Reborn a a dragonlord

by Mi414622

Dragonlord pre doom si

1. 1

The Lion of Lannister

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at /works/34097053.

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Mature

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage

F/M

A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)

Tyrion Lannister & Original Character(s), Jaime Lannister & Original Character(s), Alysanne Lefford/Original Character(s), Tyrion Lannister & Jason Lannister (OC), Jaime Lannister & Jason Lannister (OC), Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Jaime Lannister & Tyrion Lannister, Tywin Lannister & Original Character(s)

Jason Lannister (OC), Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Cersei Lannister, Alysanne Lefford, Gerold Lannister (OC), Leo Lannister (OC), Isabella Lannister (OC), Stafford Lannister, Kevan Lannister, Harys Swyft, Addam Marbrand, Gregor Clegane, Amory Lorch, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Tommen Baratheon, Myrcella Baratheon, Original House Lannister Character(s), Jon Snow, Brynden "Blackfish" Tully, Rickard Karstark, Catelyn Tully Stark, Jason Mallister, Patrek Mallister, Edmure Tully, Damion Lannister

War of the Five Kings, House Lannister, Self-Insert, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Robb Stark is King in the North, Tywin Lannister Being Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister is a Good Sibling, Jaime Lannister Needs a Hug, Not A Fix-It

English

Part 10 of bhanfhen's OC Self-Inserts!

Published: 2021-09-26 Updated: 2021-12-31 Words: 48,836 Chapters: 14/?

The Lion of Lannister

by bhanfhen

Summary

[Abandoned and Discontinued]

Jason Lannister doesn't want to play the game of thrones, but he's forced into it anyways.

He didn't want to be reborn into this world, but he was anyway, and now he had to deal with House Lannister as best he could.

But that's a lot to ask from one man.

The self-insert tries his best.

Cersei, Jaime, and Tyrion have an older brother who knows something...

Lannister centric fic! The main focus will be on House Lannister!

(There is no need to read the other fics in this series to understand the plot of this fic)

Notes

A House Lannister self-insert!

Things about the past will be explained throughout the story, but we're starting in the early stages of the War of the Five Kings.

Jason is the eldest son of Tywin and Joanna, being three years older than Jaime and Cersei. Eveyrthing else about his character will be explored in the fic.

Also this first chapter uses a lot of elements from the chapter Tyrion IX from A Game of Thrones.

See the end of the work for more notes

The Giant of Lannister

"They have my son."

Tyrion sat amongst the assembled lords and captains and bannermen who had made it through the grueling march that Tywin Lannister had set. They had set a hard pace and any man who was unable to keep up was left behind. Every day saw a few men who did not rise from their slumbers and a few others who fell by the wayside and were unable to get back up. The loss of a few men was deemed necessary if they were to make it to

They had no time to care for the wounded if they wanted to reach Riverrun before Robb Stark and his army did. But that all seemed like a fruitless endeavor as they now sat in the Crossroads Inn and listened to the news that the messenger wearing the brindled boar of Crakehall bore.

All that marching, and the Young Wolf still beat them by days. Tyrion had half a mind to laugh at that, but as he moved his arm to pick up his wine glass pain shot through it, and any desire to find the situation humorous left him. His brief time in battle made it clear that his brothers were clearly insane, for who would find enjoyment in this?

"They do, my lord." The messenger's voice was tired, and the man looked like he was going to collapse where stood.

A silence had fallen over the gathered men as the news settled in. Jaime had been captured and his host was either killed, captured, or sent running. The siege of Riverrun was over, and it was not in a Lannister victory. Tyrion was thankful that Jaime hadn't been killed in the fighting. He also took note of his lord father's words. My son, as if Jaime was the only son that the Mighty Tywin Lannister had.

Would Jason have laughed at their father's words just now?

Probably not, Tyrion's eldest brother had grown rather grim over the years. Oh, the man still had his moments of laughter and smiles, but for the most part he was a more closed off

figure. War was apparently not all that it was told to be, and Tyrion had heard it more than once that from Jason that there was no honor in war.

That there was no glory in it, just death.

Tyrion didn't like it when his brother got into that dark place in his mind. He made every effort to pull the man back into the present, and away from the Sack of King's Landing. Tyrion tried to do everything to get the old Jason back, but it seems that the Jason he knew before Robert's Rebellion had died during the Sack, and the man who had come back was not really Jason anymore.

He was the Kingslayer.

No one would say it to his face, but they did say it behind his back. Kingslayer, the man who killed King Aerys Targaryen the Second of His Name. The man who disarmed and knocked out his own brother and took the Mad King's head in one swing. The man who had taken the Red Keep and the very same one who had slew Ser Gregor Clegane after he had found out what had happened to the Targaryen children.

Tyrion hadn't been there that day, but many of the lords and knights that he was sitting amongst had been. Tyrion hadn't seen his brother until over a fortnight after the Sack of King's Landing, but these men had. They had witnessed his brother fly into a rage. Tyrion had heard near two dozen different versions of the tale, and each one always portrayed the same picture.

Jason Lannister had butchered all of the men that were under Ser Gregor Clegane's command when he learned of what had happened in Maegor's Holdfast. It was said that Jason's sword was so coated in the blood of Lannister men that it looked as if he was Lann the Clever come again, but this time it was Mountain's Men who were the victims. Tyrion heard tell of a dozen different ways that Jason had killed Ser Gregor Clegane.

Some tales had it that his brother stabbed the monstrous man right through the face when he was least expecting it. Other tales had it that Jason ordered his men to hold Clegane down while he ripped both of the man's eyes out and then took his head. There were even tales that said that Jason had done it in a duel, one against one, and that he had won it with nary a scratch.

They were all fanciful tales, but the end result was the same, Gregor Clegane was no more after that day.

Tyrion's brother wasn't the same after he returned from Robert's Rebellion. Jason returned to Casterly Rock a changed man, and Tyrion mourned the man that his brother used to be. The jovial and easy smiles were gone and in their place were a more hardened look. There were ghosts in his eyes, Tyrion had seen them when he and Jason spent late nights wandering Casterly Rock's halls.

It made him wonder what he truly saw on that fateful day. What had Jason seen that made him vow to never enter King's Landing again? Was the sight of the butchered Targaryen children really that scarring?

Tyrion didn't truly want to know, and he hoped that he never would experience anything like what Jason had.

"How could this happen?" Ser Harys Swyft said. "How? Even after the Whispering Wood, you had Riverrun surrounded by a Lannister host near twenty thousand strong... what madness made Ser Jaime decide to split his men into three separate camps? Surely he knew how vulnerable that would leave them?"

Tyrion's attention was drawn back to the present by the words of Ser Harys. The man was a craven and not at all a military commander. For true, the man's only reason for even being here was because of his daughter's marriage to Uncle Keven. Ser Harys provided little to no actual military expertise, yet here he still was.

"I would have done the same." Uncle Kevan said. "The castle is situated at the end of the point of land where the Tumblestone flows into the Red Fork. The rivers form two sides of a triangle and when the Tullys open their sluice gates upstream they can create a third side and turn Riverrun into and island. It would be impossible to besiege the castle unless the attacker did so from all three sides, which Ser Jaime did."

"Ser Kevan speaks the truth my lords." The messenger said. "Our camps were built with palisades and trench lines and everything. But there was no warning for when Robb Stark and

his men attacked. They hit the north camp first and we were never expecting an attack as we thought Ser Jaime had gone after them. We had no idea that the Stark host was east of the Green Fork."

"And your outriders? They saw nothing? They gave no warning?"

The questions came from a man that Tyrion knew not to respect. Ser Amory Lorch may be a knight and one of Lord Tywin's bannermen, but Tyrion would never hold the man up to any level of respect. The knight of the manticore was one of the only men that had escaped Jason's rage induced killing spree during the Sack. Amory Lorch had run for his life then and had made sure to steer clear of Jason ever since.

Tyrion felt that he understood why Jason hated the man so much. He had even heard tell that Lorch boasted about killing Princess Rhaenys, and that he seemed proud of the fifty or so stabs that it had taken to do the little girl in. It was a shame that the man slipped through Jason's fingers, for this man did not deserve life.

"Our outriders had been vanishing. They would go out and never return." The messenger said.

Another silence filled the tent at that. It appeared as if they had underestimated the Young Wolf's tenacity at warfare. Jaime had let his army go blind and underprepared as he chased down what he thought was Robb Stark's host. The glory seeking fool.

"You said they came in the night." Uncle Kevan said.

"Aye, they stole a march on us and attacked during the night. The Blackfish led the van and cut down our sentries and moved the palisades away for the Stark cavalry. Our own men were still mostly in their tents sleeping and were not prepared for the armored horses breaking through out lines. They attacked one camp and cut down any man who tried to cross the river over to the other side to help."

"What of Lord Brax? My father was among those at the siege." Ser Flement Brax asked.

"I'm sorry my lord. Lord Brax drowned as he tried to cross over the river."

Tyrion watched as Ser Flement took in the news of his father's death. The man was young and probably thought that this war would be a quick and easy one, done in six months at the most. It was turning out to be anything but.

"The Riverrun garrison came out and attacked us in the rear before we could properly assemble to mount a counterattack across the river. It was a slaughter my lords."

"Gods save us." Lord Lefford swore.

"The Tyroshi sellswords who had accompanied us to the siege struck their banners and went over to Robb Stark's side as our host was decimated. Ser Forley Prester's retreat must have been what made the sellswords turn." The messenger looked grim at that.

"Damn that man. I warned Jaime not to trust that one for a man who fights for gold is only loyal to their purse." Uncle Kevan said, not sounding surprised at all.

"How did it come to this?" Ser Harys said. "Ser Jaime taken; the siege broken... this is a catastrophe!"

"I'm sure we are all grateful for that reminder Ser Harys. The question is what to do now." Ser Addam Marbrand said.

"What are we to do? Ser Jaime's host is all but slaughtered and gone. The Tullys and Starks are sitting squarely across our supply lines and are cutting us off from the West! They could march on Casterly Rock and the Westerlands and we would be unable to stop them. We are beaten my lords; we must sue for peace."

"Peace?" Tyrion snorted and threw his glass of wine to the ground, the glass shattering and the wine spreading across the wooden floorboards, looking all too much like blood.

"There's your peace, Joffrey saw to it when he took Lord Stark's head and mounted it on the spikes of the Red Keep. You'll have an easier time drinking from that glass than you will convincing Robb Stark to make peace now. He's winning... or hadn't you noticed?"

"The war is not done yet." Ser Addam said. "We are not lost yet. I would welcome the chance to test my sword against the Young Wolf."

"Perhaps we should offer a truce and exchange of prisoners?" Lord Lefford said.

Tyrion heard a scoff come from his right and he looked towards someone who he had almost forgotten was here. His nephew, Ser Gerold Lannister, was shaking his head at his grandfather's words. Jason's eldest son looked just like he had at that age, and Tyrion knew that the boy of seventeen years was just as smart as his father as well.

"They would never agree to that grandfather." Gerold said. "Robb Stark is winning and has no cause to exchange Uncle Jaime."

Lord Lefford looked at his grandson with a somewhat pained expression. Jason and Alysanne's children were all as smart as could be. Gerold and Leo were the sons that any father would want, and little Isabella was every inch the capable lady that her mother was. They were also very much Lannisters and had little of the Lefford blood in them.

"Queen Cersei has Robb Stark's sisters. Mayhaps, we give them in exchange..." Ser Harys said.

"He would have to be a complete idiot to trade Jaime Lannister for two girls." Ser Addam said.

"Then a ransom must be made. Any amount of gold to get Ser Jaime back." Lord Lefford offered.

"Jaime's armor has enough gold in it to keep Robb Stark's army fed and paid for months." Tyrion said.

"We cannot ask for a truce, it would show that we are beaten and that the war is done, which it certainly is not. We need to march on them." Ser Addam said.

"Surely, Queen Cersei and the friends we have at court would be able to send us some fresh troops. And mayhaps we should send for Ser Jason to raise a new host."

"My lord father is commanding the defense of the Westerlands. Sending for him would leave our homes vulnerable." Gerold said.

"They have my son." Tywin Lannister said as he rose to his feet. He was a tall man who cut an imposing figure and his stare could cut through steel as it was right now. "Leave me. All of you."

Everyone got to their feet and made for the door. Gerold tsked as he stepped into the spilled wine that Tyrion had made earlier. Tyrion got to his feet and was about to say something to his nephew when his lord father gave him a look.

"Not you. Kevan and Gerold stay as well. The rest of you, get out."

Gerold halted before making his way back to his seat. The gold and red armor that he wore was polished to a mirror shine and Tyrion knew that he had fought well. He had been with the right flank when they had attacked Roose Bolton's host. Gerold had fought, killed, and came out of it with only some slight bruising.

Which was more than Tyrion could say for himself, his damned arm was still throbbing with pain and each movement was a trying endeavor.

Nevertheless, Tyrion settled back down into his seat and tried not to look too shocked that he was asked to stay. Uncle Kevan was across the room and near the wine casks and Tyrion asked for him to get another glass but was cut off by his father.

"Here." The man said as he put his glass of wine in front of Tyrion, the liquid was untouched. Tyrion took the drink with surprise as his father took a seat back at the head of the table.

"You were right about Stark. If the man were alive, we could have made peace and ended this war already. We could have dealt with Winterfell and Riverrun in an orderly fashion and moved to deal with Robert's brothers. But dead... shear and utter madness."

Tywin Lannister punctuated his words with a curled fist.

"Joff's only a boy." Tyrion pointed out, though it was a weak excuse, and he knew it. "At his age, I committed a few follies of my own."

"I didn't know you ordered a man's death when you were his age." Gerold said.

Tyrion looked at his nephew and was met with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. Gerold was exactly how Jason had been before the Sack of King's Landing. The boy was still quick with a smile and a quip.

"Our situation has gotten worse, there is a new king that we have to deal with." Lord Tywin said.

"What? A new king? What happened to Joffrey?" Uncle Kevan looked confused.

"Nothing... the boy still sits on the Iron Throne but reports from Varys are telling a concerning story from the south. Renly Baratheon has gone and crowned himself king, marrying Margaery Tyrell at Highgarden and within a fortnight past he has the power of the Reach and most of the Stormlands with him."

"Can he do that? Just make himself king?" Gerold asked.

"It matters not if he can, he already has, and now my daughter commands us to ride for King's Landing to defend the Red Keep against the youngest Baratheon brother." Lord Tywin said.

"And how is our Good King Joffrey taking the news?" Tyrion asked and he noticed a smirk come once again to Gerold lips.

All of Jason's children were older and smarter than Joffrey. The three of them were just better than their royal cousin, and Joffrey had taken that as expected, which was not well at all. Cersei's spoiled brat was useless compared to Gerold or Leo or even Isabella.

Sometimes Tyrion wondered how those two families could be so different. But than he actually thought about it for a moment and knew the truth of it immediately. Jason knew how to raise a family while Cersei didn't. Their older brother also wasn't obsessed with himself like Cersei was with herself.

It was a miracle that they were all actually siblings. They couldn't be more different from each other if they tried.

"Cersei has not seen fit to tell him yet." Lord Tywin said. "She fears he might go and march out to meet Renly on the battlefield himself."

"The day Joffrey leads a host into battle is the day that pigs start flying." Gerold said with a completely straight face.

Tyrion had to hold back a snort at that. Uncle Kevan had the shadow of a smile on his lips and though Lord Tywin didn't show it, Tyrion knew that he thought it funny as well. Joffrey was no Demon of the Trident, not in a hundred years.

"The City Watch would be his army."

"That would leave King's Landing undefended. It would allow for Lord Stannis to leave Dragonstone and march right in." Uncle Kevan said.

