Charles and Choren accompanied by four guards traveled for twenty days towards the capital. The trip was pleasant, and Charles built a good relationship with the four accompanying guards. The sworn sword and the young Svea indulged in their usual banter, and when they camped, they usually dueled for an hour. When the opportunity arrived, the party stopped at an inn and had a few well deserved beers. Charles found the five occasion they did this too few, but he was indeed excited to arrive as well.
The last travelling hours Charles tried spy the silhouette of Three Crowns in the distance. To no success. He shared his thoughts with Ser Choren who explained that it was impossible. The ancestral home of the Svea was situated close to the King's road and not the Gold road which they were travelling on. Charles thought they could perhaps make a detour anyway. But, he knew that there would be time for Three Crowns soon enough.
They arrived at the gates of the capital three hours later. King's Landing was a vast city. The immense stench was baffling but not entirely surprising since the fume could already be felt from the road. The wind had blown in that direction. It smelled terrible as they entered the city and large numbers of people crowded the street.
Even though The Rock was huge and inspiring, Charles found the Red keep the most magnificent structure he had ever laid eyes on.The regal look of the tall, thin towers and the elevated main hall made the young man want to stop in his tracks and simply marvel at the site. The keep was also more glorious for what it represented for Charles. 'This is the Svea Lineage.' He mused that he, like so many other field marshals, had ridden towards the castle.
The pockets of traveling space scarcened as they moved closer to the Keep's first bailey. To the Svea's annoyance, a roaming cow blocked their way momentarily. With the cackling of chickens in his ears, Charles observed a boy run past an armored man that rode through the street. The child started pushing the cow to clear the way calling "Come on Dory, move!"
Golden armored soldiers could be spotted on the watchtowers as they passed through the first gatehouse of the Red Keep. Choren and Charles dismounted, and their escort followed suit before taking the horses to the stables. Two Lannister men stood posted at the entrance to the Keep. Choren walked up to them and introduces himself and his party. One of them viewed Charles and nodded before stepping inside to give the news of their arrival.
"How do you feel?" The dashing knight inquired to his comrade curiously.
"I don't know. It will be nice to meet the rest of the family, but I don't really look forward to meeting the King. But, it will be interesting." Charles felt the red stone of the wall with the palm of his hand. "Although, it's good to be where my roots come from."
They waited a while before a cheerful voice cried out. "Isn't it Charles!"
A Dwarf waddled out to greet them. He was dressed in beautiful crimson garbs, but his facial features looked not too pleasing to the eye. However, a smile still curved up the young Svea's lips.
"Isn't it Uncle Tyrion!"
"Welcome to King's Landing."
"Thank you."
"How faired your trip?" The dwarf asked with an honest smile.
"It was exceptional, and I had decent company as well." Charles grinned and looked to Choren. The sworn Sword's gaze shifted from Tyrion to Charles and then delivered an uncomfortable chuckle.
"Yeah."
The young Svea released a heartfelt laugh at his friend's unusual uncertainty, which Tyrion shared. Choren slowly cracked as well.
"Could we come in?" Charles asked merrily.
"Yes sure. Follow me."
They strolled into the Castle behind their waddling guide. Tyrion did not seem to have his father's respect, but Charles would never forget that his uncle was the only Lannister who had held any contact with him in Braavos. "It has been some time since the letter I received from you."
"Yes." The dwarf answered simply.
"It's nice to meet you in person finally."
Tyrion did not respond so Charles jokingly stated, "So you are the one your father calls a drunk fool ey?"
Nonchalantly Tyrion answered, "My father takes an enormous pride in his last born son, even in my absence he seems to share tales of my greatness."
Charles started to regret his last statement figuring it probably wasn't such a pleasant subject for his uncle. Showcasing he had not made any biased conclusions the young Svea added: "But he is not the most joyous fellow though."
"No…." There was underlying darkness in his voice.
Tyrion was going to continue speaking, but Charles knowingly stated "He has his disappointments… My father was one of them."
"So am I. I am his biggest disappointment ever." Tyrion proclaimed aloud in a matter of factly tone as if it meant nothing. He then continued more orderly "Anyways; I must warn you the situation in King's Landing is a bit tense. The Hand of the King has fallen very ill and lay in his chambers."
