Now as the story begins to expand, I will introduce other prominent POV characters, gradually, into the sequence of events. Well, Martyn isn't alone on his trip to the North….."AYE, he has company" (compliments; Ser Bronn of the blackwater ;-)….Nevertheless, enjoy the chapter…..

Awfully exciting in a boring sort of way. The long trips on horses always were nightmare for , his body wasn't meant for extended horse riding. Not that I need to prove it. A dwarf as he was, he had to suffer all that came with it. His own steed was quite unique though, for it was a smart one. Just like me, but a tad more attractive. It was specifically trained to carry out commands which were given either by word or by some fixed set of body movements on the saddle. Had it only made this journey more bearable. But he had to bear it all the same as the king was going to appoint Lord Eddard stark, the Lord of winterfell and warden of the North as his hand. A shame Jon died so early. Early, not young. Jon was quite old to be honest. He had a decade on Tyrion's own lord father, Lord Tywin Lannister. But his old age had not been so prominent all those years he served as Robert's hand. But Jon aged quite quickly in three days. On the third he stopped aging further forever.

A long concealed illness Pycelle had declared it to be. Yes, but which one. Tyrion wasn't into the whole thing of healing that much but had read enough books on it to be sufficiently sure. Some of which Jon lent to me. Martyn's books. The name brought a smirk on his face. Martyn always smirks, that boy. Behind that smirk lies something which familiarly uncomfortable but enjoyable nonetheless. Now his smirk turned into a grin. If there was anyone who rivaled Tyrion on the hours spent on reading, it was Martyn, at least in his memory. Still I out read him. These two avid readers sometimes spent hours discussing any topic , ranging from Targaryan conquests to high valyrian, from herbs found in Qarth to the old gods of north,Anything at all. He had been one of the few true companions Martyn had from the boy had quite few companions in the Kingslanding besides him Not really from the start though. The Arryn lad had been quite unreceptive towards him during his first years in Kingslanding , trying to avoid any talks with Tyrion. He had understood later on that the boy possesed a soft nature and felt uneasy with Tyrion's sharpness of tongue. He had unknowingly once mentioned to him on his 8th name day that a man should have strong legs and a trained middle one, for if he failed with a whore due to his cock, he needed the other two to run as fast as he could. That was a folly ,for a small Martyn ran straight to his father's chambers ,the trident rushing from his eyes, and had told him everything. He hadn't mentioned my name, although he perfectly knew me and the place where I resided. There was something adorable in him from the start,Tyrion reflected.

Not that he is the same lad now. That Martyn died at the bloody gate, under Ser Brynden. The one who came back was the quite thoughtful, quick of tongue as well of wits, with fine Arryn features on a moderately sturdy built. Martyn wasn't necessarily the dream prince of the maids ,nor much talked about as much as others like Loras Tyrell of Highgarden or ,nowadays, even his own nephew ,Joffery. But he was attractive enough to catch an eye and more worthy than all of them in most of the greater aspects of life. He was fine enough with a sword ,skilled enough on a horse and possessed a better temperament .Although his occasional outbursts of anger are the sights to behold. But he was more educated than the half of Westeros and more knowledgeable than the tree quarters of this realm, save the maesters, of course. Above all he was more honest and kind with Tyrion than probably the whole of realm save the men he could count on his fingers. The nearest rival I have, and the one I always would want to have ,Wouldn't I?, he was amused at the prospect.

The party had come to a halt at the nearest inn. Probably Ivy inn, he guessed, from the trees and the nearby terrain. Stokeworth and Brindlewood had much more denser cultivations. Tyrion desperately needed a bath. Not that he would mind but for the fact that they wouldn't find a proper inn until near the crossroads. He bathed ,put on fresh crimson tunic with plain breeches and went downstairs for some wine. He poured himself a second cup and went outside to find some suitable place to sip it with ease. He carried along with him a book on the finest blacksmiths of ancient freehold of valyrian and their best works. No sooner had he found rest beneath a perfectly placed tree that he heard shouts coming from the near the stream. Bad luck.Tyrion went to see what what all that noise about and he got his answer. First with the king, then the queen and now the crown prince, this boy certainly craves for death.