"Stannis is doing nothing while his younger brother claims the Iron Throne?" Tyrion asked.

"Varys reports his whispers of what is happening. Whispers of Stannis building ships and hiring sellswords and summoning witches from the east. But is any of that true?" Tywin Lannister scoffed and then waved a hand at Gerold. "Bring us the map."

Tyrion's nephew stepped to and in moments the table was covered by the leather map. Gerold smoothed it out and took some of the wine glasses that were left behind and placed them on the corners to act as weights. The map showed six of the Seven Kingdoms, with the North being left out as it was too large to fit on the map itself.

"We are in a bad way with Jaime captured. Roose Bolton and his army may be scattered, but Robb Stark and his host are sitting between us and the West. Moat Cailin and the Twins are held by men loyal to the Starks and we cannot move south less we wish to face Renly Baratheon. It would take a battle to get back to Lannisport or Casterly Rock, and one that would us gravely depleted if we were to actually meet the Stark boy's host. Going east would leave the road to the west wide open, and all the while we have enemies on three sides."

"We should send word to my father. He can raise a new host and send it to our aid." Gerold said.

"Jason is now the only thing standing between Robb Stark and the Westerlands. Even if he raises a new host, it will take time and the men will be as green as grass." Uncle Kevan said.

"There's also the threat of the Iron Born." Lord Tywin said. "Jason fears another attack on the Lannister fleet and Lannisport."

"Does Balon Greyjoy have it in him for another rebellion?" Tyrion asked.

"He won't as long as he knows that Jason is at Casterly Rock with his men. Though, that does not help our situation. Robb Stark will soon have the Lords of the Trident on his side and together their numbers may exceed our own. With Roose Bolton behind us as well, I fear that if we stay here, we will be caught between three armies." Uncle Kevan said.

"I have no intention of remaining here. We must finish our business with Robb Stark and then move to defeat Renly Baratheon before he can march from Highgarden. Bolton's host is mostly scattered, so he is of little threat to us and won't give us pursuit. So, on the morrow we shall march for Harrenhal. Kevan, send word to Jason that he is to raise a new host at Casterly Rock and give command to Stafford, I want Ser Addam's outriders to screen our march and that he is to have as many men as required." Lord Tywin said.

"Harrenhal? That seems like an unlucky place." Gerold said.

"It matters not what the common folk label it. Tell Ser Amory Lorch that he is to take his men and light the Riverlands afire from the Gods Eye to the Red Fork."

"It will be done." Uncle Kevan said, though he had a grim expression on his face as he left.

"You may as well send your savages with Lorch. They can plunder as they like, anything they can get their hands on is theirs to keep. Everything they don't want can burn." Tyrion's father said to him.

"I am remiss to part with them. I've grown rather fond of my wildlings you see." Tyrion said. "You don't plan to get yourself married now do you uncle?" Gerold asked.

Tyrion was about to replay with a quip of his own when his lord father butted in. "You best keep them under control than. I'll not have them plunder the city." "Which city?" Tyrion asked.

"King's Landing. I'm sending you and Gerold to court."

Tyrion was not expecting that at all and took a sip of his wine to absorb the news. Gerold decided to offer his shock in a more verbal form.

"What? That is the last place I would go."

"I must agree with my nephew on that one father. King's Landing seems like it's going to be a dangerous place in the coming months. And what are we even to do there anyway?" Tyrion said.

"Rule." Was all that the man said.

"Rule? Oh, Cersei might have a word or two to say about that." Tyrion said into his wine glass.

"I'd rather stay here with the army grandfather. My father said to avoid the snake pit that is King's Landing at all costs. I'm inclined to heed his words." Gerold said.

"You both will be going to King's Landing. Tyrion will be acting as Hand of the King in my stead and you Gerold, will be taking command of Lannister Household Guard in the city. Your father sent one hundred of his personal guards with you, and you are going to take all of them with you and get the rest of the Lannister guards in that city into order. Tyrion, you will

get the city into order and curtail Cersei and Joffrey so that they don't wander into another blunder. I've started to wonder what sort of counsel they are offering if this is the state of the realm. Take control of the situation and if you smell a whiff of treason from any of them, mount their heads on the walls of the Red Keep. That is my word, see it done."

With that, Lord Tywin Lannister stood from his seat and made for the door.

"Why not send for Jason? Wouldn't he be better suited for the position?" Tyrion asked. His brother was the future Lord of Casterly Rock and was a better statesmen by far compared to himself.

Lord Tywin stopped and looked back.

"Jason has vowed to never enter the city again. You shall do so in his place."

Tyrion didn't get another word in as his lord father was gone by then. Jason would truly be the better choice to act as Hand of the King. He commanded respect and authority just as much as their father did. He knew how to get things done with they needed doing and he had loyal men around him to do so.

But... King's Landing was the one place that Jason had vowed to never enter again. The Sack of King's Landing still haunted his brother's nightmares and Tyrion couldn't quite blame him for not wanting to see the place again. Though, that meant that Tyrion himself was going to have to do the job, and he had to drag Gerold along as well.

"My father said that King's Landing is the last place anyone would want to be. It's the only time I've seen him cry, when he brings up the Sack." Gerold said, his voice quieter than it usually was.

Tyrion knew that Jason had told his children what he had done during the sack, and what he had failed to do. He had killed one Targaryen and failed to save two others. He became the Kingslayer and the Raging Lion all in one night. Jason never was the same after the Sack.

"Your father has good reason to dislike the city." Tyrion said and put a hand on his nephew's arm. "But its not all bad. Sure, the place smells of shit and the court is full of schemers and backstabbers. There is Joffrey and Cersei to deal with, but you have one hundred of your father's best men, and you'll have me. I am your favorite uncle after all."

"I hope your right uncle. I hope really hope you are." Gerold said and offered Tyrion a small smile.

Tyrion watched the boy go and he sighed as he was left alone in the room. Dealing with Cersei and Joffrey was the last thing he wanted. And there was the added pressure of keeping Gerold alive, though, hopefully Jason's men would do most of that for him.

He sighed again and finished the last of his wine. He set the glass down onto the table with finality and rolled his shoulders as he exited the room.

King's Landing here we come.

The City of Kings

Chapter Summary

The War of the Five Kings is fully in motion, and a Giant of Lannister along with the Young Lion have made their way into a Red Keep, and all the plots and schemes that it holds.

It smelled of shit.

The rank stench hit his nose as the city was barely coming into view. An odor that permeated the air and seemed to touch everything in its path. The closer they got the worse it did get. The smell of trees and bushes and the Blackwater were all snuffed out as the overwhelming odor of King's Landing reigned supreme.

Gerold Lannister had heard from his father that the city was a horrible place, but a part of him didn't think that it smelt so bad. How could anyone wish to live in such a horrid smell? Even the war camps didn't smell as bad, and that was including the smells of injured and dying men.

This... was the stench of half a million sweaty and filth ridden bodies. Probably more, with the refugees flooding into the city from the Riverlands. Ser Amory Lorch and his men were running wild across the Riverlands and setting anything they could aflame. Burning down homes and fields of crops and forcing the common folk to flee to safety.

Which happened to be King's Landing.

"How does anyone live with this smell?" Gerold asked.

Uncle Tyrion was riding his horse to the left of him in that special saddle that allowed him to not fall out. His disfigured uncle merely waved a hand and shrugged as they got closer to the city. They were riding at the head of the column, with around one hundred and fifty or so

mountain clansmen of the Vale of Arryn on one side and the one hundred of the Lion Guard, Jason Lannister's personal guards, riding on the other.

Gerold rode at the head of the Lion Guard with Ser Julian Stackspear on his right. The older knight was his second in command of the hundred men of the Lion Guard that accompanied Gerold. He was a loyal and capable commander, and he was someone that Gerold knew he would have to lean on as they would soon be taking command of the Lannister Household Guard.

From what he had heard, Captain Vylarr commanded a hundred red cloaks. They were all capable men as well, but they were no comparison to be made between the red cloaks of King's Landing and the Lion Guard. Jason Lannister took pride in his personal guards, and Gerold and Leo had been trained along with them.

Which he had both hated and enjoyed, even more so after all those hours of drills were put to good use. He took no joy in killing, but he also made sure that he was skillful in a blade. Not nearly as good as his father or Uncle Jaime, but still one of the better swords of House Lannister.

"You learn to close your nose to it." Ser Julian said.

Gerold doubted that he would ever be able to completely ignore the smell of shit and unwashed bodies of half a million people. Mayhaps he might just lose all sense of smell by the time the war was over, and he could return to Casterly Rock. That was a somewhat sobering thought.

"I'm more concerned that my nose might just fall from my face." Gerold said.

"That would be the day nephew of mine. But have no fear, I've spent more than my fair share of time in this city and I've yet to lose a single body part." Uncle Tyrion said.

"There's probably a jest somewhere in there."

"Ha! Make sure you don't lose anything either Gerold. Your father would have my head if I returned his son without his cock." Ser Julian said.

"I have no intention of visiting the whores of King's Landing." Gerold said. "I don't eat where I shit."

"That's one of Jason's sayings." Uncle Tyrion said. "Just try not to become a kingslayer while we're here nephew, or you might just be an exact copy of your father."

Gerold wouldn't even think of becoming a kingslayer and even less so because the king was his own cousin. Granted, Joffrey Baratheon left much to be desired, and he was the definition of spoiled brat. Gerold did not look forward to meeting his younger royal cousin, though seeing Myrcella and Tommen would be good. Those two were at least nice and sweet children.

They rode through the Lion Gate as they made their way into King's Landing. Three stone statues of lions sat on either side of the road, with the seventh being the gate house itself. The portcullis acted as the fangs and if you squinted, you could see the shapes of eyes and a nose on the stone bricks. Mayhaps it was just a trick of the eyes, but it felt like they were riding through the lion's mouth, and straight into a snake pit.

The people of King's Landing were there to greet them to the city. There were some cheers and some frightened looks that were among the crowd. Their party was in sharp contrast with itself, with the Lion Guard riding in straight and organized lines while the mountain clansmen were a disorganized bunch who lacked discipline and more often than not were fighting with each other.

Gerold didn't know how Uncle Tyrion was holding the command of theses half savages, but so long as he did, Gerold's job would be just a touch easier. He would have enough to deal with in the red cloaks and whatever other problems that were going to come and hit the city.

The smell of shit rushed into Gerold's nose, and he had to fight to keep his face still. It felt as if his nostrils were burning and only one look around was needed to see as to why. The streets were packed with people who were all in need of a good wash. There was filth that covered the streets, from shit of people and animals, to rotting food, to other greyish brown substances that Gerold didn't even want to know what it was.

He resigned himself to breathing through his mouth for the duration of his stay in this gods damned city.

The Gold Cloaks of the City Watch were pushing the crowd away and making room for their party to move through. It really showed how bad the situation was going to get if the war ever came knocking on King's Landing's door, for there were too many people here to survive a siege. Gerold may be new to war, but even he knew that feeding half a million people in a siege was impossible.

Progress towards the Red Keep was slow but steady. The mountain clansmen slowed them down even further as they were continuously stopping and looking around. They'd never seen a city of this size before and Gerold had spotted several of them simply taking things from street sellers and then causing fights when gold was demanded of them.

Uncle Tyrion's sellsword friend, Bronn, was the one who usually had to go and sort those idiots out. Undisciplined and disorganized, that was the only words that Gerold could say when referencing the mountain clansmen. That, and good warriors, not disciplined soldiers, but ruthless warriors.

They eventually made it to Aegon's High Hill. The Red Keep loomed in the distance and Gerold wondered where it was that his father had entered from. Did he scale the walls and enter with his blade in hand? Did he simply have the drawbridge lowered and strolled right in? Mayhaps there was an inside man who let the Lannister men in.

His father had ridden into this city only once, and he would never return to it after he left. Gerold had wanted to follow the example that his father set, for he had no desire to go to the city that had hurt his father so much. But Grandfather Tywin had ordered him here, and so it was that he now rode through the Red Keep's gates.

The sounds of trumpeting and some cheer could be heard as they came across, but it wasn't from those that were greeting them. No, it was coming from somewhere else, and it sounded a lot like a celebration. Gerold didn't know what there was to celebrate. There was a war going on, and it looked like it was going to be a bloody one.

It sounded like it was coming from the outer bailey by the looks of it. The massive red brick walls of the Red Keep loomed around them and Gerold looked around with one eye. It was a marvelous looking castle, though in his mind Casterly Rock was still better. Even the Golden Tooth was more to his taste, though the keep of House Lefford was a smaller one, it at least did not have the ever-present smell of shit in the air.

As they made their way through the various sections of the Red Keep's courtyards, Gerold realized that he'd need a map of the place, as well as King's Landing itself more than not. It would do well to memorize it, just as he had done for Casterly Rock. If he was to command the Lannister Household Guard, it wouldn't be right if he got lost half the time.

"Sounds like we're missing the king's name day tourney." Uncle Tyrion said.

"He's holding a tourney. We're in the middle of a war." Gerold said. He knew that his cousin was a spoiled brat, but this was a little much. There were more important things to be done after all.

"Sense was never one of Joffrey's strengths." "Gods help us all." Ser Julian muttered.

They signaled the gatehouse to open their gates. The men manning it were wearing the red cloaks of House Lannister and with a salute, the great gates were opened with their iron hinges creaking all the while. The gates were a massive thing, and they revealed a rather thick iron portcullis. It had to be raised before they could enter and Gerold motioned for Ser Julian and some of the Lion Guard to enter first.

The Roaring Lion of House Lannister stood tall with its golden mane on the red banners. They fluttered in the wind as the riders made their way into the outer bailey. Gerold followed close behind with Uncle Tyrion at his side, the horses' hooves clopping and kicking up some dust along the way.

The scene they came upon was one of celebration, or it should have been one of celebration. In reality it looked more like a poor attempt at a tourney. The stands were only half full and

most of that were men of either the City Watch or the Lannister Household Guard. The few noble lords and ladies that were present weren't all that noble at all. Some of the lower houses of the Crownlands as well as others that Gerold couldn't quiet recognize.

Though, who he instantly recognized was his royal cousins. The royal box looked less royal and more like a poor attempt at royalty, and it was filled with one of his royal cousins as well as some knights of the Kingsguard, Sandor Clegane, and someone who must have been Sansa Stark.

Joffrey was wearing a gilded breastplate with a roaring lion on it, though there was little other armor on his body, and he looked quite ridiculous. As if he had only thought to put a single piece of armor before running out to this tourney. The boy king stood up as their party entered through the gates and Gerold saw that Sandor Clegane, the king's sworn shield, had a hand on the hilt of his sword.

Myrcella and Tommen standing in the tilt yard, or what passed as one, with Tommen wearing armor fit for a boy of eight and on a pony that was his size. Myrcella was standing next to the pony and seemed to have helped her younger brother into it. There was also a quintain that was set up that had dummy stuffed with straw and wearing leather armor mounted on a pivot.

It seemed that their party had just interrupted Tommen's go at being a tourney knight. At least his little cousin was properly armored, and it looked like his riding form was at least passible as the boy rode towards them. The little boy put his spurs to his pony and came trotting over to them. One of the knights of the Lion Guard lifted Tommen from his saddle and placed him on the ground as Uncle Tyrion dismounted from his horse.

Myrcella was also running over as their uncle greeted Tommen with a slap on his armored chest. Tommen was laughing and as they stood next to one another Gerold realized that they were of the same height. It seemed that Uncle Tyrion was running out of nephews that he was taller than. But there was always little Joy Hill that his Uncle beat in height. Uncle Gerion's bastard daughter was a small thing.

