Tyrion
The last time Tyrion was at Casterly Rock was before the War. It was back when Jon Arryn was still Hand of the King. Tyrion was sure Lann the Clever would agree: The Rock looked as regal and formidable as ever. And Jaime just proved a month ago that the Rock was indeed impregnable. If the stories were to be believed, that meant only trickery could oust the ruling house from Casterly Rock. Then again, the singers also said Lann tricked the sun into giving him its fire, turning Lannister hair gold forever after.
There was no fanfare, no welcoming entourage, not even so much as a trumpet. The rightful Lord of Casterly Rock had come home and no one would know until tomorrow. Tyrion and Ser Kevan rode up to the gates, keeping one eye on the sun setting over Lannisport.
When Tyrion walked through the gates, Maester Creylen greeted him with some surprise, "My Lord, we were not expecting you tonight."
"You weren't?"
"We thought you would stay in the capital."
"There's little for a Lannister there. That's all I'll say. If you don't mind, Maester, we're hungry and tired for the journey. If you could take care of the package in the cart. Don't feel the need to be gentle."
"Tyrion…" Ser Kevan protested.
"Ser Kevan, I am open to your counsel, but not in this area. I am the Lord of Casterly Rock. My word is iron. Or I guess gold in this case."
Tyrion, the Lord of Casterly Rock – now wasn't that something? – left his horses and the train of men and went to his old room. It was his old room because Tyrion would soon be moving into the solar of the Lord Paramount of the Westerlands. His father's room.
In his own, Tyrion lit a candle and prepared the hearth in preparation for… what? He couldn't say. But the thought of losing the war, the Handship, and the Kingsmoot irked Tyrion in the worst way. Thank the gods he didn't lose the Rock. He would have to light a candle at the Sept and kiss Jaime when he saw him.
There was a light knock on the door and a servant opened it, "My Lord, a Lady Shae is here for you."
"Send her in." Tyrion said.
Shae entered and said, "Lady Shae?" her accent was adorable. Tyrion was the only one who knew she was a whore. Here, she could be anybody: a noble lady from across the Narrow Sea, for example.
Before she could say anything to question her identity, Tyrion said, "Yes, my lady. Now come in here before I explode."
She laughed and walked over to the bed. She undressed, but slowly. Tyrion threw off his pants and then climbed on top of the bed to help Shae throw off her dress. She squeeled like a handmaiden invited to a High Lord's bed and immediately showed her skills by taking him into her mouth. Tyrion never asked, but he was willing to bet that she was trained in the Lyseni Seven Sighs. Tyrion spent himself over Shae's neck and collar.
He collapsed onto the bed and sighed. It's good to be the Lord of the West. Shae cleaned herself with a towel hanging by the bath and then walked around the room in the bright light of the roaring fire. Tyrion watched as she ran her hands over Tyrion's extensive bookshelves. He liked to think about which books she walked past. There was Tyrion's first edition of the Conquest of Dorne. There was an illuminated pre-Conquest manuscript of The Seven-Pointed Star at the center of Tyrion's collection of theology and philosophy. There was a copy of Boethyus's Consolation and Tommen Aquinas' Sum of Theology. Tyron remembered when he wanted to be the High Septon. The illuminated Seven-Pointed Star was his pride-and-joy, the centerpiece of his library. It still was. Despite being more cynical than younger Tyrion, older Tyrion still liked the manuscript for its artistic value.
Shae walked past it and reached Tyrion's collection of Qartheen woodcuts, Lyseni silk manuscripts, and the Volantene Threads of Pleasure. Tyrion couldn't read too much of the Volantene mangled Valyrian alphabet, but he sure as hell enjoyed the pictures. He'd have to introduce Shae to the fine literature of the East.
"Have you read all threes books, my lord?"
"Most of them," Tyrion said, "I'll probably have a lot more time to read now that I'm out of the capital." That was the silver lining, but Tyrion was never the kind to get excited over the rain clouds of his life. There had to be something else. Tyrion tasted victory. Now he wanted the whole pie.
He stood and put his pants on. The Lord of Casterly Rock pulled out the Volantene book and handed it to Shae, "Enjoy yourself, my dear."
