This is a long one, thank you for your reviews and following.

I just realized I forget the Jeyne Pool part, but I can handle that part easy in a later chapter

Hope you will enjoy it

Revisited 20.04.2013

I own nothing


Tyrion followed the servant through the halls of the Red Keep. He was angry to be woken so deep in the night. He had never slept so deep in his live. After Sansa cried herself to sleep in his embrace, finally letting out her feelings, he had fallen asleep as well, his head on hers. It was so good; he had never expected he would ever experience something like that. He was glad she had finally opened up to him. She had shared her feelings, with him, it still surprised him. He hadn't expected she would open up so quickly, but had been relief she had done so.

The entire day had been a relief, first his opportunity to spoof his repulsive nephew and then their game of Cyvasse. After the first game he had known she was brilliant, he had been aware that she wasn't stupid but watching her playing like that had been more than he had ever believed to see.

After the third game he had realized he would have to improve his gaming skills or she would constantly humiliate him. He won't risk that; he would grow frustrated and sooner rather than later let it out on her. He didn't want that, not at all, she had opened up to him, had talked to him and he was happy about it. It seemed she would start to trust him; he didn't want to destroy that. So he had to be careful with his doing and his tongue, not wanting to say something that would hurt her.

He had enjoyed every minute of her companionship and he wanted more, so much more. And there was a chance he would get it.

The evening had been even more 'intense', he had known she had had to talk about her feelings but would never do so, she had hid them to well behind her armour. He had had to start, showing her a bit of trust, to talk to her, sharing his childhood and his sorrows with her. After all, she was his wife now and that was what spouses do, wasn't it? He had talked his soul out and after he had finished she had taken her turn and had told him what had lain on her mind.

He had never experienced something so intimate with anybody in his life. All the whores he had had, they had just acted but this, this was real. Her grief had nearly broken him, all good his family had taken away from her. He wanted to comfort her, to say that he was sorry but he hadn't been able to do the last. He didn't want to be guilty; he wanted to be her saver not the villain.

You are the monster here, don't forget that

But at least he had been able to give her comfort in his embrace, when her dam and armour had broken and the tears streaming down her cheeks. It had felt right to hold her and she had taken his embrace with gratitude, at least he wanted to think so.

Deep in his thoughts Tyrion didn't notice that the servant led him to the tower of the Hand, and after the arrival, Tyrion followed him up the stairs to his father's chambers. In the staircase he finally realized where he was, turning his head left and right he noticed nobody else were there.

"Could you be so friendly and tell me what happened, now would be very convenient." Sarcasm and frustration in his voice, he grew angrier with the servant and his father to call him now.

To his further frustration the servant kept silent. Finally arriving at the floor of his father's chambers, Tyrion noticed the guards were accompanied by a small crowd in Lannister red in front of the door. What was going on, it was the deepest of the night. The men bowed their heads when Tyrion passed them, unusual polite and silent. He marched into his father's chambers, his old chambers he acknowledged with a quick thought.

After he opened the door a very 'unpleasant' smell reached his nose. Where was he, in Flea Bottom? He grimaced in disgust, but closed the door behind him locking the crowd out. He didn't want too much ears hearing the wigging his father would most likely give him, he always did so and the tower had enough alien ears. He looked around and found the source of the smell, he never would have thought what he saw now and suddenly he couldn't move any more. His father lay on the bed, face pale as death hand folded on his chest, his trousers coloured brown.

So much to shitting gold

His father was dead.

Kevan knelt at the edge of the bed, praying, nobody else was there. What had happened? How had it happened? He still couldn't move, fixed to the floor by the sight. He needed all his willpower to take the first step and the second and slowly he approached the scene in front of him. He reached out with his hand, gaze fixed on his father's body.

"Father? Uncle?" He felt a little bit like a child, he was confused and the second time in this week he didn't know what to say, not knowing what to do. He hated the man in front of him, but still he had been his father, his maker. Knowing he was dead, he forgot all his mortifications. His father was dead. What now?

