"You have important letters, yes." Tyrion rose on unsteady legs, closed his eyes for an instant as a wave of dizziness washed over him, and took a shaky step toward the door. Later, he would reflect that he should have taken a second, and then a third. Instead he turned. "What do I want, you ask? I'll tell you what I want. I want what is mine by rights. I want Casterly Rock."

His father's mouth grew hard. "Your brother's birthright?"

"The knights of the Kingsguard are forbidden to marry, to father children, and to hold land, you know that as well as I. The day Jaime put on that white cloak, he gave up his claim to Casterly Rock, but never once have you acknowledged it. It's past time. I want you to stand up before the realm and proclaim that I am your son and your lawful heir."

Lord Tywin's eyes were a pale green flecked with gold, as luminous as they were merciless. "Casterly Rock," he declared in a flat cold dead tone.

And on the silence went. Tyrion stood only waist-high, that in the flickering candlelight, he could only see his father's eyes; a pale green flecked with gold, as luminous as they were merciless. Lord Tywin set down his quill and steepled his fingers and sat back in his chair.

"Casterly Rock," he declared in a flat cold dead tone. "On your own head, so be it."

Tyrion was stunned. He grabbed onto a columned wall for support, and took his hand back as quickly.

Father will not tolerate weakness. Surely I must have dreamt it just now?

"Father - "

"You mean to be named my son and heir. Come closer."

Tyrion felt an awful twist in his stomach. He came nearer, and saw that at desk height at which he peeped over, the scratching of the quill which his father blew the ink off, and considered this the closest proximity to his father in living memory.

"And so it reads," Lord Tywin moved the parchment a fraction.

Tyrion's eyes widened to reveal all that had been as agreed by his father, in as words as could make no two ways about it. He could not resist venturing an enquiry.

"Are you sure about this?"

"I will have the ravens flown to every castle, holdfast, and shack in the Seven Kingdoms, and across the Narrow Sea besides. The king and small council will be informed at the next session."

Tyrion looked up at his father, whose stare quailed him such. His father nodded towards the door. Tyrion look long, slow strides, deep in thought. He turned, as he had when he had ventured the courage to first ask, and glanced up to his father.

I have what is mine. I have Casterly Rock.

"Go, Tyrion. You will ride to Casterly Rock on the morrow. And we shall never speak again on this, or any matter."

Tyrion turned slowly on the spot. He felt, as he left Lord Tywin's chambers, that he was rather hollow indeed. The guards in the corridor coughed and adjusted their spears. Tyrion waddled past them and towards the spiral stairs. He found that the descent, which must naturally take longer, made him hesitate for the knot in his stomach had begun to unwind. A fresh spate of tears brought a gulp and a steadying hand on the stone wall. He resumed with a steadying breath, forcing his chin up as he continued down.