7th Month of 298 A.C. Ruby Ford

Tyrion Lannister

His legs were aching from the journey that he had taken, walking down from the Eyrie with only Bronn and some gods damned mountain savages for company, they had traversed down the quickest and of course most dangerous pathways down to the riverlands. He was very glad to be leaving the Vale, it was not a place he ever truly wished to come back to again, unless he was at the head of an army sent to kill that brat of a child and his whore of a mother. Gods how he wanted them dead, he dreamed of it at night, by the gods did he dream of it, it was what allowed him to sleep when the pain became too much, when the agony of what had happened became too much to bare. And then of course there was Littlefinger, Tyrion was a Lannister, and so he knew how to create and nurse a grudge. The little worm had tried to have him killed for what reason he knew not, but he had sworn that before he died he would find out why and then he would have Petyr Baelish's entrails dangling from the battlements of the Red Keep, a Lannister pays their debts after all.

When they had come down the hill and found an army and its camp, Tyrion had briefly feared that this was the army of Rivermen that he had heard so much about, and then he had seen the Lion of Lannister and hoped that this was Jaime come to help him as he had so often done when they were younger. Alas it was not, it was his father who had no doubt come to cause trouble in the Riverlands. Tyrion did not know whether or not to feel flattered that his father had called the banners for him, though he was not so foolish as to truly think his father had done it for him, no, no doubt his father had done it for the family name and for that child he must never think of. Something his father had promptly reminded him of when Tyrion had come to greet him in his tent. That done, there had been not much more for him to do until his father had summoned him and told him that he and his clansmen were to fight in the vanguard during the fighting.

It seemed his father truly was determined to kill him, the vanguard was stationed on the eastern bank of the ford where Prince Rhaegar had been slain all those years ago, why they were being stationed there so far from the main army Tyrion knew not, for the Riverlords were coming somewhere close by, Axel Tully had been following his father's army with his own for some time it seemed. Tyrion had been enjoying the pleasures of the whore Shae, when Bronn had come to tell him they were getting ready for battle, for it seemed a northern host was marching straight towards them, tired and out of patience, perfect for the lion to show its might.

That was what he had thought before the battle had begun. Ser Gregor Clegane in command of the vanguard had ordered them to charge across the ford, and into the oncoming northmen. Some men had been swept up in the current and died, whilst others had been hit and then drowned by the weight of their armour. Tyrion himself was struggling to remain upright on his horse as it were, swinging his axe, he managed to cut down one man, before nearly being taken out by another. The fighting was fierce and quick, and Tyrion was not sure just how long he could keep doing this for. He had always wanted to be a warrior as a child, but then he had realised such things were not for him. Now it seemed he was going to die in battle, by the gods he hated the Tullys and the Starks.

His arms hurt, this damn axe was too heavy by half, he swung it and it did some damage to some northern brute with fur on his helm or some such nonsense. If he was being honest with himself, which he often was, this was not something he had imagined doing when he had come down from the Vale. He had wanted wine and wenches nothing more and nothing less, he had got a wench but there was no gods' damned wine. He swung his axe again and managed to bury it in some bastard's chest, he was without a weapon and that was going to become a problem quite soon.

He found a sword lying on the ground just a few feet away from him and as he strained to reach it, he was knocked from his horse. "A Lannister, Bolton will have to give me something now." A harsh voice said. Tyrion looked at the figure towering over him and merely prayed to gods he did not know existed that the end would be quick and the child he was not supposed to think of would be safe.

But then the figure crumpled before him, and Tyrion was being hoisted up by someone. "Half man cannot die today." Shagga said.

A weapon was thrust into his hand and bellowing something or the other Tyrion advanced forward, his height meant that he could not kill men, but he could hinder them. He hacked and stabbed at their feet and ankles, causing many of the northmen to cry out in pain and begin falling to their knees, allowing the mountain clansmen to hack them to pieces. For once he did not feel such a failure with a weapon in his hand. The push continued, the ford was steadily filling up with bodies some Lannister men others Stark men, Tyrion continued his charge, his mad dash for glory hacking away at the ankles of men much bigger than him, sometimes getting knocked down but always getting back up.

