Durran stormed through the keep after having heard that uncle Tyrion came back during the previous night. He arrived, breathless in front his uncle's quarters before asking to be announced.

"I am sorry, my Prince. Her Grace is in there and asked for privacy."

It was only a while after that his mother finally walked out of the room. She halted abruptly and gave him a hard stare which Durran reciprocated. Whatever was exchanged in there obviously angered her, and she frowned at him, her eyes appraising his habiliment.

"You're dressed like a wildling." She said, her lips thinning.

Durran looked down at his attire - he wasn't even wearing his street tunics; instead he opted for a blue linen shirt with embroidered edges, a leather belt and pants. It was to his own opinion fine enough and practical. He then glanced at the mop of blonde hair that hid behind his mother's skirt, peering at him with large green eyes; Little Joffrey was dressed in all refined red and gold silks.

The older boy sighed; "It is my uncle that I would be seeing, mother. Not the entirety of the court."

His mother answered him with a tight lipped smile, before crossing the corridor to face him. She patted his hair down in an attempt to slick it back, her touch soft. Durran knew that even if she was at odds with him she still loved him,

His little brother piped up from behind the Queen; "I've seen the dwarf man! He is funny." Durran glared at him disapprovingly and the younger boy cowered before looking around, most likely wondering what he did wrong.

"Be mindful of your tone, little brother." He scolded "You don't want to offend more people than you should." His mother looked at him but did not cease to comb his head - she did not disagree.

Joffrey, not being the center of attention and unused to criticism, started wailing. The Queen went back to her younger son, dragging him away. A prince does not cry. Durran watched his mother's back as she retreated from him, his younger brother's cries fading with the distance.

"Thank the Gods that one isn't the first born." Lord Tyrion's cynical voice broke him from his trance. He spun around quickly and hugged his uncle, his mood immediately lifting.

"What took you so long?" He exclaimed, in mock offence. His uncle simply winked at him, a warm grin lighting up his expression. It is odd, Durran thought, that he is now almost at uncle Tyrion's height. The older man stared at him, noticing the changes in his nephew.

"You've grown quite a bit." He remarked, before the prince was led into his study. Durran sat on a lavish red sofa before he was offered refreshments by the servant standing nearby. The boy asked from some honeyed lemon water - he never fared with the salty taste as well as did the Lord of Dragonstone. "So…" His uncle reached out for his wine. "Seems like my dearest sister has been causing trouble?"

Durran considered his next words - he did not feel inclined to describe the complexity of the relation he is having with his own mother. At least not completely. "I'm just...not like her the way she'd want me to be." He stated.

His uncle sat back against his seat, watching the child with a compassionate eye. "Ah, Cersei...Cersei. Anything that wouldn't fit her schemes and plans are seen as blemishes to her personal honor."

The boy met his uncle's gaze and found his reflection - in more ways than one. It is known that his mother never had any consideration for her younger brother, in fact it is like she outright hated him. Durran couldn't understand why, but then again he never really knew why his mother favored Joffrey over him so much. These were the things one could never really explain.

"You aren't unfamiliar with this." The prince noted. A heavy silence then reigned between them, causing Durran to feel quite uncomfortable at his uncle's intense stare. Uncle Tyrion's expression turned indecipherable before sighing heavily, taking a sip from his cup. "I suppose it is so."

After a short while, the man leaned towards the front, his elbows resting on his knees and fully facing Durran. "Enough of this grim talk - what have you been up to?"

Relieved by the topic change, the young prince started talking about his various adventures - from the ones that ended up well to the ones that finished badly. He explained the multiple changes in his personal life - from his education to his guards. Uncle Tyrion seemed greatly surprised that his teacher isn't a maester, but a pyromancer - but then he affirmed that the alchemists are just as knowledgeable than any maesters. It is just unheard of, that they would teach someone that isn't an apprentice.

Durran went on asking his uncle about his own mission, but uncle Tyrion preferred that it's details remain undisclosed. From what the boy understood, there has been a few problems with one of the Lannister's many gold mines - the profits did not directly go to the family's wealth. Instead, there was well hidden thievery and tax avoidances. Uncle Tyrion explained him the importance of being able to make finances and numbers sing the truth.

"The spice traders' guild in Lannisport for instance. I have found a minor detail in their income reports that caught my interest." His uncle said. "Oddly enough, they were paying too much taxes."

"Why would a merchant, let alone a whole guild, pay more taxes than they should?" Durran asked, completely baffled. "Unless they are trying to hide something?"

Uncle Tyrion laughed out loud. "My clever, clever nephew. That is why I also went to Lannisport to investigate on the issue. Turns out they were trying to conceal a black market!"

"What's a black market?" The prince inquired.

His uncle then explained the nature of such illicit trades and the importance of legal price controls. Durran was very intrigued by these topics, understanding the necessity of good policies to ensure economical growth and stability - a well learned monarch could make a nation prosper. A king that over-taxes a hungry population is begging to get his head on a spike, therefore he might need to take other initiatives in times of hardship. They were both very absorbed in the present conversation, until Durran remembered that he had yet to give his uncle his gift.

He produced the heavy tome from his satchel, setting it on the table. Uncle Tyrion looked at the book's title in obvious wonder. "Where on earth did you get this?"

"I copied it myself. It's for you." Durran replied, feeling proud of his own work. His uncle looked up to him, his large green eyes appearing moist for a fraction of a second.

