All rights belong to GRRM

Tywin I

The Stark boy was proving to be smarter than Tywin gave him credit for. His attack on Jaime, while he had lured Tywin away from Harrenhal, had been clever. Now, the Stark boy had wiped out most of the 15,000 men Tywin had placed under the command of his son, capturing numerous Westerman in both attacks. Jaime, Quenten Banefort, Tytos Brax, Addam Marbrand, and many others.

Now the warrior known as the 'Young Wolf' was in the perfect position to begin bringing the armies of the Riverlands under his banner, his host swelling by the thousands overnight. It put Tywin in a precarious position. He stood between the Starks and King's Landing, but barely anything stood between the northern army and the gold-rich Westerlands save for the Golden Tooth.

Thankfully, the boy wouldn't dare attack the Westerlands. Not when his father is still a prisoner in the capital. While the other Lannister bannermen were a nuisance to lose, the only person of note the Starks held was Jaime, while Tywin still had three Starks of his own. More than enough to get his son back and hopefully end this war.

The Old Lion had his back to his war council, staring out over the massive castle of Harrenhal that was spread out around him. After decimating the paltry force of northern infantry at the Green Fork, Tywin and his men had fallen back to Harrenhal after they had learned of Jaime's defeat. The castle, while ruinous, was still an impressive stronghold that Tywin felt confident he could defend if the Stark boy came after him.

"We should go after them now." Ser Raynald Westerling urged, obviously angered by his father's capture. "They're still gathering their forces. We should attack them before they are at full strength."

Ser Kevan, Tywin's younger brother, shook his head. "They have more men than we do lad and have a very good defensive terrain around them at Riverrun. Ser Harys already explained it. Ser Jaime had to split his army up into three camps, and when they were attacked, each camp was unable to support the other."

Ser Raynald frowned but fell quiet. Kevan continued, addressing the council. "We know what they want, and we have it. I say we trade the Starks for Ser Jaime and the others."

A few others muttered their agreement, but most were simply waiting to see what Tywin said. The older men in the council had been on campaign with the Lord of Casterly Rock before and knew that whatever he said, that would be done. The Lion of the Rock had earned his spurs as a commander and warrior many years ago during the Blackfyre Rebellion and when he had put down the Reynes and Tarbecks when they tried and failed to rise up against the Lannisters.

Tyrion scoffed from his position at the other end of the table. He was cradling a chalice of wine in his hand as he looked around at the council. "I doubt he'll agree Uncle. In case you haven't noticed, but he's winning, and the boy knows it."

"The Stark whelp is green as grass. He wouldn't dare attack us." Lord Damon Marbrand argued.

Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "That 'green' boy just made us look like fools." he pointed out. "We would do well to not underestimate him. Do not forget, he is not alone. The Blackfish is by his side, and we know what that means."

The others frowned but didn't disagree with the Imp. Brynden Tully was a grizzled veteran who would keep Robb Stark from making any foolish mistakes. Tywin couldn't help but be impressed with his son, although he would never outright say it. Besides, the Old Lion had other things on his mind than the Stark boy in the north. Cersei and Joffrey were continuing to show their ineptitude, causing havoc and chaos throughout the entire capital. He had been named Hand of the King, but Tywin couldn't afford to leave the battlefield. Robb needed to be dealt with, and soon.

A knock at the door interrupted Tywin's thinking. He turned around, gazing at the door.

"Come," he said, his voice cold and unwelcoming.

A boy poked his head in, gazing anxiously into the emerald eyes of the most dangerous man in Westeros. He cleared his throat and entered the room fully, his hand fidgeting with the little message he had in his hands.

"Forgive me, m'lord, but a message from the capital," he said anxiously.

Tyrion sighed and held out his hand, gesturing for the boy to give it to him. The messenger quickly pressed the note into the Imp's hand, bowed, and left as fast as he could. Tyrion unrolled the note, scanning the words before tossing the parchment on the table.

"Fuck." he muttered, taking a long drink of wine.

"Speak," Tywin ordered.

Tyrion passed the message to his uncle while he spoke to his father. "Ned Stark is dead," he said bluntly. "Joffrey took his head on the steps of the Sept of Baelor. So now the Starks will never accept peace and the Faith can't be particularly happy either."

