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Chapter 3: A Little Man
It has taken Bronn exactly one year to lose Highgarden.
Tyrion wishes with all of himself he could say he did not expect that, but honestly when the marriage negotiations between Bronn and the Redwyne girl that was picked for him failed to come to anything solid, he had suspected they were being strung along.
With good reason - Bronn, for all his streetsmart cunning, was the least likely candidate to win the alliance of the sophisticated, politically savy noble families of the Reach. He was given his role in the king council because he held the most prosperous region of the realm, in an attempt to give the reach lords a reason to support him, but his lack of experience had played against him. Having never kept a large keep, or received a formal education, he had been unable to administer the region without delegating most of his tasks to loyal men that had, apparently, been in the pocket of Willas Tyrell.
Tyrion had expected problems but had not counted, maybe stupidly, on the less flashy grandson of Olenna Tyrell - the man had basically vanished after his sister death and had been assumed his worsening health had made unable of anything but hiding among his Hightower relations.
Instead, Willas had proved a surprisingly capable player- he had kept a low profile and feigned acceptance of his lost status right up the point the rebellion had been perfectly organized. High Garden had suddenly closed its borders and declared its indipendence under the Tyrell banner.
Bran The Broken had just replied back with a raven his acceptance of their choice, announced his council that it was better this way for all the parties involved and assigned Bronn a new land in the Crownlands.
The King had also assured them that with the Reach receding, the unrest that had ran through their lands after Sansa Stark' careless move to bid for indipendence in the very same council that made her brother king would come to close.
At first many lords and ladies had not taken well the news they were to accept a sovereign from a now entirely separate country. Only the strain the previous years of war had put on everyone's coffers and Bran's near omniscience had inspired a wary, frightened sort of compliance.
The Greyjoy woman had at least had the common sense to wait until the council was over before taking Bran aside and stating that, if his North broke away, so it was right for the Iron Islands as well, particularly as she had declared for Daenerys and not a Stark.
Bran had granted her freedom, and Tyrion had felt sure that with the Vale and Riverlands so closely related to new sovereign, and he and Bronn keeping richest regions, the remaining discontent would die to nothing .
Instead now the crown holds one kingdom less.
Still, they were trying for a new way of living, and his claim on the Westerlands, despite his poor reputation, went unchallenged. Probably because the cousin he had appointed as his heir had a good sway on the lords of the West, and he made as few visits as possible to Casterly Rock, preferring to forget the altogether.
Tyrion sighs, rubs his tired eyes, and drinks. And drinks.
Tries to still his mind and focus on the little skirmishes between the Iron Islands and The North.
One condition for the Island indipendence had been for them to not reave the remaining kingdoms realms and find other sources of living.
The Iroborn, whose land is rocky and hostile to all but few species of fruit trees and cabbages, had taken to partially substitute piracy with hunting seals and whales to strike up commerce and crafting - that put them in competition with the North for sources, particularly as the nothern seas nowadays were an area of dubious jurisdiction.
Not that the Greyjoy queen cared about details like that.
Fortunately that is no concern of his, because he can't imagine anything more fastidious than trying to ...
It strikes him suddenly the thought that once he would have loved the challenge of mediate that conflict.
Once, that he would have not thought of it as a chore.
When had Tyrion Lannister, hand to three monarchs, became someone who hated politics?
Mind you his position is a joke , a token - there is no need for wits and council when your king already knows everything about everything. It is merely expected from him to keep up the appeareances and being a contact between the nobles and the crown, but there's never any doubt about what should be done and how.
And that is good, is not?
Even if nobody knows if Bran truly feels much of anything.
Is not better a king who wants too little than a queen who wants too much?
" Ask me in ten years"
He told Jon Snow right after... what they had done.
He thought then the answer would be clear far earlier, that time would have pat him on the back, erase any uncertainty.
He had felt such a bitterness and self loathing then , at Jaimie's death.
The resentment toward Daenerys had not been a new thing, more like a silent current that been simmering inside him since the night he had seen Jon Snow exiting her rooms.
He had truly believed for a time he was going to be a better men serving her.
Had set aside the whoring and the self pity to be dedicated to her cause completely, imagined a bright future with her at the center, the best ruler Westeros had known, and he the power behind the throne, his pragmatic cynicism a perfect counter to her savage idealism.
He had not ever dreamed she might return his feelings or even welcome him to her bed.
His fantasies had not carried him that far.
What he had asked of life had been just to see her to succeed, to be her partner in the ways that truly mattered.
He had imagined her, married to a consort that would be a mere figurehead, while they took all decisions for the betterment of the realm together.
He had imagined tempering her fire with his reason, cherishing her trust like she was a goddess incarnate.
Then Jon Snow strolled in, took her heart, her body, her trust ... and that place he had dared to imagine for himself.
All what was left afterwards was his growing fear to be put aside, left with no future nowhere in the face of his failures in her eyes and the bridges he had already burned.
When Sansa Stark had thrown him a lifeline, he had caught it.
Speaking to Varys, he had half hoped the other man would come to the conclusion that getting rid of Jon quietly was the best solution. He had planned to protest a little, and let the Spider work his magic without his needing to get his hands dirty.
He had been surprised to see how fast Varys had turned around, moving in the opposite direction... and he had had to warn Daenerys, step in before she could truly come to harm.
And because he had saved her, she had the chance to ignore his plea, burn King's Landing to the ground, cause the destruction that had claimed Jaimie 's death.
She had made him the reason of Jaimie's death and then sidelined him, that's what he had thought while she was giving her grand speech to her armies, when he had given her back his pin.
He had figured out he was going to die for that, given the mood she was in, but then Jon Snow, in all his smoldering righteousness had visited him, and he had seen a chance.
It is twisted, that even now, he feels a twinge of satisfaction at the idea.
The woman he had wanted, killed by his words, through a man she had chosen above him.
Maybe he truly is the perverted monkey his father always swore he was.
Ask me in ten years, huh?
If she had given him the time of the day, he would have done a lot better than allowing another man to tell him what to think of her.
If she had wanted him, or at least acknowledged him, he would have not celebrated her greatest accomplishment with a blade in her heart.
He could have forgiven, for the greatness that he knew existed in Daenerys Targaryen, the ruin of his family.
Had he not already given Jaimie up, in many ways, when he had pledged himself?
And Jaimie would have understood, because *he* did everything for Cersei, and he knew Tyrion, deep down, had always wanted to be just like his big brother.
What had Jon Snow given up instead?
He could not even bother himself to make his queen welcome in his own home.
Could not hold her as she grieved, or bring himself to marry her when the perfect excuse of an unified claim popped up.
Insulting, truly, to think she had trusted him far above her hand.
Maybe Daenerys deserved her end after all, for burning the city he loved to hate, and all the miserable people in it, who had loved to jeer at the high born while wallowing in their dirt.
Just... at times when he looks back, remembers all what was accomplished in Essos, it seems a bit disappointing.
That little men get to cast shadows large enough to darken a star.
That those big dreams she sold him will never be reality.
That he never will be anything better than what he is.
Ask me in ten years?
They are just other words to haunt him.
Just like Daenerys ' face, like Shae's, like Tysha's.
Here, he just made himself sad again.
Who does need more wine?