More men fall around him, Tyrion hears laughter as he advances through the ranks of the northmen, hacking away at their ankles, they have cleared the ford somewhat and it seems the northmen are being pushed back. It is only when he falls down that he realises that the laughter is his own, gods he sounds mad, is he going mad? He stumbles back up and shakes himself, but by then the mountain men he was with have moved on and there are enemies on all sides, by the gods what is happening here? The field seems to be closing in on him, his breathing becomes harsher, and his eyes begin to water, what is happening to him? Gods dammit man, he needs to see properly, and otherwise he will most definitely be killed.

He feels as if he is floating, a figure dressed in red and black comes before him then. "So you are Tywin's boy? I had always wondered what you would look like you know. I have heard the tales and I must admit that something about you seems off."

Tyrion looks at the figure, and stares, he wonders who this figure is, and why they have come to him now, when he has a battle to fight. As if sensing his confusion the figure laughs. "Worry not Son of Tywin, I am not here to harm you. I am merely here to speak with you."

"Speak with me?" Tyrion asks. "How can I speak with you, when I do not know who you are?"

The figure laughs then. "Oh yes, you are definitely Tywin's boy. Only someone such as Tywin would ask such a question. You need not know who I am, you need only know that I am here to advise you."

Tyrion looks at the figure and scoffs. "I do not need the advice of some figure of my imagination."

The figure grows angry then. "Oh but you do, you insolent little fool! You are not aware of the dangers to come, how could you be? You must be careful boy, you must be very careful. There are dangers in the light who will try to come and remove you from the things you most desire. The sister will plot death and treason, the father will look towards removal, and the woman of the heart will betray you when time comes in a trial of blood. You must not let them succeed otherwise all we have worked for will be broken."

Tyrion looks at the figure before him and asks. "Who are you? Who are you working with and what have you achieved?"

But the figure has disappeared, and Tyrion is left staring into a blank space. Thoroughly disconcerted and angry, he shakes his head, only to feel a throbbing pain in his side. Wondering why his side is hurting he looks down and sees his armour has been dented, wait, armour? When did he start wearing armour? And then it all comes rushing back to him, the battle, the dizziness, and soon enough he finds himself being thrown backwards in the oncoming tide of soldiers and water.

His body is racked with pain as he gets thrown from one place to another, are the vanguard retreating? Why would they be retreating last he had remembered they were winning this battle. What has changed in the past few moments that has forced them to retreat? And that is when he sees it, the scores of northmen charging down raining fire arrows on them, fire would be enough to send any sane man running. But Tyrion suspects there is something more going on here, there is some other plan.

A horn is sounded somewhere in the distance, and Tyrion knows something is afoot, he can see the ford coming closer and closer into view. That is not good, they will be crushed, and something needs to be done. What he knows not, but something needs to be done. Suddenly, Tyrion sees more banners and he sees his uncle Kevan leading the charge, and he knows then that the plan was always to use the vanguard as bait, the northmen have fallen into the trap and now the Young Wolf will be taken care of. He continues running on his stumped legs, running as fast as he can through the pain, trying desperately not to look back to see how his uncle is doing.

The vanguard it seems is without a commander, gods alone know where Clegane has gotten to, and so it seems that they are just one large rabble of confused and scared soldiers fleeing back towards where they came from. An Inn comes into view, and Tyrion hopes to gods that they are nearly there, back into safety away from the mass carnage that could come forth from this battle. And yet, just as his hopes start to rise another horn is sounded and this time, there are no lion's banner flapping in the air, he knows not who these banners belong to but he suspects that this is not going to end well.

This new enemy crashes into the fleeing vanguard, and in the chaos that ensues, Tyrion swears that he nearly loses his head at least twice, thankfully his need for self-preservation is greater than any need for heroics and so he ducks and jabs with the sword he still has. His heart is beating rapidly, and he knows not what will happen but he continues forward as he and the rest of the vanguard struggle with this new enemy as well as trying to reach the camp. The camp will be the safe haven they all so desire, it has to be, but there are so many of these new fucking enemies that it has become hard to see how they will break free.

His body is aching, he longs for the comfort of Shae's embrace, tiredness is filling his body now, he cannot continue he has no will to continue, and yet his body is forcing his feet to move one in front of the other. The sword has long since been discarded, but still he walks, or is he running? Tyrion knows not anymore, all he knows now is that he must continue, he must push through and make it alive, the child needs him, even if the lad knows it not, the child needs him.