"Thank you, nephew. You do not know how much it means to me." The boy could hear a slight tremor to the man's voice. Uncle Tyrion looked borderline solemn, and it would've been comical if Durran did not see how emotional his uncle got. It was such a small thing. He got up, before sitting nearby the older man and embracing him tightly.

"I am thankful that you will be the King, and not someone else."

With privileges comes duty and responsibility, Uncle Stannis's words resonated in the back of his mind. He simply opted to smile warmly at uncle Tyrion.

They spent the rest of the morning playing cyvasse and indulging in discussions about books.


Sandor's POV

The little prince was sitting in front of the small fireplace, cross legged and reading them The Conquest of Dorne, which was written by King Daeron I - It was all about glorious battles and heroes. Loads of horseshit, if anyone wanted to hear his thoughts. Since it has been written by the victor himself, Sandor was quite certain that King Daeron probably exaggerated everything, including the size of the enemy forces. Cunts, and their cuntish egos.

"And you tell me that you believe everything written there?" He snorted.

The boy looked up for a moment, hesitating: "It is a first hand account."

Sandor continued to untie the leather fastenings that held his armour together, chuckling at the child's obvious innocence. It had been a long while since he was last like that - believing in heroes and fairy tales. Durran might be bright but he is no different from other children. "I have seen battle." He said "Real battle - it is nothing heroic. And Dornish ships don't look anything like hovels built on rafts."

Ilyn simply nodded at the prince, confirming Sandor's words. The mute man has become more and more expressive lately, and did his best to participate in conversations. A very noticeable change for anyone that knew him previously - back then he was simply content with staring off into the distance, or fixating you with his unnerving eyes.

"Well," The prince paused, pondering on his words. "Uncle Stan did call King Daeron's account vainglorious."

"Best listen to that Lordly uncle of yours, little fox. He knows what he is talking about." Sandor rasped out - it is true that Stannis Baratheon was the least insufferable of them all. He never got the chance to personally talk to the Lord of Dragonstone, but he did witness his actions and words. Lord Baratheon was perhaps one of the rare people of King's Landing the Hound would respect. "This book was written by a King in an attempt to boost his own ego, based on a campaign he ended up losing in the very end." He then added.

Durran smiled: "But if there is anything that can be remembered from this book, it would be this: 'The arms of House Martell display the sun and spear, the Dornishman's two favourite weapons, but of the two, the sun is the more deadly'." The young prince then snapped the book shut, setting it aside. Sandor watched him pull out his little board and stylus, obviously working on some assignments he was given. This child was a polar opposite to his younger brother - who was growing to become a little shit, the Hound could tell. He started out with guarding Joffrey, who would order him around like the good dog he was - the day he was asked to be Durran's shadow was an amazing day indeed. The Little Fox was calm, studious and clever - he was kind, and showed the Hound and the Mute kindness they have never known before. Sandor would swear a vow for this child, he knew it.

"Sandor, do you think that the Earth is round? Or is it flat?" The prince's curious voice interrupted his thoughts.

"I think it is flat." Sandor answered, the last pieces of his armor finally coming off. He scuffled around for a wet towel, intent on removing the grime and stench from his protective layer.

"Why so?"

"If not, how can we walk on it?" Sandor spun around, looking at Durran once more. The boy's face was lit up with a grin - the Hound realised that the child knew the answer but wanted to ask him anyways.

"Master Xaharos made me read excerpts which claimed that the Earth was spherical. He told me to try and prove this." The prince frowned, obviously in deep thought.

"Bugger me if I know. I am no damned Maester." The Hound grunted. Whether the earth is spherical or not wouldn't change a thing in his life - bloody intellectuals and their ideas. He observed the boy scribbling a few things down. The child sensed his gaze, and met it: "You don't even want to know?"

"Knowing it won't change a damn thing when I slice down someone."

"Oh well." Durran looked a bit disappointed, before brightening up once more, "I'll still tell you anyways. And I am sure Ser Ilyn is interested." He looked to said knight expectantly, but the mute man just stared back at him.

The prince somehow, somehow managed to take that as a "yes" and went on. "I was thinking that when travelling at sea the sailors see the highest points first, such as mountain tops, before seeing the lower land mass." To Sandor's great surprise, Ilyn nodded once more - so he was interested, after all. "This is the reason why lighthouses are usually tall right?" The child continued.

Despite his earlier convictions, Sandor couldn't help but wonder where the boy was getting at. "Some piss drunk mariners did tell me that one would see the Titan before seeing Braavos."

"So if the Earth was flat, how come do we see higher points before seeing the rest?" Durran smiled widely, coming to the conclusion himself. "This can only be explained if there is a certain curvature to the Earth, that would prevent us from seeing everything except tall objects." He then waved showed Sandor the drawings he made on his little clay tablet ; the first one had a straight line, and two objects at each ends of the line. There was a line poking out vertically from one of the objects, signifying something of high altitude. An arrow representing vision led from the first object to the second one. The second drawing had a curved line instead ; logically, that meant only the tall vertical line could be visible, and not the object below it.

Sandor understood what the child meant - This came out of the prince's little head? Seven hells.

A.N: It is a common modern misconception to think that scholars during the medieval era believed that the earth was flat. The sphericity of the earth has been an undisputed fact since the 3rd century. However, I don't think this was common knowledge among normal people back then.