This Charles had not expected. "Are we talking seriously sick?"
"He has gotten worse and worse since the last days."
"Maybe a bad time to visit." Charles said more to himself.
"Well, Pycelle says...who is the Grand maester, that perhaps he will get better."
"We can hope so. Jon Arryn is a good hand of the King is he not?"
"Yes." Tyrion answered curtly and then resumed seriously "Well it is taking its toll. Robert sees him as his second father or even as his father. Which makes his grace a bit tensed. My sister is also on edge. But she is always tense so I suppose it does not make a big difference."
The rustling of armor could be heard, and around the corner, a handsome man with long blonde hair appeared. He came walking down the corridor towards them, making the crown symbol of the Kingsguard evident on his golden armor. The white cape was whisking about in his stroll.
"Ah, my dear brother." The man spoke with a self-certain smooth voice.
He stopped in his track and watched them continue their pace towards him in a boyish grin.
"Well met Ser Jaime. I am Charles."
Jaime studied his nephew for a moment. Like a master of arms analyzing a recruit.
"So I have been told." He spoke as he redirected his view from Vasa to Charle's green eyes.
Jaime to took a step forward and inquired with a nonchalant smile "And you already know who I am."
Charles returned the smug expression "That white cloak of yours is recognizable, and the Lannister traits are very evident. But to be honest, the 'Brother' thing gave it away.
Jaime cracked up into a cocky smirk, but he seemed amused by Charles quip.
"Tyrion, have you welcomed our new guest?"
"Indeed I have, dear brother." The dwarf spoke as he walked up beside the knight.
Jaime viewed his two relatives. "Well, now we are almost having a family reunion here. It is only Cersei that we miss."
"And Where is her grace?" Asked the youngest member.
Jaime shrugged "She is probably in the Red Keep. She has been informed of your arrival. But this is a big place. It takes time to travel through the halls."
Charles hmmed. The Kingsguard looked his nephew down to up and then gave an accepting look. Jaime then motioned down the hall from where he came.
"Do you want to see the Throne room?"
Charles' eyes flashed in excitement, but he spoke calmly. "Of course. The famous Iron Throne."
Jaime then led them further into the castle. He and Charles walked in the front while Tyrion and Ser Choren followed close behind. In the back of his ear, the young Svea heard Tyrion politely ask the sworn sword. "So Ser Choren how have your travels been?" Before the two of them indulged in small talk.
They soon round a corner before arriving at an ample open space. Two guards with crowned stag emblems stood by a large double door. The Baratheon men opened the wooden gate, and Charles walked into the great Throne Room.
He felt chills as he took in the site "I have to say it is not disappointing. Yet it is incredibly daunting while it is epic. Although, I suppose that is the beauty of it. A big mess of swords."
They all gaze at it for a moment.
"I wonder how it is to sit on it…" Charles breathed in longing.
Jaime sighed "I sat on it. It is an ugly thing. No comfort in it."
"Some Targaryen Kings actually cut themselves on the throne" Tyrion added factly.
The Kingsguard glanced to his brother meaningly "Aerys used to do that."
"Really? Increasing his madness, I presume." Charles stated ruefully. Thanks to Aerys his house had collapsed.
"Yes…." Jaime breathed out with a hollow voice.
Tyrion then waddled in front of the group and turned to his nephew.
"I will talk to the servants and make sure you have quarters to stay in."
"Thank you. We should all dine tonight as a great family reunion."
As on cue to his cheerful announcement, a stunningly beautiful woman emerged from a hallway to the left behind the throne. Her green eyes gleamed with confidence and her long blonde hair danced as she skidded in her elegant red gown towards them. The two accompanying Lannister guards halted with her before Charles. Her thin lips curled into a smile, making her fine cheekbones cutely rounded.
"Ah, Charles." She sweetly remarked and extended her arms out from the long sleeves of her gown to give him a small embrace.
Almost dumbstruck Charles felt unable to respond to her body as she briefly were in his arms. Once she had taken a step back, the young Svea swallowed nervously before saying "Aunt Cersei." he then quickly bowed and added "Your grace."