Uncle Tyrion also greeted Myrcella by lifting the girl up and spinning her around, which Gerold saw as an impressive feat for someone of his stature. Though mayhaps that was a little mean of him.

Gerold dismounted from his horse and handed the reins off to his squire. The young Morgon Banefort was the same age as Joffrey, but the thirteen-year-old squire was twice the man in Gerold's opinion. His squire took the reins in hand and Gerold took his lion helm off and was hit with a fresh wave of the smell of King's Landing. He had half a mind to just put his lion helm back on but there was no point to it.

He'd have to get used to the smell of shit eventually. "Gerold!"

He turned and gave Myrcella an over exaggerated bow at the hip. He swept his hand out and did all the flourishes that he could think of and got a giggle and a smile in return.

"Princess Myrcella, my day is brightened and the weight upon my shoulders has been lifted by the sight of your heavenly visage." Gerold said and offered a winning smile.

He got a blush from Myrcella in return and gave the little girl a hug and a kiss on the forehead. Myrcella was a sweet little girl, and it was a shame that she had a brother as vile as Joffrey. She would have done great at Casterly Rock, but it seemed that the gods thought otherwise.

As they walked together to catch up with Uncle Tyrion and Tommen who had gone ahead, Gerold motioned for Ser Julian to go about with the plan with the wave of a hand. Ser Julian nodded and motioned for half of the hundred Lion Guards to follow him as they made their way towards the Red Keep.

The plan was to secure control as quickly as possible and to get the Lannister Household Guard into order. Ser Julian was to look for Captain Vylarr and to inform the man in the change of command as well as to assemble all one hundred of the red cloaks in the main courtyard for inspection. Lord Tywin had tasked Gerold with overseeing the Lannister guards in the city and getting them into order. He would do just that as quickly and efficiently as possible.

If it meant stepping on some toes, so be it.

He and Myrcella arrived just in time to see Uncle Tyrion bending down on one knee in front of the king.

"Your Grace." "You." Joffrey said.

"Me." Uncle Tyrion said as he stood. "Thought a more courteous greeting would be in order, for an uncle to a nephew that is."

"They said you were dead." Sandor Clegane said. "I was speaking to the king, not his dog."

"I'm glad you're not dead." Myrcella said.

"As am I!" Tommen said with a smile.

"We all share that view sweet children." Tyrion said and then turned towards the other lady in the royal box. "My lady, I'm sorry for your losses. Truly, the gods are cruel."

So, this was the Lady Sansa Stark. Gerold watched as a flurry of emotions flicked through her face, all present and gone within seconds. She was trying very hard to wear her court mask as his mother liked to put it. "A lady's armor is her courtesy" was what Alysanne Lefford would say, and his father would smirk at that, "armor is armor, and veiled words are nothing but that, words."

Gerold's mother would tsk at that and tell them that words could be just as dangerous as any blade. It was a lesson that they had been taught many times, and his little sister was getting

frighteningly good at using her words as weapons.

Though, this girl in front of him was no Isabella Lannister. Sansa Stark was a tall girl that was around twelve years of age if Gerold was remembering correctly. She had very little of the Stark in her, with Tully blue eyes and Tully red hair. There was also something that looked a lot like a bruise under the sleave of her pale purple silk dress.

Gerold was in command of the Lion Guard and the Lannister Household Guard now. He was basically commander of all Lannister forces in King's Landing, and since Lady Sansa was still Joffrey's betrothed, she fell under his protection. The source of those bruises would need to be investigated; this was the future queen after all, and any attack on the king's family was seen as an attack on the king himself.

It seemed that the Kingsguard were getting lax in their duties.

As Lady Sansa said nothing to Uncle Tyrion's words the conversation turned its attention back towards the king.

"I am also sorry for your loss as well Joffrey." Uncle Tyrion said. "What loss?" Joffrey genuinely sounded curious. Was he serious?

"King Robert cousin. Your royal father? He was a large man and hard to miss as I recall." Gerold said.

"Cousin Gerold, yes, I remember my father. It was a sad thing, a boar killed him in the end." Joffrey didn't sound sad at all.

"Is that so?" Uncle Tyrion said.

Gerold saw the change in Joffrey's face that showed that he was tiring of this conversation. There was also the veiled question being asked and although Gerold hadn't spent anytime in King's Landing up until right now, he did know that Cersei Lannister and Robert Baratheon's marriage was not a loving one.

Though, would Aunt Cersei kill her own husband? Gerold wanted to say that the answer was obviously no, but he had met his aunt enough times to know that she only cared for herself and her children. The rest of the family could fall off a cliff and she wouldn't have batted an eye at it all.

"King's Landing brings out the worst in people." Gerold's father had said more than once. "It's like there's a poison in the air, when one gets too close to power, it blinds them of all else. Make sure to keep your secrets to yourself and trust no one but the Lion Guard when you're in that city."

Gerold had thought that his father's words were just precautionary at first. But now he was standing in the heart of King's Landing, and it felt like every second face that they had passed was a false one. Grandfather Tywin had said that they were to eliminate anyone who had a whiff of treason about them, and Gerold felt that it was going to be a necessary thing to do, and he didn't look forward to it at all.

Lady Sansa's words pulled Gerold's attention back towards the conversation. "I'm sorry that my lady mother took you captive... my lord."

"Many people are, and before I am done there may be more yet. But I thank you for the sentiment. Joffrey, where is your mother?" Uncle Tyrion said.

"She's with my council." Joffrey said with the air of superiority that had become all too common of him. "Your brother Jaime keeps losing battles. He's been taken and now we've lost the siege of Riverrun, and her stupid brother is calling himself king in the north."

"All sorts of people are putting a crown on their heads and calling themselves king as of late."

It was clear that Joffrey wasn't one for word games. They seemed to fly right over his head and land somewhere in the bushes, and Gerold felt a smirk come to his lips at that. Joffrey was going to be a shit king, and Grandfather Tywin was going to have to clean all of the messes up and rue the day that the Lion of Lannister ran out of patience for the little stag king.

"Did you two bring me any gifts for my name day?" Joffrey asked the both of them.

"Men to guard the Red Keep with." Gerold said. "My wits." Uncle Tyrion said.

"I'd rather you'd brought me Robb Stark's head." Joffrey said with a sniff. "Tommen, Myrcella, come."

Sandor Clegane offered them a word of warning as the four of them left. The Kingsguard knights followed as well and it most of the tourney spectators were also leaving. The king was gone and now there was no need to sit around and watch his poor excuse of a tourney.

"How are you holding up Lady Sansa?" Gerold asked. Hopefully she could tell him something about that bruise on her arm, or who gave it to her.

"I'm fine." Lady Sansa said and Gerold didn't believe her for a second.

"Is it grief for your lord father that makes you sad?" Uncle Tyrion asked. Lady Sansa did look decidedly sad.

"My father was a traitor along with my brother and lady mother. I'm loyal to my beloved Joffrey."

It was painful to listen to the words coming from her. They were all filled with no warmth and covered in pain and emotionless gratitude. What had happened to Lady Sansa for her to get like this?

"Come Uncle, we have work to do and a city to sort out." Gerold said and watched as Lady Sansa walked away. The northern maiden would have been the winter rose of King's Landing in one world, but this one was a far crueler one, and King's Landing had no room for roses.

"A woman's armor is her courtesy." Uncle Tyrion said softly.

"It seems that my lord father is right on this count though. Courtesy didn't protect her, and those bruises on her arm is proof of that."

"Aye, let's go nephew, we have business with the queen and council to deal with."

Gerold took a deep breath to sigh and instantly regretted it, for the smell of shit filled his nose.

King's Landing was shaping out to be everything that his father said it would. And wasn't that a pity.

Tyrion looked up to the corpse like face of Ser Mandon Moore. The knight of the Kingsguard was so emotionless you'd think that the man had no facial muscles, and the white armor didn't help in that regard either.

He stood as still as a tree trunk and looked at both Tyrion himself and Gerold with eyes that seemed to be devoid of all life and emotion.

It was decidedly off putting.

"Her Grace left orders that no one is to disturb the council. They are in session my lord." Even Ser Mandon's voice was flat and emotionless.

"We are here on orders of Lord Tywin Lannister, Ser Mandon. He is Hand of the King and my uncle here is acting as such in his stead." Gerold said and produced a piece of parchment from his sleeve.

Tyrion watched as Ser Mandon looked down at the parchment and then at Gerold, and then at the ten Lannister knights who were at Gerold's back, and then back at Gerold.

His nephew was wearing the red and gold armor of House Lannister, with his lion helm in hand, sword at his belt, and had a red and gold sash that went across his breastplate from one shoulder to his hip, and the cloth ended just above his knee. Tyrion's father had made the boy wear it as he was now acting as the commander of the red cloaks in King's Landing, but Tyrion knew that Gerold disliked the sash.

It was useless weight after all.

But here it served a purpose, for the sash was a symbol of House Lannister and Gerold's authority. He was all but Commander of the Red Keep's Garrison at this point and news must have spread by now of their arrival to the city. Theirs and the hundred men of the Lion Guard, who were all loyal to Lord Jason Lannister and were now being commanded by Ser Gerold Lannister.

If this emotionless corpse looking knight still didn't get the message Tyrion was going to take his dagger and carve it into the man's forehead so that whenever he looked at his reflection, he knew that they were now the real authority in King's Landing.

"You may enter, they may not." Ser Mandon said.

"Keep the good knight company and make sure no one disturbs us." Gerold said and received a round of "Aye, my lord" in return.

Tyrion had to give it to his nephew, the boy knew how to act commanding when he needed to. Gerold looked down at Tyrion and when he gave his nephew a nod he turned and opened the door to the small council chamber.

The two of them walked into the room and were met by five members of the king's small council, all of whom cut their discussion off the moment they entered. Tyrion spotted his sister Cersei, as well as the eunuch Varys, and the white haired Grand Maester Pycelle, and a pig faced man who could only be Janos Slynt, and the scheming piece of horse shit that went by the name Littlefinger.

That dagger with the dragonbone hilt and Valyrian steel blade was not far from Tyrion's mind. Mayhaps he should have Gerold get two of his knights to hold the man down whilst Tyrion ripped all the secrets from the weasel of a man. Or he could put some of the mountain clansmen to good use and rip Baelish's cock off and feed it to the goats?

That would be a satisfying sight. "You."

It seemed that common courtesy in the form of actual greetings were now out of style in King's Landing. Was a simple "Hello", or "How do you do", so hard for these people?

"Aunt Cersei." Gerold said in a plain tone.

Tyrion was sure that Cersei and the rest of the councilors caught sight of Gerold's men as the door closed behind them, for his nephew had opened it wider than was required for one man and a dwarf to move through. He could almost see the shock and calculating going on in their eyes as the door slammed shut.

"I see we've found the source of Joffrey's courtesies." Tyrion said and Gerold knocked a gauntleted hand on one of the Valyrian sphinxes that guarded the door.

"What are you doing here?" Cersei asked and Tyrion noted that she was aiming her question at himself and not at Gerold at all.

It seemed that the appearance of their nephew, who had never been to King's Landing at all until today, wasn't at all interesting to her. Pity, Tyrion thought that Cersei would at least direct some of her questions at their nephew, but it seemed that she had only the desire to aim them at himself instead.

"Delivering a letter from our lord father." Tyrion said and motioned to Gerold.

His nephew walked over and placed the rolled-up piece of parchment onto the table. The eunuch that was the Master of Whispers was the closest to where Gerold had deposited it, and he took it into his hands and examined it.

"How kind of Lord Tywin, and to seal is message with a lovely shade of gold wax. It looks every bit as genuine as it appears to be." Varys said with a voice that was all too high pitched for a man, but just right for a eunuch.

"Of course it's genuine." Cersei said as she snatched the parchment out from the powdered hands of the eunuch.

Tyrion watched as his sister read it, those green eyes going over their father's words. She had taken the king's seat as her own, and Tyrion figured that Joffrey seldom came to these meetings, and it wasn't all surprising either, for his royal nephew cared not for something as trivial as ruling.

Gerold gave the room a once over with his eyes. Looking from one side to the other and then at the councilors themselves. His nephew could do a very good replication of his father's

calculating stare when he wanted to, and it was amusing and interesting to see how the other men reacted.

Varys looked intrigued and gave Gerold a nod of the head. The Grand Maester acted like the feeble man and seemed to shrink slightly under Gerold's gaze. Littlefinger gave Gerold a smirk, which was met by Gerold's own. Janos Slynt got a frown though, and Tyrion made a note in his mind to have Bronn look around the City Watch. Tales of Janos Slynt's corruption were legendary after all, and there was every need to reorder the Gold Cloaks in the case of a siege.

They had to hold the entire city after all, not just the Red Keep.

"This is absurd." Cersei said. "My lord father has sent my brother to act as Hand of the King in his stead and to sit on this council until he can join us himself. My nephew is to take command of the red cloaks in the city as well as, reorganize House Lannister's defenses."

Tyrion pondered his lord father's orders for Gerold. Take command of the red cloaks and reorganize House Lannister's defenses seemed like a rather vague and opened ended order. Which was something that Tyrion was hoping that he could use to his advantage. If he wanted to take full control of the situation, he'd need to get Cersei out of the way when his sister tried to butt in.

"It seems a welcome is in order." Grand Maester Pycelle said as he stroked his beard.

"Indeed. We have a sore need of you, my lords. Rebellion everywhere, this grim omen in the sky, rioting in the city streets." Janos Slynt said. The red comet was of no concern to Tyrion, it was just that, a comet, but the rioting in the streets was concerning.

"And whose fault is that Lord Janos?" Cersei said and used the man's new title with disdain. "Your gold cloaks are supposed to keep the city under control. Yet you look towards my brother for help?"

"I fear I will be of little help on any battlefield. I've had my taste of it on the Green Fork, and I found that it is not for me. I sit a chair better than running around in armor. The Tower of

the Hand seems like a much better place for me." Tyrion said.

Gerold snorted at that and knocked his gauntleted knuckled onto the wooden table that the small council was sitting at.

"How many men did you bring?" Cersei asked, and this time the question was directed at Gerold.

"A hundred of the Lion Guard. Uncle Tyrion has brought some Lannister men of his own along with around a hundred and fifty odd mountain clansmen." Gerold said.

"That's it? What use is a few hundred men when Renly Baratheon marches on the city or Stannis when he sails from Dragonstone with the fleet he stole? I asked for an army, and I got a dwarf and a green boy instead."

"Our father is off fighting Robb Stark and the Northmen. And if you have a problem with me and Gerold being here than you can take it up with our lord father. He is at Harrenhal with his host after all." Tyrion said.

"The king names the Hand, with the consent of the council. Joffrey named our lord father." Cersei said.

"And Lord Tywin tasked Uncle Tyrion to act as such in his stead." Gerold said. Cersei fumed at that and rose to her feet sharply.

"Out! All of you out!"

Tyrion and Gerold watched as the other councilors got to their feet. Varys moved as if there was nothing amiss with the situation, a smile on his face and a gracious head nod and he was

gone through the door. Janos Slynt and Grand Maester Pycelle were slower to get up, with Slynt hesitating and the Pycelle acting up his advanced age and weary bones.

Littlefinger tried to play the courteous Master of Coin offered to send a steward to ready rooms in Maegor's Holdfast for Tyrion and Gerold. As if Tyrion would allow for something like that to happen. Baelish had already backstabbed one Hand of the King, and Tyrion had no intention of becoming number two.

"We have no need of you Lord Baelish. Get out before I have my men remove you from the room." Gerold said and placed his hand on the lion head pommel of his sword.

Tyrion watched as the Master of Coin's eyes flicked towards the sword belted at Gerold's waist, and then to Tyrion, and then to a still fuming Cersei, before he noticeably swallowed, and hastily exited the room.

