Riverlands

It has been days since Tyrion joined his father's forces. All through that time they assured him that the news of the King's death will arrive soon. That the Mountain's men will come and aid them in battle.

Days come and go.

None of it came to pass.

Tyrion visits his father's tent for the daily debriefing. Entering the Lion's domain, he sees the usual stern look of Tywin, drinking from a cup of wine. Shit, this ought to be bad. Tyrion knows better than to trust his father's expressionless face. The man is not one to drink, especially so early in the morning. Something is on his mind. Tyrion is used to seeing all the signs: the small eye twitches and tapping fingers are the largest giveaways. It's his greatest skill in surviving Casterly Rock. His uncle Kevan is aware of it as well, keeping himself quiet in Tywin's presence.

As there has been no words of the King's death, Tywin has given orders to Jaime to halt his siege for the time being. More than cunning or cruelty, Tywin is careful, for Robert's survival may put his entire plan in jeopardy. And with the Lannisters being unpopular, it won't take much for everyone to draw their swords against us.

They the discuss what their next moves should be. Kevan, who's getting tired of simply waiting around, suggests that they simply end the siege and take Harrenhal as payment. "It must be worth something," the man says, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Uncle, may I need remind you that we have no words coming from the Mountain as of late. It might be that they encounter some Rivermen and were slain in battle."

"Nonsense," Tywin replies. "The man's a skilled knight."

"A skilled beast with a knight's sword, father. Even you can barely control him. How about this? I send a few of my men as scouts to the region and see what has happened to the Mountain. That way, we don't have to dawdle around this subject."

Tywin sips his wine. "See it done then."

And that's how Tyrion spends the better part of the day: instructing and securing ten soldiers to ride towards Harrenhal as scouts. He's given then direct instructions to remain as hidden as possible, so they've changed their clothes to more inconspicuous ones rather than the Lannister reds.

As night falls, Tyrion goes to sleep in his own private tent. Filled with books and a few chests with trinkets, he feels quite relaxed. It's much better than just sleeping on some rocks. However, I can't help but think that there's something missing here. Something important...

It's by morning that he realises what it had been: whores. For the better part of one or two months perhaps, he did not have any action. No companion to sleep with him in the night, and really no pleasures to speak of. So of course, the first thing he does in the morning is find Bronn and ask him to find a good whore. Money is not a problem to him.

Another thing he notices is that today, the amount of ravens and crows in the air is quite extraordinary. The sky is absolutely filled with them. He had never heard that crows and ravens could fly in large flocks, but apparently now they do. Everybody consider them a nuisance as they pilfer not only food but also coins and jewels. Pearls were stolen from a whore's chest while men were swindled by cleverer crows. They're acting less like birds and more mischievous thieves. I know that those birds are supposed to be smart, but this is getting ridiculous!

It didn't take long for the soldiers to blame Tyrion for this plague; he brought the first crow here after all. Luckily, he's able to convince them that no, it wasn't his fault that crows began coming here. Though he has his own suspicions about Bronn's words that the crow is a warg's pet, he keeps that to himself. To further secure this, his uncle declares to the soldier an order to exterminate any crows and ravens present in the camp. "That ought to keep these damn pests away," Kevan tells Tyrion.

While Tyrion stays in his tent and feeds Jaime with some hard bread, the soldiers outside begin throwing nets and shooting arrows into the air. Before long, the camp turns into a battlefield full of screams and caws. Curious, Tyrion peeks out of the tent and sees chaos. Though the soldiers have spears and armour, the birds can fly. A small flock descends on a hapless guard, pecking away at his face and eyes. Another flock chases down a running horse, leading it through several tents of soldiers. By noon, most of the Lannisters have given up on ridding the birds. They'd rather secure and lock their supplies and gold rather than deal with another score of blinded men. They lost the ravens in the rookery as well, limiting their communication abilities.

Tyrion, sitting nicely in his tent reading a book, never encounters this problem. Perhaps because of Jaime, the crows and ravens avoid his tent. "If you really are the commander of these birds, Jaime, can you tell them to stop harassing my men?"

"Caw?"

