Tyrion

When at the wall, Tyrion had never breathed air so fresh as what was in the lands beyond. It almost made him feel like he grew taller just from a single breath. But every time he returned to King's Landing and the stench of shit entered him, it shrunk him back down. The sight of the city was such a dreary thing to look at. It looked like it was just at the point before the final stone fell from its foundation to be considered a ruin.

The armies stole an early morning march and the snows were much fairer than the lands north of the God's Eye. They camped on a formation of hills that overlooked the city and also gave them a tactical advantage if there were any ambushes attempted. Not that it would matter given that Lord Bran could use his ravens or his other ability as the Three-Eyed Raven to see if such an attack would happen.

Everything was going as planned so far. Cersei had accepted the invitation to a parley and everything was being prepared. The Unsullied would create the path to the location and keep out any and all who wanted to carve out a piece of the woman who was responsible for so much death and treachery in the realm.

No one except for the Kingsguard would be armed. The King's direwolf would be joining them as well and the tent that would be housing everyone would be right next to where two dragons were nesting. If things went to their worst, then the parley would turn into a dinner for two enormous creatures of legend.

It was still quite sometime before then. Everyone attending was preparing for it. Tyrion found his way to the King's tent with a special surprise for him that he had placed off to the side as he waited. He was dressed in a fine suit of black and red with trimmings of gold. The texture of the upper body was made to resemble dragon scales. The cloak he wore was Lannister red with a border of gold embroidery with a lion pelt resting over the shoulders. His pin of office was placed perfectly over his right breast. Next to the King, he was the image of his family's richness and his position in court.

The King was still being assisted with his own attire by Missandei and Ser Davos. Missandei had made sure there wasn't a single flaw or stray thread in any of Jon's clothing while Ser Davos was putting on the breastplate of Valyrian Steel. The craftsmanship still marveled everyone who had a chance to gaze upon it. The light of the candles in the tent would dance off the ripples in the steel and almost made it seem like the three-headed dragon and two direwolves were alive. The rest of the armor, the Spaulders, cops, gauntlets, and greaves wouldn't be worn for the parley. The image of the King was meant to be ceremonial of sorts and nothing could match the grand look he had now.

"Is this really necessary?" Jon asked as the last strap of his breastplate was done.

"Sorry, but wearin' boiled leather and a gorget aren't sayin' much of your position." Ser Davos told him. "Stoic looks won't be enough to display the authority you hold and that which you strive for."

Joffrey made himself look the part, but so much that he was a vain person. His armor was more beautiful than it was functional and his clothes were richer than any ought to be worth. Jon was not as he was, but he must still look the part.

"We haven't made you bathe in roses or wear perfumes so what is it that bothers you so?" Tyrion asked.

"It feels like I'm overdoing it," Jon confessed.

"Wearing your entire suit of armor and sitting atop one of the dragons for your seat would be overdoing it," Tyrion told him. "This is not a formal dinner to impress your guests, this is a demonstration of who truly has the greater power. We know what Cersei has, now it is time for her to realize how little it is compared to what you have. It is all a battle of the mind before the battle of steel. You encountered Ramsay Bolton under similar circumstances, did you not?"

"Aye, and I thought it was a draw but I was wrong. Despite all of my sister's warnings, I fell into every trap he laid for me. I'm not good at these sorts of things, Daenerys is."

"I would gladly argue to that from what I have seen from you." Ser Davos told everyone. "You've united the Wildlings with the North like no man in history has. You've defeated the Night King like no man in history has. All these things no man could do, but a dragon could. You are the Winter Dragon as the title says. Now it's time to show that to the Mad Queen."

Missandei smiled proudly at that statement as she went to retrieve the King's steel crown.

"Not that one, my lady." Tyrion stopped her. He pointed over to a box he set in the room earlier when he first entered. "A gift from our Queen."

Missandei went over and opened the box, excited at what she saw inside. She delicately removed the crown of Aegon the Conqueror.

Jon looked puzzled that it was there, to begin with. "I'm not fit for such a crown."