He walked over to the table and pulled out a large map of Westeros from the bottom drawer. It was a simple map that had the old borders of the Lord Paramountcies: the nine provinces Aegon formed from the Seven Kingdoms of old. The five major cities were all clearly marked, along with the major castles of the Realm. Tyrion pulled out a pen and a sheet of paper. He began to write the names of key players of the game. He wrote his own name and Ser Kevan's and put them on Casterly Rock. He wrote "Littlefinger" and the names of his Small Council and dropped them on King's Landing. He wrote "Renly" and "Loras" and dropped them on Storm's End. Tyrion spent the next hour writing the names of as many High Lords and Ladies of Westeros as he could think of to write and place on the map. He found that he had an unfortunately large "unknown" pile. Sansa and Arya Stark were both on the list, Varys was prominent, and he had to admit to himself that except for a few names on the list, all of those people one the map could be anywhere. They did have lags.
Still, what could Tyrion possible do with this information? Littlefinger had Tommen. Cersei refused his offer to come to Casterly Rock. The Lannisters maintained their position in the West. But they were surrounded by enemies: Littlefinger to the east, the incendiary Florents and unendearing (and emasculated) Tyrells to the south. Except for what forces Ser Kevan and Jaime managed to collect, the armies of the West have been largely destroyed. They were devoid of actual allies, but looking at the map, Tyrion saw only two advantages: the gold of Casterly Rock, and potential. Tyrion once hoped to turn King Joffrey's enemies against each other. Instead, Catelyn Stark came along and the Kingsmoot gave victory to Petyr Baelish. He noticed a name on his "unknown" pile: Jaime Lannister. How did he miss that?
Tyrion looked over and noticed Shae on the bed with the Volantene book opened to a drawing of a man fucking two women. She was on her back, her legs as wide open as the book, her hands between the fold rubbing and touching herself with the gentle push and experience that only a woman would know.
He walked over to the door and told the guard "Go to my uncle. Ask if he knows where my brother is."
"Yes, m'lord." The guard walked off.
Tyrion went back to the mapand tried to concentrate on the possibilities. There was no chance for a Lannister bloodline to sit the Iron Throne. Not in Tyrion's lifetime. Even if King Littlefinger actually did plan on marrying his legitimized bastard to Tommen, Tyrion was skeptical that he'd ever see him on the Throne. Especially after his moonlight meeting with Catelyn Stark.
To be honest, it was hard to concentrate with Shae touching herself like that. The way she sighed and shook, Tyrion thought the whole castle might hear before too long. When it became too hard for Tyrion to resist, he felt like telling her to stop, remembered that he gave Shae the book in the first place.
A knock finally came at the door. Tyrion walked over and opened the door only a crack. Instead of a guard with a message, he saw his uncle there, refreshed and bathed after the long and dusty Goldroad.
"I told you to ask my uncle a question, not bring him here."
"I insisted on bringing you this information personally," Ser Kevan made to enter Tyrion's room. For a split second, Tyrion considered not letting his uncle inside. But admitting his guilt was not the way to go. He was the rightful and effective Lord of Casterly Rock. If he wanted to sleep with Lady Shae, he had that right. No one protested that Tytos Lannister had a paramour, just that he dressed her in his dead wife's clothes and sat her at the high table for distinguished Lords and Ladies.
"Come in, my lord." Tyrion opened the door. Ser Kevan walked inside and, of course, had to stop and stare at Lady Shae pleasuring herself on Tyrion's bed. Shae looked over and said, "Good evening, my lord."
Ser Kevan turned his head and glared at Tyrion, "Lady Shae, please, my uncle and I have some things to discuss."
Shae stopped touching herself and said, "Apologies, my lord." She closed the book and walked to where her dress was lying in a crumpled heap next to the bed. "This way, if you please, uncle." Tyrion led Ser Kevan to the table with his war map.
Ser Kevan spent a few minutes just staring at Westeros and all the names, "What are these?"
"Those are my unknowns." Tyrion took up Jaime's name, "So I ask you, where is my brother?"
"I know he went to Silverhill to accept the Serrett surrender, stands to reason he's at the Golden Tooth to accept theirs." Tyrion set down Jaime's name at the Tooth. It was an important castle to secure. There were three land routes to the West: the Goldroad, the Oceanroad, and the Riverroad. The Goldent Tooth guarded this passage from the Riverlords. It was this route that Robb Stark took as he marched on Casterly Rock.
"What about the rest of these names?" Ser Kevan asked.
"Allies, enemies, various persons of interest."
"We are not at war, Tyrion."
"Maybe not, but you and I both know that Littlefinger is not a friend."
"Fair enough. What did you have in mind?"
"I'm not sure yet. Give me a week and I'll work something out."
Ser Kevan looked over at Shae, "And her?"
"Don't worry about her. She prefers to work me out."