Kevan slowly raised his head and looked at him, sadness in his features.

"The Maester said his heart just stopped"

There are many who thought he had none

"It just stopped and he broke down on the floor. The servant who was with him quickly called me and Pycelle, but it was too late, he was already dead." His uncles voice was weak, he always spoke calm but never weak. 'Just so?' No, this couldn't be, he had been fine, just a day ago, when Tyrion had seen him. He wanted to say something but suddenly the door swung open and Cersei stormed in the room, he hadn't even noticed her absence. She looked at least as troubled as he felt when the servant woke him. 'Was it the same servant who was with his father?'

Unimportant, focus!

"What happened? Why was I called so late at night?" Demanding and as snobbish as always Cersei overlooked the room, her gaze fell first on Tyrion and their uncle and then on the bed, her eyes widened in realisation. Her gaze fell back on him.

"You, you monster, you killed him" She pointed her finger in his direction, accusing him, her voice was hysteric and he quickly took a step back, fearing she would try to strangle him. Kevan quickly stepped between them, turning towards Cersei.

"Cersei, calm down, I just called for him, your father died because of his heart" Cersei stopped in motion still piercing him with her gaze

"No he poisoned him, I know it" Now it was Tyrions turn to speak, her words deeply hurt him, after all he had never thought of himself as a kin-slayer, but poison, could be an explanation, he had to investigate further on that.

"My dear sister, after all he was my father too. Do you really believe I would be capable of killing him? I never took actions to hurt any member of our family" He didn't know why he justify himself in front of her raging self "But I agree with you, his death looks suspicious, Pycelle should examine his body" Who could have done it? Stannis, the Tyrells, a citizen who wanted revenge for the sack of the city? Oberyn Martell, he had welcomed him just two days ago and he hadn't made a secret out of his wish for revenge for his sister and her children. During his exploring of the possible suspects he didn't notice that Cersei continued raging.

" 'Never hurting a family member', please, you vile little thing, do you believe I would believe you? You took Tommen away from me, sending Joffrey into battle, and Myrcella into a snake pit. And mother, you killed her" Her voice grew every second she spoke, turning into a scream. Her accusations hurt him deeply, but now wasn't the place or the time to deal with it.

"Stop it, both of you, show some respect!" Tyrion never witnessed his uncle raising his voice, still standing between the siblings, he was obviously angry with them. "Your father is dead and you act like spoiled children, have a grip and pull yourself together."

Tyrion now felt guilty for his behaviour, he hadn't wanted to anger him, or showing disrespect.

Please, I know you want to dance on your father's grave

Even Cersei found her posture back. She looked still raging, but she was good hiding her feelings. Years in Kings Landing had told her that. Tyrion still didn't know what now, or how he should feel, he decided to ask.

"What now, uncle" Thousand thoughts flew through his mind, fears of the future.

"Tyrion, with Jaime in the Kingsguard, you are the Lord of the Rock now, and I would advise you Cersei to appoint him as Hand of the King again, at least temporary." He? Lord of the Rock? He had always wanted what was his by law, but his father had made clear he would never get it. But now his father was dead, and he was the Lord. Cersei didn't look happy.

"He, Lord of the Westerlands? Never, father never wanted him, and Hand of the King, are you kidding me uncle, I would rather make Moonboy Hand." She started raging again, seeing her hated brother rising higher than she had ever expected. Tyrion knew she saw herself as the greatest of Lord Tywin's children and her ego would never survive him as Lord. He would have laughed about the absurdly situation wouldn't his father's corpse lie a few feet besides them.

