confessions, Maric went on, almost screaming at this point. "And then their was Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns." Cracked Maric's voice in apparent amusement. "For how shrewd she likes to think herself, she truly is shortsighted in the grand scheme of things. She killed Joffrey to protect her granddaughter. Then she plans to have the supposed Virgin Queen marry Tommen, hoping he'll be easier for the Tyrells to control. Maybe they think he won't know that she lost her maidenhead years ago." Quickly he licked his lips, and added in a half joking tone. "If Marwyn wouldn't have beat all that good sense into me, I would have fucked her myself all those years ago."

"So Olenna, Littlefinger, and you." Uttered Tyrion as a feeling of uncontrollable rage for Maric turned his stomach. Tyrion then tossed his cup of wine at Maric which the former only dodged partially. "You … you started all of this. You're the reason … I-I" Crumpling down to the floor in absolute disbelief, he muttered under his breath. "I killed my father … and her."

Absentmindedly Maric looked down at his wine stained shirt, before he squatted down beside Tyrion and cruelly whispered. "It hurts to lose those you love doesn't it, Lannister."

Quick as a cat, Tyrion smacked Maric across the mouth with the back of his hand. With an absolute lack of fear and reprisal, Tyrion spat directly in his face, and saw the spit land squarely between the bastard's eyes. "Everything is your fault!"

Ignoring the slap from Tyrion, he wiped the wine colored saliva from his face, then he threw his hands up and remarked. "How rude of me! I haven't even finished my tale yet." Leaning on the window sill, Maric folded his hands under his chin and continued. "So how did it go again? Oh yes, Marwyn and I supplied the strangler that killed your brother's bastard. Then Petyr took it to a silversmith who made it into a hairnet, which was then given to your wife. And we can't forget the final act, after Olenna swiped one of the crystal's from Sansa during the wedding, she then handed it off to Garlan who slipped it into Joffrey's chalice while he taunted and tormented you."

Swallowing down his anger, Tyrion managed to ask. "What happened to Sansa, did you kill her?"

Maric then kicked the goblet from earlier, and it slammed against the far wall of the cabin. "That was my one blunder, which I suppose I shared in with Olenna. Littlefinger must have somehow slipped her out of the wedding and stole her away while my attention was drawn. And the Tyrells seemed to think they would have been able to divert all the blame onto you, freeing Sansa to marry Willas."

"So what did you get out of killing Joffrey? Tell me why I had to fall!" Demanded Tyrion, as he unsteadily climbed back to his feet.

Before Maric could answer, the door slammed open and Marwyn rushed into the room. Looking first at the overturned table and spilled flagon of wine, he then looked to both Tyrion and Maric with a look of pure shock. "What on earth have you told him?" Asked Marwyn as he roughly pushed Tyrion out of the way to get to Maric.

As he tried to attend to the young man, he was simply pushed away by Maric as he drunkenly ordered him to get away from him. "He will hear my story." Exclaimed Maric as he stumbled to the chest at the foot of his bed. Rummaging through it he said."You told me that I didn't look of any of the other Swanns and then I told you my mother was a whore from Lys, do you remember?!" Still not waiting for Tyrion's answer, he fished out a clear vial filled with cloudy liquid. Stumbling over to the basin, he emptied the contents of the vial into the water.

After rushing over to Maric's side, Marwyn begged him. "You mustn't do this my Prince, it's far too early."

Pushing Marwyn away again, Tyrion watched as Maric dipped his head into the basin. Looking at Marwyn, he saw the man shake his head in disbelief and angst. Smelling something akin to boiled eggs, he followed the scent to the basin. "What is he doing?" Asked Tyrion, but instead of an answer from either men, he received silence.

After a prolonged period of Maric scrubbing his head with the water, Tyrion noticed black liquid dripping out of from Maric's hair. Carefully studying the young man, he saw a bright sheen of silver from his head. "You wanted the truth Lannister, well I'll give you all of it." Removing himself from the now basin now filled with dark water, Maric stalked over to Tyrion and grabbed him tight by his shoulders.

Tyrion looked deep into Maric's dark eyes, now only accentuated by his silver hair and stuttered. "You were dyeing your hair-"

"Aye, I was. When I was still just a boy, I used to ask Marwyn, 'why do I have to hide my hair? I like my hair just how it is.' Then he would tell me that bad people were looking to hurt me and that if I colored my hair they wouldn't be able to find me." He then pulled Tyrion an inch away from his face. "But I'm not hiding anymore, and I will have my vengeance ... and I will save my Kingdom from your family." Suddenly a rush of sailors came funneling into the room all armed with weapons.

"I don't understand-"

Giving one passing glance towards the sailors, he turned to Tyrion and said loud enough for all to hear. "I am Aegon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. And I am the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms … and I will take what is mine with Fire and Blood." Tearing his stained shirt over his head, he tossed it through the open window and commanded the sailors. "Now take this Lion off of my ship and toss him into the Blackwater, maybe he can swim back to his cunt of a sister." Before Tyrion could argue or struggle, two very hairy sailors lifted him off the floor and carried him towards the door. Over his shoulder, Tyrion heard him call out. "But before you go … a deal is a deal. Take that cask of Arbor Gold and toss it overboard with him, he did win it fairly."