Tygett I

Somewhere in the Crownlands, 298 AC

Another day of marching went by, and the men made up camp for the night. Before going to sleep, most of them sat in front of a fire with their comrades, filling their bellies and sharing lewd stories. If he concentrated amidst the cacophony, he could make out something of what they were saying. In the distance, he heard someone sing "The bear and the maiden fair", one of his favorite songs. Someone else, a green boy judging by the voice, expressed his enthusiasm for the upcoming battles and his desire to seek glory on the field. Tygett pitied the young fool. Green, stupid boys like that one always died first, in his experience.

"I hope this ends soon." said Prince Viserys with a frown. "I didn't think marching would be so tiring."

"We aren't out of the Crownlands yet, Your Grace." said Tygett patiently. "I would advise you to wait at least until we are deep into the Stormlands, to complain about being tired."

The Prince of Summerhall grunted. "Please, don't remind me for how long we still have to march, Ser Tygett." he said, with a tone that suggested he would rather be somewhere else.

Tygett couldn't blame the prince for feeling like that. He wasn't used to all that fatigue, riding a horse for hours on end. He also looked out of place among the soldiers. In fact, he could safely say that the prince wasn't cut out for military life. He had taught him swordsmanship since he was a child, and he had to admit that he could be very good when he put himself to it. However, he had also since long understood that the prince was better suited for calmer tasks. Had his late brother not interfered, Viserys could have left the Red Keep for the Citadel, and perhaps he would be a happier man by now.

Alas, things didn't always go according to one's wish, and so here they were.

"Anyway, there were a few things I wanted to discuss with you, Your Grace..."

"Is it urgent?" Viserys interrupted him.

"Well, no, but..."

"Then it can wait until the morrow. My rear is sore from the saddle, and I need to sleep. Good night, Ser Tygett." And with that, the prince abruptly stalked off to his tent.

Tygett sighed and shook his head. The Targaryen prince could be annoying at times, like some kind of petulant, overgrown child, but Tygett was used to it. He knew the prince wasn't a bad person, just a flawed one. Who also needed a good advisor. And luckily, Tygett was there to do just that. Prince Viserys may be nominally in charge of the crownlander army, but he would have to turn to his master at arms for advice on anything military related. He was the one with actual combat experience, after all.

And unlike the young men in his host, Tygett knew what to expect from a war. Blood, sweat, and tears. Not glory, unless one managed to survive. Which Tygett had every intention of doing. His once golden hair was streaked with grey, and he absolutely wanted to reach an age when it would be completely white. He would do his best to come out of this war alive. And if he somehow managed to obtain even just a little glory, all the better. He would get further away from Tywin's shadow.

However, for now he would just have to follow in the prince's footsteps and go to sleep. He went to his own tent, and as soon as he entered, he found his son lying on his own bed. He had to be either asleep or deep in thought, for he didn't notice Tygett's presence until he loudly called his name.

"Tyrek!"

His son jolted as if struck by lightning and sat up on the bed. He looked at him and blinked twice, as if to ascertain that he was really there. "Father..." he said. "I didn't hear you coming."

"Were you sleeping?"

"No, I was...I was thinking." Tygett noticed something wrong about his son. He was avoiding his gaze, almost as if he was afraid to look at him. And there was a note of embarrassment in his voice. But why? He hadn't been caught doing something that he shouldn't.

"Is there something wrong, son?" he asked worriedly. Perhaps he wasn't feeling well?

"No, Father." Tyrek answered, and his cheeks became blood red. Now, Tygett was certain that his son was hiding something.

"Tyrek..." he said, taking a nearby stool and sitting right in front of his son. "What is it? And don't lie to me. I'm not so old as to have lost my wits."

Tyrek hesitated for a moment. Then, Tygett's stern gaze finally seemed to convince him to talk. "Well, I was...I was thinking about what's to come. The battles, I mean."

"And?" Tygett had a growing suspicion about what his son was going to say.

"And..." He said, his voice as feeble as a whisper. "Father, I'm scared."

Just like I thought. It's his first time on a real battlefield, after all. "Let me guess, you were afraid to tell me?"

Tyrek just nodded.

"Son, how many times did I tell you? If you have a problem, come to me and I will help you."

"I know, Father, it's just that...I...I didn't want to disappoint you."

Tygett raised an eyebrow at that. "Why would I be disappointed in you?"

His son didn't answer soon. "Well...you are a great, strong warrior. I thought you would be ashamed of having a craven for a son." He lowered his head and muttered: "I'm sorry, Father."

Tygett sighed. He had known that this would happen, sooner or later. And he needed to do something about it. It was part of his duty as a father.

"Son, did I ever tell you about my first battle?"

Tyrek looked at him. "I remember you vaguely talking about it, but not in too much detail."

"Well, it's about time I did that." Tygett collected his thoughts, then continued. "I was younger than you when I first went to war and killed a man. Ten. Not old enough to shave, and yet I went to the Stepstones with my brothers and the rest of the army.

"And you know what? I was scared, just like you. That feeling accompanied me throughout the entire war. I didn't know if I would make it back home, or if any of my brothers would die. I didn't know if I could actually lift a sword and kill a man. I had no combat experience prior to that, only some sparring with my old master at arms." He paused, remembering for a moment the rush of adrenaline and fear he had felt at the time. It was still vivid, even after all these years.

"My legs were trembling so much that I almost fell from my horse. My heart was beating like a war drum. But I clenched my teeth and did what I had to. And when the battle actually came, I fought as hard as I could to stay alive, never once faltering or showing fear. And it was then that I killed my first man." Tygett still remember him. He was some kind of Essosi sellsword, a hulking brute of a man with a scarred face and a rancid breath. His younger self had almost ran away in fear at the sight. The man was absurdly strong, and years later Tygett still wondered how in seven hells he had managed to kill him.

"That moment was like for a girl to loose her maidenhead. I had faced death for the first time, and come back victorious. Fear was still with me, but not as strong as before." He looked into his son's eyes. "Tyrek, what did you learn from my tale?"

"That...I don't know, but...well, that fear can be conquered?"

"Exactly." he answered approvingly. "Son, it's normal to be afraid. And it doesn't mean that you are a craven. A craven is someone who lets himself be ruled by fear, to the point that he doesn't even try to change things.

"Being afraid before your first battle just means that you understand the reality of war. It's not like a song. It's a bloody and cruel thing. And because of this, you will do your best to come out of it alive." He put his hand on Tyrek's shoulder. "Son, you are six and ten now. You are a man. And being a man means that you have to conquer your fears and doing your best to accomplish the task you are given. Do you think you can do it?"

Tyrek nodded, a little uncertainty still on his face. Tygett hoped his words hadn't been for nothing. He would never forgive himself if something happened to his son because of them.

"Good. Now we should both go to sleep. You can't face the enemy if you can't stand on your feet."

"Yes, Father."

AN: Of course, these aren't the Tygett and Tyrek we (barely) know and love. They led different lives in this AU (this Tyrek was born in 282). Also, the part about Tygett's first battle and feelings is just my headcanon. Except for his age; according to TWOIAF, he was ten in 260 AC.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Stay tuned for the next one, in which we'll go back to Pyke.