Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin, i do however own the non-canon character(s) of this story. This is purely a work of my personal enjoyment so i ask you to not expect anything worthy of the great GRRM. I fully welcome criticism/suggestions as this is my first attempt at a fanfiction. The story will eventually be finished (i hate leaving things unfinished) but i have no real schedule. Please review as i'd love the feedback.
Notes: I think this is my longest chapter? 3,670 words. I will try to write longer chapters too in the future but promise nothing in that regard.
Chapter 11: War is the Answer
"Tyrion," Kevan Lannister said in surprise.
"Uncle," Tyrion said, bowing. "And my lord father. What a pleasure to find you here."
Lord Tywin did not stir from his chair, but he did give his dwarf son a long, searching look. "I see that the rumors of your demise were unfounded."
"Sorry to disappoint you, Father," Tyrion said. "No need to leap up and embrace me, I wouldn't want you to strain yourself." He crossed the room to the table, acutely conscious of the way his stunted legs make him waddle with every step. Lord Tywin's eyes staring at his son had a way of highlighting all of the dwarfs deformities and shortcomings. "Kind of you to go to war for me," he said as he climbed into a chair and took some wine that Lann had so politely offered.
"It is you who started this," Lord Tywin replied. "Your brother Jaime would never have meekly submitted to capture at the hands of a woman."
"That's one way we differ, Jaime and I. He's taller as well, you may have noticed."
Tywin ignored the sally. "The honor of our house was at stake. I had no choice but to ride. No man sheds Lannister blood with impunity."
"Hear me Roar," Tyrion said, grinning. The Lannister words. "Truth be told, none of my blood was actually shed, although it was a close thing once or twice."
"I suppose you will be wanting some new men."
"Don't trouble yourself, Father, I've acquired a few of my own." Tyrion took a final swig of his ale, brown and yeasty, so thick you could almost chew it. Very fine in truth. Lann's eyes directed Tyrion to the hanged innkeep, as if placing blame. "How is the war going?"
Lann answered. "Well enough, for now. Ser Edmure had scattered small troops of men along his borders to stop us raiding, and we were able to destroy most of them piecemeal before they could regroup. Things have been moving smoothly on our front, while Jaime keeps pressure on Riverrun."
"Your brother has been covering himself with glory," Tywin said. "He smashed the Lords Vance and Piper at the Golden Tooth, and met massed powers of the Tullys under the walls of Riverrun. The lords of the Trident have been put to rout. Ser Edmure Tully was taken captive, with many of his knights and bannermen. Lord Blackwood led a dew survivors back to Riverrun, where Jaime now has them under siege. The rest fled back to their strongholds."
"Your father and I have been marching on each in turn," Ser Kevan said. " With Lord Blackwood gone, Raventree fell at once, and Lady Whent yeilded Harrenhal for want of men to defend it. Ser Gregor burnt out the Pipers and the Brackens..."
"Leaving you unopposed?" Tyrion said.
"Not wholly," Lann jumped in. "The Mallisters still hold Seagard and Walder Frey is marshaling his levies at the Twins."
"No matter," Lord Tywin said. "Frey only takes the field when the scent of victory is in the air, and all he smells now is ruin. And Jason Mallister lacks the strength to fight alone. Once Jaime takes Riverrun, they will both be quick enough to bend the knee. Unless the Starks and the Arryns come forth to oppose us, this war is good as won."
"I would not fret overmuch about the Arryns if I were you," Tyrion said. "The Starks on are another matter. Lord Eddard-"
"-is our hostage," Tywin replied. "He will lead no armies while he rots in a dungeaon under the Red Keep."
"No," Lann agreed, "but his son has called the banners and sits at Moat Cailin with a strong host around him."
"No sword is strong until it's bee tempered," Lord Tywin declared. "The Stark boy is a child. No doubt he likes the sound of warhorns well enough, and the sight of his banners fluttering in the wind, but in the end it comes down to butcher's work. I doubt he had the stomach for it."
"How has my lovely and persuasive sister gotten Robert to agree to the imprisonment of his fear friend Ned?"
"Robert Baratheon is dead," Tyrion spoke. "Your nephew reigns in King's Landing."
"My sister, you mean." Tyrion took another gulp of ale.
"If you have a mind to make yourself of use, I will give you a command," Tywin said. "Marq Piper and Karyl Vance are loose, raiding out lands across the Red Fork."
"The gall of them, fighting back. Ordinarily I'd be glad to punish such rudeness, Father, but the truth is, I have pressing business elsewhere."
