A/N: I'm honestly just in that zone where I feel like writing constantly. This has become one of my favorite stories to plan and write out. I'm trying to make it so that there are going to be differences in the story due to Olyvar's inclusion, yet attempting to keep the core story intact. It's certainly a challenge that I'm finding very enjoyable.
Speaking of challenges, writing Tyrion chapters always seems to be the most difficult, at least expressing how intelligent he really is. Sarcasm and humor I think I have down though, and I do plan on including plenty of that. So, without further ado, here we are with the first POV of the Giant of Lannister. Cheers :)
It was well into the third week of the voyage to Winterfell, and Tyrion could never recall a time in his life where he had been so bored. The royal party has just crossed into the lands of the North, having taken a few days to fully traverse the bogs and swamps of the Neck. Tyrion could not understand for the life of him how the crannogmen could live as they did.
Even after the bogs of the Neck had been passed, the party had only come across the barren lands of the North. The lands had been covered in a thin layer of snow, despite it still being summer. Tyrion took no joys in surveying the lands, only remarking that the sight of the never ending pines being covered by snow had begun to become redundant to his eyes.
Thankfully the King had grown tired of travelling, or perhaps grown tired of the Queen's persistent nagging, and they had found an inn to stay for the night. Here, Tyrion could partake in the only form of entertainment he had found during the trip; playing Cyvasse, a game he had picked up nearly two months ago from some trader in King's Landing. But because he had lacked a quality opponent at both court and during this dreadful journey, he had taken to teaching the game of Cyvasse to the new Lord of the Eyrie, in hopes that the boy would eventually be a challenge to him.
"You're taking quite some time over there." Tyrion said across the candlelit table to his opponent, who ignored him and continued focusing on his own side of the board. Good, he's learning. During the first week of playing the game, Olyvar had been easily distracted by the words that Tyrion spoke, often second guessing himself and playing into Tyrion's hand.
But overtime, the Young Falcon had steadied his mind, and blocked out the taunts. The boy's brown eyes were now sharp, focused, and had a glint of determination in them to defeat Tyrion every night they played. It was scary to Tyrion how quickly the boy had improved. Now, even though the boy had yet to defeat him in a game, he was getting ever closer. There had even been some games where Tyrion had felt panicked, having to make moves he had not previously planned.
"Interesting." Tyrion remarked out loud when the boy had finally set his side of the board. He's decided on a defensive approach. The boy had been very aggressive in all of their recently played games, attacking Tyrion relentlessly from different angles. But it had played into Tyrion's hand each time. He had used Olyvar's aggression and single minded approach to capture his King and flanked the boy each time, able to easily capture pieces left defenseless.
Now, however, the falcon's side board looked quite different. Located in the right corner of Olyvar's side of the board was the king piece, surrounded by mountains and flanked by his crossbowman, who had been placed in a fort. From the last mountain tile ran a series of water tiles that ran across to the opposite side of the board, acting as a river. Behind it, heavy forest, helping to shield his pieces from Tyrion's dragon.
The rest of Olyvar's pieces were divided into two groups. The catapult had been placed alongside the rabble near both horsemen across the river, whilst the trebuchet and elephant were located directly behind them on the other side of the waterway. The dragon and spearman were located directly outside of the sole entrance to the King and fortress.
Tyrion himself had a similar idea for defense, having placed his king in the right corner of his side of the board. But instead of using so many mountains, he opted for using only two mountain tiles, placing them diagonally. From there, he put water tiles diagonally, severely limiting his opponent's movement should they reach him, as well as giving Tyrion two outlets to escape instead of the one that Olyvar had.
Olyvar moved his heavy horse first, placing it in the open field near Tyrion's forces. "Tempting bait, my Lord." Tyrion tried to draw a reaction to see what the intentions of the move were, but Olyvar remained stone faced, only sparing Tyrion a look with his brown eyes. "You know, it's good to play defensively." Tyrion exclaimed, now moving his light horsemen into the open fields of the map, just out of range for Olyvar's heavy to strike. "But isolating yourself is never good. One must always have more than one option of escape."
