The banners flew high and proud outside Casterly Rock. From his balcony, Loren could see the camp between the mighty castle of the Lannisters and the city of Lannisport. He saw the lion of Lannister everywhere, surrounded by it's menagerie of followers, the unicorn of Brax, the boar of Crakehall and the Swyft rooster were the three closest to the castle whilst others ran out along the coast. He could just make out the sight of levied footmen being drilled by their serjeants nearby, and knights clashing with blunted weapons or taking turns riding at straw men. After the three years of enforced discipline he had faced in the Golden Company, they seemed an unruly rabble. But a large rabble. This host that lay before Casterly Rock stood at seventeen thousand strong, with more men arriving every day, and Loren knew that another was marshalling at the Golden Tooth, closer to ten thousand, but still a potent force on the battlefield. Lord Tywin planned to have two strong fists, strong enough to batter the Tully men into submission and force the return of Loren's brother Tyrion.

The news had not send Tywin into a wroth, little did, but, with his typical cold nature, encapsulated in the husks of Tarbeck Hall and Castamere, had called his banners and prepared to force the lady Stark to return Tyrion. The ravens had been sent from Casterly Rock's rookery before the messenger had tucked into his meal, given to him as a reward for bringing the information to Casterly Rock first.

A knock on the door made Loren turn around. "Enter," he called out, and a guardsman opened the door and bowed.

"M'lord," he said. "Your lord father requests your presence in the war room, your brother has returned."

"Tyrion?" Loren asked, confused, the whole point of the banners assembling was to get Tyrion back, had he already been released by lady Catelyn?

But the guard shook his head. "Ser Jaime, m'lord."

Loren raised his eyebrows in surprise, but nodded and, with a wave, dismissed the guard. Instead he stood in front of his mirror and straightened his tunic, his moustache had grown back since he had returned and his hair was neatly combed. Deciding that he was respectable, he left the chambers and headed for his father's war room.

Servants bowed aside as he made his way to the war room, passed glittering walls and huge tapestries depicting Lannister glories. None dared obstruct the path of a Lannister of Casterly Rock. Windows offered clear views out over the ocean on one side and the lands of Lannister dominion on the other, statues, stained glass and marble busts all stood to demonstrate the huge wealth of the Lannisters.

But the war room was of a different sort. Cold hard stone, with no natural light, for Lord Tywin wished no distractions when he was planning his battles and marches. The last time it had been used, it was not Lord Tywin who headed the table, but Robert Baratheon, as he planned to subjugate the Iron Islands once more. When Loren entered, he was greeted by his father, his father's lordsbannermen and his brother, in gilded golden armour and wearing his usual smirk. The table was missing Gregor Clegane, but he was busy burning and looting the Riverlands.

"You've arrived Loren," his father commented. "Good, then we shall begin." He leant over the map. Loren knew that his father would not be the first to speak, he never was. Instead, it was his uncle who did so.

"We have two hosts at our disposal, strong and ready for war," he said, indicating the lion heads on the war map. "The first," he indicated the host on the Golden Tooth, "will punch the border with the Riverlands and invest Riverrun. The second shall sweep up from the south, take castles, one by one, until we reach Harrenhal. Then we demand Tyrion's return."

It was a sound plan, Loren knew, and likely his father's in the concocting. Ser Flement Brax spoke up. "What of Seagard, and the Twins?" He asked. "Lords Mallister and Frey are amongst the most powerful of the Tully vassals."

Loren interjected this time. "Mallister would be marching alone, Frey is too cautious, too… disinterested, he will not get involved. Alone, Mallister can do nothing."

His father had an approving look in his eye. He did not nod, or show the approval to anyone else, as was his want, but it was there none the less.

"Who will command, my lord?" Asked another bannerman, Loren did not know which one.

"I shall command the second host. Jaime, the first." Loren bit back his retort and held his tongue. What did Jaime know of command, he had been making war for three years, was he not the best choice? "Loren," Loren looked to his father. "You shall command my vanguard and outriders, as befits your talents, Ser Addam shall serve as your second. Kevan, you shall also join me in my host's command table, as shall Ser Gregor, when we retrieve him." He named another dozen bannermen, Swyft, Crakehall, Lydden and Lefford and more, who would also serve in his host. "Jaime, you shall be accompanied by others who's men shall be yours in the coming battles."

Jaime nodded. Loren knew that Jaime would have no trouble getting men to follow him, he had a natural charm that way. But they should be following me. "When do we march, father?" His brother asked, eager and impetuous.

"Soon," Tywin said. "We'll gather fresh men along the road, unite at the Tooth and then break into the Riverlands."

Loren beckoned for wine as the discussions continued without his input being offered or asked for.

()()()

"It may take some time for the riders to learn this method," Ser Addam told him. They were left alone in the war room after everyone else had left. "Ten miles in all directions, overlapping scouting fields, regular relayed reporting back to the host. It could take a year or more to train them in such a fashion."