"So good to see you." Cersei declared self-righteously while beaming.
"A real pleasure." The young man hastily replied.
"My father wrote to me about your arrival and that you have been fairing good in your exams."
Hearing her speak of his accomplishments, even little as they were made him feel good.
"Indeed your grace. And I am most grateful for my grandfather's support. And I hope I will be able to repay our family in the future."
Satisfaction flashed in her emerald eyes. "I am happy to hear that. Now If you excuse me, I have to speak to my brother."
She looked to Jaime commandingly, and he nodded smirking.
"Of course." Charles politely inclined his head and watched the twins head back from where the queen had appeared.
Tyrion showed Charles to his quarters which were situated close to the corridor where he had met up with Jaime. His uncle then left to guide Choren. After settling the young Svea went to explore the castle on his own. The Rock had been mostly a mountain, so this was technically the first castle he had been to. Well, he supposed that as an infant he had hidden in Three Crowns, but that did not count.
The corridors weren't too boastful, most of them were empty except for decorative torches on the wall and pillars. There was a painting to be spotted every now and then, something which the rock had undoubtedly lacked. Most doors he walked past were locked, but after some strolling, he saw an open archway. He fastened his pace and entered it, immediately feeling the soft breeze upon his skin. Before his gaze laid a beautiful garden. He wondered how big it was since he could not see the end of it.
"Lord Charles." A smooth voice said behind him. Charles quickly spun around startled. His hand was at the hilt of the sword. Before him stood a bald fat man in a flowery robe.
"And I have the pleasure of meeting?" Charles spoke with conjured up politeness. The man's sudden presence put him a bit on edge. Although the stranger smelled surprisingly pleasant.
The man's hands slid out from the hiding place as the sleeves of his robe parted. "I am Varys. Also called the Spider by some people. I am a member of the small council." Varys clasped his hand together and spoke in a silken tone as he took a step forward.
"You are very welcome to our dear capital. The City has been made brighter by your presence."
Charles arched an uneasy brow. "You flatter me too much my Lord. But if you ask the King, I actually think my presence has darkened the place."
"Well, It was too many years ago since the last Svea was here."
To that, he could not disagree. "Indeed."
"It is a welcome sight to see one of your blood still standing."
"The feeling is very mutual my lord."
Varys fastly inquired after his remark "And how has your travel been?"
"Very good." Then Charles spoke a bit slower after coming to a realization "But how did you know I was in the gardens?"
Varys smiled widely "Oh I know everything. That's my job you see. Listening to the whispers."
"Ah, hence 'the Spider'." Charles added with a hand gesture. Not feeling too relieved by that statement.
"Yes. I am after all the Master of Whispers."
"Then I bet you know all about my experience in Casterly Rock." Charles voiced. He wanted to know if his stay really had been something noteworthy.
Varys giggled "The birds sing from the West yes. I've heard you have become a great tourney fighter. At least in practice."
Charles did not know if he should be flattered or scared that this 'Spider' knew these things of him. But he would hardly style himself great after unhorsing Ser Choren once.
"Hopefully I will be able to learn more and use my skills to win a tourney."
"I'm sure you will. Have you met your family?"
"Ah yes. It is has been a great pleasure. I have not met my cousins though."
Varys cocked his head "Oh the princes and princess?"
"Indeed."
"I'm sure you will soon."
"King's Landing is…."
A raspy voice cut the Svea off "Well well look whom we have here."
Both Charles and Varys turned and the biggest contrast of a man to the 'Spider' approached. He was thin, styled with a pointy mustache and beard. His age was easier to deduced with the grey in his very existing brown hair.
"Lord Baelish." Varys spoke softly in a small bow. He seemed unaffected by the sudden intrusion.
The other bowed as well with a sly smile. However, it was directed towards the younger man. "Charles."
"Baelish…?" The young Svea tried to deduce from where he had heard that name before.
"I am Petyr Baelish. Lord of..." he began to speak, but Charles triumphantly cut in "The fingers."
"Yes. you know your geography." Petyr spoke impressed.
Charles nodded satisfied. "Great pleasure."