The other commanders groaned, looking at one another. Tywin glared at them, causing them to fall silent, while Kevan offered the message to him. He took it without looking, his eyes still gazing at his council. He finally looked down at the message. It was from the Grand Maester, Tywin's long time informant in King's Landing, even during the reign of the Mad King. It read:

E. Stark killed. Beheaded at the Sept of Baelor on the king's command.

Tywin frowned and put the message down. Cersei and her son had placed their family in a dangerously precarious position. Ned Stark was the only prisoner capable of getting Jaime back. Without him, the Stark girls would not be enough to get Jaime released.

While Tywin thought, his council broke out into conversation that soon turned into an argument.

"We could retreat to the capital." one man offered before being interrupted by another man.

"We would be seen as weak by our enemies." another shot back angrily. "We should rally out full strength and go after the Stark boy!"

The argument continued to grow, more commanders offering their opinions as egos flared. Soon, each man was shouting, trying to get their comments and opinions in, shouting down all those who disagreed.

"They have my son!" Tywin snapped, his voice cutting through the argument like a hot knife through butter. Tywin rarely raised his voice, as he thought it was the sign of a weak man who had to bluster to remain in command of those around him. But when the Old Lion did yell, it was like a whip crack that made all others fall silent, less they incur the wrath of the Lion of Casterly Rock.

Kevan sighed, looking over at his brother. "Perhaps it's time we sued for peace," he offered gently.

The quiet after the comment was destroyed by the shattering of a glass. All eyes turned to Tyrion, who had knocked his glass off the table and onto the floor. He looked down at the pieces, then at his uncle.

"There's your peace," he said sarcastically. "My nephew saw to that when he took Ned Stark's head."

"So what are we to do?" Kevan asked. "We have Renly and Stannis to the south and Robb Stark to our north."

Tywin thought for a moment before speaking. "All of you, out," he ordered, not answering his brother's question.

The other lords looked at each other, but followed the order. They began to file out, Tyrion bringing up the rear when Tywin stopped him.

"Not you," he said, taking his seat at the head of the table.

Tyrion sighed quietly and walked over to where his uncle just sat, jumping up into the seat. He reached forward to pour himself wine, but his father beat him to it, pouring the purple liquid for him. He put the glass in his son's hands, ignoring his confused look.

"You were right to say what you did," Tywin said, his voice passive. "The Stark boy will not be placated by his sisters alone."

Tyrion nodded, slightly surprised that his father had kept him back to talk. "So what are we going to do?"

"You will go back to King's Landing," Tywin said, catching Tyrion off guard.

Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "And do what?" he asked sarcastically.

"Rule," Tywin said firmly. "You'll be Hand to the King in my stead and will bring the boy king and his equally foolish mother to heel as I deal with Stark."

Tyrion couldn't stop the shock from showing on his face. "Me? Why? Surely there are others who can…." he stammered before his father cut him off.

"Because you are my son," he stated evenly. "And you are a Lannister."

Tyrion closed his mouth, his protests dying on his lips. "You know Cersei won't like this," he said finally. Tywin may not like his youngest son, but he knew that Cersei absolutely despised him.

The Old Lion waved aside the statement. "She will do as I say," he said simply. "I will send a message with you to give to her."

Tyrion could only nod. "I will do as you ask," he said quietly, downing the last of his wine. He put the chalice back on the table before hopping out of chair and waddling out of the room, the mystified look still on his face.

Tywin watched him go. Not for the first time, the Old Lion wondered how the son he hated had ended up with everything he wanted in an heir. Jaime was a great swordsman, but he was naive and arrogant. Cersei thought herself smart, but she had the cunning of a blunt sword. She wielded her power like a bear with a sore head, lashing out at anything that annoyed her.

No, Tyrion was not his brother and sister. He thought things through and was usually right in the end. When he faced an opponent, he was able to verbally crush them with his mix of knowledge and sarcasm that left people angry and speechless. And when he sensed a weakness in someone, he exploited it and used it to his advantage, whether that meant gaining that person as an ally or destroying them soundly and without mercy.

But he was a dwarf, and Tywin would rather drink the worst poison imaginable before he allowed him to become Lord of the Rock.