Clarification: For the purpose of the rewrite, all of the previously posted chapters before ASOS: Olyvar IV should be completely disregarded as having never happened in the timeframe of this fanfiction. Olyvar is not going to go back to Riverrun in this rewrite, and the events that occur as we continue will drastically change. Furthermore, I will be deleting these chapters because technically, since we are rewriting the story, they will have never happened. In 24 hours, they will all be gone, and the story will be reset from the point of where Olyvar meets with the Tyrells. I'm sorry for doing this to you guys, but in order to avoid confusion, this is the best solution I can think of.

With that out of the way, here is a new Tyrion chapter, taking place after the Battle of the Blackwater. Hope you enjoy! :)

The smell of salt was what brought him back to the world, and as he opened his eyes, he found himself in a dark room, a singular candle burning on his right side, with a small amount of light shining in through a nearby window. Where in seven hells am I? Tyrion didn't believe that he had died. If he had, he'd likely be roasting alive in the fires of one of the circles of punishment.

Fire. The memories rushed back to him. The Blackwater's green flame, the rallying of the men of Kings Landing…Mandon Moore's betrayal. Instinctively, Tyrion's hands went to his nose, only to find that it was missing, bandages covering where it should have been. Groggy confusion turned to sharp anger. I will kill that bitch.

"My lord!" Tyrion looked to see Podrick approach him from the corner of the room, a wide smile on his dirty face. Dirty? Indeed, the boy's face was nearly covered in black, a few cuts visible on his cheeks and lip. "Thank the gods you have awoken."

"Pod?" Tyrion found that it was difficult to speak at first, but swallowed a bit of spit and pressed on. "Where are we?"

"In…in one of the royal apartments, my lord."

"And why are we both in one of the apartments?"

"Because the cells were all full, my lord." Tyrion bowed his head, despair coming over him.

"So, Stannis was able to take the city, was he?"

"Y-yes, my lord. Stannis Baratheon's men were able to take the city in quick order before fighting off your father's reenforcements. Lord Tywin was driven back north, away from the capital. No one knows what has happened to His Grace, nor your sister."

"The Tyrells did not join us then?"

"No, my lord. Only your father's host arrived, and by that point, Lord Baratheon had control of the city, and forced him to retreat." Littlefinger, have you betrayed me? He had been hesitant on believing Baelish would deliver as promised, but the man had proven himself to be useful, and Tyrion dare not risk leaving the city to Cersei's devices. Upon learning that only his lord father had come to reinforce the capital, however, Tyrion sensed they had all been robbed. After a moment's contemplation, he looked back over to Podrick and saw a downtraughten face. "I'm sorry, my lord. I have failed you."

"You failed no one, Pod." Tyrion raised his hand and patted Podrick on the head. "In fact, it's only because of you that I'm here now." The boy gave half a smile, but Tyrion knew that their situation was dire. Stannis was in control of Kings Landing, and they were his prisoners to do with what he wished. Tyrion glanced over at the candle. "How were we captured?"

"I-" The boy's hesitation caused Tyrion to raise his brow. After collecting himself, Podrick spoke again. "I told them who you were. I said that you were Lord Tywin's son, that you would be an important political prisoner, that you could be traded. They didn't believe me, laughed at me. But then Lord Stannis himself came, and after he recognized you, he told the maesters to take you back to the Red Keep and take care of you."

"Indeed." For the first time, Tyrion took in the room's contents. In the corner was a cot he reasoned Stannis had set up to keep Podrick in the same quarters, alongside a large bookcase. Besides that, the room was bare, the red clay of the keep dim except for a spot of light that shone through the window. "I am surprised that Stannis has given me such hospitable quarter. I must thank him. And Pod," Tyrion looked at the distressed boy. "Although I would normally chastise you for handing me over to the enemy, considering the circumstances you found yourself in, I think I can grant you amnesty for your decision." A smile crept slowly onto the boy's face as he saw Tyrion's own grin. "I suppose there has been no sight of Bronn or the mountain clansmen, then?"

"I looked for Ser Bronn on the battlefield, but I couldn't find him. I did not see any of the clansmen either." Well shit. Tyrion knew that Bronn was nothing more than a sellsword, and Shagga no more than a savage, but the two men had grown upon him greatly. He hoped that both had found a way to escape capture or death. "My lord, there is one more thing I feel need to mention." Tyrion raised his brow once more at Pod's statement. "A man visits here everyday to check if you're awake of not. Ser Davos, I think his name is." The Onion Knight, visiting me? Tyrion pondered this information in silence. He did not know what Davos Seaworth could want with him, but he knew that there was only one reason why he could be alive; Olyvar Arryn had asked for Tyrion to be spared. But what of the rest?

"Pod." The boy snapped back to attention. "You said before you do not know of what happened to my nephew and sister. But surely, you have listened to what guards have been saying. Have you heard any rumors which may give us a clue to their whereabouts?"

"They say King Joffrey and the Queen Regent were captured in the Red Keep, and are being held in the black cells." Pod's voice sounded quite rattled, but the boy continued. "I've heard rumors from other prisoners that Stannis means to publically execute them, as Joffrey did with Eddard Stark." Yes, of course he would. Stannis won't show mercy. Tyrion lamented at this information, knowing that his desire of killing Cersei would be taken from him.