"From what the Queen said, it fits perfectly," Missandei smirked at the King as she placed it over the King's raven black hair and it seemed to glide down and rest on his head.

When he stood with the crown on, Jon looked everything a King he was meant to be from birth and he had every trait to be a great one, much like all the hope that had been placed in his father. "I do see the resemblance now, you know," he told the young king. When Jon gave him an odd look, Tyrion expounded on his point. "Your father, Rhaegar. Although you do favor your mother with the darker features, no one will be able to deny that you are indeed the son of the Prince of Dragonstone. And I include Cersei there as well."

"Why do you say you include your sister, Lord Tyrion? Missandei asked.

There was no attempt to stop the sad smile that formed on the Hand's face. "My sister was madly in love with the Crown Prince. I think he was the only one she ever had such affection for, Jaime included. She fiercely believed she was destined to wed him. And my father just fed into the fantasy. He even arranged a tourney that he was sure his good friend the King would announce their betrothal. Well, as we all know, it never happened. And not only did she not get the man she wanted, but she also lost two men to the same woman. It's a crime I still don't think Cersei has forgotten and I know she will never forgive it." He smoothed over an invisible wrinkle in the King's cloak. "Be aware of that when you see Cersei. Rhaegar still holds a power over her and it could be to our advantage. Now, you are ready." Tyrion declared just as Ser Lonnel entered.

"Your grace, Cersei Lannister is nearly here."

The King looked to his advisors. "Ser Davos, find Bronn and bring him with you when you disarm Cersei's men."

"Bronn?" Davos asked emphasizing as to why.

"I think he might know a few places men might try to hide a dagger from being found."

That was a wise idea. Jon had full faith in those sworn to him to uphold the terms of the parley. His Kingsguard were the only ones to be armed. But knowing Cersei it wouldn't be a shock if she tried to smuggle in weapons of her own given who she was bringing with her.

Ser Davos departed to go to his duty while Tyrion and Missandei followed the King and his Kingsguard to the tent where the parley would be held. When they arrived, they were greeted by the great big direwolf Ghost. He was lying in the center of the room all alone. The lights of the candles made his ruby eyes glow in the color of blood.

The King had a moment of bliss as he pet his direwolf over the head. "Lord Tyrion, I must ask you something I do not think you will like," he started.

Tyrion had a feeling he knew the topic about to be broached and steeled himself. "I am at your command, your Grace."

Jon sighed before continuing. "Above all else, we will be honest with your sister. When she comes, I will tolerate no subterfuge, no trickery, even as I know to not expect the same from her. I may have the blood of the dragon, but that will never take from being raised a Stark."

He did everything he could to not rolls his eyes. "Yes, being honorable is something we should all aspire to have. But sometimes it can get people killed. That is how your father and brother were killed. They expected others to act as they did when shown things like honor, courtesies, the things that make you trustworthy and susceptible to deception." Tyrion tried to contain his frustration but it leaked into his tone. "If your sister were here with us now, we could have ended the war the way we want to. Cersei and the captains who raided Dorne and the Reach would be killed, Arya would take her face and return to King's Landing and surrender peacefully. It would seem out of character but it would be too late when they realized what has happened."

"We aren't resolving this with lies."

"I hate to be the one to bear the hard truth, but lies tend to have the biggest effect in wars more than honesty does. It's how the bloodiest rebellion in history began with Rhaegar and Lyanna and it's how your brother and his army were destroyed. You ought to try considering that option for once."

The King went into that state of brooding he was well known for. "I'm not the one who will lead us after all this, Daenerys is. If you truly believe in the world she hopes to create as the queen, then we can't let the foundation of it be created like that. Lies do not lead to solutions, only problems. You need not look further than what everyone thought happened with my parents. It was a lie that caused so much death and chaos. If we continue to act like that, it will only lead to more and more conflict until no one will know what truth itself is anymore."

Tyrion looked silently at Jon with pent up anger in him. He was a Stark, no matter what his name was, and the way he was, the way his father and brother were, it was the reason they were betrayed so easily. They were good people and they expected others to be as they were.

