After months stewing around at King's Landing, spending his time between an alehouse and his favourite upscale brothel on the Street of Silk owned and run by a Summer Islander woman called Chataya, Tyrion finally received summons to a small council meeting.

Humming a jolly tune to himself, Tyrion waddled to the council chamber in an unusually good mood. It would be too good to be true if the king decided to grant him Casterly Rock as was his right, but even a dwarf could dream. As a child, he'd been fascinated with dragons – to an extent, he still was – and had used to dream he owned one. At times Tyrion would imagine his father and sister burning in his dragon's fiery breath. Nowadays Tyrion dreamt more about sitting on the golden throne atop the dais in Casterly Rock's vast Great Hall as Lord of Casterly Rock. It was his right after all.

The council chamber's doors opened and Tyrion toddled in on his stunted legs. He smiled at the lords present. None of them smiled back.

"Your Grace," said Tyrion, bowing before the king. "My lords Baratheon, Stark, Redwyne, Tyrell and Seaworth. Grand Maester Pycelle, I see you look well, as do you Ser Barristan." The king gestured for him to sit down on the spare chair put at the opposite end of the table. Tyrion climbed on it easily. "I believe we are two councillors short," he noted. "Lord Varys and my uncle Ser Kevan."

"You know where your uncle is, Imp," said Lord Tyrell distastefully. He shifted a little closer to Lord Redwyne and away from Tyrion.

"I cannot possibly know where Lord Varys is too."

"Enough," said the king irritably. "Lord Tyrion, I didn't summon you here for a squabble between you and Lord Tyrell."

Tyrion smiled and fixed his mismatched eyes on him. "As you say, Your Grace," he said pleasantly. "What have I been summoned here for?"

"The matter of Casterly Rock," spoke Lord Stannis Baratheon.

"There is naught to discuss about it my lord, except that I have been kept from Casterly Rock for far too long. Every time I wish to leave King's Landing, I'd been told I am not allowed! For how long am I to remain an honoured guest, my lord? I am the Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West after all." It was bold, but it was necessary. Tyrion looked at the other lords. Lords Baratheon and Stark were as usual, stoic as ever; the Onion Knight – Onion Lord more like – looked troubled, as did Lord Redwyne; the king didn't seem particularly interested at all; and Lord Tyrell, well he was spluttering in rage.

"You have no right to say that Imp!" Spittle flew out of the Fat Flower's mouth as he blustered. "You are as much the Lord of Casterly Rock as I am a prince!"

"Enough Lord Tyrell!" said Lord Stannis Baratheon sharply. "Let this matter of Casterly Rock be sorted" – he grinded his teeth – "as affably as we can manage."

"There is nothing to discuss my lords," Tyrion couldn't help say. "Your rightful lord is here." He pointed at himself. "Will you deny me the rights to Casterly Rock due to my deformities as a dwarf? Will you all condemn me because of that? Am I to remain here as a source of amusement while you happily grant my inheritance away to a whole man?"

"We will not deny you Casterly Rock due to you being a dwarf."

Lord Tyrell coughed. "Ser Kevan is the more-"

"Lord Tyrion is the late Lord Tywin's son," the Grand Maester suddenly said as if he had just woken up. "He has more right than Ser Kevan Lannister."

"We have already decided Lord Tyrion is to succeed," said Lord Stark, glancing at Tyrion. "Why are we still deliberating the matter, my lords? A better use of our time would be telling him the terms."

"Terms?" questioned Tyrion.

"Ned is right," said the king quite predictably. "Let's get a move on." He looked at Lord Stannis. "Tell Lord Tyrion the terms."

"You'll be Lord of Casterly Rock," said Lord Baratheon shortly, "if you agree to the king's terms. Apart from swearing fealty to His Grace, you'll swear in the Great Sept of Baelor that there will be no more incest among your descendants and if incest reappears, your descendants will forfeit Casterly Rock to the descendants of your uncle Ser Kevan Lannister."

"What if I plan not to have sons?" At times like this, Tyrion wished he was able to hold his tongue.

Lord Baratheon narrowed his eyes. "Furthermore, you will wed Lady Melia of House Tully. If you cannot agree to the terms, Ser Kevan will be lord."

Tyrion's throat suddenly felt dry. "Lord…Lord Tully is pleased with having his daughter married to an imp?" he choked out. "Might I remind you that it was the Lord of Riverrun's late father that refused me for his daughter Lady Arryn? From what I remember, he required a 'whole man' for his daughter."

"The Lady Melia will do her duty. House Tully will receive further honours."

