Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Ice and Fire Novels, Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon TV shows. However, I decided to have a little play around with the characters. I do not earn any money from writing these stories, it is for my entertainment and is something I like to share.
Tyrion I
Tyrion Lannister was sat in deep thought at his large wooden desk made of oak from The Reach. His new quarters were no longer in the old Tower of the Hand as it had been destroyed during the last sack of Kings Landing. A new one had been built, complete with a lift which was operated by only trusted servants, using the old designs for the mechanisms of the one at Castle Black provided by Grand Maester Tarly, although minor adjustments and improvements had been made for its position inside the tower.
Despite his solar being already filled with books and scrolls, many stuffed tightly into what looked like a disorganised library of shelves made of the same wood to match his desk, they were in fact cleverly organised so only Tyrion knew where to look for whatever information he, as the Hand of the King required for the day to day running of what was now six Kingdoms of Westeros. This gave the room a scholarly appearance, the only sense of indulgent decoration was the newly mosaic floor designed with a map of Westeros in the centre of the room.
The reason Tyrion was feeling a sense of sadness as few minutes earlier, he had been handed two new scrolls, which had just arrived by raven from Oldtown. Both pieces of parchment were stamped with the red waxy seal of the Citadel telling Tyrion these new scrolls were personal in nature. He had been waiting for them for some time, one was for him, the other belonged to another, a woman far away from the hustle of Kings Landing, to an icy place. Tyrion had decided he ought to hand the one belonging to her personally as he did not want anyone intercepting any ravens which he might send. He should have been happy to have received the news, but for some reason he felt empty. It was the end of a very sad chapter of his life, the last tether to it was now broken, yet deep down there was a sense of loss, maybe because once he hoped there could have been more. Yet it was never to be. Once he had returned from his journey, he could truly start anew.
The King was aware of the delicate matter to why Tyrion must leave his side for potentially three moons, to deliver the letter to the Queen in the North. To Tyrion's surprise, the King had been more than supportive of his decision to leave the capital, almost as if he wanted his Hand to leave. From Tyrion's perspective, the King's enthusiasm could have been motivated by the desire of three potential outcomes. The first to have Tyrion killed and to be replaced by another Hand who disagreed with him less, although that wasn't how the King usually worked. The second was Bran could see there was no threat to himself or Tyrion for the journey and wanted to hear from his sister. Or third and the most likely reason was that there would be some advantage to the meeting between Tyrion and the Queen for King Bran himself, something which he had not yet revealed to his hand.
A knock on the door broke Tyrion from his train of thought. "Come in." Tyrion called out as a man walked entered the room. The man, dressed in black had a swagger about him, his expensive clothes ill suited him Tyrion thought, preferring the black leathers of a sellsword which Bronn used to dress before he was made a Lord.
"The King wants to see you Lord Hand, in the small council room." Bronn told him.
"And what are you, his errand boy?" Tyrion asked sarcastically.
"Nah!" Bronn shook his head. "I just happened to be passing and he asked me to relay the message while I was on me way." he shrugged. "Saved him from asking one of his Kingsguard from putting themselves out, you know, working for a livin' and all."
"Why, where are you off to?" Tyrion frowned.
"King Bran has put me in charge of finding a new commander for the goldcloaks, then he wants me to do something else for him. So yes, I suppose I am his fucking errand boy, but as Lord of the Reach, I'm a very well rewarded one, so I've got no complaints." he grinned. "My time in charge of the goldcloaks when you were last hand shows I was better at it than that shower of shit who is in charge right now. He wants to get the streets back in some sort of order and he thinks I'm the right man for the job of picking a new one. After that I'm off to Storm's End for a little jaunt." Bronn leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms, looking smug.
"He did not consult me. As his Hand, I should be the one making the appointment." Tyrion eyed Bronn suspiciously.
"Aye, I suppose yer should." Bronn agreed. "But maybe he thought you might be a little bit too busy, with Hand stuff and all." he suggested.
"Hmm." Tyrion said, not quite certain the King's motives were as pure as most believed. "And how does your Lady wife feel about this? Will she not miss her new husband?"
"No idea? Haven't seen her since the wedding." Bronn shrugged. "I consummated the marriage, buggered off and bought one of Littlefinger's old brothels. I've been too busy auditioning the new staff to go back to Highgarden." he grinned.
"I bet you have." Tyrion huffed. "Well, you better not keep the goldcloaks, Lord Baratheon and the whores of Kings Landing waiting. If you don't mind I will go and speak to His Grace as he requests." grabbing hold of a small golden ball and the scrolls he had received from the Citadel that morning, Tyrion stood up and waddled over to the door, checking the room was empty before locking the door behind him.
The room now used for the small council was not the same as the one occupied by the previous Baratheon and Lannister rulers as that had been partially destroyed by Daenerys and Drogon during the sack of Kings Landing. Most of the Red Keep had been rebuilt, and the original council room was now in the final stages of being refurbished, which was why Tyrion did not expect it to be used again for the same function.