"No, I guess not." He throws a piece of dried meat to Jaime, which catches it in its mouth. "Then again, never heard or seen crows work together like that. Perhaps you're just lying to me with that bird-beak of yours."

"CAW!"

"Lord Tyrion?"

"Yes?" He turns around and sees one of his scout to Harrenhal at the flap of his tent. "Ah, so you two have returned. So, how goes the Mountain?"

"Um, here's the thing, my lord. We... We couldn't find the Mountain nor his men, my lord. Not a horse nor man."

Did he abandoned his post? No, that couldn't be. "Did you check nearby towns as well?"

"We went to Harrentown my lord and ask around with the locals. They told us that two things happened to the Mountain. The first is that after some time occupying the castle, half of the Mountain's men ran out in panic. Something about a demon living in there, I hear. Swallowed the man whole."

"A demon? You believe that, Ser Robyn?"

"W-well," the scout wavers, "a bit, my lord."

Tyrion scratches his temple. He chose his men due to skills and loyalty, but he never thought the need to choose them under the basis of intelligence. I guess that's where I've gone wrong. "Alright, alright. Enough about demons and snarks. What happened to the soldiers then?"

"Under no leader, my lord, they raided Harrentown. Raped and pillaged as they said. Then, under some sort of priest soldiers, they overcame the men and had them all hanged."

"Priest soldiers? The Faith has no militant."

"It wasn't the Faith, my lord. Some queer religion instead with a wooden shrine. They said the gods live on the Isle of Faces, but not the Old Gods either. The last I saw them they were raising a small force. To defend the Riverlands, they say."

Now that's a cause for concern, Tyrion wonders. If they are getting under the banner of a foreign religion, that will cause huge problems. It'll be harder to negotiate with as they have different values. Perhaps they'll even be antagonistic to the Faith, seeing them as failures. That would make sense. I've read stories of splinters of the Seven due to war and strive, creating battles and conflicts all across the Realm. The difference between that and a ruler's reign is that the religious are more willing to sacrifice their lives. The superstitious are more terrifying than their gods nor demons. We'll have to be careful with them in the future, lest it spreads like wildfire. "Alright, Ser Robyn, I'll inform my Lord father about this. Take rest; I'm sure luncheon is still available."

"Yes, my lord."

With that, Tyrion is left alone with Jaime and his book. However, his mind is slowly being preoccupied with worries. Why are crows here in the encampment? Surely, it's not some natural phenomena? He has never heard of crows and ravens moving about like geese or swans during the coming of winter. And we're still in autumn. The cults, the crows, the comet... Why is it all happening now. And where the hell is my whore? Tyrion snaps his book shut and puts on his boots. "Don't tell me Bronn is hogging her all to himself," he says to no one in particular. Finishing his laces, he turns to Jaime. "Ey, don't let any of your friends in, alright?"

"CAW! CAW!" the crow flaps its wings.

"I'll take that as a yes." Tyrion chuckles. The bird is starting to grow on him.

"Excuse me, are you Lord Tyrion Lannister?"

"Who might be asking?" Tyrion turns and finds a black-haired woman opening his tent flaps. "Oh, finally! Yes yes, I'm the Lannister dwarf. Do please come in! Have a seat while I get myself ready."

She enters and sits on his empty seat. As he puts away his book and light a candle, the bird caws and jumps on top of the hat she's wearing. "Hey, Jaime! Don't disturb the nice lady!"

"Oh, that's fine, Lord Tyrion. I'm quite fond of birds myself." She pets the bird's head, which caws in delight. "Quite a nice tent you got here."

Tyrion watches as she crosses her luscious legs, on show from her short skirt. Oh Bronn, I have to pay you well for finding such a beauty. "Well, that makes two of us. I can't say the others are so fond of birds right now. Besides," he undoes his belt buckle, eager to get started, "my place back at Casterly Rock is much better. Full of books and other artifacts."

"Oh, you're an avid reader, Lord Tyrion?" the woman perks up. She looks quite young and lively, adorned with beautiful red eyes. "That's quite rare in this Westeros."