"I am the Master of Coin here in King's Landing."
The young Svea looked from Varys to Petyr "So here we have both the Master of Coin and the Master of Whispers. What a great coincidence. Or do you usually take a stroll here in the gardens?"
"Oh, I only came here to find you." Varys uttered softly.
There was a certain bluntness in the Lord's voice which highly contrasted his colleague. "Yes, and my friend Varys was so kind as to inform me of your arrival. And of course, I wanted to find time to meet you in person. After All your house is very famous, even today. Also I knew Victoria very well."
Warmth and excitement spread inside the young man's body at the last statement. After Branda's passing, he had known of no one else who knew his mother.
"And how was your relationship with my mother?"
Petyr smiled kindly "We were good friends. It was unfortunate when she passed away. She did not deserve to die so young."
Charles shifted uncomfortably. Noticing the lord continued consolingly:
"It was a unfortunate. But such things happens from time to time. Your family has that as well with the Imp."
Charles thought it wasn't such a flattering nickname for his uncle. But based on the rumors he could understand how it had been created."
"Tyrion yes. We share that grief together."
"I understand you never met her."
"Obviously not…" Charles muttered under his breath.
"Well, she was a beautiful woman. A lot of fire in her."
Charles smiled at the memory of when Branda spoke of her daughter's spirit. "So I have been told. She even led the Caroleans at the Battle of Ashford."
Petyr nodded. "Although you look more like your father on the other hand. Blonde Lannister hair, green eyes."
The young Svea grinned "Makes it easy to blend in with the rest of the family."
Choren appeared from the archway and called out "Oh there you are. I was looking for you."
"I took a small stroll on my own."
The two council members respectfully introduced themselves to Charles companion.
"I'm lord Baelish."
"And I am Varys."
Charles, in turn, gestured to the knight "This is Ser Choren Brax my dear friend and sworn sword to Tywin Lannister."
Choren politely inclined his head "A pleasure to meet you."
The spider moved closer to Choren "As I understand you were in charge of escorting Charles to the Red Keep. You were also the first one to meet him when he arrived."
"Well, that is correct. Did Charles tell you that?"
Varys winked at Charles "Kind of."
Charles raised his eyebrows, then he spoke to his friend "He is the master of Whispers after all, so he knows these things."
With small grunts and a rattling of Chains, an elderly man joined the crowd. Charles could only look in amusement as the fourth unannounced person confronted him in a place he had thought to venture alone.
"And here comes the old maester." Lord Petyr announced.
"Maester Pycelle is it?"
Although he was several steps away, Pycelle slowly raised his hand so to shake Charles'. Something which looked not too impressive since he was a very slow walker.
"Yes." The older man sighed.
"I'm Charles XII of house Svea." He declared as he finally shook the Maester's hand.
"Welcome...welcome."
"Thank you."
"It was a long time since…. your mother was here. But I still remember her… yes. and your father as well."
"Was he here often?" Charles asked as Pycelle released the weak grasp of his hand.
"No, not often but… Three Crowns is so close to the capital so he would come..."
Pycelle then slowly turned his body to the other direction. "May I have a word with you Baelish?"
Petyr nodded, and they slowly walked off as the Maester uttered. "We have some financial matters to discuss."
Choren then headed away as well, leaving only the initial two socializers. The young Svea and the spider made a striking contrast to the sight of a far away observer. Charles navy blue uniform easily seeable to Varys' blending lavish robe.
"Since you know so much Lord Varys, you might be able to tell me who occupies my home."
"The occupier, which technically would make it that person's home is Lord Brayton Norrey. A former merchant who was made a Lord after serving the realm."
"Former merchant…"
"Yes."
"Who participated in the Rebellion?"
Varys shook his head "No. He simply did a good job with the tax collecting helping the Master of Coin."
They both looked at the figures of Pycelle and Baelish disappearing into another corridor.
"And he was rewarded with Three Crowns." Varys finished.
"So Baelish knows this lord?"
"Oh yes."
There was a silence as Charles stood and contemplated this development. After a few seconds, 'the spider' spoke politely. "Well if you would excuse me." before bowing and leaving as well.