"Unless you live in the Eyrie." Tyrion's head snapped up at the boy's response, but Olyvar was not looking at him, instead choosing to maneuver his spearman across the river, perhaps in a move to deter Tyrion from using his horsemen further. So that's his inspiration for the mountains. Tyrion thought it a decent idea, attempting to emulate the impenetrable fortress of the Vale of Arryn on a board game. He had done a good job at it too, choosing to box in a corner without connecting more than two mountain tiles to one another. It does have its flaws though.
"This is not the Eyrie, my young lord." Tyrion suddenly grabbed for his dragon, moving it horizontally from left to right until it lined up perfectly with Olyvar's catapult. "You cannot just hide up in your fortress if you want to win this war."
"Perhaps I'm biding my time, Lord Tyrion." The boy's voice is as cold as Stannis'. And he's just as smart as him. Tyrion noticed that Olyvar's eyes never left the board, constantly moving back and forth trying to think up a strategy to defeat his opponent. Finally, the boy moved his own dragon into play, making sure to avoid placing it in range of Tyrion's own catapult or in the path of the enemy dragon.
"There are differences in biding time and hiding." This had done the trick, as Tyrion saw Olyvar give a fierce look upwards. Tyrion couldn't help but smile as he took a drink from his goblet of wine. He had finally gotten under the Young Falcon's feathers, if only but a little. Tyrion put down his goblet and moved his own crossbowman up on the right side, the trebuchet backing him in case Olyvar wanted to inflict early damage in the match.
The match went on for longer than Tyrion could have remembered any of their others going, with him unable to gain the advantage on Olyvar. The boy had learned much about how Tyrion played in each situation, and had used that knowledge to his advantage. Even after the two of them both moved seventeen turns each, the only casualties had been Olyvar's light horsemen and Tyrion's spearman, both of which had been consumed by the opposing dragons. Tyrion secretly lamented of the days when he could finish the boy in less than ten. Now it seemed as if those days would be behind him.
But throughout the match, Tyrion had done what he wanted to accomplish. He had scattered Olyvar's armies using his dragon to feign attempts on the opposing king. Now, instead of being grouped together, they were spread out along the lines of the river and mountains, and would be unable to aid one another in case of attack. And the dragon will simply pick them off one by one. Tyrion took a sip of his wine and looked at Olyvar, flashing a smile as he saw a bit of worry in the boy's brown eyes.
But before Tyrion could act on his turn, a knock came from the door. "Enter." Tyrion yelled, not taking his eyes off of the board. The door creaked open, and Tyrion heard footsteps of someone enter the room.
"Lord Tyrion, Lord Arryn, the King requests that both of you join him to sup and dine tonight." The unmistakable voice of Ser Barristan Selmy issued the request. Tyrion groaned. Typically he would be delighted in joining Robert, but he had just obtain the advantage and did not want to abandon the game.
"We would be delighted, Ser Barristan. We'll go to His Grace soon." Olyvar answered, ushering the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard out of their room. As soon as Tyrion heard the door shut and the footsteps lead away from the room, he bowed his head and gave a sigh. "Seems we have to abandon our game, Lord Tyrion."
"The King always has the worst timing. And just when the game was getting interesting." Tyrion finished his drink before looking at Olyvar, who was wearing a sheepish look on his face. He knows he got saved. "Suppose we should go. Robert never likes being kept for long."
The two walked out of the room and made their way down the steps to the bottom floor of the inn. Exiting the inn, Tyrion and Olyvar were met with a great many tents that were used to house all of the King's escort. It did not take long for the duo to find Robert's tent, as it was the largest of all of them. Stepping inside, they were met by raucous cheers and yells. It seemed as if Robert had been hosting a little feast for the night.
"Ahhh, Tyrion! Olyvar! Come, come. I have things to discuss with you both." There sat Robert Baratheon, a horn of ale in his hand and a boar on his plate. Tyrion had always found Robert to be fun company, but even he had to admit how the years of feasting had affected Robert's physique. Gone was the feared warrior king who destroyed the Targaryen dynasty and usurped the Iron Throne, and in his place was a man who had grown fat.