"Most men prefer to battle. As a dwarf, I'd rather use my mind for combat. Speaking of which," he takes off his breeches and lets out his already erect cock, brandishing it. He looks back at the sitting woman. "Have you ever had sex with a dwarf before?"

"Hmm, not really. And I usually do it with other women rather than men," she answers, letting out a sly smile from her soft lips. Those supple, luscious lips. Damn, I really am in a rut. "Why do you ask?"

"Not much really. Just don't want to surprise you with the Imp, that's all. Now," he claps his hands, "it's been a while, so why don't we just get started. Don't worry, I'm gentle to all my night attendants. Pay well too. First, why don't you open your-"

"Oy Imp, got that whore you wan- Oh, nice cock."

Tyrion snaps his head round and sees Bronn, arm linked with a woman in a dress displaying her cleavage. Wait, is that- He turns back to the black haired woman, now grinning with glee, the crow perched on her shoulder. His stomach sinks. "...You're not a whore?"

"Nope."

"BRONN!" Tyrion shouts at the sellsword, red faced and covering up his drooping member.

"What!?" Bronn chuckles. "I'm not the one with his cock out."

"Go away, please!" The two people at the doorway leave the dwarf and his laughing guest, no doubt to have their own fun. "I'm so, so, very sorry, my lady!" He fumbles with the clasp on his breeches. "I can assure you, this is not how I usually am!"

"Is this a Lannister custom, Lord Tyrion? Greeting ladies with flags at full mast?"

"Gods, don't think of my family like that," Tyrion replies, his very words and actions filled with shame. "Don't let one dwarf taint- No, that's a bad wording..."

The woman laughs heartily at his antics, perhaps the silver lining to all of this. Jaime laughs along with her, their caws mixing together. With flushed cheeks and sweaty brows, he rights his clothes and fills up a cup of wine. He nearly trips from all his shaking. "I am so sorry for what you've seen, my lady," he gives the cup to the woman. "It must have been the worst greeting you've seen."

"Oh, don't worry, Lord Tyrion. It was embarrassing and funny, sure, but certainly not the worst," she answers, sipping up half of the wine in the cup. She takes out a sheaf of papers from her pocket and flips through it. "Who was it again? Oh yeah, met some guy named Shagga in the mountains. Didn't say hello or how are you, just dropped his pants and told me to suck it. Fitting his name, you could say."

Tyrion recognises that name. "Mountain men," he cringes. "Can never be disciplined with those lot. I can assure you, us Lannisters are far more civilised than those wild men. Got your own to deal with them?"

"My friend wanted to, but I dealt with him myself. Cut off his dick and made him eat it. All the others greet me properly after that." She refills her cup. "And don't you worry, Lord Tyrion. Yours was an accident; I will not cut it off."

"Good, since I don't think it'll be a filling meal for either of us. I still plan to use it later." With his libido slowly sinking back down, the haze of lust over his eyes slowly disappears. The woman is wearing a short skirt, but the design is not like that of Westeros. A foreigner then, so different values and customs. The hat she's wearing is also odd, being a small piece with red tassels and white cotton hanging from it. Her clothes seem to be made of fine silks, with detailed coloured embroidery of leaves decorating it. And with the hand-held fan tied to her waist and a strange black-and-silver object, she looks to be some sort of noblewoman. A person of a higher class, at least. Cruelty and power were present in her little story, so I need to be careful here. And that part about the mountain men... "Now, why don't we just forget what happened before and greet each other normally. My name is Tyrion Lannister, son of Lord Tywin Lannister and heir of Casterly Rock. And you, I presume, are Lady Stormcrow?"

"Lady Stormcrow is not my real name, Lord Tyrion. It's simply the title the people of the mountains gave me. My name is Shameimaru Aya, but you may call me Aya."

"It is nice to finally meet you, Lady Aya. Though may I ask, what brings you down from the mountains? I've heard that you were doing work up there."

"Oh, my work is finished, so it's my friend's shift right now. No, I'm here because of stories."

"Stories?"