Tyrion sighed out, angry but he did well to keep it to himself. He made for his seat and caught a glimpse of Missandei looking at him. The way she did made it perfectly clear whose side she was on. Tyrion was alone in his endeavor.

It was silence between the three of them for the next few minutes until they were told that Cersei was coming with her people. They stood tall and waited as the folds of the entrance were parted and in came the woman responsible for almost an entire decade of misery and hell for people she deemed below her.

Tyrion felt flickers of pride when he saw how she reacted seeing the true King in all his splendor. He never felt this smug about anything since he denied letting his father serving false justice for Joffrey's murder. But he didn't let himself smile the way he did, at least on the outside.

As Missandei announced their King and his many titles, Tyrion kept looking at the woman he once called his sister. She looked like a Lannister should, but he could see past that. He could see in her eyes that she was breaking. She once had allies and family surrounding her, now she only had Qyburn. Everyone else was just someone who she kept close in case she needed someone to use.

She said something that a spoiled girl would and Tyrion exchanged words with her. She was so deluded about her hold that she refused to see the truth. She had turned the entire realm against her when she broke the pact.

But before anything else could be said, the King broke their insults and brought everything calmed down as he conducted things. "Shall we begin?" The King announced.

Tyrion wouldn't have been surprised if Cersei had left then and there but he knew her too well. She would be seen as cowardly if she did and she of all people wouldn't let herself be seen that way.

Everyone took their respective seats except the Kingsguard and Cersei's Queensguard and Tyrion himself. He walked into the center of attention to conduct the meeting.

"We had an agreement." He began. "Commit your armies to the fight against the dead and Casterly Rock, the Westerlands, and more would have been yours despite what you've done, despite who you've killed. We agreed to a period of peace and you broke that when your fanatic loyalists attacked Winterfell with wildfire. It was my fault for believing you were even capable of such a thing as peace. What I don't understand is why you would commit to such a terrible choice. You've united every realm against you after the attacks in Dorne and Winterfell."

"Is that what you want?" Cersei asked coyly. "Am I to explain myself for my treatment of rebels and traitors? It's all rather simple really, in fact, it's the most obvious reason. We are at war. In war, you kill your enemies."

"If you truly believe that then why come here at all? You have no weapons and in the heart of an army with only a dozen men."

Cersei smirked at him. "It's rather dull in the capital. Being here at least passes the time."

"Is that what this is to you?" Tyrion's anger was starting to grow. He had stood up to his sister for years and taken in all of her hatred but now she was acting like a child. "Even now when the outcome of a dynasty is to be determined."

Cersei ignored him after that. She never did like being lectured by anyone she believed was lower than her. She made eyes with The King. "I assume that your armies being here are a refusal to the generous terms I offered."

The King stood from his seat with steeled eyes fixed on Cersei's. "The odds are against you. You have traps and weapons but it isn't enough. You won't win."

"You are so sure of that." Cersei retorted. "Yet you had the same odds against you when you fought the Bolton bastard and won."

"I wouldn't have won if the Vale and my dragons hadn't saved us. And no one is going to come to save you when you need it. But tens of thousands don't have to die tomorrow. We can settle this the Old Way. Me against whoever you want."

One of the captains, a large man with a bright red beard to match his hair took some interest in that idea.

Harry Strickland even showed interest. "That would be one way to get my sword back." He commented. "I assume you still have it?"

There was a sudden change in the tone of the conversation from a negotiation to a conversation. "It was used with another broken sword to make a new one for me. Blackfyre and what remained of mine are now one sword, a black Valyrian Steel sword."

"That doesn't change that it was made from my property. I'll take it back at the same. However way I must."

"Is that how you want this to be resolved? A champion against a would be king?"

Tyrion interjected. "No, we want it to be resolved with a man against the King."

The red-bearded men grew a large grin. "If that's how it will be, I claim the glory of the fight." He looked directly at Jon. "We've heard stories of you and your titles wouldn't many if you didn't earn them. The slayer of the Night King, the Sword of the Evening." His words sounded like they were mocking Jon, but they weren't. In fact, there was almost admiration. "What happens when I win?"