"Do you?" Lord Tywin did not seem awed. "We also have a paid of Ned Stark's afterthoughts making anuisane of themselves by harassing my foraging parties. Bedric Dondarrion, some young lordling with delusions of valor. He has that fat jape of a priest with him, the one who likes to set his sword on fire. Loras Tyrell was also with them although reports say the boy has gotten himself killed. Do you think you might be able to deal with them as you scamper off? Without making too much a botch of it?"
"Father,, it warms my heart to think that you mught entrust me with... what, twenty men? Foifty Are you sure you can spare so many? Well, no matter. If I should come across Thoros and Lord Edric, I shall spank them both." Tyrion climbed down from his chair and waddled to the sidebord, where a wheel of vined whire cheese sat surrounded by fruit. "First, though, I have some promises of my own to keep," he said as he sliced off a wedfe. "I shall require three thousand helms and as many hauberks, plus swords, pikes, steel spearheads, maces, battle-axes, gauntlets, gorgets, greaves, breastplates, wagons to carry all this-"
The door to the inn opened with a crash, so violently that Tyrion almost dropped his cheese. Ser Kevan leapt up swearing as the captain of the guard went flying across the room to smash against the hearth. As he tumbled down into the cold ashes, his lion helm askew, Shagga snapped the man's sword in two with his knee thick as a tree trunk, threw down the pieces, and lumbered into the common room. "Little redcape," he snarled," when next you bare steel on Shagga son of Dolf, I will chop off your manhood and roast it on a fire."
"What, no goats?" Tyrion said, taking a bite of cheese. The other clansmen followed Shagga into the room.
"Charming." Lann said in jest, remaining seated.
"Who might you be?" Lord Tywin asked, cool as snow.
"They followed me home, Father," Tyrion explained. "May I keep them? They don't eat much."
No one was smiling, beside Lann's slight grin. "By what right do you savages intrude on our councils?" demanded Ser Kevan.
"Savages, lowlander?" One huffed. "We are free men, and free men by rights sit on all war councils."
"Witch one is the lion lord?" Another asked.
"Red or Gold?" Lann's smiled died as his hand began to caress Red Rain's pommel.
Keven joined Lann in this, his hand moving to his sword hilt, but his brother placed two fingers on his wrist and held him fast. Lord Tywin seems unperturbed. "Tyrion, have you forgotten your courtesies? Kindly acquaint us with our... honored quests."
Tyrion licked his fingers. "With pleasure," he said. "This fair maid is Chella daughter of Cheyk of the Black Ears."
"I'm no maid," The one called Chella protested. "My sons have taken fifty ears among them."
"May they take fifty more." Tyrion waddled away from her. "This is Conn son of Coratt. Shadda son of Dolf is the one who looks like Casterly Rock with hair. They are Stone Crows. Here is Ulf son of Umar of the Moon Brothers, and here is Timett son of Timett, a red hand of the Burned Men. And this is Bronn, a sellsword of no particular allegiance. He has already changed sides twice in the short time I've known him, you and he ought to get along famously, Father." To Bronn and the clansmen he said, "May I present my lord father, Tywin son of Tytos of House Lannister, lord of Castelry Rock, Warden of the West, Shield of Lannisport, and once and future Hand of the King."
Lord Tywin rose, with all the pride that Lann long ago came to expect from the man. "Even in the west, we know the prowess of the warrior clans of the Mountains of the Moon. What brings you dwn from your strongholds, my lords?" Golden lies spun by a poet but lies all the same, Lann remained seated, hand on his hilt.
"Horses." said Shagga.
"A promise of silk and steel," said Timett son of Timett.
Tyrion was about to speak when the door crashed opened once more, this time with a friendlier face, one of Lann's men in Lannister garb. The messenger gave Tyrion's clansmen a quick, queer look as he dropped to one knee before Lord Tywin. "My lord," he said. "Ser Addam bid me tell you that the Stark host is moving down the causeway."
Lord Tywin Lannister did not smile. Lord Tywin never smiled, in all Lann's years of being a ward of Casterly he'd never once witnessed such an event although the mans satisfaction was all too clear to those whom knew him. "So the wolfling leaves his den to play among the lions," he said in a voice of quite satisfaction. "Splendid. Return to Ser Addam and tell him to fall back. He is not to engage the northerners until we arrive, but I want him to harass their flanks and draw them farther south."
"It will be as you command." The man took his leave but not before making eye contact with Lann to confirm his orders. Lann remained silent, his orders clear.