When Charles found his way back to the throne room, he met up with the group of Lannister soldiers which had followed him from The Rock. They asked if he needed any guard escort, and he bid two to come along with him. Mostly for the sake of image.
Charles continued to explore and found a massive dining hall with two long tables and a high table. He presumed he would meet up with the others later to dine here. He met a servant in the corridor and learned after some inquiring that a court session which would have taken place in four days had been canceled. The reason being the Hand's sudden illness. After some more tracking, he steered his way back to the Throne room. He merely stood in the mist of the great pillars studying the throne.
"There he is Dog!" A gleefully excited voice cried out.
A luxuriously clad teenager strutted towards him followed by a tall man with a burnt face in black plated armor.
The Lannister features became evident on the teen's slim frame as he approached and assuredly spoke "Charles. I am prince Joffrey."
"Ah, pleasure meeting you my prince." He viewed his cousin up and down. A handsome boy to be sure and he certainly radiated energy.
Joffrey continued "And with me, I have the Hound."
Charles looked at the ugly man who seemed un-flinched by being compared to an animal. The hound? Hm, he knew only of one house who had dogs as their sigil. 'Clegane perhaps, yes burnt face not supernaturally tall must be Sandor.'
"Sandor Clegane is it?"
The Hound made an annoyed growling sound. He then looked away uninterested.
"It's Charles Svea." He said with mock courtesy to the Westerland bannerman. Then he turned to the prince with his usual smile "Pleasant to meet you cousin."
Joffrey did not seem to care for the remark and spoke excitedly: "Do you have your Valyrian steel sword with you?"
Charles glanced at the saber which rested by his side. He then smiled proudly at his cousin and stated: "Always with me."
He unsheathed it and felt the perfect balance in his hand.
"May I try it?" Joffrey's tone was calm and collected. But he had already reached out with his hands ready to take it. There was a hunger in Joffrey's eyes that made Charles feel a bit reluctant to hand it over.
"Of course." Charles said and placed Vasa in his cousin's palms.
Joffrey handled the weapon eagerly, swinging it around.
"Perhaps we could go sparring sometime?" Charles asked carefully watching the teen who was almost mesmerized by his activity.
"Nice Sword you have." Joffrey declared and handed Vasa back nonchalantly. Either he had ignored or not heard his cousin's suggestion.
Charles decided to let it slide and sheathed Vasa. "Indeed, an elegant weapon."
"I've read about it." Joffrey stated seeming a bit bored; then his eyes lit up as he continued speaking "I also heard that my father killed yours in single combat."
Charles clenched his jaw in his closed mouth. Feeling anger build up inside.
"It is true… during Battle of the Trident when he led the Caroleans. I guess…."
Joffrey cut him off his voice filled with unpleasant glee "A foolish choice, of course, to fight against my father. But still, he suffered the fate of a traitor. As they all should."
Charles gripped the handle of Vasa tightly, but he spoke diplomatically in a low voice "As all the losers in war. They usually receive the end of the sword."
"Yes… And why are you here?"
"Because we are relatives. Cousin. I am a Lannister as much as I am a Svea. As you are Lannister as much as you are a Baratheon, my prince. So I thought it would be nice to have a reunion with the rest of my family. "
Joffrey looked bored. "Hmm how nice… Well, I will talk later with you."
He scurried off with the Hound following dead-eyed after. Charles continued down the hall and took the corridor to the right of the Iron Throne. He passed a small sept and then reached a large door guarded by four men. The soldier's armor was unlike the other guards in the Red Keep. They wore the sigil of a falcon and crescent moon. He greeted the Arryn soldiers and bid them send his regards to the Jon Arryn.
After discovering the tower of the Hand, Charles wondered what was to the left of the Iron Throne. So he found his way back to his focal point and ventured into the unexplored territory. After some walking, he exit the central keep and saw a smaller castle on the other side of a winding bridge.
"Ah, this must be Maegor's Holdfast." Charles exclaimed.
"Indeed. Only royalty allowed." The posted Baratheon guard stiffly remarked.
The non-royalty jokingly bowed his head and started walking back. But Charles knew that he would see the inside of that Keep. At least before becoming royalty himself.