"Well, I must say that Littlefinger has some stones to him if he's willing to so easily forget that he's already betrayed one Hand of the King." Tyrion said.

"Ned Stark was a traitor. He tried to usurp Joffrey's throne." Cersei spat.

Tyrion knew that to be false. Honorable Ned Stark would sooner march to Dorne and back bare footed like Baelor the Befuddled than do something as dishonorable as harm his friend Robert's eldest son. Tyrion had an inkling as to what really happened in the Red Keep that fateful day, and he would have to get down to the truth of it before he ran out of time to do so.

"Of course, dear sister." Tyrion said and ambled over towards the wine casks and got poured himself a cup. "Gerold? Arbor Gold or Dornish Red?"

"None, I want a clear mind right now." Gerold waved off the offered cup and took a seat at the small council table, using a seat that had been unoccupied when they first entered.

"Well, more for me."

"I hope our father did not send you to for the sole purpose of drinking the wine." Cersei said.

"Oh, how I've yearned for that sweet sound of your voice." Tyrion said as he took seat down next to Gerold. He took a large sip and then placed the wine cup down next to Gerold's lion helm. Those teeth did look rather menacing.

"Has father taken leave of his sense? Or is this a forgery?" Cersei said and then read the parchment again, as if that would change the words written on it. "Why would he send you? I wanted him to come himself. I am the queen regent, and I gave a royal command!"

The parchment was crumpled up and thrown at them. It bounced off Gerold's breastplate and landed on the table in front of them. Gerold took the crumpled ball of parchment into his hands and smoothed it out, reading the words with his own eyes.

"He ignored you." Tyrion said and took another sip of his wine and watched as took a seat on the other side of the table, putting as much distance between them. "He has a large army and has decided to remain at Harrenhal. I would assume that he isn't the first to ignore a royal command."

"I could have you thrown into the dungeons, and no one would do a thing."

"I would have something to say about that." Gerold said. "Lord Tywin has tasked Uncle Tyrion with assuming the position of Lord Hand until he can come to King's Landing himself. We're here to help you."

"I don't need either of you. It's my father's presence that I commanded." Cersei said. Tyrion decided to ignore the way she said "my" father and forged on ahead.

"Yes, but it's really Jaime you want here." Tyrion said. Tyrion knew that Cersei loved Jaime almost as much as her children. Or was it the other way around? Well, that didn't matter at the moment, for Jaime was his way into getting Cersei to stop pushing back against him.

"Jaime-"

"Is my brother as well." Tyrion spoke over her. "Give me and Gerold your support and I promise you, we will have Jaime freed and returned to us unharmed."

Tyrion ignored the way that Gerold looked at him from the corner of his eye, or the way that confusion flashed across his face for a moment. He hadn't shared any of his plans with his nephew yet, which was a problem that he'd need to rectify after this.

"How? The Stark boy and his mother are not like to forget that we beheaded Lord Eddard." Cersei said.

Tyrion bit back the retort that it was her idiot son that had Ned Stark become a head shorter and pressed on.

"We hold Stark's daughters, Robb Stark's sisters. I saw Lady Sansa out in the courtyard earlier with Joffrey."

Cersei tsked at that. "I've said that I have the younger girl as well, but that's a lie. She escaped Ser Meryn when he went to capture her. That Braavosi water dancer knocked all but Trant down with nothing but a wooden sword. I've not seen her since that day, she's most likely dead somewhere in the city."

"Is she not a little girl of nine? How did she manage to evade both the red cloaks and the gold cloaks?" Gerold asked.

"It matters not how she escaped, she is gone and there's no point in arguing over whose fault it is, since we already know who. Make sure to whip the red cloaks into shape after this."

Tyrion said.

"I'll take it that you meant to get them into order, and not use actual whips."

"Whatever Jason does to get his men so efficient." Tyrion said. He did sometimes wonder how Jason managed to get the Lion Guard to be so loyal and so good at their jobs.

"That would take close to a year, and I've not got fresh recruits to work with."

"It matters not, just get them so that they're competent again. King's Landing has turned them into bumbling idiots with sticks. Now." Tyrion turned to look towards his sister. "Father has doubts on the loyalties of the king's councilors."

"He believes that they could be playing us false?" Cersei asked.

"More like he suspects."

"Why? What has he said?"

"Joffrey's reign so far has been one of him stumbling from one disaster to another. I would suspect something was amiss if I were in his position." Gerold said.

"Joff has always been head strong and he has no lack of good counsel. He's king now, he believes that he should do as he pleases." Cersei said.

"So, everyone on the small council is allowing my cousin to make a mess of things? Did they even try to stop Joffrey from taking Lord Stark's head?" Gerold asked with a look to his face.

Tyrion looked to Cersei with an expectant look as well. Taking Lord Stark prisoner was what caused the Robb Stark and the North to march down south, and taking his head changed the reason for their marching from one of rescue to one of revenge. They could've solved one problem if Ned Stark had remained alive.

"He was instructed to pardon Stark, for him to take the black. But Joff wanted to put on a show for the people, and he called for Lord Stark's head. Janos Slynt and Ser Ilyn Payne carried out the order before I could say anything." Cersei said.

"And on the steps of the Sept of Baelor as well. The High Septon must be furious." Tyrion said.

"It matters not what the fat man thinks." Cersei scoffed.

"Am I to reorder the City Watch as well? It seems that every soldier, man-at-arms, and knight within this city has lost the use of their brains." Gerold said.

"You might very well have to nephew. If the likes of Janos Slynt can rise to Commander of the City Watch. Also, whose bright idea was it to name the man as Lord of Harrenhal? And to put him on the small council no less?" Tyrion asked.

"We had to. Lord Stark was conspiring with Renly Baratheon, and we needed the gold cloaks. Littlefinger thought that Harrenhal was a suitable price to pay for the man's loyalty." Cersei said.

"And what of Ser Barristan Selmy? Was that another of Littlefinger's bright ideas?"

"No, Joff wanted someone to blame for Robert's death. Varys offered that it should be Ser Barristan, and why not? The man was old and useless, and it would allow for Jaime to become Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and take a seat on the small council, which Selmy never did." Cersei said.

"Ser Barristan was a near legendary figure, just because King Robert disliked him, that shouldn't have been an excuse to remove him." Gerold said.

"Aye nephew, our dear King Robert may have disliked him, but the smallfolk love him. Barristan the Bold is a name that is said with reverence like those of Serwyn the Mirror Shield, Ser Ryam Redwyne, and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight. What if he ends up along side Robb Stark, or Stannis Baratheon, or Renly? House Selmy has taken up the third Baratheon brother's banner, who's to say that the Bold won't as well?" Tyrion said.

Cersei said nothing and only grimaced.

"Father considered all of this. And that is why I am here. To put an end to these follies and bring this city and our king into order."

"Joff won't be any more manageable for you than he is for me." Cersei said.

"I'll just send him to train with Gerold for an hour. I'm sure our nephew can whip his cousin into shape." Tyrion said and looked towards Gerold.

"I doubt he's improved much since the last time I've seen him with a sword. He hasn't even served as a squire yet." Gerold said.

"He was the Crown Prince; he didn't need to." Cersei said.

"You say that like there has never been any other Crown Prince before him. If I remember correctly, almost every single Targaryen king was a knight by the time they sat on the Iron Throne. There were some exceptions of course, but they all at least served as squires at some point. Joffrey hasn't." Tyrion said.

"You would harm him."

"He needs some discipline put into him." Gerold said. "If it requires some bruising up, so be it."

"We won't hurt Joffrey. We're here to keep him safe after all. Him and the city itself. We are your family and are here to make sure that your son still sits on the Iron Throne by the time father gets here." Tyrion said.

"Father should have sent Jason here instead." Cersei said.

"Jason will never set foot in this city again and you know that. Or have you really forgotten all that has happened concerning our elder brother?"

Jason had left King's Landing the day after the Sack. He'd taken his men with him and rode back for Casterly Rock. He didn't go back for King Robert's coronation. Nor did he go to Cersei's wedding, or the birth of either of his nephews or his niece. Every tourney that was held in King's Landing did not have Jason in attendance and neither did any celebration.

Their brother avoided this city like the plague.

Not even a command from their lord father would have brought him here.

"So, you've weaseled your way into the position. Always the cunning little imp aren't you." Cersei said.

"The one and only of course." Tyrion said back.

"Gods, how is it that you two hate each other so? You're siblings." Gerold said.

"That is a question that has no answer dear nephew. Best to just let it rest and move on." Tyrion said and patted his nephew's armored arm.

"For once I agree with my little brother." Cersei said. "Well, that is certainly a surprise."

"Don't take this as anything Tyrion. You may be the King's Hand, but I am regent. You will share your plans with me, both of you will do so, and nothing happens without my say. Do you both understand?" Cersei said and pointed a finger at both of them.

"Certainly." Tyrion lied.

He had no plans of actually following through with that, nor did he think Gerold would either. Cersei may be Queen Regent, but Gerold had his Lion Guard, and Tyrion had his mountain clansmen. Soon enough, Gerold would also have Captain Vylarr and all his men under his command as well.

By sunrise on the morrow, Cersei would have no power in this city. The Kingsguard would be the only thing she had, and with Jaime captured and Ser Barristan fucked off to who knows where, it left only the mediocre knights behind.

Tyrion would be able to work with this. He would indeed.

The Caged Lion and The Ambitious Direwolf

Chapter Summary

Jaime rages and Robb plans...

Chapter Notes

A shorter one, but I hope it gets the point across.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Jaime hurled the cup at the door with a roar.

The pottery smashed against the wood, the water spraying everywhere and wetting the area. Jaime cared not for it and clenched his hands together as he paced around his tower cell. His foot falls made the floorboards squeak, which had given Jaime some hope of escape through them, but it was to no avail. The floorboards were secure as ever, and their squeaking was only there to mock him.

Riverrun was as ugly as he remembered it from the outside as well as the inside. Gods damn the Tullys and their stupid castle. These walls were cramped, and the air smelled too much of fish. The Riverlanders were a worthless bunch of fisherfolk with their fish scaled armor.

He had them in the palm of his hand!

Jaime cursed aloud to himself as he continued to pace. He had it all in his hand! He had taken the host that Jason had raised and smashed the river lords at the Golden Tooth. He had defeated the floppy fish that was Edmure Tully and routed his army. Riverrun was under siege by his host, and it was all a matter of time. His lord father had his own host was ravaging the Riverlands and taking castles left and right. The Riverlands were theirs, the war was going to be an easy victory!

And Jaime had to go and fuck it all up.

He should have known better than to pursue that small force flying the Tully banner. They were taunting him and trying to lure him into a trap, and he had fallen for it. Damn the Blackfish and damn Robb Stark and damn all those Northern savages!

What should have been an easy victory turned into a crushing defeat. He had walked right into what looked like the majority of Robb Stark's cavalry. That green boy had done him in and surrounded his own men. Jaime had known that it was lost when those horns were sounded and the Northern calvary came out of the woodwork. His men were being cut down like green boys and Jaime had done the only thing that he could do.

He had rallied his men and tried to push towards the Stark boy. If he could get to Robb Stark and kill him on the field of battle than it would have ended the Northern rebellion. Without their lord they would b in chaos over what to do and Jaime sought to hammer one final nail into the Stark coffin before he met the Stranger.

But it was not to be.

Those boys had gotten in the way of Jaime's blade and Stark's throat. They had slowed him down enough for Stark's men to form up and capture him. Jaime cursed to himself again that he had let himself get taken by the Stark boy. He was a knight of the Kingsguard and one of the best swords in the Seven Kingdoms! He was Jaime Lannister, and a green boy had defeated him in battle.

Now he was here, in this seven damned castle and stuck in a tower cell while the war raged on around him. He had to listen to the Northmen and the Riverlanders as they celebrated their victory. His tower cell allowed him a good vantage point of the lands surrounding Riverrun... and wasn't that a slap in the face.

His host had once laid siege from those very lands, and now all that was left were corpses of men and horse. The charred remains of the siege engines and the banners of the westermen in the dirt lay across those grassy fields.

Damn them all.

If he had only listened to Jason's advice. Jaime thought back on that conversation and now saw that his older brother was speaking the truth.

"Don't get overconfident Jaime. Don't do anything stupid that requires you to be in the need of saving." Jason had said. His brother had met him at Casterly Rock with a host almost ready to go. The war was just starting then, and Jason had given him a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and a hearty slap on the arm before sending him off.

If only he had listened to Jason's words.

Jason wouldn't have gotten himself captured like this. He'd have sat with the siege and waited for Riverrun to have fallen. He wouldn't have been chasing small groups of Tully men down like Jaime had been.

Jaime cursed himself that he was unable to sit on his arse and just wait for the castle to yield. Sieges were deadly dull, and Jaime was never one to remain still for long. That inability to remain still had ended with him in a tower cell looking over the lands surrounding Riverrun.

It led him to seeing the group of riders approaching the castle with the Tully banner flying proud. Jaime got close to the barred window and saw the signature black scaled armor of the lead rider.

The Blackfish was returning to Riverrun.

Jaime wished that the Stranger would take everyone in this damned castle. That was a fruitless endeavor though, as the gods never answered prayers.

But at least he could hope that the Ser Brynden Tully brought bad news with him. Mayhaps the news of a Lannister victory somewhere.

Hopefully.

"I say again, we should move into the Westerlands and attack at once."

Lord Rickard Karstark's words were punctuated by the slamming of a fit onto the table that held the map. The man was out for blood, that was clear for all to see, and Catelyn worried that a fight would break out if the lord did not get his way. The man's face was red, and there were several other lords who were also agreeing with him.

This hastily called war council was happening not an hour after Robb had held court. Ser Cleos Frey had already been escorted back to his cell and was eating the meal he had been given while Ser Robin Ryger was gathering the men he would need to bring the peace demands to King's Landing.

Though, it seemed that they were going to continue with the war effort until they heard back from Cersei Lannister. The next campaign seemed even more dangerous than the last one, and the news that her uncle Brynden had brought with him did not help it. In fact, it may have even emboldened the lords to attack.

"Aye, and with the news that the Blackfish has brought, we have ever the more reason to do so." One of the many Freys said. The man had a weasel looking face and Catelyn couldn't for the life of her remember the man's name.

Robb was standing at the head of the table with his crown back on his head. He had been readjusting it a minute ago and Catelyn knew that it still felt uncomfortable for him. It was a foreign weight and something that he'd never thought of wearing, until news of Ned's death had reached them that is.

"Only three of the scouts even returned alive. How can we know that what they say is true?" Lord Jason Mallister said. The man had been delayed from returning to Seagard with the call to assemble the war council. Ser Patrek, the man's son, was also among them and had his arms crossed over his chest.

"Those scouts made it out by the skin of their teeth and reported that there was another host being gathered at Casterly Rock. That's an easy target that we can take." Another Frey said.

"They say that its Ser Stafford Lannister who is the one that commands it. He's an old man, and a bit of a dullard. That means that we can take him unawares and smash that Lannister army before it even knows what's what." Lord Karstark said.

That statement was met by a few affirmatives from the gathered lords and knights. Catelyn noted that a few of the other river lords that still remained at Riverrun were among those who agreed. Some of the Northmen were also in agreement, as the victory at the Whispering Wood was still hot on their minds.

"The scouts are not certain that it is Ser Stafford that leads this new host. Only two of them say that it is, but the third said that he spotted a different banner. The Kingslayer's." Uncle Brynden said.

The lords and knights took in the news as anyone would when word of the Kingslayer was brought up. They stopped and listened and focused all their attention to the matter. Jokes and jesting were stopped and lords and knights who were growing bored with the meeting came to attention again.