The new small council chamber, which had only been in use for a moon, was one that had survived the dragon attack and had been used by the Targaryens dynasty, right up until the death of the Mad King. This room was lighter and brighter than the one Tyrion had become accustomed to. It contained a large oak table surrounded by seven high leather-backed ornate wooden chairs, with one space always set aside for Bran's wheelchair. The Myrish carpets which covered the floor had been rescued from the old council chambers, as had carved screen from the Summer Isles depicting a hundred beasts brightly painted. On the walls hung the original tapestries from Norvos, Qohor and Lys, and the pair of Valyrian sphinxes with black marble faces which stood either side if the inner door had also been rescued from the ruins and restored to their former glory. This gave the room the same dreary feel of the room Tyrion was accustomed to, except when the doors were opened out onto the veranda, looking out over Blackwater Bay and allowing sunlight to flood in, turning it from a dark and miserable place to one which was light, bright and airy.
On the large council table, in front of each chair was a dish to which every member who attended a small council meeting would place a their ball into the dish to confirm their presence. Tyrion had discovered this had been an old practice of the Targaryens from years gone by, which was why he was surprised to learn not only did the King know of this bygone tradition, but he indeed wanted it reinstated, although for what reason Tyrion could not fathom.
As he entered the council chamber, Tyrion noticed the King wasn't sat at the table, nor was his grey ball in its dish, although there were a number of scrolls and a small walnut wooden box with an ebony black circular inlay on top, was on the table in front of the King's place. King Bran himself was sat in front of the veranda with the doors open, looking over the sea at Blackwater Bay.
"No need for your ball Lord Tyrion, this is not an official council meeting." Bran said in his monotone voice. "I needed to speak to you regarding certain matters." he added.
"Yes Your Grace." Tyrion bowed his head despite Bran not looking in his direction.
"I take it you have received news from the Citadel?" it was a statement more than a question, although Tyrion felt the obligation to reply simply as an acknowledgement of the King's words.
"I have both parchments, although I only opened one." Tyrion told him.
"Good!" Bran said. "You will need to travel north to deliver the Queen her letter, like you I trust no-one to hand that over to her in person. Not even the Lady Brienne." he sighed. "You will need to make arrangements quickly as I need you to be leaving Kings Landing by the morrow."
Tyrion frowned. "Yes your Grace, but why the rush? Is there something I should know?"
"Stand beside me Lord Tyrion." Bran commanded as Tyrion did as he was told. "What do you see?" the King asked as he looked out towards the sea.
"I see Blackwater Bay your Grace." Tyrion frowned, not sure where this conversation was leading as Bran often spoke in riddles and it was up to Tyrion to interpret them.
"And what is beyond the sea?" Bran asked as the meaning dawned on him.
"Dragonstone your Grace." Tyrion nodded understanding this was possibly related to a Drogon sighting. Ever since the sack, Drogon had returned to Dragonstone, possibly with her body, and lived there. Only leaving to occasionally feed. Nobody had tried to go near the island and the King was eternally concerned Drogon may return for his revenge.
"My Master of Ships tells me he left again." Bran didn't even glance over to Tyrion.
"Drogon does that often." Tyrion frowned. "I suspect he flies off to feed."
Bran shook his head. "He's left on the last turn of the moon."
Tyrion thought for a moment. "That was...two weeks ago your Grace. Isn't that a little bit of a long time for one of his hunting trips?"
"Drogon always returns within a week." Bran told him.
"Where has he gone?" Tyrion asked.
"I don't know." Bran replied quietly. "I haven't been able to enter his head for three turns of the moon. He has learned how to block me. Now he has gone, I have less magic to draw from, he is too far away. I cannot see anything right now." the King complained.
Tyrion was shocked at this news. The King was a greenseer, a very powerful one at that. He was the Three Eyed Raven, taking the place of Bloodraven who had died beyond the wall, leaving Bran as his successor and now the King of Westeros. His powers were a large part of the reason Bran had been chosen to be King. Tyrion deduced, what Bran had previously failed to reveal, or may have not known for himself until now, was that his abilities needed a source of magical power to draw from. The Weirwood trees were a source of power, but in the south there were few left standing, lowering his abilities to see through them. The other main sources of magic in the world were fire and ice. In the North, the Wall and Children of the Forest would have fuelled his power through ice, maybe even the whitewalkers themselves could have helped with his abilities. Clearly Drogon being close by on Dragonstone had been something else he could draw from, powering him with fire, but now the dragon had flown too far for Bran to use him and the King's powers were lost.
"Did Lord Davos say in which direction he flew?" Tyrion asked, trying to hide his concern.
Bran nodded solemnly. "He flew north east."
"Do you think..." Tyrion started.
"Do I think he is going to Jon?" Bran asked. "I suspect so. But whether it is to kill him or to take him as a rider, I cannot be certain. Although the last time I was able to enter his mind, I did not sense a need for vengeance. Drogon was... lonely."