"Wait." A voice cried out from behind. Charles swirled around and saw Jaime hurrying across the bridge to catch up.
"Isn't it time for dinner now." Jaime asked as he comfortably shook his head to move some hair from his face.
"I guess it is." Charles answered. Feeling quite happy with the day's discoveries and ready to settle.
Together they walked back to the Throne room.
"I have to say, Jaime, your skills are well known. Even in Braavos. Perhaps you would honor me by sparring sometime?"
"Sure sure."
They continued the remaining stroll in mostly silence. When they entered the dining hall Jaime Called out to a servant who prepared the table:
"Is the dinner ready?"
The servant bowed his head and went to serve the food as they took their seat on a table. Whistling Tyrion entered.
"Ah, hello there."
After the dwarf also had settled, Charles glanced at his uncles and asked. "So any updates on the situation? If I'm allowed to know of course."
Tyrion took a sip of his wine and spoke: "With the hand?"
Charles nodded curiously.
"Well, I've not heard anything have you, Jaime?"
"No, not a word." The knight answered bluntly in a carefree tone.
Tyrion swirled his wine pondering "Where is my dear sister anyway?"
His brother glanced at the entrance. "I don't know. Wasn't she supposed to be here?"
"Yes."
Then as on cue, a servant girl half-ran into the room. When she stood a few feet from their table, she hastily bowed.
"Sorry, my lords. The Queen sends her regards but excuses herself. She is not feeling well. So she sadly can't participate."
Charles gave the girl a sad smile. "Of course. Send my best regards."
"I think Cersei is a bit stressed regarding the Hand." Jaime explained as the servant left.
"Understandable. He is an essential person." Charles said and smelled the vintage in his goblet. It was of good quality from what he could tell.
"Indeed." Jaime drank his wine.
"Who would fill his shoes if he were to pass away?" The young Svea pondered out loud. The Lannister brothers looked to be contemplating but said nothing.
Charles observed his two uncles as they were in thought and felt a surge of energy for finally meeting them. "Well, I have to bring a toast for this happy reunion! I have been looking forward greatly to this day."
The brothers raised their glasses, and they all drank together. Tyrion took a noteworthy large gulp compared to his nephew.
"So I have to know uncles, how was my father?"
The dwarf stopped drinking for a moment, and there was a small silence. The Jaime spoke "Well none of us really knew him that well. We did not see him much. "
That saddened Charles "No public events?"
Jaime shrugged "Sometimes, but we did not grow up with him."
The young Svea knew it to be true, a member of the family split from the rest due to duties. "Such a sad story… and all because of the mad king."
Jaime hummed agreeing and looked away vacant. Then Tyrion burst out more joyfully. "From what I can recall he was a handsome young man. He was tall, but not the cleverest guy."
Charles smiled bitterly "Lann the stupid grandfather called him…" Then his smile turned softer recalling Garth's stories of his father "Although I heard that his nickname in the Reach was Lann the Strong."
Jaime nodded with a half smile himself "It is true. I've heard that Lann was a powerful fighter. I also saw him fight a few times and he was strong but slow. Something he would experience with Robert of course. That raw strength became the end of him. What happens when a strong man meets another purely strong man?"
"The strongest survive… hm, I guess Rhaegar wasn't quick enough then." Charles mused.
Jamie took a gulp of wine and answered solemnly "No… apparently not. His ruby armor scattered in the river."
Remembering another story he heard of a combat which had revolved the King's guard Charles remarked: "And you fought side by side with my deceased uncle Charles against the Kingswood Brotherhood."
"Ah, yes a long time ago. He perished to the smiling knight though. Your uncle had been Ser Arthur's squire, but I was the one who was knighted."
There lingered a small silence as Charles contemplated the mortal history of his house. "A lot of death surrounds my family…"
"Your family is known for dying young." Jaime jested
"Siring young as well." The Svea added reluctantly.
The knight chuckled "Have you married yet?"
"No. So I guess in that case I have failed to live up to the Svea name. But It would have done me no good to have married in Braavos."