"Since when did lesser branches of great houses start to grow boys who don't know how to talk to a prince?" Joffery's face was red with anger. Seems to me that he has been owned in whatever argument took place.

"Since the princes started to behave more like ill-tempered mares, since then…..my prince" Martyn's look was enough to tear down any stare cast at him. Yeah, Joff has been owned.

But what worried him more than the boys were the men surrounding them, especially the one standing besides Joffery. Hound had a hand on the hilt of his blade. About half a dozen guards in crimson cloaks were behind him, exchanging hostile glances with the Arryn guards, who were much less in number. Judging from their faces, Tyrion could tell that they had been in this brawl for quite some time now. This can turn ugly.

"It seems our young lords and princes here are enjoying each other's company", he interrupted before Joff could frame a shit-filled reply."May I ask what might has been happening here?"

"He insulted me to the face, this little monster", Told you what countless others want to say to your face, you mean

"You deserve it well. It will bode well for you if you shut that untamed tongue of yours between those wormy lips you have" .Martyn's face betrayed no feeling. His hate for Joff was crying out from each and every glance he threw at him.

"I will pluck your wings, falcon chick. Dog" He glared at the hound that unsheathed his longsword and moved towards Martyn. Immediately a guard with helm donned on blocked his path."Not a step further, Clegane". Hound laughed bitterly at that "and what will you do if I move", he grinned cruelly "hack me to pieces, GO ON THEN". The two drew their swords.

"ENOUGH OF HIS MADNESS", Tyrion barked out loudly,"Do you want me to call the King?" When nobody answered, Tyrion went ahead to Joffery who continued the bashing ,"the Arryn boy gets angry when I tell him that his old father visited brother to satisfy his lust. He even_" the slap went right across Joff's face, leaving behind the scars of his hand. The lannister men were taken aback .Joff stood in shock. Even Martyn was surprised to see that."Apologize", Tyrion told him. "I am telling moth-"another slap, this one tighter."You will apologize to Martyn here and now ".Tyrion demanded."You can't" Another slap and Joff was racing off the stream with the hound besides him."

"Have you lost your senses? Picking one fight after another." Tyrion later spoke with Martyn in his own room. Martyn gave him a slightly angered look but Tyrion saw what was behind it, Greif, fear and loneliness. Yes, it's clear."You tell me not to speak up when the King refuses to grant House Arryn its rightful tiles, to watch helplessly as the queen threatens to imprison me every now and then , and as if that wasn't enough , your beloved Joffery comes and tells me that my father was a WHOREMONGER. why do i argue back, you ask. What would have you done?

Me? I would've brought a jar of wildfire, dipped Cersi and Joffery in it and then watch them burn their arses on a red hot iron throne and- "I would have gone to the whorehouse and found out for myself. Maybe do more things there than just investigate." That cold expression broke apart and he gave out a little laugh. He needs more of this. "You really need a good WHOREHOUSE now, since you have come of age. I bet Joff would still dream of one a 50" he nipped a hair from the stubble growing on the jaws of this Arryn boy. The boy blushed. Tyrion sighed .still the same. If there was one thing in which Martyn was woefully behind all the others, it was girls. Suddenly an image appeared in his mind of a shy little girl with doe shaped eyes and an honest smile. If only for a moment but Tyrion remembered those moments of love they shared in that inn. Before a certain Lord of Casterly Rock set his full garrison on her and then…..He shook the thought away from his head. Love, If only you had ever felt that true love, Martyn, you would have known. Maybe you will sometime in future .You need it now more than ever. Martyn didn't have a family which could have filled that hole in him. Father's shadow and Mother's words of comfort could do miracles, how couldn't they cheer up this boy? Tyrion felt sad for the lad. It seemed that the Gods and men frowned upon more than just dwarves, cripples and bastards. They frowned upon Orphans .Damn the seven and all their silent gazes.

Well our Martyn isn't alone. There is Tyrion with him, in good and bad. In this chapter, I showed some possible interactions which would have taken place between the two, Martyn and Tyrion. Wits and tits for Tyrion do their job. Would it do the same to Martyn? Winterfell is his destination. Watch out for the next chapter on Lord of the winterfell and Warden of the north…