"Yes, stories! I always love a good story, whether it came out of the mouth of humans or fish. Now, I heard that there's fighting in the land of rivers. Fish and lions, fighting to the death! Rivers turned red with blood! Such good headlines that I just don't want to miss it! But..." she lets out a long sighs, languishing on the table. "Ayaya... Can you imagine my disappointment, Lord Tyrion, when all I find down here was just a bunch of humans waving their swords around? And I flew all this way as well..."

Flew? "I can imagine, Lady Aya."

"Luckily for me though, the rumours of a dwarf here is true. Just not the kind I had in mind," Aya adds, letting the crow rest on her head. The way she moves and expresses herself reminds him of Jaime the crow, with all the head tilts and twitches.

"Well, I am the one and only Imp, so that must have been worth something," he chuckles, refilling both his cup and the woman's. Hopefully, if I get her drunk enough she'll let her tongue slip some more. She's already loose-tongued from the looks of it. "If it's not rude for me to ask, did you bring all the birds here?"

"Just a teensy-bit of distraction to avoid myself getting noticed," she giggles.

A warg then. "Now, I doubt you came all the way here with your army of birds to just find stories. May I ask what you want from us Lannisters?"

"Of course!" she beams. "What I want from you is a deal. A little one, not to worry. So, I've recently acquired a beautiful castle seated on a mountain top."

"The Eyrie."

"Is that what it's called?"

"Yes, seat of the Arryns. They've been there for hundreds of years."

"Not anymore," she smiles, emptying the bottle of wine.

Such casual remarks... "So you're now ruler of the Eyrie?"

"Well, that's the problem. You see, I was a bit too hectic on my ascent of the castle and everyone there died. So, I didn't have anyone to rightfully give me the seat or anything like that. That's where you Lannisters come in."

The Eyrie is even more impenetrable than the Wall, Tyrion ponders. And she had done it with mountain men, no less. Mountain men with inferior arms and weapons. How could it fall so fast and easily? "So, you want us to legitimise your rule of the Vale. Is that it?"

"And submit to me as well, yes."

"Su- Excuse me?"

"Hmm?" she tilts her head.

"What did you say?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. It's a bit forceful for me to just lay it out like that, so let me explain. I want you, your lord father, and your Lannister men, to come under my wings and up to the Eyrie. My mountain men are not very well disciplined, so a more civilised group like you will be great in helping me manage the castles."

"...Lady Aya, do you hear yourself speak? I don't mean to offend but all I hear is the rambling of some madwomen. There's-There's no reason we should indulge in your fantasy, Lady Aya! Sure you've conquered the Vale, but that doesn't mean you can just strut to our camp and demand all the Lannister gold and men!" This craziness warrants him another full cup of wine.

"There is something for you in this deal, Lord Tyrion. We're civilised, after all. Here," she produces an envelope out of her pocket. He glares at her before opening it. Inside... Is a bunch of paper. Some with colours and others with writing on it. "You can have those, and many more, by swearing fealty under me. What do you say?"

"Hmm... How about NO." He throws the envelope to the ground. "I see no benefit indulging some lunatic's demands. You can plunder the Vale all you want, but we Lannisters have everything we need and more. Even your silly white papers."

"Ah, so you're refusing the deal? And here I thought the Lannisters always pay their debts."

"We owe NOTHING to you, Lady Aya."

"Ah, but you do, don't you? What was it again, 'Jaime' the crow?" The bird perches on her shoulder and lets out several squawks and caws. The woman listens intently, much to Tyrion's bewilderment. "You owe me from your safe passage down the mountains, the animals this little girl helped you hunt, and also for the one-hundred and twenty-two crows and ravens killed in your encampment." Jaime lets out a few more squawks. "Oh, but she'll deduct a bit for providing her with meat and bread. She's a sweet bird, isn't she?"

"You keep track of all that!?"

"Of course!"

"CAW!"

"Lord Tyrion, didn't your father wage this campaign of his for one single person? As in, you? Then why is it strange that I demand payments for the killings of my own followers? Is that not what you do here in this Westeros?"

"They're birds! I'm sorry Jaime, you're smart but you're a bird! You're insinuating that, that, the worth of men is less than that of birds and crows." This conversation is slowly turning madder each second, and Tyrion can feel it pounding in his head.