That didn't sound like Tully behaviour – accepting bribed honours and having their daughters married off to imps? Seven Hells, what did that poor Tully girl do to deserve a horrible fate such as this? Tyrion felt ill.

"Well?" said Lord Baratheon impatiently.

"That is an unfair bargain," Tyrion said hollowly. He was so close to the title of Lord of Casterly Rock yet to marry a girl who sings songs of chivalrous and brave knights with handsome faces…that was something he didn't want to do. If he did wed her, their marriage would be utterly miserable. He'd probably drink himself to death; Lady Melia would probably jump into the Sunset Sea out of utter misery or conduct a series of affairs with attractive men. Tyrion wouldn't blame her if by chance she did sleep with other men.

"Unfair?" chortled Lord Tyrell. "That is far too fair, Lord Tyrion. His Grace here has offered you his own niece as your wife." More like the king's good-niece – the king would never offer a Baratheon to a dwarf, but Tyrion kept his mouth shut. It would do him no good to retort.

The king shrugged. "Ser Kevan will be Lord of Casterly Rock then." He grunted as he rose. Without giving his small council a second glance, he lumbered out the door. Tyrion watched him leave and then looked back at the lords present. All of them – even the Fat Flower of Highgarden – were silent. Mumbling to himself, old Grand Maester Pycelle stood up and shuffled out, the sound of his chains clinking softly as he left.

It was time to leave. "If all of you may excuse me," said Tyrion, climbing down from his chair and heading to the door.

"Wait," said Lord Baratheon. Tyrion stopped. "I hope you are comfortable here in King's Landing," Lord Stannis said almost ominously. Tyrion tilted his head. "If I'm permitted to drink wine and fuck whores, I suppose I will die happy." Pleased to see a look of horror and disgust on Lord Tyrell's face, Tyrion sauntered out of the council chamber, greatly embittered.


For the rest of the day, Tyrion moped in his chambers, cursing Cersei and their father. He would be lying if he was not glad Lord Tywin was dead, but for him to be killed by shock at Cersei's crimes? If he had died in better times, Tyrion would succeed without question – even if Lord Tywin did not want him to.

"Seven Hells to you Father," Tyrion muttered, sipping his wine. As he stared at the wall, he couldn't help but curse Lord Tywin again. When he was alive, Tyrion would curse him – it seems that now he was dead, Tyrion would still curse him, if not even more. Then again, Tyrion hated his father and his father hated him with equal passion. "Lord Tywin's Bane," the smallfolk had called Tyrion when he was born. The Mad King and the begging brothers in Oldtown had agreed. It seems my whole purpose is to be a thorn to Lord Tywin's side. Even now. Tyrion wondered if the proud Lord Tywin would be pleased or displeased at his refusal to wed Melia Tully. He would be delighted Casterly Rock was refused to Tyrion, but Lady Melia was a splendid choice of bride. Not many offers would come along for a dwarf of House Lannister. Tyrion knew that well. He'd been offered to Elia Martell, Lysa of House Tully, girls from Houses Royce and Hightower and even to Delena Florent, who was deflowered by the king. None of their fathers – or mother in the case of Elia Martell – wanted a Lannister dwarf for a good-son.

The door opened and Ser Kevan walked in, looking weary from his travels.

"Uncle," acknowledged Tyrion. He raised his goblet. "A drink? I did not expect to see you here. I thought you'd be at Casterly Rock, waiting for the arrival of the western lords to swear fealty to you."

Ser Kevan frowned. "Why would I do that?"

"You are Lord of Casterly Rock after all."

Ser Kevan's frown deepened. "You're talking nonsense Tyrion." His green eyes landed on the empty bottle of Arbor gold on Tyrion's round table. "Perhaps you'd drunk enough. By the Seven Tyrion, were you drinking all day?"

"Of course not!" said Tyrion, shocked. "Who do you think I am? The king?"

"The queen does not like him drinking."

Tyrion snorted. "What man fully listens to the whims of his lady wife?"

"I would say Lord Stark for one, but that does not matter now. The lords of the Westerlands are getting restless. There is no Lord of Casterly Rock and I fear that some of the western lords are getting bolder. A few are even claiming the right to Casterly Rock and Lannister lands, Houses Lefford and Crakehall primarily. It is a relief that House Marbrand is still loyal to us even though many Marbrand ladies have married into House Lannister and Lannister ladies into House Marbrand. If there is a House other than the Lannister cadet branches that have the closest ah, claim, to Casterly Rock, it would be House Marbrand."

"No one will follow a Lefford or Crakehall of Casterly Rock."

"They might if the Lefford or Crakehall have Lannister blood."

