A/N: Sorry about the wait. Pre-spring break tests were keeping me busy. Here is the first chapter told from the POV of a minor character. In my story anyway. Tyrion is far from minor in his canon universe. As for notes regarding this chapter...for those of you who have read through at least a Clash of Kings or seen through season 2 of Game of Thrones, the Battle in the Bay of Ghosts is a loose parallel to the Battle of Blackwater. And then finally, Florian and Velehk Sain are mentioned. Those of you who know who Florian the Fool is, just know that Velehk Sain serves as a literary foil. And vice versa for those who know about Velehk Sain. Many thanks to my beta reader (and sister) GrowlingPeanut.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to George R. R. Martin and Bethedsa.
Rating: M for language and crude humor.
"What's the final count?" Tyrion asked wearily, running a hand over his face.
After nearly two hours of screaming, crying, dumping water, and dying, the fire had finally been put out with the help of a sudden and torrential rainstorm, and while the inn was miraculously still standing, there had been more casualties than Tyrion had hoped for.
"Three dead and two unaccounted for, m'lord." Shae responded, earning a sigh from her employer, and lover.
Tyrion nudged one of the burnt corpses with the toe of his boot. "Do we know who any of them were?"
The half-Altmer, half-Breton whore shrugged and gestured toward the most recognizable of the bodies: a fair-haired young Imperial. "Dancy bedded that one last night. He may have told her his name first."
The Imp nodded and pushed a stray lock of blond hair away from his forehead. "And who are the two that have gone missing?"
Shae hesitated for a moment and looked around as if to make sure that they were truly gone before she said anything. "Lady Sansa and the big burned fellow, m'lord."
Oh, Gods, please let me have heard her wrong.
"Lady Sansa? Sansa Stark?" When Shae nodded, he swore.
"So, the Hound ran off with Sansa. This just keeps getting better every bloody second." Tyrion rubbed the bridge of his nose then looked up at Shae. "Get my horse saddled and ready, sweetling. And please try to manage here without me until I get back. I've had enough trouble for one night."
He turned and waddled back toward what remained of King's Landing, muttering darkly under his breath, "I've got to go see my father."
Tyrion ignored the whispers and stares as he trotted toward Castle Dour in his custom-made saddle, brooding silently atop his chestnut courser. When he reached the raised portcullis, two guards stepped forward and he gave them a withering stare.
"You know who I am. Tyrion, a Lion of House Lannister. If you don't believe me, I can recite our family tree back to Lann the Clever. Our words are 'hear me roar'. Yes, I will demonstrate my roar if you ask politely, though it does sound a bit more like a sabrecat than a lion if truth be told."
Neither guard so much as blinked.
"But of course, I'm not here to recite the Lannister history am I? Actually, I'm here to see my father. In fact, I must see him at once." He craned his neck to peer past them for a glimpse of General Lannister then looked back down when his efforts proved fruitless. "You should tell him that."
Again, no reaction.
"It's about my wife."
Still nothing directed at him, though the two men did exchange a brief glance.
"You didn't know I had one did you? Well, to be honest, I don't, but I'm supposed to. A pretty young thing, and a maid too. Auburn hair, blue eyes, decent sized breasts for a girl her age. And you should hear her voice...I can only imagine the other beautiful things she can do with those lips."
When neither guard spoke, he exhaled heavily, drummed his fingers against his thigh and squinted down at the younger of the two roadblocks.
"I think I fucked your mother once. Did she ever mention me?"
Whatever the boy's reply would've been—if he'd deigned to respond at all—was cut off when General Lannister strode toward them.
"Let him through, and someone help him down from his horse."
Lord Tywin waited as Tyrion was lifted down from his saddle and set on the ground, then started walking across the yard.
"Why are you here?"
Tyrion tried to brush off his ego after being lifted from his horse like a child by ordering the two guards to tether the beast, but then found himself far behind his father and fought to keep up as he hurried awkwardly after him on his stunted legs. "It's about Clegane."
Tywin glanced across the yard to where a mountain of a man in heavy plate armor was leaning against his massive broadsword and bellowing commands at two other soldiers.
"Has he done something to trouble you?"
Tyrion followed his gaze and shook his head. "No. Not that one. The younger one. Your Hound has run off with something of mine, and I'd like to get it back."
General Lannister frowned and turned to face his son. "Sandor Clegane deserted the Legion after the Battle in the Bay of Ghosts. He's been roaming for the past few months and most reports say he's working as a sellsword. Are you telling me that you know where he is?"
"Well...no. Not quite. He stayed at King's Landing last night, rather surprisingly, but early this morning, it caught fire."
Tywin raised his eyebrows slightly.
"When the ash settled, he was gone. Along with Sansa Stark."