"Jon would never ride a dragon again Your Grace." Tyrion frowned. "I believe he would ask the dragon to kill him first. The last time traumatised him."
"I suspect you are correct Lord Tyrion. Jon Snow would not want to ride Drogon. On the other hand, Aegon Targaryen would." Bran agreed.
"He didn't want that. Jon refused to be Aegon Targaryen." Tyrion whispered.
"No he didn't. He resisted as he was still inclined towards the wolves and the north. But a dragon who desires his rider to join him will overpower the northern spirit. The special bond between dragon and its rider is unparalleled. Drogon may have been bonded to Daenerys as she was his mother, but his true bond may have always been with Prince Aegon. Dragon magic works in strange ways, ways only one born with Targaryen blood can truly understand."
Tyrion frowned at this comment, firstly of how easily the King referred to Jon as Prince Aegon, as if it were a forgone conclusion. Tyrion also wondered how Bran Stark who had not a single drop of Targaryen blood in his body, or so Tyrion believed, know of the dragon bond itself? This was not the first time Bran had spoken cryptically regarding how a Targaryen feels or behaves, as if with first-hand knowledge, however Tyrion had always put it down to his powers of the sight. Now he was beginning to wonder how much of Bloodraven's traits and personal knowledge Bran had inherited from the Three Eyed Raven.
"Can you not see what will happen?" Tyrion asked, casting aside his own concerns.
"Right now I cannot see the future, nor the present, or the past, therefore I cannot find either Drogon or Jon." Bran shook his head. "We will have to rely on more old fashioned methods. When you leave for Winterfell, I need you to listen for anything you may hear on the Kingsroad. Any sightings of a dragon. I cannot imagine anyone would keep it quiet if they did see one, but if you do hear anything send me a raven immediately." Bran told him. "Also speak to my sister, see if she has heard from Jon recently. I know she trades with the Freefolk, surely if Jon has disappeared, word would soon reach her."
"And what will you do with Jon if he has indeed returned as Prince Aegon?" Tyrion frowned.
"If my cousin is indeed alive and has become a dragonrider, he will no longer be Jon Snow. That man will have gone, dead. When a dragonrider bonds with their dragon, they change in unexpected ways. More often than not, they become more violent, less predictable. Sometimes more cunning, something my cousin lacked. Although he didn't seem to take issue with using his looks to seduce women to his cause." he looked at Tyrion in the eyes. "He will do it again. A handsome Prince on dragon-back, looking to save Westeros from the crippled boy-king who cannot father children. How can a woman resist him? His first mission will be to seek an alliance, he will not marry for love, only power."
"The most powerful women in the land will not touch him Your Grace and he won't want the most powerful one of all." Tyrion smiled. "At least that we can be certain of."
"Can we?" Bran raised an eyebrow. "Riding that dragon would bring out all of his Targaryen instincts, I mean all of them. Remind me Lord Hand, what was one of the most prominent and distasteful Targaryen traits? It is a word I do not care to use."
"Sibling fuckers." Tyrion whispered, shame engulfing him as he thought about his dead twins who also had no issue with incest.
"My sister may be made of steel, but she has been used and abused by most of the men in her life. I appreciate the fact you were one of the few who took care of her." Bran offered Tyrion a rare smile. "She needs an heir, and so do I. There aren't many in the land she would trust to touch her. Jon might have been raised as our brother, but they were never siblings. I suspect she would initially be uncomfortable and reluctant at the thought of marrying him, but she would trust him with her life and body. She knows he wouldn't physically hurt her. If I were Jon, marrying Sansa would be the first thing I would do to consolidate more power, although Sansa may not be quite as enthralled as she knows the potential consequences."
"Sansa would never challenge you." Tyrion offered.
"I would like to believe that." Bran's eyes drifted off. "But do not underestimate the power of the poisoned tongue of a Targaryen." he said.
"I have already been fooled by one once Your Grace." Tyrion nodded. "They have sweet tongues and then they kiss you with fire. But Jon isn't like that."
"A wise man once said of dragons..." Bran's eyes glazed "The idea that the Targaryens controlled the dragons, was an illusion. Dragon's are a power man should never have trifled with. One that brought Valyria its doom. A Targaryen must understand this to be King or Queen." he looked towards Tyrion. "Once a dragonrider sits astride the one he or she is bonded with, they change because there is dragonblood in a Targaryen. A pile of wood is a pile of wood, light it and it becomes a fire. Do not underestimate the power of the dragon." he added. "Now I believe you need to ride to Winterfell. Which is why I must not detain you much longer, although I hope for you to maybe spend a moon's turn or so with my sister. Who knows what visitors she may receive. We might even receive word of my cousin" Bran smiled, nodding to Tyrion, suggesting their meeting was over.
"Your Grace." Tyrion bowed his head as he left the room, realising Bran still hadn't answered the question as to what would by Jon's fate should he return with Drogon, although he suspected it wouldn't prove to be a pleasant one.
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