Everyone present knew of Ser Jason Lannister, for how could they not? The man was known as the Kingslayer from Dorne to the Wall. He had killed Aerys Targaryen the Second of His Name by separating the man's head from his shoulders. He had fought and beaten his own brother, Jaime Lannister, a knight of the Kingsguard, to get at Aerys. He had butchered some of his father's own bannermen when he learned about the killing of the Targaryen children, and the rape of Princess Elia.

They knew him from the Greyjoy Rebellion, where Jason Lannister fought with distinction. To hear tell of the tale, the man himself was in Lannisport when the Iron Born attacked, and

he was able to rally a defense that saved part of the Lannister fleet. He had been able to stop the Iron Born from burning down Lannisport.

When King Robert called the banners and assaulted the Iron Islands, Jason Lannister was the first one off the ship and onto Iron Born soil. Catelyn had heard enough tales from the men who had returned from the failed Greyjoy rebellion to know that the man known as the Kingslayer was fearsome in battle, and a capable commander.

So far, he had remained at Casterly Rock, participating in no battles, but if these reports were true... the lion was stirring from his sleep.

The Kingslayer was not to be disregarded so easily.

Catelyn looked over the assembled lords and knights and noticed that the easy smile was gone from Theon Greyjoy's face. The man seemed to always be laughing at some unknown jest, but he was not here. Any mention of the Kingslayer must have brought up bad memories for him.

"The Kingslayer hasn't come out from the Rock for the entirety of the war, but that may change with this news. We have Jaime Lannister as a prisoner here at Riverrun and if I were a betting man, I would bet that Jason Lannister will most likely be coming to free his brother." Uncle Brynden said.

"The scouts reported that the host he was gathering was a fresh one. Green boys all." A Frey said.

"They'll be easy to crush if they're all greener than grass!" The Greatjon said in his booming voice. Robb's most vocal supporter was a capable warrior and Ned had often said that the Greatjon was a reliable man.

"I've met Ser Jason in the past." Lord Mallister said. "During the Greyjoy Rebellion. That man raised and trained a host faster than I've ever seen. Those boys were as green as they came and by the time King Robert had assembled his host at Lannisport, they were ready to fight."

"I have heard many tales and rumors of Ser Jason Lannister. I know that many in the Seven Kingdoms fear him. But we have an opportunity to hurt Tywin Lannister right now. The road to the west is open." Robb said.

Everyone looked towards their king and Catelyn realized just how young he was. A boy of fifteen years and he was already the veteran of two battles. He had seen too much death for her liking and now he was speaking of going into the West to cause more.

"It may not be as open as you think my king." Uncle Brynden said. "Those scouts barely made it back, and there were twenty of them to go in. They say that they were hunted by men on horse that were wearing the Kingslayer's personal sigil."

"Men of the Lion Guard were hunting them down?" Theon Greyjoy asked.

"Aye, that is what they say. The Roaring Lion in gold on a checkered red and silver field. I know my men; they would not lie, and their eyes would not deceive them. It would be hard to miss, even from a distance."

"That changes-"

"Nothing! It changes nothing. The Kingslayer's host is still gathering, and we have an opportunity to attack into the Westerlands. To hurt the Lannisters where it matters most." Lord Karstark said.

"Robb-" Catelyn tried to speak but she was cut off.

"Tywin Lannister has been ravaging the Riverlands. I say that we do the same to the Westerlands." One of the Freys said.

"Aye, by the gods I'm agreeing with a Frey, but aye. The Lannisters need to pay for the destruction they've done." A knight wearing the red stallion of Bracken said.

"How many men did those scouts report seeing? How large is the Kingslayer's host?" Robb asked as he looked at the map.

Wooden figurines of lions represented the Lannister hosts, with a Tully knight placing a new one right next to Casterly Rock. There was one at Harrenhal to represent Tywin Lannister's host. Another one was sitting on King's Landing, though there wasn't really a host in the city, but it was Lannister controlled and reports had it that a Lannister force was seen riding towards it.

Wooden direwolves represented the Northern hosts, with one sitting at Riverrun and others sitting at Moat Cailin and the Twins. Roose Bolton's host was scattered and in the process of regrouping, so another wooden direwolf was placed on the causeway to Moat Cailin.

"Several thousand at the least." Uncle Brynden said. "And there are also the men of the Lion Guard. Last I remember, there were three thousand of them, with half of them being knights and the other half being experienced men-at-arms. Near all of them would be veterans of the Greyjoy Rebellion."

"So, we have a Lannister host of unknown strength gathering at Casterly Rock. They are either commanded by Ser Stafford or the Kingslayer, which they are two very different commanders, and the rest of the Westerlands is open to us." Robb said.

"Open aye, but the only road into the Westerlands is here." Edmure said and pointed at the map. "The Golden Tooth guards the road, and we would have to take the castle if we were to continue our attack into the West."

"That's the seat of House Lefford. The Kingslayer's married to a Lefford is he not?" A rather fat looking Frey knight said.

"Aye, Alysanne Lefford, the only child of Lord Leo Lefford. She's the heir to the Golden Tooth and that would mean a large number of Lannister men are most likely at the castle."

Uncle Brynden said.

Several of the lords and knights shook their heads at that. The Golden Tooth was directly on the road that led into the Westerlands. Even Catelyn knew that they had to take it in order to pursue a campaign further into the Westerlands. Without it, there was the threat of being cut off from the Riverlands.

"Uncle Brynden, ready your scouts and send them towards the Golden Tooth." Robb said as he looked at the Blackfish. "There must be another way into the Westerlands that does not go through the Golden Tooth. Find it while the rest of the army prepares to march."

"Aye, Your Grace." Uncle Brynden said and moved to leave the room.

"The Golden Tooth may be a small castle, but it sits on a rather steep hill. Any attack would cost us dearly in terms of men." Lord Mallister said.

"Which is why we will endeavor to go around it." Robb said. "We'll bypass the Golden Tooth and fall on the Lannister host gathering at Casterly Rock and make the Battle in the Whispering Woods look like child's play."

"Aye! Winter is Coming!" The Greatjon boomed.

Catelyn watched as more and more of the lords and knights took up the chant, even Lord Karstark looked happy about it, and she couldn't help but worry. Robb was smiling and looking confident among the lords and knights of the North and the Riverlands. They were all acting like this was going to be an easy thing to do, bypassing the Golden Tooth and attacking into the heart of the Westerlands.

That attacking a host gathering at Casterly Rock was an easy task. That Jason Lannister would just sit by and let this happen.

He wouldn't, Catelyn knew.

The Raging Lion was not someone to be underestimated. Chapter End Notes

Jason's personal banner is the Roaring Lion in gold on a checkered red and silver field.

Schemes and Plots...

Chapter Summary

Gerold grows curious and the Small Council plays with fire...

Ser Gerold Lannister tugged at the sash around his body.

The cloth was the red and gold of House Lannister. The Commander's Sash as the men were calling it. Gerold felt like it was a useless thing, for it would just weigh him down in a fight. His opponent could grab onto it and pull him any which way. This Commander's Sash was a liability that he didn't want to have on him.

"You are to be the commander of the Lannister forces in King's Landing. You must look the part." Grandfather Tywin had said.

What was wrong with just his armor? It was the same style as his father's and Jason Lannister never had to wear a sash. Well, his father had worn it before, but that was during victory parades and the like. But to wear it everyday? That seemed excessive.

His armor would tell anyone who already didn't know who he was. The Lion of Lannister was all over it and he had made sure that the red and gold plate was polished to a mirror shine. He had a damn lion helm for gods' sake. How many more symbols of House Lannister and his position did he need until people got the message?

Gerold knew that he was probably the only one in the family who was upset about having to wear it. Leo would have seen it as befitting of his position and Isabella would have said that they would dub him with a moniker that went with all the displays of power he had on him.

Gerold the Glorious.

That did have a nice ring to it.

His attention was pulled back to the here and now by the sound of a cry of pain coming through the other side of the door. Even through the solid wood it was still not enough to dampen the sound and Gerold sighed as they continued to wait.

Feet shuffling from behind him remined Gerold that he had two other men of the Lion Guard with him, both knights and his personal guards, which was something that irked him. He didn't need personal guards, he was a knight as well, the sword at his hip was not just for show like Joffrey's was.

But no, Uncle Tyrion, Ser Julian, and all the other officers that had come with them to King's Landing had insisted that he should not go anywhere without at least two guards at his back. Two knights at his back. Even his squire Morgon had said that he shouldn't go without guards.

Was King's Landing that dangerous?

That answer was becoming more and more unclear to Gerold as the days went by. King's Landing was packed with enough people that it was becoming hard to traverse down the roads. More and more people were coming as well as the war in the Riverlands waged on. Grandfather Tywin had his men burning homes and crops alike and that was pushing people to find safety.

Which meant King's Landing.

It shouldn't have been a problem for Gerold, for he was not the Commander of the City Watch. He was Commander of the Garrison yes, but that was only for the Red Keep. Lord Janos Slynt, and truly they were lowering the bar if Slynt had become a lord, was the Commander of the City Watch. It was his problem to deal with all the smallfolk crowding King's Landing.

Or that was the thought anyway.

In reality it turned out that Lord Janos Slynt was as corrupt as they came. The man had gotten his position through bribery and selling positions and the untimely death of the previous commander, one Manly Stokeworth. It meant that nearly half of the Gold Cloaks were also corrupt or just not fit for the duty and responsibility of protecting the city.

Another scream came from behind the door and Gerold turned to put his back to it and looked upon his squire.

Morgan Banefort was a lad of thirteen and was of average height. He had the leather armor that squires wore, and his messy black hair was short enough that there was no point in styling it. Gerold too kept his hair short as he never liked how greasy it got when he went several days without a bath.

The kid was holding Gerold's lion helm and had a frown on his face as, yet another scream came from behind the door that separated them from the room. Seriously? That man hadn't cracked yet?

"Do you think he felt any guilt when he did the deed?" Gerold looked at his squire and pondered his question.

Did the man that they were now torturing for answers feel anything when he drew his blade and ended that life? Mayhaps he would have at one point in his life, but it seemed that his time in the Gold Cloaks had turned him into a man who had no morals, and no qualms with doing another man's dirty work, for the right price that was. It was disgusting, and Gerold would lose no sleep over what he had ordered the Lion Guard to do to him.

"Tell me, if I were to order you to go into a brothel and rip the babe of some common whore from her breast and kill the babe in front of her, would you, do it?"

"No, I would not."

"But you are the squire and I the knight."

"The gods would not allow me to commit such a crime. It goes against what a knight stands for."

"What about you Ser Ronel? Or you Ser Alyn? If I were to order either of you to kill a bastard babe, would you, do it?" Gerold asked and turned to the two knights that were acting as his personal guards.

"No, my lord. I draw the line at killing babes." Ser Alyn said.

"We are men of Casterly Rock. We are Ser Jason Lannister's men, and he would not have us do such a task." Ser Ronel said.

Another scream reached them through the door, and they all turned to it. This one was particularly loud and Gerold was fairly sure he heard a snap of bone accompany it. There was wailing and crying coming now and soon enough the door opened and a head popped out.

"He's ready to talk my lord." Ser Tyler said. He was a man on the thinner side, but he was still skilled with a sword and knew how to fight in formation well.

"About time." Gerold said and walked through the door as Ser Tyler pulled it open.

The scene he was met with was one of disgust. The room was in a need of a good washing, for there was layers of filth on the walls and all over the floor, and that was not counting the newly added blood and spittle. The place was dimly lit, with but a few candles lighting the way, but Gerold could still see in it well enough to make out the man's face.

Allar Deem was bound to a wooden chair in the center of the room. His arms and legs were tied down with thick rope. The chair was also bolted to the floor so that no amount of swinging and pushing would tip it. The man was shirtless and by the looks of it now had two

broken hands, the bones of all his knuckles being smashed in by the mallet in Ser Tyler's hand.

The man's face was contorted in pain, and he was crying. His body was shaking, and his fingers were twitching from his broken hands. Not that Gerold felt any sympathy for the man. He was a real piece of shit and what he had just done didn't help him at all. No, this man's fate was already sealed, it was just a matter of how he would go to meet the Stranger.

Quick and mostly painless or drawn out over days and in agonizing pain.

"Tell Lord Gerold what you told me." Ser Tyler said. "Tell him who gave you the order."

"I-... It was... the... queen." The man's voice was laced with pain, and he could barely keep his head up.

"The queen." Gerold said as he grimaced. "The queen ordered you to kill the babe and her mother?"

"...y-yes..."

"The mother did not yet have twenty years to her name, and her babe was still at the breast. You're telling me that Queen Cersei ordered the death of a whore and her bastard?"

Words seemed to fail Allar Deem, for the man simply made a shaky nod of his head. Gerold found a frown coming to his face at that. A part of him didn't want to believe that Aunt Cersei would do such a thing, but he had proof right in front of him. This man was of the City Watch and if he were to believe what was said of the man by the smallfolk, he was corrupt and ill begotten. A scoundrel that had risen high with the likes of Janos Slynt as Commander of the City Watch.

"Did you even know the bastard's name before you drew your blade on her?" Gerold asked.

"N-nay..."

"Barra. Her name was Barra. Black haired and blue eyed. She was a fucking child!" Gerold punctuated his words by taking the mallet from Ser Tyler's hand and pushing the tip into one of broken hands of Allar Deem.

The former Gold Cloak screamed as the mallet dug deeper and deeper, pushing broken bone and cartilage out of the way. Blood oozed from the wound and Gerold didn't let up for some moments. He twisted it this way and that just to make the man suffer, but he eventually let up.

He handed the mallet back to Ser Tyler and wiped his hands of the filth. Allar Deem was going to be missed by exactly no one, and Gerold took no pity on the man. May the Stranger judge him harshly for his crimes.

"Morgon, take a look at the man. This is what happens to people who blindly follow orders." Gerold said.

His squire had come into the room with him and took a long look at the broken body of Allar Deem. This would be a good example for the boy to learn that it was not about following orders blindly, but to carry them out while they were still doing the right thing. Killing a bastard and her whore mother was just wrong. What crime did they commit?

"What are we to do with him my lord?" Ser Tyler asked.

Gerold took one last look at the man before he made his mind up. To be fair, his mind had been made up the moment he had learnt of what the man had done but seeing the corpses and hearing the confession were just the final nails in his coffin.

"Take his head and mount it over the Mud Gate. The people of King's Landing will see it and know that at least some justice was administered." Gerold said.

"Aye, I shall see it done."

Gerold paid no attention to the sputtering of Allar Deem as he exited the room. Morgon was right behind him, and the door slammed shut with the sound of Ser Tyler's sword being unsheathed to go along with it. There was the question of why his aunt wanted a bastard and her mother dead, but he knew that answers were not going to be forthcoming. Anyways, now that this was done and dealt with, he could get on with the rest of his day.

They made their way out of the back room of the brothel and back into the main floor of the establishment. Chataya's brothel was the name of the place, and Gerold made sure to drop a few gold dragons into the owner of the establishment's hand. The Summer Islander woman of the same name gave him a nod and with that Gerold, Morgan, Ser Ronel, and Ser Alyn were out the front door and back onto the streets of King's Landing.

He had made it all of twenty steps before he was halted by yet another problem. But this time it was in the form of a messenger.

"Lord Commander Gerold." The messenger said as he ran up to him in the middle of the street.

"Just Ser Gerold is fine. My Lord if you must." Gerold said as he waved the man to continue. "But... you're commander of the garrison... and a lord so..."

"Just deliver the message you've been sent with."

"Right, here it is." The messenger said as he held the rolled piece of parchment out.