"If you win," Tyrion corrected, "then the Targaryen armies would surrender and the Lords will bend the knee. Daenerys Targaryen will remain in the North with her dragons and children until the first of you dies of long old age."

"And should he win?" Daario Naharis asked, pointing at Jon.

Jon took the initiative to answer."You will surrender the city, the throne, the people, and your armies to us. The captains of the companies that attacked Dorene and The reach shall be executed for their crimes and the payment that was given for their services taken back. You will surrender the crown you were and be executed privately. Your body will be burned and your ashes scattered with your children's."

Cersei smirked when she heard the terms. "Is that a threat, young King?" Her words did every effort to mock his title.

"No, this is my last mercy. We have been fighting this blasted war for eight years. I do not know about you, but I am tired of fighting. But know, if you refuse, then we shall have war. When the city is taken, you will be beheaded in sight of all the people you have wronged."

"But that is what you want, isn't it? To have people cheer for my death like they did your traitor father." Cersei's tone took on that superiority Tyrion always hated. "And that was what he was, in the end. A traitor to his best friend. He harbored a dragonspawn for sixteen years. You may not know this, but I did try to stop Joffrey from ordering the execution. How pleased I am to admit, my son was right."

Those words made Tyrion hold his breath. He could see that Davos had the same reaction. Jon didn't react at all. He was keeping it all pent up inside of him.

Tyrion stepped into there 'conversation'. "I hardly think that you are one to speak of treachery. You who birthed three bastard children with your own brother and let two of them sit unworthily on the throne?"

"Silence!" Cersei hissed. Ser Gregor took a single step forward and the King's Direwolf stood up and bared its large teeth and growled. The sellsword captains all stood from there seats with raised fists as if to begin a brawl while the Kingsguard all had their hands on the hilts of their swords.

The tension was broken when directly outside the tent came a loud roar from one the dragons. The volume and power of it shook the very ground. Two of Cersei's Queensguard fell backward in terror.

Jon raised his hand up and his Kingsguard stood down. Cersei's guard and the captain did the same. He turned to Tyrion. "We are here for negotiations, not returning insults."

"Forgive me for speaking out of turn, your grace. I was not aware that a fact was an insult." He returned to his seat and let himself be glared daggers at by Cersei.

Ser Davos cleared his throat and stood from his seat, gaining the floor. "Our way is one that keeps your dignity intact. It's the only chance to end this with your head held high before it leaves your shoulders instead of down in shame after watching your armies be decimated. And there is always a chance ya might win, but is it enough of one you want to risk? Will the men fightin' for ya want to take it as well? And best remember, these are sellswords. Are you certain of that their allegiance will continue when they see there's not a hope left to win? Have you asked the Stormcrows in your service what they did when Stannis was raided before defeat?"

Daario Naharis straightened his back at that comment. A curious reaction that Tyrion took note of. Had the King's Hand hit an unknown note just right? All the same, Tyrion thought it best to expand on the point, to make it clear to his sometimes dimwitted sister. "Even if you manage to win, what will there be left? The city will be destroyed, the smallfolk killed and the Iron Bank, who I am sure is lending you funds will come looking for their money back. And if they don't get it, you do realize they will find a way to get it." He sat back and smirked. "Do you want to be the first Lannister who did not pay their debt?"

"Enough!" Cersei stood from her seat. "I would think you would know by now, you little monster, wars are won with steel, not words And that is how I shall win this one. I eagerly await to witness your decimation on the battlefield tomorrow." She left at her own will and was followed by those sworn to her. Daario Naharis gave Missandei a wink before he left.

The tent felt so empty now. Tyrion walked over to where Cersei had sat, thinking that she could have been dead right now if they had done things his way. But in the end, the meeting itself was never expected to go the way Cersei thought they hoped it to. "That went as we planned it."

"Aye," Davos agreed, "Now we know for certain that Cersei has no intention of sparing the city. But more than that, she's crackin' like an egg."