Tyrion considered it. Westermen were not as loyal to their Lannister lords as, say the northmen were to their Stark liege lords. For good reasons too. The Rains of Castamere echoed in Tyrion's mind. Everyone alive knew about the Reynes of Castamere and how Lord Tywin destroyed all of them and their ally the Tarbecks when they rose in rebellion. It didn't win Lord Tywin much love from his vassals, but it did bring House Lannister from the pits of ridicule.

"Tyrion?"

"It seems you will be Lord of Casterly Rock," said Tyrion lightly. "I was given a set of terms to be granted Casterly Rock – I refused."

Ser Kevan stared at him, astonished. "You refused? Tyrion! You had often told me that Casterly Rock is yours by right! Why in the Seven did you refuse?"

Tyrion swallowed his wine in one gulp. "The king and Lord Baratheon wanted me to marry Lady Melia Tully," he said heavily, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "That I won't do. I was to also swear in the Great Sept that there'll be no further incest in my lineage or Casterly Rock will be forfeit. I am convinced that it was insisted by the High Septon."

"Melia Tully is a good match Tyrion. She is the king's-"

"I know, I know," Tyrion cut in. "Lady Melia Tully is the king's good-niece and I should be honoured to marry her. You think I haven't thought of that?"

Ser Kevan's gaze softened slightly, but his frown remained. "You gave up your claim to Casterly Rock for Lady Melia?"

"Our married life would've been hell, Uncle. Who would be happy married to a dwarf like me? Certainly not a young girl."

"I know Tywin never wanted you to inherit Casterly Rock, but I don't think he would want to leave you landless. Besides, what sort of uncle would I be if I leave you without a bit of land on your own? If the king does confirm Casterly Rock on me, I'll give you Golden Tooth. Of course you'll have to wed Lady Alysanne, but to my knowledge she is not a young girl."

Tyrion sighed. "I'd rather travel around the Free Cities and drink myself to an early death than marry for land."

"You are more than welcome to take a tour of the Free Cities. Surely you know that wedding for land is how our Houses increase in power."

"Of course. When I was a boy, the maester would tell me that every day. I had suspected he said that to taunt me of my uselessness."

"Will you consider marrying Lady Melia?"

"No," said Tyrion adamantly. He put down the cup and stood up. "Enough talk on marriages that will never happen, Uncle. Now if you can excuse me, I'll go and visit my niece Shireen. I promised her yesterday that I would see her to discuss a book about dragons. Have some Arbor gold if you wish, Uncle. You looked thirsty from travel. And tired." Without another word, Tyrion waddled out of his rooms and headed to the set of chambers he labelled the Baratheon wing. Technically it was just six guest chambers, but as Lord Stannis's family were pretty much a part of the royal family, they were given rooms in Maegor's Holdfast. Probably when a new litter of Baratheon princes and princesses were born, Lord Baratheon would move out to normal guest chambers with his children.

King Robert must've returned to his own rooms, as the Blackfish was standing stoically at the far end of the drawbridge. Ser Brynden looked down at Tyrion as he approached. Ser Brynden Tully didn't seem at all pleased to see him. "Imp," he greeted him hoarsely.

"Blackfish," Tyrion responded. "Splendid day, isn't it?"

The Blackfish took an intimidating step towards him and his calloused fingers casually brushed the hilt of his sword. "If you harm one hair on my great niece, I will cut off your cock," he warned threateningly, "and throw it into the river."

"What great niece?" said Tyrion innocently. "I thought that as a sworn brother of the Kingsguard, you have no great niece."

"You think you're funny, don't you Imp?" The Blackfish glared at him. "We will see if you are still laughing once your cock is being nibbled by the fish. I'd rather see Melia a happy widow than your unhappy wife. Understand, Imp?" A tiny stab of hurt prodded Tyrion. Why did everyone think he would treat his future wife or any woman badly? He was a dwarf, but not a tyrant.

"Then you will be very happy to hear that I won't be marrying the Lady Melia," Tyrion said as steadily as he could manage. "I refused to marry her and my uncle Ser Kevan will be Lord of Casterly Rock. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to visit my niece Lady Shireen, or am I not allowed to see her too?"

The Blackfish gave Tyrion a long look before stepping aside. As Tyrion walked inside, he felt Ser Brynden's sharp blue eyes bore into the back of his head.

The Baratheon wing was virtually empty. Unsurprising, as Steffon was now in his cousin Prince Orys's circle of friends, Cassana settled in Princess Lyarra's and young Robert resuming his training with Ser Barristan the Bold. It was only Lady Shireen in her rooms today. As Tyrion went into her chambers, he noticed that it wasn't just Shireen in her rooms – her prospective stepmother was there too.