"And we don't have that long," Loren finished unnecessarily. In moments like this he wished he could hire the company. He could take them and sweep the Riverlands before father had properly readied his army. True, holding ground would be difficult, but the Lannister host could invest the strongholds as they came. But father hated sellswords, calling them loyal to their purses and little more (it was one of the reasons he chose to spend his time in the east fighting in the companies), the same way he scorned the Free Cities, fools who fought wars with gold instead of iron. "How much can they do?"

"Four to five miles, out and back again, it needs to be simple, lord. These men are more than levies, but they don't make war their living."

"Clearly," he slumped back into his chair. "Do what you can with them. Get them the best we can get them to. I don't intend to let a single trout slip the net."

Addam cracked a smile. "I'll whip them into shape, lord, don't you worry." He bowed at the waist and swept from the room, closing the door behind him.

Loren leant forwards and rubbed his temples gently. This war was going to kill him of stress and incompetence and they hadn't even started fighting it yet

"Tired already, brother?" Jaime. His brother slinked into the room dressed in supple gold and deep red, a grin fixed on his face like a melon slice and his green eyes dancing in their sockets. He hated dancing.

He gently got to his feet, keeping his anger buried inside him, deep and dark but never forgotten. "No, brother."

"Truly?" Jaime asked, mocking surprise. "You look so... world weary."

"I've seen enough of the world to be weary of it, unlike you."

His brother's irritating chuckle rang in his ears like a peasant child beating a pan with a spoon. "And with all that you've seen, you didn't get the command you wanted."

He curled his hand in a fist, but didn't strike, couldn't. Swords, lances, teeth, fists, Jaime wielded all of them better than he. He oft made a game of this as a child, goading him into a fight, just so he could. Loren could never tell if he was speaking out of genuine arrogance and disrespect or out of jest. "I don't seek commands like a cat after baubles," he replied through gritted teeth. "I am above such pettiness."

"I'm glad to hear it," Jaime said, slipping into view. "I look forward to smashing the Tullys with you, Loren."

"You won't be with me, I'll be with father," Loren pointed out.

"We'll be in the same war," his brother replied. "It's a pity it won't take long. I'll have Riverrun before long, and father will have the south, with your help of course. You know the Tully words, Family, Duty, Honour, Catelyn Stark will return our brother before long."

Jaime would know the Tully words, he'd been made to learn all about them when his father was considering a marriage between Jaime and Lord Hoster's daughter Lysa. Of course that had fallen through when Jaime had put a White Cloak on his shoulders. "Her husband is Hand of the King and Robert does so love a good fight. What if Robert himself should march to defeat Clegane? Then we lose."

"Edmure Tully will do it himself, he's young and likely hungers for glory."

"But Old Lord Hoster is another matter entirely. If that man has an ounce of his senses left, he will send word to the capital, and if Robert comes, we've lost." He shook his head. It was pointless, Jaime would never understand. "I'm going now, brother. Unlike you, I have a family to say goodbye to."

()()()

"Do you think Robert will come?" Aly asked him over dinner.

Loren sipped his wine and nodded. "He's bound to, he's likely fat and bored by the business of ruling. I know his type. If he does come, then father will have to retreat and relent. If he captures Robert, the Ned Stark will rally all those who oppose the Lannisters against us. The Northmen, what Rivermen remain, the army of the Vale, Renly and Stannis as well, the Tyrells won't miss out on an opportunity to put a leash on the lions and the Greyjoys will see an open shore of traitors ready to pillage. No matter what father believes, he can't beat such a force."

His wife nodded, slowly. "And you, my lord? What will you do if the King should march against your father?"

He'd thought about that a lot since father had announced his intentions. "I am a Lannister. But if father commits to war with Robert, I will not stand by him. I cannot."

"What about us?" Aly asked him. "Me, and the children. If you stand against your father and we are here..."

"I have thought about that," he replied. "When we march, you and the children will come with us. It will be a hard journey, for you will come with the vanguard, but I will leave you at the Tooth, where you can be protected. It is a strong castle, and will hold well."

"Tarbeck Hall and Castamere were stout castles as well," Aly reminded him, her eyes alight with worry. "That didn't stop your father."

He got up and went around the table, pulling her up and wrapping her in his arms. "Father won't be able to fight a war against Westeros and besiege the Tooth. And our children are his grandchildren. He won't kill them." He pressed his forehead to hers. "And if he does bring harm to our children, I'll kill him. Him, Jaime, Cersei the whole bloody lot of them. He is not taking them from me... He is not taking you from me."

"My lord. You speak of kinslaying," she whispered into his chest.

"I hope it will not come to that. Just as I hope Robert will not march. But I have to preserve some semblance of the Lannisters. Robert is open handed, and if I support him against my father in a rebellion, then he'll let me have the Rock. I promise, my lady, no harm will come to you."

"The children won't want to go. They don't want you to go."

"But will they?"

She nodded. "If you command it. They will go, my lord."

He kissed her softly. "Thank you, my lady."

"You are my lord and husband. I will obey and support you however I am able in your efforts to preserve the Lannisters from themselves."