"We are well situated here," Ser Kevan pointed out. "Close to the ford and ringed by pits and spikes. If they are coming south, I say let them come, and brake themselves against us."
"The boy may hang back or lose his courage when he sees our numbers," Lord Tywin replied. "The sooner the Starks are broken, the sooner I shall be free to deal with Stannis Barahteon. Tell the drummers to beat assembly, and send word to Jaime that I am marching against Robb Stark."
"As you will," Ser Kevan said.
Tyrion watched with a grin as Tywin addressed his clansmen. "It is said that the men of the mountain clans are warriors with fear."
"It is said truly," Conn of the Stone Crows answered.
"And the woman," Chella added.
"Ride with me against my enemies, and you shall have all my son has promised you, and more," Lord Tywin told them."
"Would you pay us with our own coin?" Ulf son of Umar said. "Why should we need the father's promise, when we have the son's?"
"I said nothing of need," Lord Tywin replied. "My words were courtesy, nothing more. You need not join us. The men of the winterlands are made of iron and ice, and even my boldest knights fear to face them." Lann smiled crookedly as Tywin played the clansmen like a harp, poor bastards would likely be used as arrow fodder. Better me than them Lann thought to himself.
"The burned Men fear nothing. Timett son of Timett will ride with the lions."
"Wherever the Burned Men go, the Stone Crows have been there first," Conn declared hotly. "We ride as well."
"Shagga son of Dolf will shop off their manhoods and feed them to crows."
"We will ride with you, lion lord," Chella daughter of Cheyk agreed, "but only if your haftman son gose with us. He has bought his breath with promises. Until we hold the steel he has pledged us, his life is ours." Lord Tywin turned his gold-flecked eyes on his son while Lann offered the dwarf more ale.
"Joy," Tyrion said with a resigned smile.
"Ser Barristan Selmy, stand forth." Ser Barristan had been standing at the foot of the Iron Throen, as still as any statue, but now he went to one knee and bowed his head. "Your Grace, I am yours to command."
"Rise, Ser Barristan," Cersei Lannister said. "You may removed your helm."
"My lady?" Standing, the old knight took off his high white helm, though he did not seem to understand why.
"You have served the realm long and faithfully, good ser, and every man and woman in the Seven Kingdoms owes you thanks. Yet now I fear your service is at an end. It is the wish of the king and council that you lay down your heavy burden." Tygett fought the desire to defend his mentor.
"My... burden? I fear I... I do not..." The tall, white-haired knight seemed to shrink as he stood there, scarcelt breathing. "Your Grace," he said at last. "The Kingsguard is a Sworn Brotherhood. Our vows are taken for life. Only death may relive the Lord Commander of his sacred trust."
"Whose death, Ser Barristan?" The queen's voice was soft as silk, but her words carried the whole lenght of the hall. "Yours, or your king's?"
"You let my father die," Joffrey said accusingly from atop the Iron Throne. "You're too old to protect anybody."
"Your Grace," he said. "I was chosen for the White Swords in my twenty-third year. It was all I had ever dreamed, from the moment I first took sword in hand. I gave up all claim to my ancestral keep. The girl I was to wed married my cousin in my place, I had no need of land or sons, my life would be lived for the realm. Ser Gerold Hightower himself heard my vows... to ward his king with all my strength... to give my blood for his... I fought beside the White Bull and Prince Lewyn of Dorne... beside Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of Morning. Before I served your father, I helped shield King Aerys, and his father before him... three kings..."
Tygett stepped forward and quickly bowed his head. "Your Grace, there are few among my brothers that I count as worthy of the white and fewer still whom I would trust with my life. I beg of you to reconsider, Ser Barristan has served faithfully and-"
"His time is done," Cersei Lannister announced, interrupting Tygett's speech. "Your king requires young and strong men such as yourself around him Ser Tygett. The council has determined that Ser Jaime Lannister will take the place as Lord Commander of the Sworn Brothers of the White Swords."
"The Kingslayer," Ser Barristan said, his voice hard with contempt. "The false knight who profaned his blade with the blood of the king he had sworn to defend."
"Have a care of your words, ser," the queen warned. "You are speaking of out beloved brother, your kings own blood."
Lord Varys spoke, gentler than the others while Tygett returned his post defeated. "We are not unmindful of your service, good ser. Lord Tywin Lannister has generously agreed to grant you a handsome tract of land north of Lannisport, beside the sea, with gold and men sufficient to build you a stout keep, and servants to see to your every need."