From the servant's corridor, Varys gracefully crept out. He walked with fast steps to their table and spoke deliberately "I'm sorry for disturbing my lords. But I come with troubling news. Unfortunately, the hand of the king has died in his sleep."
Jaime quickly rose to his feet. The chair squealed as it was hastily pushed back across the stone surface. "I have to go." He stated and walked off before anyone could answer.
"Rather shocking," Tyrion stated as he put his empty wine goblet on the table.
"Sudden sickness? So you mean that it struck about two days ago?" Charles asked confused.
Varys smiled sadly "He was feeling all right then all of a sudden…."
Tyrion sighed and then refilled his cup "I guess those kinds of things happen when we are old."
The master of whispers inclined his head and then left the hall as quickly as he had appeared.
Charles looked to the only remaining person and pondered. "So sudden. Sounds suspicious."
"No, he was old. Old people have a tendency to die." His uncle answered nonchalantly.
"I guess so."
They both gulped their wine and sat there thinking. The young Svea smiled to himself. "It truly was a light in my youth when you sent that letter Tyrion. I have to thank you for that."
"What can I not do for my loving family." The dwarf sounded almost bitter and then took a long sip.
A sudden thundering sound made Tyrion almost choke on the wine. Bells had started to ring. Their clinging sound echoed down the hall ominously.
It rang with a relatively slow pace. But they rang continuously.
"That is the signal then." Charles said with a sigh.
He drank hard, and they both listened in silence at the sinister bells. After a long time contemplating the death of the hand, Charles turned to his uncle.
"So what is your role here Tyrion?"
"Well, I am sometimes being mistaken as the fool of the court." He laughed darkly. Then he waved his hands as to indicate he was jesting and started saying more lightly "No but…"
However, Charles cut him off stating defensively "Only a fool would mistake you for a fool."
Tyrion grinned and wiped his mouth before continuing on his previous sentence. "I have been here for some time. Not doing anything productive actually. Mostly drinking. Yeah, that is pretty much it."
They both took a sip, and Charles felt that the wine was starting to grow on him.
"So have you not been given a chance of an office? Ever? "
"My father made me in charge of the sewers at Casterly rock."
"The sewers?"
Tyrion raised his glass. "He thought it was my level. To make sure the shit flooded out of the Castle as well as it should." He took a heavy gulp and sighed happily afterward. Then he boasted loudly "And trust me the shit has never flown better."
"Did that make the old man proud?"
"No, not really…."
The young Svea observed his uncle empathetically. He uttered without thinking "I guess he blames you for the tragic death of your mother."
As soon as the words were out he regretted himself. It was an incredible insensitive question. Wasn't it?
There was intensity in the dwarf's eyes as he spoke. "Oh, he does…"
Charles exhaled sadly: "There is no one to blame me for it alive…"
"We both came into this world killing our mothers. A cheer for that!" Tyrion gloomily declared.
Charles joined in on the depressing jape and raised his cup "Cheer to that..."
They both washed their sorrows away with the comfort found in their glasses.
Charles hiccuped and stated darkly "We could create a guild you know."
"The mother slayers." Tyrion quickly added.
Charles laughed. He had never laughed so hard in his entire existence from what he could recall. The notion was too bizarre and to fitting for him to stop.
His uncle simply grinned across his face. Then he turned to the servants, and shouted: "More wine!"
A girl hurried to their table and switched their tankard with a full one. Charles' hand which held the goblet was still shaking as the dwarf refilled it. More than a little of the wine was spilled, but the young Svea finally composed himself. He asked wheezing and red-faced:
"Would you fashion yourself the best drinker in King's Landing?"
Tyrion smirked righteously. Reminding Charles of the queen. "Well, no one can beat me."
The dwarf glanced at his nephew slowly sipping, while he gulped on his goblet.
"Well you are young and up for it, drink faster!"
Charles grinned and though still recovering from his laugh he obliged. After the young man downed the goblet, Tyrion snatched it out of his hand and refilled it.
"Here you go." Tyrion said reassuringly. Sounding like a mother soothing her child.
Charles looked to at the glass filled to the rim with dread but finished it all the same. His stomach protested. "I will try to…" a gag finished his sentence.