The general's expression hardened. "You lost the girl? Tyrion, she was our ward. As long as we held her, her brother wouldn't have dared to attack Solitude. The threat of Ser Ilyn Payne's sword at her neck was what kept the Stormcloaks at bay."
"Yes, you don't need to tell me, father. I do try to keep up with the politics between drinking and whoring. But don't pretend like the head on her shoulders is the only one that concerns you."
"If you'd married her and taken her maidenhead as you'd been ordered, we wouldn't be having this problem. If you'd just done your duty, you'd have sons with a claim to Windhelm and then we wouldn't even need her anymore. Once her brothers were dead, you would be the lord of Windhelm and the civil war would be over." Tywin's voice was cold and harsh.
"I think you forget sometimes, father, that it's Ulfric Stormcloak's armies you're fighting, not Robb Stark's." He sighed and crossed his arms. "They only left a few hours ago. I know Clegane has a war horse, but they can't be far. I imagine they probably stopped somewhere nearby; Dragon Bridge perhaps. If we send someone after them, then we can reach her before anyone even realizes that she's flown from her cage."
"And who do you recommend to send that could take down the Hound and retrieve Lady Stark discreetly? A man like Sandor Clegane does not travel unnoticed. Word may have already reached the Stormcloaks that the girl is free."
Tyrion sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. I hate it when that bastard has a point. We can't exactly send Imperial soldiers after her; Stormcloak would send his army down on Solitude the moment he caught wind of her escape, assuming he doesn't already know. "Where's Jaime?"
Tywin's frown deepened. "I wish I knew. He left about a week ago yelling something about a goat, and a bear, some maid, and a dream he had. The soldiers are beginning to think that he lost his mind when that outlaw took his sword hand. I'm inclined to believe them."
Tyrion's eyebrows shot up and he laughed out loud. "Jaime? Ser Jaime Lannister, the golden knight, rode off into the sunset in search of a maid? And, what was that other part? Something about a goat? Well, this is certainly new. How does it feel now that you have two sons that turned out as disappointments?" Now Cersei is the only child he has to be proud of, Tyrion thought bitterly, and she had left Cyrodiil for High Rock nearly two decades before in pursuit of her gilded crown.
General Lannister chose to ignore the question and turned to watch the soldiers training on the opposite side of the yard.
"I'm sending you, Tyrion."
"Beg pardon?"
"The Hound took her by force."
"I'm not sure I understand your point...but are you even sure about that? Maybe she heard a rumour that she was supposed to marry the twisted little innkeeper and she took the opportunity to run off with a man with a bigger cock."
Tywin was not amused and shot his son a look that said as much.
"If we don't get to her in time, her value could go down."
Her value. Divines, he makes her sound inhuman. "She's just a girl. What has she done to have a price set on her?"
"She was born a Stark," Tywin responded flatly.
"And I was born a Lannister. What does that say about me, besides the fact that I always pay my debts?"
"This isn't about you, Tyrion." His father said sharply, turning back around to face him. "It's about Sansa Stark. Find her. Get her back. And do it before Clegane takes her maidenhead."
From what Tyrion knew of the man, he didn't think that would be a problem. Sandor Clegane was a killer and a vicious one at that, but he wasn't his brother. He would never rape Sansa, and he knew that she would never allow him to so much as touch a hair on her pretty little head. He knew her well and knew that she still dreamt of handsome knights from the songs she knew so well. It was Florian she wanted, not Velehk Sain.
"I do believe you're sending me off to die, father."
"This won't be a battle of swords, Tyrion. It's to be a duel of wits, and I know you can outsmart a dog."
Tyrion was silent for a moment, then put his hands on his hips. "Alright, but I have just one more question for you." Tywin stayed silent, so he continued. "Why do this at all? There's much to be gained from the girl's escape. True, she gave us leverage, but while we've held her here, the Young Wolf has been leading his armies into our forts and winning every battle. We may be keeping them away from Solitude, but we're losing the war. With Sansa gone, the stalemate is broken. You have the bulk of your army here in Castle Dour, just waiting for the opportunity to crush the Stormcloaks. Well, this is your opportunity, Father.
Once Robb Stark hears of his sister's escape, he'll be distracted. He'll want to find her before we do. While he's traipsing about looking for the runaway Hound and his little sister, we start taking back what was ours. It'll give us back an edge, but you and I both know that the true key to this war is Ulfric himself. Stormcloak is arrogant, so while he thinks we're vulnerable from the loss of our hostage, he'll let his best general go off on his manhunt and he'll be the one leading the raids on our land. I've heard talk of him traveling down to the southern border for an attack on Falkreath. First, we position our troops in Helgen, and then when he comes riding up to take the city we'll be waiting there for him. With the headsman's axe."