"I'm surprised he didn't kill them immediately." A thought came to Tyrion's mind. "How long have I been asleep, Podrick?"

"Long enough to where I thought you weren't going to live." A much older voice spoke to him from outside of the door, the source revealed to Tyrion as the door opened. The man that walked through had a face with no distinguishable characteristics. A greying beard and brown hair with an aged look, nothing special. But the one thing that was special about this man was the little pin he wore on his cloak. The same pin that Tyrion had worn.

"Ser Davos Seaworth, I assume." Tyrion watched as Seaworth pulled a small chair that was stationed near the door towards the bed before sitting in it. "Forgive me for not being more prepared to meet with you, I fear nearly dying has that effect on me."

"Near death is better than what you deserve, Imp." The venom that spewed from the Onion Knight's mouth could have rivaled any insult Cersei could have thrown at him. But Tyrion saw that it was more than just scorn. Hatred was etched on every line of the Hand's face, and his eyes so intense Tyrion could not look directly at him.

"I realize that a short time ago, we were enemies, fighting with the intent to kill one another. But now that our fight is over, there is no reason for any more hostilities." When Onion Knight's face did not change, Tyrion continued, hoping to calm the new Hand. "Perhaps you are here to inform me why I am here, instead of the black cells."

"King Stannis insisted you have the best care possible." It doesn't sound like you agree with His Grace's decision. "He has made it clear you are to remain unharmed until Olyvar Arryn returns to King's Landing, and at that point, he will deliver the King's Justice."

"Will that justice involve having my head on a spike? Like I'm sure my sister and nephew's heads shall be after Stannis delivers his punishment?"

"I am not the one to pass that judgement. King Stannis shall decide your fate at the appropriate time."

"But you certainly do have an opinion on it." Tyrion did not know Davos Seaworth well, but knew the look on the man's face all too well. The look of disgust, of rage. It reminded him of his father and sister. "Tell me something, Ser Davos. What have I done to you to make you hate me with as great a passion as you do?"

Seaworth inhailed deeply before looking down at the floor, silent. Tyrion tilted his head, waiting for a response. "That chain." Tyrion squinted for a moment, not understanding. But before he could question him, the Onion Knight's low, gravely voice spoke. "Boy. Leave."

Podrick looked nervously at Tyrion, not sure of what to do. "Guarantee his safety first, Lord Hand." Tyrion demanded boldly. "I will not have an innocent boy slaughtered for whatever sin I have committed against you."

"You have my word." The bite to the man's voice was gone, a mix of pain and sorrow now present. Tyrion looked to Podrick and nodded, indicating that it was alright. His squire rose from the ground and exited the room, leaving the once and current Hands of the King alone. "Your strategy, Lord Tyrion, was impeccable. A chain to keep the fleet in, whilst sending us to one of the seven hells with wildfire."

"Is that what this is about?" Tyrion asked, incredulous. "Are you furious that I killed so many of your men, when you were coming to kill those that were under my command?"

"Nay. It is a reality of war that a commander will lose men. I saw many a carcass when I entered Storm's End nearly twenty years ago, to relieve Lord Stannis of the Tyrell siege. And in the past week, I have helped to pull more dead from the waters than I ever wished to see." The Onion Knight looked up, and Tyrion saw that his face and eyes were wet. "It is true, Tyrion Lannister, that loss is a part of war, and I hold no ill will as a commander. But as a father…."

Oh gods. Tyrion's mouth hung open, and fear rose up in him as the rage returned to Seaworth's voice. "Dale, Allard, Matthos, and Maric. All four lost to the Rush, to that hell you created for us to endure. When your sister and the pyromancers named you as the one whom formulated this trap, I wanted your head. I wanted the man who killed my sons!" Lord Seaworth rose and threw the chair across the way, his grief and anger controlling him. Tyrion looked at the pieces of the chair as they lay shattered on the ground.

"I did what I had to in order to survive, Lord Seaworth. I apologise greatly for the death of your sons, as well as all of the other men I sentenced to death in those flames." Tyrion bowed his head and closed his eyes. "If you wish to take your revenge, I ask you make it quick."

"Have you not heard me, Imp? His Grace demands you be kept alive." Tyrion looked up to see Lord Seaworth at the door, gripping the handle. "I will not defy my king's wish. You will be kept alive until Olyvar Arryn's return."

"Thank you, Lord-"

"But, I hope that Lord Arryn returns soon, so that justice may be delivered." Tyrion's words were caught in his throat as Seaworth spoke his last, malicious words before exiting the room, Podrick sulking back into the chambers before the door closed. Tyrion stared at the door for some time, barely breathing, deep in contemplation.

"My lord?" I am as good as dead unless Olyvar can win me my freedom. Tyrion cursed his failure to keep Stannis from the city, curse his father for not being able to rectify his mistake, and damned Littlefinger to all the seven circles of hell for all eternity for not delivering the Tyrells as he had promised. All of his plans had fallen apart despite his best efforts. And now, he faced down a just king, a vengeful Hand, and the only thing that could save him was the testimony and word of a lordling.

"Pod." Tyrion looked out the window towards the sea. "Perhaps it would have been better if you had let Ser Mandon cut me in two."