"Another glass." Tyrion stated encouragingly and filled their goblets.
"I will Try to *gulp* keep up. Well I…".
Tyrion tutted heavily and looked at his nephew seriously. "The hand of the king has just died. Do you really think this is not the time to get drunk?"
"This is the time to mourn." Charles interjected as best he could. He thought he already was drunk.
"And what better way of mourning is there than drinking yourself..."
"Sorrows away!" Charles finished Tyrion's sentence loudly.
"Yeah exactly."
"Cheer to that!"
They both enthusiastically clinked their glasses.
"Although I guess " Charles took a sip "Lord Tywin would disapprove. But he is not the most festive person."
Tyrion waved his hand nonchalantly. "Exactly. More wine!"
The same servant girl hurried back with a new tankard.
Charles leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the table because he felt like it. "The Mother Slayers… Who would be the leader in that order… I guess height would be a deciding factor."
"Ah, or looks."
Charles exclaimed in a completely different thought. "What is this wine? It's good! Arbor red? Arbor Green? Arbor Yellow?"
"I think it is actually arbor blue."
They boomed in laughter. Charles hit the table so hard that his cup flipped and spilled his wine across his Svea coat. He viewed his clothes disapprovingly.
"What good is blue... I want purple! The royal color."
Tyrion swirled the fallen cup skillfully "Aa yes….. We could have a wedding with only purple wine."
"But you are not married Tyrion why is that?"
"Because I am unworthy of a woman…" The dwarf exhaled in a sarcastic depressed tone before downing his drink. Tyrion then reached for the tankard instinctively and refiled their glasses.
"That's not how it works for the nobility." The young man remarked and scratched his head.
Noises of people moving outside of the hall caught their attention.
"Ah, it's probably only Varys running around." Laughing at his own joke Tyrion fell off his chair.
"More Wine!" He bellowed from the floor.
Charles stood up to see if his uncle were all right. He felt incredibly light headed and unbalanced, grabbing the table to support his weight. Tyrion then slowly crawled up the stool with his empty wine goblet preciously pressed against his chest.
The young Svea slumped back into his chair "I am… This is.. I have never felt so GOOD before. This… this…"
"You can feel like this every day with me." Tyrion announced and patted his nephew supportedly on the hand.
"Well, well." Charles felt it hard to find the words. "Why doesn't everyone feel like this ev..."
Tyrion cut him off. Seeming completely lost in his thoughts "I think we should have a competition. Who can run on this table.. quickest to the end."
"Hah! you're on you.. fool." Charles clumsy rose.
"You take the other one."
As Tyrion noisily climbed the table, he knocked a golden plate filled with sausages off the table. Then he slipped and fell backward into a standing chair, tipping it and him onto the floor. Charles stumbled towards the opposite table and hit his hip hard into the edge. He cursed loudly and mustered all his determination to keep his balance as climbed and stood on the wooden surface. Sweat poured down his brow as a result. Charles then started his sprint onwards.
The whole world tilted to the side as he reached halfway. He felt the wooden surface slam into his face and a wine goblet which he had forgotten he even held fly from his hand. He hastily pushed himself up, turned and ran. He reached the end with a thumping heart and saw a dizzy Tyrion leaning against the table end.
"I made it I made it! Damn you are fast." Charles exclaimed between breaths.
He decided to lay onto the table flat down and stared at the dancing stone floor. The stones were all unmatched and of different sizes glued together. The lines were sloppy indeed. None of them were symmetrical! Charles closed his eyes for a moment feeling slightly dizzy. Then as he laid in the darkness, it suddenly felt as if he had been fastened to a wheel and spun around infinitely. Charles thrust open his eyes and stared at the stable stone surface seeking peace. He gagged, and an uncomely feeling spread throughout his system, and he threw up. After he was done, he looked to the content of the icky remains of a tankard worth of wine filling up the cracks of the stone floor. To his right, Tyrion laid motionless on the edge of the other table.
"Thank you for tonight uncle." Charles managed to conjure before stumbling his entire way back to his room.
He then drunkenly ordered two cans to be brought before drowsing of on his bed, wet clothes and all.