"Of course humans are worthless," Aya says nonchalantly. "They're nothing more than glorified cattle."

She really is mad. "Then I'm sorry, Lady Aya. I see no reason to deal with savages who regard men's lives so cheaply."

"But your de-"

"We always pay our debts, yes. See that chest over there?" He points to one lying beneath some clothes. "That's two-hundred gold dragons, enough for all the ravens you could get in the Citadel. Now, why don't you take it and leave? Or I'll call the guards to apprehend you." He sips his wine, frustrated now at the woman's demands. If this is how she is, then I hope to the Gods that she's as stupid with commanding as she is with negotiating. We're definitely going into conflict later in the future.

But the woman stays in the chair. She sits up straight, all that aloofness melting away from her appearance. Her leaf-fan is slightly covering her face, only revealing her beady red eyes. "Tell me, Lord Tyrion, what do you know about fear?"

"I thought you were leaving," Tyrion says, sitting on his bed and opening the book he was reading.

"Do answer the question, Lord Tyrion. Then we shall leave."

Gods, the comet really is a sign of bad luck. Should've kept Bronn here to accompany me. "...Alright, I'll bite. Fear is when I'd rather not pull down my breeches in front of madmen."

"A bit deeper than that," she moves her fan, a slight breeze blowing in the tent.

"What? Alright. Fear is when... I don't want to talk to my father. Happy?"

"That is good, yes. Fear with something connected so personally to you that you're forever molded by it. But that's not what I want. Something simpler and much earlier."

"How about seeing shadows when I was a kid?" he scoffs.

"Precisely," she grins. "Fear runs deep. Why is it then you fear shadows at such a young age?"

"I don't know... Nanny's stories about ghosts?" he sips his wine, a bit amused at the conversation. The woman seems to like to wax on about some silly shit.

"No no, it is far deeper than that. Did you know, even baby rabbits fear shadows after being born. That is because they know. From their very soul, the fear of their parents and their parents before them and the ones before them; all of it is passed down. Accumulated. It grows and gnaws on them. When the moon first shone onto the world, it created shadows. Night shadows. Something that lurks in the dark when all is asleep, carving fear into the hearts of men and beasts alike. Fear of the unknown."

His tent flaps fluter wildly in the growing wind outside. He can feel a faint chill entering the tent, even under the fiery gaze of this Lady Aya. Tyrion sips more wine, trying to calm himself down. "And so, what? There's nothing in those shadows but wind and plants."

"But once in a while there is something. Unseen to the untrained eyes, it stays hidden in the dark. That's how my people were born, Lord Tyrion. When men imagine what could be in the shadows, they gave birth monsters. When they hear the howls and screeches of the wind, feel the coldness against their back, when they see trees torn to bits by a vicious gale... They gave birth to me, a Tengu."

Tyrion's tent starts to flutter, pegs in the ground pulled out by the movement. He can even hear screams of the guards outside, shouts and caws all mixing into one. "Lord Tyrion," the lady continues, "since the birth of man, they've long revered us and the winds we carry. I gave you that chance, to respect us. To bow before the mighty gale that sail your ships and feed your lands. But you've refused to pay for your debts. So, I will ask from you something different. Like the tempest that devour trees and castles alike, it is one that I enjoy the most.

"Fear."

Tyrion is knocked off his feet as the wind tears through his tent. The sudden brightness of the sky envelops him, but that's not all that he sees. The clouds above begin to spin like a whirlpool, slowly darkening and lowering itself to the ground. Tents, clothes, branches, all manner of things are pulled into the swirling winds. And the birds. The birds are flying around, making patterns in the sky. He recognises them. The thing in the mountain pass...

"This shall be your payment, Lord Tyrion." The woman stands tall, sporting a malicious grin. Even in the roaring winds and the laughing birds, her voice is crisp and stern. Dust and dirt whip through the air, and the forming spiral above threatens to devour the encampment. Horses run and soldiers flee, but Tyrion is frozen in place by the spectacle. The fear.

I-I need to do- "Lady Aya!" He tries to walk forward, holding on to a piece of broken wood and shielding his eyes from debris. "Please, I have a request!"