Gerold took it from his hand and realized just how young the boy was. Couldn't be a day over ten years and yet he was running around King's Landing delivering messages.

The roll of parchment had the seal of the Hand of the King, and Gerold wondered why his uncle was sending a messenger to him instead of just waiting for Gerold to get back to the Red Keep. He broke the seal and read the meager contents of the letter. It was but a single sentence.

Make for the small council chambers with all haste and bring some men of the Lion Guard with you.

Gerold didn't know what to think of that. But he must be serious if Uncle Tyrion sent a messenger to him. He pocketed the parchment and waved a hand for his little party to start moving again. They had a small council meeting to get to apparently.

Tyrion had just dealt with the problem known as Janos Slynt when he was pulled into yet another problem.

Cersei was in another one of her fits of anger again, and Tyrion pitied the poor messenger who had the misfortune of giving her the piece of parchment she was now waving around.

"Lies! Barefaced lies! I do not need the eunuch to tell me what must be done with this filth and the man who sent them!"

Tyrion took the letter from Cersei's hand and compared it to the two others that were resting on the table in the small council chamber. All three of them bore the same message, though the hand that wrote it was obviously different, for one was much sloppier than the others, but nevertheless the same.

"Oh, course they are." Tyrion said.

"We received them from Castle Stokeworth and from Lord Gyles." The Grand Maester said. He was hunched over the letters and squinting at them so hard that Tyrion wondered if the man's eyes were simply closed.

"If even they got letters, you can be sure that Stannis has sent them to every keep in the Seven Kingdoms from the Wall to Dorne." Littlefinger said.

The man sounded so sure of himself, and Tyrion suppressed a frown as Littlefinger fingered his beard.

"I want them all burned, everyone of them." Cersei said. "No word of this is to reach Joff's ear, or my father's."

"I imagine that Stannis Baratheon took the liberty of sending a raven or three to Harrenhal if he we got one as well." Tyrion said. "I'm sure Jason is reading his own copy at Casterly Rock, and on the point of burning them. Why? There is no use in burning the letters in the Red Keep if the rest of the realm has their own copy as well."

"Are you utterly stupid? Did you not read this filth? He says that The boy Joffrey, like he's some common welp and not the king! He accuses me of incest, adultery, and treason!"

But you are guilty of its dear sister. Tyrion didn't say his thoughts aloud, but he knew them to be true. He spent plenty of time with Jaime to know his brother's deepest and darkest secrets. Hells, Jason probably knew as well, though Tyrion couldn't say that without a shadow of a doubt.

He watched as his sister acted out the perfect mummery, as the accusations that Stannis Baratheon were making were completely true. Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen looked too much like Lannisters to be anything but. Baratheons all had black hair and blue eyes, so for Robert's children to look so much like Lannisters would raise some questions. Though, how Cersei thought that no one would ask those questions was beyond him.

"Stannis needed a pretext for war. Calling into question Joffrey's parentage was the route that he went with." Tyrion said.

"I will not suffer being called a whore!" Cersei yelled.

The door to the small council chambers opened and they all turned to look towards it as Gerold walked in. Tyrion's nephew was wearing his red and gold armor and the sash as well with his lion helm in hand and the sword at his hip. He had a frown on his face and looked at them all in confusion as the door slammed shut.

"What is the screaming for? I do hope that nothing bad has happened." Gerold said.

"A most terrible lie has been perpetrated my lord." Grand Maester Pycelle said as he held out one of the letters with a false shake in his arm.

"Terrible lie is it now." Gerold said as he placed the lion helm onto the table with a thunk and took the parchment from the Grand Maester's hand.

Tyrion watched as Gerold went over the letter and studied his nephew's face as he absorbed the meaning. There was a hint of surprise that was quickly smothered by a frown and a flick of the eyes towards Cersei. Gerold worked his jaw for a moment before he nodded and threw the parchment back onto the table.

"How interesting... a lie I would assume." Gerold said and looked at Cersei. "Of course it is! That damned traitor is lying!" Cersei yelled.

"Well, it seems that we must do something about this."

"Yes , but first we need to stop this filth from spreading further. I want to issue a royal command that any man speaking of incest or calling Joff a bastard should lose his tongue for

it."

"A most prudent measure." Grand Maester Pycelle said.

"We would be taking a lot of tongues then aunt. I heard at least ten people speaking of it on my way to the Red Keep." Gerold said.

"A folly it is then. For if we remove a man's tongue for speaking of it, we show that we are afraid of what he has to say." Tyrion said.

"Then what are we to do?" Cersei demanded.

"Let them talk. Stannis has no proof to back up his claim and the people will see that. They will not believe the lie for that is what it is, a lie."

"So, we are to do nothing."

"Not nothing, Your Grace. We shall fight fire with fire." Littlefinger said. "What fire?" Cersei asked.

"Oh, just a tale of the same nature as to the one that Stannis has played on use. It is no secret that his marriage to Selyse Florent is not a loving one. Who's to say that Shireen Baratheon is a Baratheon at all?"

"Surely you do not mean to-"

Grand Maester Pycelle was interrupted as the door to the small council chamber was opened yet again. A knight of the Lion Guard stepped into the room and addressed Gerold,

completely ignoring the rest of them. They all of course watched and listened on with interest to what was so important that it warranted an interruption.

"My lord, the king has requested your presence in the throne room." The knight said.

Tyrion leaned back in his seat at that and studied the others in the room. Pycelle stroked his white beard and looked on inquisitively. Littlefinger was interested as well, though for what purpose Tyrion could not say. Cersei looked angry that the knight had barged into the meeting, even if it was on her spoiled brat of a son's command.

"What does Joffrey want?" Gerold asked.

"The messenger would not say, my lord."

Gerold sighed at that and rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers. Tyrion didn't envy his nephew, as dealing with Joffrey was always a chore. Their king was probably bored and decided to entertain himself with the first thing he thought of, which happened to be his cousin Gerold.

"Pardon me, my lords, Your Grace, the King has commanded my presence." Gerold said and gave them all a nod before he scooped his lion helm up in one hand and made for the door.

The door was not all the way closed and Tyrion could faintly hear Gerold asking about what idiotic thing that Joffrey had done this time that required his attention. Tyrion snorted at that and turned his attention back to the matter at hand.

They were going to be fighting fire with fire after all.

The Young Lion and The Wolf Maid

Chapter Summary

A Lannister Hammer and a Lefford Anvil... A Young Lion confronts a Golden Stag...

Chapter Notes

Some scenes of abuse, you've been warned.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Ser Leo Lannister took a breath to steady himself.

He was a son of House Lannister. He was a son of Ser Jason Lannister, the heir of Casterly Rock, and Lady Alysanne Lefford, the heir of the Golden Tooth. He was a son of the Rock.

He was a lion, and lions aren't afraid of sheep.

The armor that he was wearing was specially fitted just for him. The finest smiths of Casterly Rock and Lannisport and the entirety of the Westerlands labored over them so that they would be the strongest and most impressive that he could have. The lions of House Lannister stood prominently on his breast plate as well as his shoulder plates. His gorget was gilded gold with more lions of gold along it. The red of their house was also displayed in his armor, and it formed the background for the golden lions that pranced across the metal.

It was as if he was a walking banner for House Lannister.

He was a Lannister though, so in a sense he was a walking banner even without the armor.

He took another steadying breath and slipped on his last piece that he needed. His right gauntlet was the last piece of armor that he had yet to put on. That, and his lion helm, but father always said that the helmet goes on last, during the march towards the enemy. They were currently at Casterly Rock, and the closest enemy was the Young Wolf, Robb Stark, who was at Riverrun with his host.

There were no enemies here, so the lion helm did not need to go on yet.

Leo secured the gauntlet to his hand and took one final steadying breath. This would be his first true war, and he was determined to not only survive it, but win glory for House Lannister. He grabbed his helm from the table and took one last look at his room.

This would probably be the last time for a while that he would be able to see it. He would be trading his soft featherbed for an army bed. There would be no servants where he was going, only his squire. The meals wouldn't be prepared by the finest of House Lannister cooks, they'd be made by an army cook who took whatever meat he was given.

They were necessary sacrifices to make in the search for glory, however.

Leo exited his room and made his way through the winding halls of Casterly Rock. The portraits of past Lords of Casterly Rock and past Kings of the Rock lined the halls. Them, and their families, were all windows into the past and Leo had often glanced at them and wondered what their lives had been like. He was walking the very halls that they once had.

He was going to war and was more than likely going to kill Rivermen, same as his ancestors did. He would be killing Northmen, just like they might have. Their footsteps would now be his footsteps, and Leo promised to himself that he would not bring dishonor to House Lannister on the battlefield.

Gerold was already in King's Landing, commanding the Lannister Household Guard and the hundred men of the Lion Guard that their father had sent with him. To hear tell from the ravens that they had received, Gerold had his work cut out for him. The red cloaks were still soldiers of House Lannister, but their time in King's Landing had made them weak and undisciplined compared to their counterparts in the Westerlands.

His brother would get them into shape though. Leo knew that Gerold was the man for the job. His brother was always the smartest of the family, well, after Isabella of course, but the smartest son of the family. He would bring House Lannister glory when he became Lord of Casterly Rock and Leo would do the same when he inherited the Golden Tooth.

They would make House Lannister stronger, more united, and respected across the Seven Kingdoms.

They would.

Leo made his way towards the massive lift that the Rock had and started the journey down to the ground floor. Casterly Rock was nearly three times as tall as the Wall to the North, or the Hightower of House Hightower in Oldtown. It was a truly massive keep, and thus it took a rather long time to traverse it. There were hundreds of tunnels and rooms about that no single map could keep tract of them all.

A fact that annoyed their father.

Uncle Tyrion had also tried to map out Casterly Rock and had too failed at the task. It seemed that the seat of House Lannister would remain ever filled with secrets. Rooms and tunnels that would go unused and forgotten only to be rediscovered again.

Mayhaps his grandchildren would stumble upon a new tunnel that he had once found himself. They would proclaim themselves explorers and one of them might even try to map out the many halls of Casterly Rock.

Hells, they might even succeed.

Leo was pulled from his thoughts as the lift came to a stop. It jerked to a halt and the massive chains groaned as the weight they were carrying was gone from them. Leo stepped off of it and made his way through the main entrance of the Rock. The Lion's Mouth they called it. A cavern opening so large that twenty riders on horseback could ride through it abreast and still

have room to maneuver. The Golden Lion statues flanked each side of the Lion's Mouth and had their maws open in a mighty but silent roar.

A display of wealth and power that House Lannister was known for. Leo passed by one of them on his way to his destination and rubbed the front paw. It was good luck after all.

"Leo! Finally, we thought you'd gotten lost."

Ser Clarent Crakehall waved a hand as Leo approached the gathered party of riders. The man was a little older than Leo and had a small beard growing on his chin. Clarent was a distant cousin to the Crakehalls of Crakehall and was more of a landed knight than anything else, but he was still a man of the west, so when Leo's father had called the banners, he had come.

"Just had to say goodbye to the place is all." Leo said as he made his way towards the riders. There were men of the Lion Guard as well as regular red cloaks amongst the party. Leo also spotted some Crakehall men here and there and he spotted his horse and saw that it was already saddled and that his squire, a boy from one of the Lannisters of Lannisport, standing next to it and holding the reins.

"Ah, we'll be back in no time." Clarent said.

Leo wasn't as confident as the knight from Crakehall was. As of right now, Robb Stark had yet to lose a battle. He had taken Uncle Jaime prisoner at the Battle in the Whispering Wood and smashed the man's host and lifted the Siege of Riverrun. The Young Wolf had delivered them to nasty defeats in a row while Grandfather Tywin had smashed a Northern Host that made an orderly retreat.

The war was not going in their favor and now there were two other kings they had to deal with.

"Once we beat Robb Stark, we'll have to go and defeat both Stannis and Renly Baratheon. I fear that this war might be a long one." Leo said and took the reins of his horse from his squire.

Lucas, that was the boy's name. He was short, as thin as a twig, sandy brown hair, and eyes a dull green color.

"To hear the rumors going around camp, the Baratheon brothers will be fighting each other first. Hopefully they'll kill each other and save us all the trouble." Clarent said.

"Rumors are just that, rumors." Leo said and urged his horse on. Their destination was Oxcross, a village where the host of Ser Stafford Lannister was assembling.

Leo's orders were to meet up with Ser Stafford's host and help prepare it for their march east. Leo's father was making his way towards the Golden Tooth with fifteen hundred men of the Lion Guard. It was a small host, but the Lion Guard were the elite of the Westerlands. His father had left the other half back at Casterly Rock with Leo's mother.

Lady Alysanne Lefford was the Lady of Casterly Rock, and Leo's mother was a capable leader and someone who could be intimidating when necessary. She had wished him good luck and told him to keep safe, and then had gone back to her duties without looking back. The Rock would be in good hands with her in charge.

"How many men has Ser Stafford been able to rally?" Leo asked.

"Uh, last count had it at, what, fifteen thousand?" Clarent said. The thundering of the horses' hooves made it so that Clarent had to nearly shout to be heard.

"Sixteen thousand Ser! The last of Ser Forley Prester's men rejoined the host." A red cloak said.

Sixteen thousand men, with around four thousand experienced men of the remnants of Uncle Jaime's host that Ser Forley Prester had managed to rally as well as a lot of inexperienced boys from Lannisport and the surrounding areas. While their numbers might have been formidable, the quality of their men were not. Leo hoped that they would have enough time to train them all.

Father said that they would. That if Robb Stark ever tried to move into the Westerlands that if he tried to go around the Golden Tooth, that it would be his death. Father had a plan after all, Leo had been at the meeting where he and the remaining bannermen of the Westerlands had planned it.

"Hammer and anvil Leo." Father had told him. "The Young Wolf's army will break under a Lannister hammer... and on a Lefford anvil."

Hammer and anvil.

Leo repeated those words like a prayer as the party journeyed towards Oxcross.

"You sure you have no idea what Joffrey wants with me?" "No idea my lord."

Gerold sighed as he continued on his way towards the throne room. His royal cousin was probably up to no good and Gerold would have to be the one to clean it up. Damned fool was more focused on himself than the war that was going on. People were dying and King's Landing was filling with refugees and all Joffrey wanted to do was... whatever he did for fun.

Which was probably nothing good.

The halls of the Red Keep were filled with either servants or members of the Lion Guard. Gerold had the gold cloaks out of the Red Keep itself and focused on the city of King's Landing. He didn't need any half incompetent fools accidently killing someone just because they misheard an order. The City Watch of King's Landing was a poorly trained group of sellswords at best and Gerold wanted them nowhere nearby.

He was tasked with taking commanded of Lannister forces within the city and that meant he was effectively the Commander of the Red Keep's Garrison. He would only have men personally loyal to himself in that position, and that meant the Lion Guard. Captain Vylarr and the red cloaks were still in question on where their loyalties lay. They had been in King's Landing for many years and served under Aunt Cersei.

They also let Lord Stark get executed and allowed this entire war to start, so their competence was in question. Captain Vylarr had assured him that the red cloaks were loyal to House Lannister and Casterly Rock, but Gerold would need more than words, for words were wind as father was wont to say.

"Ser Gerold." Ser Julian called out as Gerold turned a corner.

His second in command quickly fell into step besides him and handed a rolled-up parchment to him. The seal was unbroken and bore the Lion of Lannister on it. Gerold looked towards Julian and got a simple shrug in return. Well, it was news from someone, most likely Grandfather Tywin.

Gerold broke the seal as he walked and unfurled the parchment. He was met by his father's handwriting, which was a surprise to be sure. He hadn't heard from the man since he had left Casterly Rock with Grandfather Tywin's host all the way back in the beginning of the war.