"Ser Barristan looked up sharply. "A hall to die in, and men to bury me. I thank you, my lords... but I spit upon your pity." He reached up and undid the claps that held his cloak in place, and the heavy white garment slithered from his shoulders to fall in a heap on the floor. His helmet dropped with a clang. "I am a knight," he told them. He opened the silver fastenings of his breastplate and let that fall as well. "I shall die a knight."
"A naked knight, it would seem," quipped Littlefinger.
They all laughed then, all but Tygett who remained silent as the grave. Joffrey on his throne, and the lords standing in attendance, Queen Cersei and Sandor Clegane and even the other men of the Kingsguard, the few standing beside Tygett whom had been his brothers until a moment ago. Red-faced and too angry to speak, Ser Barristan drew his sword. "Have no fear, sers, your king is safe... no thanks to you. Even now I could cut thought you as easy as carving a cake. If you would serve under the Kingslayer, not one of you is fit to wear the white." He flung his sword at the foot of the Iron Throne. "Here, boy. Melt it down and add it to the others, if you like It will do you more good than the swords in the hands of these fools. Perhaps Lord Stannis will chance to sit on it when he takes your throne."
He took the long way out, his steps ringing loud against the floor and echoing off the vare stone walls. Lords and ladies parted to let him pass. Not until the pages had closed the great oak-and-bronze doors behind him did anyone dare speak. "He called me boy," Joffrey said peevishly, sounding younger than his years. "He talked about my uncle Stannis too."
"Idle talk," said Varys. "Without meaning..."
"He could be making plots with my uncles. I want him seized and questioned." No one moved and for a moment Tygett thought of joining Barristan and likely would have, if not for Arthur's presence reminding him of their duty to the family. Joffrey raised his voice. "I said, I want him seized!"
Arthur stepped forward, seeing an opportunity. "My men will see to it, Your Grace."
"Good," said King Joffrey as Arthur strode from the hall, his gold cloaks sticking to him like his own shadow.
"I don't want to fight you boy." Ser Barristan stopped in his tracks, sword at the ready.
"Nor I you," Arthur replied. "I am not here to fight, merely to talk."
"Speak then." The old knight kept his sword on hand, not entirely trusting the young lion.
"Leave us." Arthur ordered his men away as a show of good faith. He was fairly confident that Barristan would not strike him, at least not without being provoked. "Now we can talk privately, you'll not be needing that sword Ser. My brother would never forgive me if you forced my hand here."
"I was surprised to see him step forward," Barristan sighed. "It did little good in the end, but thank him for me all the same."
"To stand there nearly broke him, it took some convincing to stop him from taking up his sword for you," Arthur stepped closer to the old knight. "When we learnt of the bitches intent all his talk of buying time and being patient suddenly vanished. He spoke of many things in anger, all treason to the wrong ears, yet all just."
"He would brake he vows," Barristan seemed shocked. "Joffrey is-"
"-a bastard." Arthur interrupted him in a hushed voice. "The product of incest between Ser Jaime and the bitch. There is no royal blood in that boys veins, he's a pure blooded Lannister puppet and there is nothing I hate more than a Lannister. My brother would never brake his vows Ser, rest assured of that. He is loyal to his king."
"It's true?" Barristan asked as if he didn't already know the answer.
"Yes," Arthur replied coldly. "The secret Jon Arryn died for and soon I fear Lord Stark will share his fate. But what of you?"
"What of me?" The old knight hesitated, not wishing to reveal his plans.
Arthur smiled at his own knowledge. "Old allegiances die hard, no?"
Ser Barristan ignored him, changing the subject. "She will ask questions about my escape."
"She will hear of how you savagely stabbed two of my guards in the back, after feigning surrender."
"Your more like the Lannisters than you care to admit." Barristan spoke with contempt.
Arthur held back his anger at that. "You wound me, truly. I happen to be one of the most loyal people in the realm, to those who deserve my loyalty. I'll not claim to be honorable but never doubt my word once it is given honesty. Reyne to my friends, Lannister to my enemies. I wish you luck on your travels Ser."
"I'll admit," Barristan paused as he began to walk towards his ship. "I had some small hope that Tygett would join me."
"He swore no oath to House Targaryen. His duty is here." Arthur watched the old knight walk away. Now there was work to do, a fine opportunity to remove one or two of the more disloyal men among his ranks and pin their deaths on an exiled knight who couldn't be questioned about the events. All in all things were acceptable and almost easier with Robert out of the way, Arthur never did enjoy the action of inaction. War was the answer and it had always been the answer.