"You owe me a debt, Lion Cub."

"I-I know that!" He's nearly hit by a flying branch. "However, please! By Westerosii custom, don't you want to-to earn it!? Isn't it uncivilised to simply take what you want!?" The woman doesn't answer back. Shit shit shit! What do I say, what- AH! "I request a duel! A formal, agreement-based DUEL!"

For a moment, the wind falters before picking up again. She walks closer to Tyrion, her strange shoes making her look much taller than him. She frowns, yet hides it well behind her fan. "...A duel?"

"Yes, yes, Lady Stormcrow! A duel, between you and I."

She tilts her head, her beady eyes staring into his own. Crows begin to gather around them. "You will die, Lion Cub."

"No no, not a duel of swords, Lady Aya. I'm at a disadvantage there, and I'm sure a person as civilised as you wouldn't dare play such an unfair game. I propose... A duel of wits."

"Wits?" the crows laugh.

"Yes, Lady Aya. Wits. It is very simple; no actual battles for each of our forces. And that means no... Whatever sorcery this is," he gestures to the chaos around them. "No, we shall battle with information and words. Our minds are the weapons, not the men or soldiers."

"And what's the win conditions?" The woman looks interested now, the winds slowly calming down.

Shit, what are they? I came up with this on the spot! "The one to get the message of legitimacy from the King. Whether that be for my lord father's rule over the Riverlands, or your rule over the Vale. The first to earn those... Wins the duel."

"And if I lose?"

Tyrion, after witnessing the chaos she has brought upon his men, can only think of one thing. "You, Lady Aya, will forgive me for all the debts I owe you. Not only that, but you are to relinquish your rule over the Vale and of the mountain men. What you do after that is up to you, as long as it is outside of Westeros."

She leans close. "What if I win?"

"T-Then, continue on. I will try my best to convince my father to submit, but he's a very stubborn man. Depending on his answer... How forceful you have to be, I don't know."

"I could just spread fear right now, Lord Tyrion. Kill half of your men and let the rest run to tell stories of how the lions were swept up into the clouds."

"W-Well, that doesn't sound very civilised, Lady Aya. In fact, it sounds to be very much in line with human savages." Upon the comparison, the woman's eyes turn cold. She really does believe herself as a non-human. A mad sorcerer, a powerful one at that. At least with that taunt...

"Alright then, Lord Tyrion," she reaches out her hand, smiling. He grabs it and her nails dig into his hand. He winces in pain. "I will agree to your conditions. It has been a while since I had a good duel myself, and I hope this will be a good entertainment for me."

"By the Seven and whatever gods you worship, I swear to you Lady Aya that none will disrupt our duel." This is still unsure for Tyrion. When his father sees all of this, it's not unthinkable for him to then march towards the Vale. It'll be something drastic that will convince him to ignore her chaos.

The woman pulls out her sheaf of papers and begins writing something down with her metal quill. Before long, she tears it off and begins writing another one. All the while, Bronn and the other Lannister soldiers are watching the deal happening right in front of them. She hands him the pieces of paper, bearing strange runic writings. He doesn't recognise it from any of his books. "Could you please sign both of them? Simply an assurance for this duel of ours."

He looks at her warily before signing it. "I hope you keep your promise, Lady Aya."

"A Tengu never lie, Lord Tyrion." She takes one of the signed papers and stuffs it into her pocket. "Well, let us meet again in the future. We'll have much to talk about. Cheers!" With that, all of the birds and crows around them take off in a flurry of wind and darkness. For a split second, he could see her form sprouting a large pair of wings. She disappears in an explosion of feathers and dust, along with all the birds. All that remain is a single crow; the precocious form of Jaime.

Tyrion feels weak in his legs and collapses back, lying on the grassy remains of his tent. He lets out a weak laugh at the absurdity of it all as Jaime perch herself on his stomach.

"Imp!" he hears Bronn shouts as the man runs towards him. "Are you alright?"

"Shaken, Bronn... Very much so... But alive."

"Who the fuck was that!?"

"That," Tyrion gulps, "that was the Lord of the Vale."