"She is mentally weak which means that once the battle's victor becomes obvious, her captains and commanders will break with her." Tyrion gazed at the other seats and noticed a small piece of paper where Daario had sat. He retrieved and unfolded it and was confused at how he should feel at what he saw. "Apparently some already have of sorts." He showed what was on the paper to everyone else, a crude drawing of the Targaryen sigil.

"Daario means to have the Second Sons side with us," Missandei stated.

"He could, but for the sake of war, we shall plan to expect that it does not. It could be a trick. Cersei has been very surprising as of late, so a strategy like this might be in her new style." Tyrion held the paper to one of the candles and let it burn into ash.

"From what Daenerys has told me," Jon said, "Daario Naharis has great affection for her."

"Lust is a better word, your grace," Missandei commented.

"All the more reason he might be telling the truth. She told me how he wanted to be her mistress to her perfumed aristocratic husband." The translator threw an affectionate smile towards Jon.

Tyrion sighed, annoyed at the certain type of devotion Daario had for Daenerys. "The things one does for love." He wanted some wine to end his day, but there was more to discuss. "Might we take this outside, your grace? It feels rather stuffy in here."

The King nodded and turned to Missandei. "Thank you for your services today. I release you to do what you wish."

"Thank you, your grace." Missandei waited for everyone else to leave before she excused herself to do what she was granted.

Tyrion walked with the King and Ser Davos through the camps to the edge of the hillside where they were. It overlooked the city perfectly from afar. There was enough light of the setting sun left to see most of the what was down there.

"There is something you should take care to remember about Cersei, your Grace. No matter how much my Father loathe me, he felt I would make a better temporary Hand to my shit of a nephew than my sister, even as she often bragged about being the only one of the three of us who actually listened to him when he tried to teach us. He had the belief that she thought she was smarter than she actually was and he was correct. Her plans fail more often than not and when they do, she resorts to violence." He nodded his head in the general direction of where the Great Sept once stood. "Evidence of that can still be seen in the capital."

"And more evidence will be scarred into the foundations of the land for all time if our plan fails," Jon muttered.

"I'm certain that Jaime and the others will be ready when we door of opportunity opens to them. We just have to pray that they make it in time. We need to draw things out as long as we can for them."

They came to where the hills overlooked the valley and the city. King's Landing was far away from them. They joined Bran Stark who was already there, almost waiting for them.

"They've made it the shoreline," He said spontaneously.

If Tyrion had a drink, which he wished he did, he would have choked on it. "You knew what we were… nevermind. Sometimes I forget all the strange things because there are so many them. You were listening to us, then?"

The strange boy nodded and turned his head to face them. "They need to wait until the city prepares for battle if they want to go unseen. Cersei figured out they're coming for her."

That would explain why she wasn't curious as to where their brother was. But the one who seemed the most distraught about this was Jon.

"Are sure she knows?" He asked wildly

"Aye. Some wargs in the Company of the Rose found them. I wasn't thorough enough taking over their animals."

Jon looked out to the city, to where it met the ocean. "I've sent them to their deaths."

Tyrion interjected, refusing to believe that. "They are still alive and some of the greatest fighters in the country if not the world."

"If Cersei knows, she'll have an ambush for them."

"We can get a raven to them if they haven't gone in yet, there is still hope."

"It's not enough! We need to call it off."

"If we do, then there isn't a chance we stop the city from burning."

"There was hardly one, to begin with."

There was a still silence between everyone before Brandon Stark broke it. "A wise man once said that a fool's hope is greater than none at all."

Tyrion froze when he heard that for he had heard it once before, he just couldn't remember where. It was so familiar to him and such a memory with great weight. It shamed him to have forgotten.

"Who said that?" Jon asked.

"Gerion Lannister, the day after Lord Tyrion's eighth nameday."

Tyrion shared a look with Brandon, amazed and also touched at the use of his uncle's wisdom. His father had never really treated Gerion as a brother. He was a fool of a Lannister as Tywin said time and time again until Gerion disappeared on his expedition to Valyria.

"I am not giving up on them, and neither should you, your grace." Tyrion's words were almost an order to Jon, defying the doubt he had.