Gods, that felt like a lifetime ago.

He read his father's neat handwriting and then he took a moment to reread it.

Do not trust the old man, the mockingbird, or the spider. Only trust in yourself and the Lion Guard.

Gerold quickly rolled the parchment back up and slid it into his sword belt. The message was clear to him, and it didn't take too much thinking to guess who was who. The old man was most likely Grand Maester Pycelle. He was most likely the oldest man in the city that was of

any important. The mockingbird was Littlefinger as the man had taken a mockingbird as his sigil. And the spider could only be Varys, the eunuch.

He already didn't trust those three and if his own father was telling him not to, well, he'd best heed those words. This city was full of schemers and liars. Backstabbers and graspers just waiting for the first sign of weakness to exploit. Gerold had to make sure that he and his family came out of this alive.

They didn't want to end up like Ned Stark and his household had.

A whimpered cry drew his attention and he pulled himself out of his thoughts and found that they were already near the throne room. The massive doors were just up ahead and Gerold spotted several knights of the Lion Guard standing in front of it, and none of them looked happy.

Those were grim faces, which was unusual as they were in the Red Keep, in relative safety.

The knights formed up behind Gerold as they entered the Great Hall and Gerold found a sight that made him frown as well.

Joffrey was holding court and it seemed that everyone was watching the spectacle that was going on in the middle of the room. A knight of the Kingsguard was standing in the center with his blade drawn and held at a lady who was kneeling on the floor. That dress was ripped and Gerold certainly saw what looked like bruises on her back. That red hair was all messed up and there was certainly blood running down this lady's body.

The Hound, Sandor Clegane, stood by the Iron Throne and along with the other Kingsguard knights. Cousin Lancel was also present, standing with all the other nobles that were present. And in the back, was that drunken knight turned fool, Dontos Hollard, with his motley getup and all.

Gerold's little shit of a cousin was sitting on the iron monstrosity and looking down at the scene with what looked like a smile on his face. This was the last thing anyone should feel

when looking upon a young lady being beaten, and it made Gerold clench his lion helm just a little tighter.

The court herald only then noticed their arrival even though they were halfway to the Iron Throne and decided to announce them.

"Ser Gerold Lannister! Lord Commander of the Garrison of the Red Keep!"

Gerold decided to just ignore the lord commander bit and focus on all the eyes that turned to look towards him. The various minor nobles of the Crownlands were present as well as some faces that were foreign to Gerold. That Summer Islander prince was among the crowd as well as some Essosi merchants and one or two Reachmen from the looks of it.

Joffrey stood from his seat and made his way down the steps while smiling all the way. It was never a good thing when Joffrey smiled like that. Like he had just gotten a new toy to play with, or that he had just done something gruesome and was now going to boast about it. Gerold still had memories of Joffrey killing that cat during a visit to Casterly Rock.

The gods must have truly cursed Joffrey if he thought murdering cats was fun.

"Cousin! Now that you've arrived, we can begin!" Joffrey said with a cheer in his voice.

"Begin? What is it that we are beginning. And who is that?" Gerold asked and pointed to the young lady who was still kneeling on the ground. She had not turned to look when the herald announced his arrival.

"She." Joffrey said and pointed at the lady. "Will be answering for her brother's treasons. Stark took my uncle and now she will pay for her treasons."

Gerold only realized who Joffrey was talking about when the boy grabbed Lady Sansa by the hair. She yelled in pain and brought her hands up to Joffrey's but the Kingsguard knight, Trant by the looks of it, brought the flat of his blade down on her arms. The slap of steel on

skin earned another cry of pain and the girl's hands fell back down. Joffrey threw Lady Sansa forward by the hair and didn't laugh when she fell onto her hands and knees.

The girl was bleeding from her back and now her forearms, both presumably from Ser Meryn Trant's blade. Her dress was ripped in several places and there were tears streaming down her face. It was a hard sight to see and Gerold turned his gaze away from Lady Sansa and back to his royal cousin.

Joffrey was looking back at him, as if he was expecting Gerold to say something. Did he want praise for this? Did he want Gerold to say that he agreed with this? A young girl was being beaten for the crimes of her brother. She was innocent, yet she still suffered the consequences.

This was wrong.

"Lady Sansa did not take Uncle Jaime prisoner. She did not lead the Northern host that scattered Uncle Jaime's. How is beating her helping us win the war?" Gerold said.

"By sending a message cousin. Her brother will know about what will happen to her if he doesn't yield." Joffrey said.

"She is still your betrothed. You cannot mean to do this to your future queen." He tried to grasp onto any last sense of reason with Joffrey.

Which was a hopeless effort in the end.

"Her brother took Uncle Jaime! Mother said I can't kill her, so we'll just have to make do with another way to get a message through. Meryn!"

The flat of the Kingsguard knight's blade flashed through the air and impacted Sansa Stark before Gerold could even do anything. The sound of steel hitting flesh sounded throughout the throne room and it was quickly followed by a cry of pain.

Joffrey just looked on with nary a frown, just a look of contempt. Gerold couldn't believe that his cousin, someone of his own blood, could act in such a fashion. This wanton brutality was unheard of, and yet it was happening right in front of him. He was bearing witness to Lady Sansa being beaten by a knight of the Kingsguard for the crime of her brother.

This was wrong.

He felt his hand go to his sword after the second strike landed on Sansa Stark's shoulder, the skin cutting deep even from the flat of the blade. Gerold's motion was accompanied by those of the Lion Guard and in seconds nine blades were drawn, steel bared and ready to bite.

"Swing that blade again ser and you shall lose that hand." Gerold said as looked at Ser Meryn Trant.

"No man threatens His Grace in the presence of the Kingsguard." Another knight, this one much fatter, said. Somewhere in Gerold's mind the name Boros Blount came to mind.

"I am not threatening the king you lackwit. I am protecting the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Her brother may be a traitor, but she has not committed any treasons that I know of." Gerold said and put his lion helm on with his free hand while keeping his longsword pointed at the ground.

"She's a traitor." Joffrey said.

"She has remained in the Red Keep for the entirety of the war. Tell me, what battles has she fought in?" Gerold asked.

"She has the blood of the wolf."

"Aye she does, yet your uncles are also traitors to the crown. Does that make you a traitor as well? Should I be punishing you for having blood of the stag in your veins?"

"That was a threat against the king." Ser Mandon Moore said and unsheathed his blade. The emotionless statue of a knight was the most dangerous of the Kingsguard after Uncle Jaime and Ser Barristan, but those two were not here right now.

"Sheath your sword ser." Ser Julian Stackspear said, raising his own blade.

The Kingsguard knight did not. Trant and Blount moved to stand besides Joffrey and had their blades out. They would protect their king, though Blount was useless with a sword and Trant seemed to be more fit with beating girls than anything else. Ser Mandon Moore, Ser Arys Oakheart, and the Hound were the ones to look out for. Mandon was already bearing his steel while Oakheart looked like he didn't know what to do.

Sandor Clegane was also coming towards Joffrey's side, though he had yet to draw steel. "She's a traitor cousin. I'm sending a message." Joffrey spat.

"Lady Sansa is your betrothed still. Have you no regard for her honor?"

"She's a traitor. She has no honor. Nothing but a northern whore."

Joffrey punctuated his words by grabbing Lady Sansa. The girl tried to struggle against him and received another hit from Trant's blade and this time Gerold moved forward. The knights of the Lion Guard were at his back and soon enough Trant had two blades at his throat. But that didn't stop Joffrey from ripping Lady Sansa's dress open, revealing her bare chest and stomach to the world.

The girl let out a cry as she was pushed to the ground by Joffrey. She was desperately trying to cover up her modesty and Gerold grabbed his cousin and pushed him back. That made Oakheart and Clegane draw their steel and step forwards.

"Ser Gerold. I order you to stand down." Joffrey said in his most kingly voice, which wasn't much in Gerold's opinion.

"As Lord Commander of the Garrison, I, Ser Gerold Lannister, am taking Lady Sansa Stark under my protection for the duration of her stay in King's Landing. You all are witness to this statement." Gerold said in a commanding voice to the rest of the court who had remained frozen in place during the entire ordeal.

"You cannot-"

"I can cousin. My first priority is the safety of all of the Red Keep's inhabitants. That includes Lady Sansa."

"She deserves death for what her-"

"Unless you want Uncle Jaime to lose his head, I would suggest you stop. Harming her will not help Uncle Jaime escape Riverrun. It will not help us defeat Robb Stark."

Joffrey was fuming at this and snapped to look at cousin Lancel. The boy looked like he didn't know which one of them to support and fumbled with his words.

"Ser Lancel, I order you to take command of the red cloaks and seize my traitor cousin!" Joffrey yelled. The Kingsguard knights at Joffrey's back tensed at that. Sandor Clegane had a hand on Joffrey's shoulder to prevent him from running and getting himself hurt.

"Belay that order Lancel! King Joffrey does not have the authority to give such an order."

There were several drawn blades, and they were all pointed at each other. Kingsguard knights were facing off against Lion Guard knights and Gerold didn't know how the situation had gotten so bad so quickly. What in the seven hells was Joffrey thinking when he decided to

beat Sansa Stark for the purpose of sending a message? What madness had taken ahold of him?

"But he's the king..." Lancel's words trailed off.

"A king who has yet to become a man grown. The Queen Regent and the small council have the final say to any decision he makes." Gerold said. Not that he had faith in Aunt Cersei and those schemers on the small council to make the right decision.

Hopefully Uncle Tyrion could steer them in the right direction. "I am the king! The king can do as he likes!" Joffrey yelled.

"Julian, give Lady Sansa your cloak and get her off the ground." Gerold said and didn't take his eyes off Joffrey as Ser Julian went about and carried out the orders given to him.

In moments, Sansa Stark was no longer had her chest exposed. Her breasts and stomach and whatever modesty she had left was covered up and the girl was oddly still in Ser Julian's hands. Gerold saw that her eyes were wide with shock and that she still had tears streaming down her cheeks.

Gerold's father was right, this city truly did bring out the worst in people.

"I have been charged with defending this city cousin. Do not get in my way." Gerold said and lowered his sword.

He walked away from Joffrey slowly while facing him the entire time. The knights of the Lion Guard gathered up Lady Sansa and formed a circle around her as they moved towards the main entrance of the throne room. Gerold walked backwards and kept his eyes on Joffrey and watched as his cousin seethed with rage. His eyes were positively aflame with hatred, and he shook off Clegane's hand with a storm upon his face.

Gerold only turned around and continued to walk out after Joffrey stormed away with his Kingsguard in tow. Lady Sansa was in a bad way and would need someone to look at those cuts and bruises. There was also the political mess that Gerold had just made, and there were bound to be repercussions from it, but that could wait for now.

One problem at a time after all. Chapter End Notes

Oh my, what do you all think?

King's Landing and Harrenhal

Chapter Summary

Gerold and Tryion deal with the aftermath... Arya learns something...

Things had moved surprisingly quickly.

Tyrion didn't know exactly what had happened in the throne room to cause such a change in their situation, but whatever it was, it had to be major if what his ears were hearing were true. The servants were openly talking about it and more than one lord or lady or knight that Tyrion had passed all informed him of what had happened at the court session.

Ser Gerold Lannister was accused of treason by the king. Tyrion had laughed at the first person to say that to him. Gerold Lannister, Jason's son, a traitor?

Preposterous. Gerold was the future heir to Casterly Rock and the current commander of the Red Keep's garrison. He was in charge of defending the damn place from the Baratheon brothers when they finally decided to attack King's Landing.

He was dutiful and loyal to House Lannister; he was cousin to the king for the love of the gods. There would be no reason for him to commit treason. So, what were these people talking about?

It turned out that Gerold took his duty as commander of the Red Keep's garrison quite literally. Every soul within these red walls were to be protected, including Lady Sansa. The

girl was a hostage in truth, but they were still going with the whole ward of the crown explanation. Which meant that she was a ward of the king, who was also having her beaten by the knights of the Kingsguard.

A part of Tyrion was proud of his nephew for standing up to Joffrey and ending the public dishonoring of Sansa Stark. To here tell of the tale, the girl was stripped of her clothes and beaten bloody. She was a daughter of the former Hand of the King, and yet Joffrey was treating her like some common whore.

It brought bad memories up for Tyrion, and he had to suppress them, he had more important matters to focus on.

When Gerold had moved to stop the beating he had inadvertently angered Joffrey and things just went from bad to worse from there. Swords were unsheathed by both the knights of the Kingsguard and those of the Lion Guard. Words were exchanged and perceived threats that weren't actual threats were spoken and heard.

What remained of the court in King's Landing had been witness to it and the king labeling his cousin as a traitor. Joffrey had ordered cousin Lancel to seize Gerold and take command of the red cloaks, two tasks that Lancel was wholly unable to accomplish. The boy was only recently knights, and he was no true warrior.

Tyrion could only watch as the situation devolved further. By all reports, Gerold Lannister was now a traitor in the eyes of the crown, yet the red cloaks and the Lion guard were still at his command. Joffrey had accused him of treason yet had not stripped him of any commands, so Tyrion's nephew had done something that was wholly out of character, even for him.

He had seized the king.

Tyrion didn't know what had taken ahold of Gerold to make such a decision, but what was done was done. Things had moved too fast for Tyrion to even do anything. He may have been the Hand of the King, but all he had were the mountain clansmen at his command while Gerold had the red cloaks and the Lion Guard. Even the gold cloaks were following his orders as Tyrion had given Gerold the task of reorganizing the City Watch of King's Landing.

The youngest son of Tywin Lannister could only watch as the power dynamic in King's Landing changed so drastically that it seemed like a fever dream. Tyrion was still half convinced that he was in some sort of coma and had yet to awake.

But no, this was reality, and the reality was that Joffrey was now all but a prisoner. Oh, he may still be king, but he had no real authority anymore. What had transpired was no short of a coup in the Red Keep. A coup that was surprisingly bloodless.

The only deaths that occurred were of Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Mandon Moore. They were the two who had opposed Gerold taking Joffrey into custody and when they refused to submit to Gerold, they lost their heads. It was all so fast that in a blink of an eye, Joffrey was now a permanent resident of Maegor's Holdfast.

And better yet, Cersei was right next to him.

When the tale of the Young Lion's coup would be retold, they would say that the Queen Regent was escorted to Maegor's Hold kicking and screaming. That she was shouting murder and treason and all other sorts of very unqueenly words.

Tyrion smiled a true smile when that occurred.

It was even more entertaining as it had occurred while the small council was still in session. Gerold's Lion Guard had burst into the room and not so kindly taken Cersei out of the room. Tyrion saw the shock on all of the councilors' faces. Varys, Pycelle, Littlefinger, all of them were flabbergasted. Their mouths were hanging open and words failed them as the Queen Regent was nearly dragged out of the room.

Oh, it was a memory that Tyrion would cherish for the rest of his days.

Though, after things had calmed down and guards were placed in and around Maegor's Holdfast, they had called an emergency small council meeting. Two knights of the Kingsguard were dead and King Joffrey along with Queen Mother Cersei were now... permanent guests of Maegor's Holdfast.

The first order of business that they had done was placing the position of Lord Regent onto Gerold. Tyrion saw that his nephew did not want the role, but there was hardly anyone else who could assume that mantle. He was already commander of the Red Keep's garrison as well as all Lannister forces within the city. All of the authority was already in his hands and putting the title of Lord Regent onto him just solidified it all.

Grand Maester Pycelle had objected to that at first but Tyrion and surprisingly Littlefinger both came to the defense of Gerold. They were in need of a Lord Regent as the king was, yet a man grown. Cersei Lannister had been deemed unable to control the king and maintain order in her role as Queen Regent, and since Tyrion was already Hand of the King, Gerold was the only one who could be Lord Regent.