"Lady Desmera," said Tyrion, nodding at Lady Desmera Redwyne. "Quite a big surprise seeing you here."

"Lord Tyrion," Lady Desmera returned. "My…betrothed said it would be best if I came here to spend time with his daughter Shireen. The queen agreed."

"I see," said Tyrion pleasantly. "What are you ladies discussing?"

"I was describing my home to Lady Shireen. She told me that she'd only visited King's Landing and is keen to see the rest of the Seven Kingdoms."

"An excellent wish!" Tyrion beamed at his smiling niece. "Perhaps one day it'll be the two of us travelling around the Seven Kingdoms!"

"You've already been to many places, Uncle Tyrion," Shireen pointed out.

"Not every exciting place," Tyrion assured her. "Only yesterday I had a sudden whim to travel north and visit the Wall."

Shireen looked at him curiously. "Why? Cassana had told me that the Princess Lyarra told her that there's a war with the wildlings at the Wall."

"Wouldn't it be exciting, Shireen? I'd be the first dwarf to stand on the Wall – a splendid sight eh?"

Shireen giggled. "If you can be seen. You are quite short, Uncle."

Tyrion chuckled. "So I am." He paused thoughtfully. "Did you know that when I was a boy – around the same age as you are – I thought if I studied at my books, I would have a good chance of becoming the next High Septon?" Shireen clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh. "Yes," said Tyrion, nodding solemnly. "It is shocking, is it not? Can you imagine it, Niece? Me as the High Septon? I thought if I could be the High Septon, wearing that high crystal crown would add a foot to my height." Devoutness disappeared when he met Tysha…

Shireen stopped laughing. "Why didn't you become the High Septon, Uncle? To be High Septon is a high honour. Maester Cressen told me once that anyone – the lowborn and highborn – are able to be septons and septas and any septon can be the High Septon. Even septas can be a part of the Most Devout."

"I fell in love," Tyrion said simply.

"You did?" breathed Shireen, wide-eyed. Lady Desmera edged out of the room. Tyrion was grateful for that. "Who is she?"

"A girl," answered Tyrion quietly. "Dark-haired, slender…beautiful."

"You didn't marry her?"

Oh, I did. We were married for a fortnight. We might've been married for much longer if that drunken septon kept his mouth shut. "It was a long time ago," Tyrion reflected. "I was thirteen; she was fourteen at the most. My father found out…and it was all over. It ended. While I stayed in Casterly Rock, she was sent faraway. To this day, I still don't know where she is."

"You should try and find her," said Shireen kindly. "If you love her very much, it will be easy for you to find her."

Tyrion smiled faintly. My sweet summer niece, sometimes if you search for the love of your life, you might die still hunting her down. It was better not to allow his mind to wonder to Tysha or start searching for her. It would only disappoint him more when the search results came up empty. "What of you?" he asked teasingly. "Is there a charming young lad that you fancy?" He chuckled as a warm red blush crept slowly upon Shireen's unmarred cheek. Tyrion whistled softly. "Well! Who is this boy and does your solemn father know him?"

Shireen hesitated. "My father knows him," she admitted with a shy smile.

"Will he approve?"

"I don't know, Uncle. I don't know if…if he likes me. Not many people can love a disfigured girl like me."

"I'm a dwarf," Tyrion pointed out. "I will never forget who I am. A dwarf. That is the truth is it not? I will never pretend to think I'm a handsome knight riding to rescue a damsel or a dragon lord. I once dreamt the latter, but not anymore." He gazed at Shireen with his mismatched green and black eyes. "Do you know why I never forget I am a dwarf?"

"The rest of the world won't forget it," said Shireen quietly.

Tyrion nodded. "Indeed."

"We wear our deformities like armour," Shireen went on reflectively, "and the disfigurements can never be used to hurt us. You told me that when I was little. It was when you were my only friend and my siblings didn't know me. Every night I would repeat what you told me before I would sleep."

"Does it work?"

"Yes. I used to be very embarrassed and would hide from sight. Now I have no fear walking in the gardens of the Red Keep, dining with my cousins and siblings and reading in the library. I still like moments of solitude though."

"As do I." Tyrion grinned. "Now, I believe you asked me yesterday to come and discuss dragons with you. Dragons happen to be my favourite topic. Can you see me riding Balerion the Black Dread? I don't think anyone can even see me atop a great black dragon like him!"


Sorry I didn't upload earlier! I was stuck on a chapter and had to deal with a huge assignment worth 50%. I really enjoyed writing the Tyrion and Shireen scene - might write more of them in the future.