Jon still didn't look convinced. "We may never see them again. That worries me."

"And I as well." Tyrion agreed. "Tomorrow will be more than just a battle, it will be a revolution remembered for all time. Except compared to what we faced at the Wall, this doesn't feel as intimidating."

Bran nearly smirked as he looked down at the city. "It doesn't take my abilities to see that no matter what happens, tomorrow will be just as bloody as the war against the dead was."

"Aye," Davos agreed. "This time the ones we fight will bleed back. Tomorrow the greatest battle against men shall begin."

"Not tomorrow," Bran corrected. "Before the night turns into morning, the battle will have already had its first victory. Ours will be the one that finishes what the soldiers at sea will begin."

"Seven hells," Davos scoffed. "Nearly forgot about Euron. What are our odds there?"

"Theon and Yara have more ships, but I have watched Euron's past. He's is a far better captain and commander. I won't try to steer from the obvious guess, but I think Euron will defeat them. And when he does, the Ironborn will follow him as their King again. And if they return for battle tomorrow, it might just be the reinforcements Cersei needs." Brandon looked over to Jon. "you said it yourself, battles have been won against greater odds. Something like this might turn the tide in their favor."

Tyrion took another look out to the city just as the last of the sun fell behind the darkening horizon. "I am going to bed. I advise the rest of you to do the same."

"Sleep well, my lord." The King said.

Before Tyrion was going to sleep, he wanted something to drink to first. He might as well. But he didn't want to drink alone. Bronn made it clear that tonight he would be joining some Dothraki in an evening ritual with some of their women. If Podrick was here instead of Winterfell then he would have someone. Jaime was not available, obviously and Varys' ashes were scattered in the winds of the North. Perhaps Missandei wouldn't mind some evening company and some wine. She was fair when it came to being in her company, though she was still heartbroken over the loss of Grey Worm.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to try. He retrieved a wineskin from his personal tent and two horns and made his way for Missandei's tent. The stars were beginning to appear when he got there.

"My lady, may I enter?" Tyrion called through the entrance.

"You may, Lord Tyrion," Missandei replied.

Tyrion entered and found Missandei dressed in her nightgown but still wearing a cloak. She was sitting on her bed with some parchments in her hands. "Forgive me, but did I interrupt you at something?"

"Not at all. These are just notes of the language the Giant's speak. It's not like anything I've ever heard or spoken."

"From what I know, the Wildlings had over a dozen different languages among ninety different clans." Tyrion helped himself to a seat next to Missandei's bed. "Now there are only a few diverse tongues left after they were defeated at Hardhome." he set the skin down and held one of his horns out to her. "I was hoping I could have the privilege of sharing some wine with you."

Missandei smiled sympathetically at him. "I thought you would know firsthand that I am not the best company for drinking or jokes or those sorts of things."

"No one is at first. Would you believe that I humiliated myself my first time? I was so eager to get drunk for the first time, too eager. When I woke up, I was with the dogs in the kennels and covered in flour. To this day, no one has ever told me what on earth happened." That managed a little laughter from her. He moved the horn closer to her, insisting she take it.

Missandei sighed before obliging and letting Tyrion pour her the first drink. "I've studied the Westerosi Houses much more now, so I will understand any jokes now."

"Alright. First, a toast." Tyrion poured himself some wine and raised his horn with Missandei. "To a victorious end and the rebirth of the Targaryen dynasty." They both took sips from their wine. "Anything you wish to toast?"

Missandei thought for a moment. "To those, we have lost and those we have now. May they be remembered by us." They each drank again and Tyrion refilled their horns.

"Now then, let me think…" He took a moment and remembered something. "You know, Missandei of Naath, I never did get to tell the joke I started when the masters attacked Meereen."

She looked confused. "The joke…"

He smiled. "Yes, the one that began with me in a brothel with a honeycomb and a jackass," he began to start a pleasant evening if it was to be his last.


As always, a big thank to MSquared79. These chapters are fantastic with her help so please show her some love. Only one more chapter left before all hell breaks loose for the IRON THRONE!