Chapter One

200 years later

Tyrion Lannister was lost in his thoughts.

The third child and second born son of Tywin Lannister, Warden of the West, and Lord of Casterly Rock, Tyrion had always known that his prospects in life were few and far between. The fact that he was an ugly, misshapen dwarf who was hated by his own father and sister made even those few prospects lessen exponentially. He had always assumed he would simply live at Casterly Rock as the proverbial "black sheep", and maybe serve as an advisor under his elder Jaime when their "beloved" father had the good grace to die. Tyrion used to envision himself dying in a warm bed, old, fat, wrinkly, and bald while a lovely naked woman sucked his cock and a second one poured wine into his mouth. Content, rich, but perhaps unmarried and unloved by all but his brother.

However, all those dreams had been cruelly dashed after poor Tysha. While Tyrion had never particularly loved his father, it had only been after that moment, after what his father had ordered done to her, that Tyrion had found a reason to actually feel hate for his father; pure, unbridled, yet repressed, hate. So, after two months of planning and brooding in abject misery, coupled with both subtle and not-so-subtle mockery from his sister, and looks of cold uncaring from his father, Tyrion had had enough. He decided to leave, and seek his fortunes elsewhere, in the one place that even his father was hesitant to go.

He remembered how Jaime had run into him as Tyrion was loading a few personal possessions onto a small, donkey cart one evening. The look on his brother's face had been one of confused disbelief.

"Tyrion? What are you doing little brother?" Jaime had asked, without a hint of mockery, just concern.

"I am leaving, Jaime. I am leaving Casterly Rock."

Jaime had appeared stunned. "But why, is it because of what happened?"

"It is not just that, brother. Aside from you, I will find no love here. There is nothing for me here at all. Nothing but misery, cold, haughty lions, and bad memories. Besides, once I am gone, the blemish on father's perfect little pride of Lannisters. I hardly think he or Cersei will even bother to remember me at all."

"Where will you go?"

Tyrion had then spoken one word. One solitary word that somehow held so much weight at that one moment. "North".

Tyrion had thought that Jaime would try to dissuade him, to beg him to stay, to console him. But instead, what Jaime said would forever be regarded in Tyrion's life as one of its greatest moments. With a lopsided, yet saddened grin, Jaime had said, "Well, I cannot very well let you go alone now, can I?" Jaime had left, and, a few hours later, returned dressed and ready, though he had a strange expression upon his face. After gathering a few bags of gold dragons, silver stags, and copper stars, along with about two months' worth of supplies, Jaime and Tyrion departed later that night.

'And so now, here we are', Tyrion thought, gazing upon his brother as he sat beside him on their cart as they rode upon the cobbled kingsroad. Jaime felt Tyrion's sight upon him, turned towards his brother, and grinned though several week's growth of golden beard. "Copper for your thoughts, brother?"

"Just thinking about our new lives once we are at Ikemmu. I can picture it now; I as the owner of one of their famed "pleasure dens", and you as my loyal, over-paid bodyguard." At this Jaime raised an eyebrow and chuckled. Tyrion continued on. "Imagine, there we are, constantly surrounded by beautiful, grey-skinned women day and night, with piercings, and tattoos in all the right places. It will be a grey skinned paradise!" Tyrion stated.

Jaime did naught but laugh and laugh. "Aye, sounds like a dream come true, little brother. But, do you think the shadar-kai will let two humans like us into their kingdom? From I can recall of those boring history lessons we had as children, they are not very trusting of outsiders, and keep to themselves most of time."

Tyrion smirked though his own growth of black and gold beard. "You would be correct brother. However, if you had bothered to pay attention further, or do a little independent study of your own, you would have also learned that there are several cities in Ikemmu, such as Gloomwrought, Raven's Roost, the Last Hearth, Forgeheart. and so on, that are homes to large populations of humans like us, well, maybe like you, as I am sure that there are very few dwarves" Tyrion lectured, with a bit of a smirk. "

Of course, a good deal of Ikemmu's inhabitants are shadar-kai, since their traits breed true, as evidenced by the pallor of their skin, the darkness of their eyes, and their propensity for self-disfigurement. Though, normal humans humans oft still develop rather very pale, or light grey skin, perhaps due to Ikemmu itself. I hear that they call themselves the "shadowborn"".

One of the strange traits of Ikemmu was that the entire kingdom seemed to be lightly shrouded in perpetual dusk. The septons and septas decried it as "foul and demonic sorcery, to keep the holy light of the sun and the Seven out of Ikemmu." Even the wise maesters of Oldtown had been at a loss to explain the phenomenon and, after years of fruitless research, were forced to write it off as strange sorcery as well.

Tyrion shook his to clear his thoughts as they crested another hill. His brother looked to him with a question.

"How much longer until we reach the border, brother?" Jaime asked.

"I would guess about a few more miles. Once we reach the border, we will need to proceed through checkpoint at the Raven's gate, and then, from there we will traverse to one of the major cities. I believe Gloomwrought will be our best option. Despite its fearsome name, from what I have read it is a rather lively city. Its ruler is a shadowborn named Roland Stark, he is a distant uncle of Ikemmu's current king, Razvahn XI. The man is rather light-handed and somewhat lackadaisical when it comes to ruling the city, so some actually believe that it is the noble merchant houses who hold the true power. If you have the know-how, it is a place where anyone can thrive. Perhaps we could start our own one day, eh brother?"

Jaime laughed once again. "Our own house? Oh, and what would we call ourselves? House Pryde?"

Tyrion thought for a moment, and then shrugged. "Well, why not?" From now on, we are Tyrion and Jaime Pryde."

Anything Jaime had been planning to say died in his throat as they crested the final hill and beheld the Raven's Gate.

As the only official passageway, land wise, into Ikemmu, the Raven's Gate had been built during the reign of King Uwan the Defiant at the southern edge of the Neck, after his famed meeting with Aegon the Conqueror. It was erected as a way to regulate the flow of any travelers coming to and from Ikemmu, though those were rather sparse. The gate itself was actually a large fortress, and it was more tightly and more jealously guarded than a miser's wealth, with its namesake being a very large and very wide steel portcullis engraved with bas reliefs of ravens.

As the two brothers approached, a bored looking shadowborn guard with multiple piercings on his ears, garbed in chainmail, and carrying a sword sheathed at his side strode up to the two brothers and asked for identification. Tyrion handed him the necessary papers, which the guard barely glanced at, and he then paid the necessary fees. The guard then made a sharp whistling sound, and the giant portcullis was raised. With that, Tyrion and Jaime Pryde entered the kingdom of Ikemmu, the North-In-Shadow.