"Your Grace. Sister." Tyrion bowed to the King of Westeros before acknowledging his sister, Queen Cersei Lannister. She was dressed in the traditional Lannister red, her blonde hair enhancing her emerald eyes, and vice versa. "I am curious as to why you had to interrupt our game of cyvasse."
"You two have been playing that blasted game too often during this voyage. Come, share in drink with me my friends! I have something to discuss with Olyvar anyways." At the mention of this, Tyrion saw Cersei throw Robert a disgruntled look. Tyrion looked back to the Lord of the Eyrie, who simply looked at Tyrion and shrugged. It seems he too was unaware of what Robert spoke of.
"If Your Grace wills it." Tyrion waddled up to the high table, taking a seat and accepting a cup from one of the servants. He looked over the tent, spotting a few other notables. The Crown Prince, Joffrey Baratheon, was looking upon the festivities with distain, his eyes similar to those of his sister. The two Kingsguard on duty were Ser Barristan and Tyrion's brother, Ser Jamie, who looked particularly disinterested with the happenings of the King's tent.
"Now, let's see." Robert took a large swig of his horn of ale before lowering it. Tyrion could see some of the ale had spilled into Robert's beard. "Olyvar, I've been thinking lately about you. You and your father." Tyrion could see a slight bit of pain come across Robert's face. The death of Jon Arryn had affected him in ways Tyrion had not seen before. "In his honor, I'd like to betrothed my daughter to you, his eldest son."
This IS a surprise. Tyrion looked to Olvyar, who also shared in the shock of the proposal. No wonder Cersei isn't pleased. Tyrion knew that his sister was deeply devoted to her children, and wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of Robert marrying their children off to the children of the King's close friends. But noticing that the Queen did not voice her displeasure with the arrangement led Tyrion to assume that she had already done so, and that Robert rebuked her.
"Your Grace," Tyrion noticed that Olyvar was speaking slowly, perhaps trying to pick his words carefully. "I am honored by your proposal. But isn't Princess Myrcella a tad…young, to be promised to anyone?"
"Nonsense, she has just aged her tenth year, its fine time to find her a match for the future. And who better than the son of my most trusted adviser?" Tyrion looked from Olyvar to Robert and back again, and now noted that the boy's resistance was weakening from the kind words Robert was using to describe the late Lord Arryn. The boy pondered only for a moment more before bowing his head.
"If Your Grace wishes it, the Lord of the Eyrie shall oblige you. It will be an honor to marry your daughter." A scripted response. Did Stannis teach you how to say that to Robert? Tyrion could tell that the boy was still apprehensive about the pairing, but did as he was requested. Olyvar knew as well as anyone that when Robert's mind was made up that there was no refusing him, especially with the crown on his head.
"Wonderful! More drink!" The King yelled loudly before drowning himself in the remainder of ale that was in his horn. Many of those in the tent cheered on with their king, enjoying in the merriment and conversation of the tent. Tyrion could still see his sister with an angry look on her face, but couldn't understand why. The boy was a good match in his opinion. He was a moderately handsome boy who was intelligent and well learned under the King's own brother, who had thankfully not extinguished Olyvar's sense of humor and fun.
He's certainly not a golden prince Cersei, but gods he's a decent enough boy. Tyrion thought to himself as he accepted a glass of wine from one of the serving girls. You should be happy. Besides, he's going to be a better leader than that little brat of yours ever will be. With a smile, Tyrion tipped his cup back, content with celebrating for the night, the abandoned game of cyvasse long forgotten.
A/N #2: Moved up Myrcella's birth by two years so that it would be a reasonable matching. And yes, I did say that there wouldn't be pairings, and this isn't exactly a pairing yet. It's just that when I was reading through AGOT, when Robert proposed the Sansa/Joffrey matching, I felt like he would do the same with Olyvar and his daughter. So, there ya go. Daughter of the Stag betrothed to the Young Falcon. For how long, who's to say. Hope you guys enjoyed the update.