"Your brother is the heir Cersei, you can't change that and despite your father's irrational disrespect for him, he is the best for the job as Hand. Do you know Genna once described him as a second Tywin? He is going to be Lord; the Westerlands are now his, live with that. He has my support and Gennas for sure too, the Lords will hear what we say and swear the oaths to Tywins son." Tyrion was stunned by his uncle's support, he had never imagined such a back-up from him."Concerning the position as Hand, as long as the war continue we must show unity, towards our enemies, but more important to our ally. Tyrion was Hand, and not a bad one, he also follows your father as Lord and is so the leader of the Westerland soldiers now. Don't ask me to rule, I don't want the post. Make him Hand; only as long as it takes to end the battles and the wedding is over, when your power is solid, appoint who you want. But now you must do what I tell you or everything breaks into pieces."

Tyrion still looked in disbelief over his uncle's speech, Kevan was right. He gave him more power than he even could imagine and Cersei could only stand there and watch. He would be the richest and most powerful Lord of the seven kingdoms, ruler over armies and mines, Cersei and Joffrey could do nothing. From now on he was the one with the power not they and when Cersei chose a new hand he could retreat to the Rock and spending his days in peace. He could read and play Cyvasse with Sansa all day.

'Sansa' What would she think about all this? How would she react? They wouldn't go to Winterfell, how would life be for her?

You get everything you wanted and you worry about her?

Yes he did, he worried about her, he wanted her approval, her affection, even more than the Rock, he realized in surprise.

"Fine" Cersei looked like a cat just escape a sack to drown in. "But dare you to forget who is Queens regent" He could see that she still didn't like it but with amusement he realized, eventually she had no choice. She had to do so.

They remained in silence for a few minutes; Tyrion thought about what all this meant for him, still standing in is spot. He hadn't moved the whole time. Their uncomfortable silence was disturbed by a knock at the door. The servant again, the man started to annoy Tyrion. Still pale the man leaned into the room, looking at Kevan.

"My Lord, they are all here." Kevan turned to him, recomposing his facial expression

"Are you ready to attempt the troth of your lieges, My Lord?" Kevan walked to the door, turned and looked at him.

Was he ready? He was a Lannister, of course he was. He stepped to the door, leaving his father and Cersei behind.

The hall was filled with men in different coats, all from the Westerlands.

'Kevan had called them all' they stand in front of him waiting, when Kevan started to speak:

"Tywin Lannister is dead, behold Lord Tyrion Lannister Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport, Warden of the West. Pledge your loyalty to him as your new Lord." His voice was loud but not threatening, it was like he announced somebody important.

You are important now

Without hesitation the men bended the knee to him, and took their vows. They were his men now. He was their Lord.

-##-

After this improved ceremony was over, he shook some hands and heard some Westermen who assured him of their loyalty. Vary was there too, congratulating him. He was tied of all that.

After he discrete ordered Pycelle to examine his father. The old Maester wasn't pleased with him in power, remembering their feud. After he had sent the Lords away he headed to his rooms. He would move to the tower of the Hand in a few days.

He was accompanied by two soldiers, he was the Lord now, he couldn't just go alone. They would wait in front of his chambers, like it had to be done.

He mused about what happened, when it hit him: His father was dead. He finally fully realised it, he felt his blood flooding out of his head and his heart fell. He continued walking, he didn't want to show weakness, but in the inside he felt like, he couldn't even describe how he felt. He had to talk to somebody, Sansa; he wanted to talk to Sansa. Tell her about his feelings. What happened to him, that he wanted to talk to her so urgently?

She know your feelings, and you trust her, she told you from her feelings like you told her, you never talked to somebody like that.

Yes this was it, he had shared everything with her and wanted to continue, he wanted a confidant and she was who he wanted.

After he walked through their door and settled on the bed, he looked at her. She looked uncertain, afraid. 'What did she thought had happened?' He hit himself in his mind for not sending somebody and assuring her that nothing was wrong for her. She most likely lay awake in fear from the unknown.

Idiotic dwarf

He leaned his head at the board.

"My father is dead"


Hard chapter, I will put more and more politics in the story, but I won't forget the two of them, don't worry