Varys tittered at that, and Tyrion did not doubt for a second that news of this development would be making its way to Harrenhal and Casterly Rock the moment that the small council meeting was concluded.

From there, they had moved on to the topic of the Kingsguard. The Lord Commander was Jaime, and he was currently a prisoner at Riverrun, so he was unable to command anything. Ser Meryn and Ser Mandon were now dead, and that left the Kingsguard manned with only four men in reality. One of whom was not even a knight and another who was such a craven that he shamed knighthood itself.

It was a problem that needed to be rectified at once. Though, who to fill the two newly created positions was a question that they had yet to solve. In fact, they were still debating it at this very moment.

"Kettleblack? Are they even landed knights?" Gerold asked as he stood at the head of the table.

Tyrion's nephew was wearing the armor that was becoming so common that it was now more a part of him than regular clothes were. The red and gold was still polished to a shine and the sash around his chest was still as clean as ever, even though he had been moving through King's Landing and its filth.

"They are not, but they are loyal servants of the crown and the king." Littlefinger said.

"I've not heard any man going by Kettleblack ever in my life. I remember no great deeds done by any knight of House Kettleblack and I doubt that I will in the foreseeable future. Thank you for the suggestion, Lord Baelish, but I shall not be naming them to the Kingsguard." Gerold grimaced.

"My Lord Regent, mayhaps it would be prudent to wait until Lord Tywin arrives from Harrenhal to name two men to the Kingsguard." Varys said, the eunuch had an amiable smile on his face.

Tyrion noted that the Master of whispers had almost immediately started addressing Gerold as Lord Regent, not even hesitating to do so.

"Last word has it that my grandfather is remaining at Harrenhal until Uncle Stafford finishes gathering his host and marches east. There is also Robb Stark and the Northmen who are standing in his way and if my grandfather were to leave the Riverlands he would be leaving the West open for attack." Gerold said.

"Jason is still at Casterly Rock, so he would be able to repel any attack that the young Stark would be able to mount." Tyrion said.

"Not so my Lord Hand." Grand Maester Pycelle said in a somewhat winded voice, which was almost certainly faked, as they were all sitting down. "A raven has arrived from the Golden Tooth."

A wrinkled hand emerged from his robes and in between the man's fingers, a scroll of parchment, the seal still sealed. Tyrion was still suspicious that the Grand Maester was spying on their ravens. He'd need to look into it.

He took the scroll in his hand and examined the seal. It was the personal seal of Jason Lannister, which was only a Lannister seal with a checkered background instead of a simple lion on a solid field. The wax broke with a snap, and he unrolled it and read the neat handwriting that Jason had.

"A Lannister hammer and a Lefford anvil." Tyrion read to the room.

Everyone took in that information and Tyrion wasn't sure what it meant exactly. He wasn't the most militarily savvy man, but he did like to think that he wasn't completely hopeless when it came to it. The defense of King's Landing was partially his responsibility after all.

"A most interesting phrase." Varys said.

"Interesting yes, but that does not help our situation." Gerold said. "Robb Stark is not the threat we have to deal with. King Stannis and King Renly Baratheon are not only closer, but they have larger armies."

"Hopefully they will kill each other and save us the trouble. Word has it that Stannis is sieging Storm's End." Tyrion said.

"Renly has the power of Highgarden with him as well as most of the stormlords. It will be a slaughter if they meet in battle." Littlefinger said.

"If it saves us the trouble then let them at each other." Grand Maester Pycelle said.

"Varys, keep your spies in both of the Baratheon brothers' camps. I want to know if and when they plan to attack King's Landing. Grand Maester, send word to Lord Tywin detailing all the changes that have been made here today. We can have no room for miscommunication." Gerold said and knocked on the small council table with a gauntleted fist.

"At once, Lord Regent." The elderly Grand Maester said as he moved to stand. "My Lord Regent-" Littlefinger started to speak but was interrupted.

"I haven't the time Lord Baelish. I have the defenses of the city to see to. Discuss your issue with the King's Hand and if you cannot find a solution then you may inform me." Gerold said and then moved towards the door.

Tyrion watched as his nephew opened it and walked out with his guards in tow as well as a knight of the Kingsguard as well. It was odd seeing a boy that he knew become the man that he was now right before his eyes. It made him proud to be his uncle, though he could have done with being saddled with whatever Littlefinger wanted to talk about.

The man was a schemer, a grasper trying to reach above his station, and a problem that Gerold had given to Tyrion to deal with.

He sighed to himself as he looked towards the Master of coin. Whatever the man wanted, it couldn't be any stranger than this day had been.

"Madness unheard of since the time of Aerys Targaryen."

Arya flinched slightly as a fist was brought down onto the table. She kept her eyes down and away from any of the Lannister officers who were sitting at the table. It wouldn't do good to draw any more attention to herself than she already had. Being Tywin Lannister's cupbearer was like playing with fire.

She kept her eyes instead on the black stone of Harrenhal. The massive fortress once belonging to House Hoare was now a smoldering ruin and being used as a base for the Lannister army. There were so many hallways and passages that Arya had more than once gotten lost, but now that she had to remain at Tywin Lannister's side, she didn't have as much time to explore.

But she what she lost in exploring, she made up for in listening.

No one knew that she was Arya Stark. Not truly anyway. Yoren had known and now he was dead. To everyone else, she was simply called girl. It was simpler that way, for there were few girls currently at Harrenhal, and most of them were either servants or whores.

But that was neither here nor there. She was simply girl and had an ear inside of the Lannister command meetings. None of them were any the wiser and she was free to listen to them talk about everything that was happening outside of these walls melted by dragon fire.

She could listen for word of Robb and the rest of her family.

"The situation seems to have been calmed down for the most part. Gerold and Tyrion have taken things into hand." Ser Kevan Lannister said.

Arya had learned early on that while Kevan Lannister was Tywin Lannister's brother, it didn't mean that they were exactly the same. Kevan Lannister was more of a follower than a leader, and always deferred to Lord Tywin in the end. He also didn't have a cruel reputation like Tywin Lannister did, but he was still a Lannister, and that meant he was her enemy.

"My lord, it may be for the better if we make for King's Landing. It is clear that situation is not as stable as we once thought." Lord Leo Lefford said.

"We cannot. Ser Stafford's host is not yet ready to march. They are still gathering and training. If we move to King's Landing, we'll be leaving the Westerlands open for attack." Ser Addam Marbrand said.

Arya moved to refill the empty cups with water when needed and made sure that she kept her head down. Only looking at the jug and cup and nothing else. Not the rolls of parchment on the table nor the faces of the men who sat at it.

"The scouts are saying that Robb Stark's host is moving westward." Ser Kevan said.

"The last time the scouts assured us of the Stark boy's movements he led us into a trap, and

that is why Jaime is now his prisoner." Lord Tywin said and grimaced. "Chaos in King's Landing and now Stark is moving west."

"Ser Jason would not leave Casterly Rock undefended." Ser Lucion Lannister said. Arya didn't know much about the man, only that he was a Lannister.

"Robb Stark will never get through the Golden Tooth." Lord Leo Lefford said. "Alysanne has invested much gold and time into increasing the defensive capabilities of the keep. It would take thousands of men to storm it and that is something the Northerners cannot afford."

"The Golden Tooth may have a formidable defense and garrison, but Robb Stark is young and has never lost a battle. He'll storm the keep if he must." Lord Tywin said.

"Jason has said that he does have a plan to repulse the Northmen. A hammer and anvil apparently." Ser Kevan said.

Arya watched from the corner of her eye as the lords and knights thought over that. She had heard about the Kingslayer's plan, and she had been in the room when the raven's scroll had been delivered. A Lannister hammer and a Lefford anvil. She didn't know what that meant but it couldn't be a good thing.

Her father had said that the Kingslayer was a dangerous man and a good military mind. Robb was going right towards the man by attacking the west, if what the scouts said was true though.

"Hammer and anvil. I cannot say that I see where my son's plan is going." Lord Tywin said.

"It's sounds like he plans to go for a pincer maneuver to trap the Starks. Mayhaps using the Golden Tooth as the Lefford anvil?" Ser Addam said.

"That would only work if Robb Stark made it past the Golden Tooth without taking the castle, which is unlikely as it sits on the only road into the west from Riverrun." Ser Kevan

said as he looked at the map on the table.

"Whatever Ser Jason's plan is, he is confident it will work if he is sending us the message." Ser Lucion said.

"Aye, I know not how the plan will work, but the Golden Tooth will hold my lord." Lord Leo said.

Lord Tywin said nothing as he looked at the map. Lannister lions, Stark direwolves, and Baratheon stags were on the map in different places. It was like a set of toys, though they actually represented thousands of men and one of them stood for Robb.

"I would still suggest that we ride for King's Landing. The situation is bad enough that Gerold needed to take such drastic actions as removing Cersei from her position as Queen Regent." Ser Kevan said.

"I instructed them to take the situation in hand, if that is what must be done then so be it. As long as Joffrey still sits the Iron Throne by the end of this war then it matters not who the Regent is. They will hold the city until we deal with Robb Stark." Lord Tywin said with an air of finality. There was confidence in his words that made even Arya sure that this Gerold Lannister would succeed.

A part of Arya noticed that there was no mention of Sansa from the letter that had arrived from King's Landing, and she would have noticed it even more so if the officers hadn't brought the discussion towards Robb. It would be only later during the night, when she was saying the names of her list that she finally remembered her older sister.

Sansa was still trapped in King's Landing, and Arya hadn't truly thought about her until this very moment.

Father said that the lone wolf died but the pack survived.

Well, the pack couldn't be more divided if they tried.

The Lord Regent

Chapter Summary

Do goats like little fingers?

"Are you sure about this Gerold? As much as I hate to say this, Littlefinger has his uses." "Didn't you say something about a Valyrian dagger and feeding the man's balls to a goat?"

"We never got around to speaking on it, and I wasn't totally serious on the goat part, but that's beside the point. If we make too many changes too fast it sends a back message."

Gerold looked down at his youngest uncle as they walked towards the throne room. The sounds of several pairs of boots rang out in tandem and Gerold was still not as comfortable with having knights of the Kingsguard at his back along with men of his Lion Guard. They may have sworn loyalty to the crown, and as Lord Regent he basically was the king at this point. But these men were also the ones who didn't hesitate to beat Lady Sansa when Joffrey ordered it done.

Well, Ser Arys Oakheart had at least hesitated, but he still carried out the order regardless.

And now he had two of those men at his shoulders. Blount was a coward and easily bent to his will, and he was no threat with his sword. Oakheart was at least the most honorable among them and so Gerold had chosen the man as well.

The others, Greenfield, and Clegane of all people were tasked with guarding the entrances to Maegor's Holdfast. They were accompanied by men of the Lion Guard as well, as Gerold didn't trust them enough just yet. It may have been seen as an insult, but Greenfield was not a man who Gerold cared for, and Clegane didn't complain when he received the assignment.

"You saw the books uncle. You read the same numbers that I did. How the man wasn't found out years ago is a miracle, or a travesty." Gerold said as they continued their pace, slow enough that Uncle Tyrion didn't have to overexert himself, but fast enough that they made good time.

"I did, and I won't lose a moment of sleep when I see his head roll, but would it not be better to throw him into a black cell? If we kill him now, this publicly, it may make Joffrey's reign seem even more unstable." Uncle Tyrion said.

"Its already unstable. Half the court says that I all but usurped Joffrey. Not that they aren't wrong, however. I am the Lord Regent, so I need to rule in the king's name, and turning this city around for the better is one of my responsibilities."

There was a rot in King's Landing, and not the fact that the place smelled of shit. The court was a pit of snakes, filled with schemers and backstabbers and lickspittles sycophants! No one got any work done because they were all too busy trying to gain the advantage over one another. There was no honor in this place, and if Gerold was going to right this city, he'd have to get his hands dirty.

And bloody.

"They won't say that to your face nephew. You're the Lord Regent after all, and I dare say that by the end of this war they'll be singing your praises."

"I need no songs sung of me. I just need everyone to stop acting like children." "That is a tall order Gerold. One that I might say is near impossible to fulfill." "Unfortunately."

They made it to the throne room and Gerold nodded at the guards that flanked the doors. They were red cloaks and while they had been reorganized by Captain Vylarr, Gerold still had

his doubts about the men. They still weren't as good as the men of the Lion Guard, and mayhaps they might never be. But one could hope after all.

The sounds of the court were seeping through the massive doors before them. Solid metal and thick, yet the sounds were still making it through. Gerold motioned for the doors to be opened and some of the red cloaks moved to do so. He took a breath to steady himself and he gripped the hilt of his sword in one hand, the other tugging at the red and gold sash around his chest.

A loud groan was heard as the doors to the throne room were opened. All the eyes of all the people in attendance swung towards the noise and Gerold had so sallow the spit in his mouth. When he had called for court to be in session, he hadn't expected this many people. There weren't even that many noble lords and ladies still in King's Landing, yet there were more present than Joffrey's court ever had.

He decided not to dwell on that though as the herald's voice boomed.

"The Lord Regent, Ser Gerold Lannister! The Hand of the King, Lord Tyrion Lannister!"

They walked towards the Iron Throne in silence. There were some murmurings from the people of the court. Glances from the corner of their eyes that always disappeared whenever Gerold looked their way. It was unnerving to know that so many people were looking and talking about him from behind his back, yet his actions had led him to be here, so he sucked it up and remained stoic.

The carpet leading to the Iron Throne was plush red. Though at a closer look it seemed more blood red than anything else. There had been much blood shed in this very room after all, and there might be even more after today.

Gerold parted ways with his uncle as they reached the base of the Iron Throne. The massive monstrosity of metal, a twisted chair made from hundreds of swords loomed over him and he made sure to keep his footsteps even and true as he climbed. There had to be over twenty steps leading to the seat and the fear of falling was ever present in his mind.

He regretted the fact that he had a red cloak on his back at that moment and as he took a seat on the Iron Throne it sat under him quite awkwardly. It did cushion his arse slightly though, and Gerold made sure to keep his arms off the arm rests, as well as not lean back in the seat.

A king should never sit easy. Aegon the Conqueror might have spoken true, but did he have to keep to his word so literally?

From his vantage point he was able to see the to knights of the Kingsguard as they stood in front of the Iron Throne. He was also able to see the table that the small council had off to the side of the Iron Throne, with all the councilors present, well most of them anyhow. The faces of the lords and ladies present were small to him from so high up, and he steeled himself for what he was about to do.

"Ser Julian, bring forth the prisoner." Gerold said in a loud voice.

There were the sounds of struggling and muttered curses as three men entered the throne room from a side door. The court looked on with some shock and curiosity in their eyes, their whisperings scheming clear for all to see. Ser Julian Stackspear had two men of the Lion Guard hauling in a somewhat disheveled Petyr Baelish in front of the Iron Throne.

The man was chained at the hands and his clothing had seen better days. It was all covered in muck and grime that the cells under the Red Keep were known for. It was stained and filthy. A far cry from what Littlefinger used to wear to the small council meetings.

"You cannot do this!" The man shouted as he was forced to his knees in front of the Iron Throne. "I am a lord!"

Gerold ignored the man and turned to the Grand Maester.

"Read the charges that have been levied against Lord Baelish, Grand Maester Pycelle."

The elderly man rose to his feet with some groaning and shuffling. His chains of office were clanking with the movement, and they clanked even more as he unrolled the scroll of

parchment and cleared his throat. It seemed a tad over exaggerated to Gerold, but he'd think more on that later.

"Lord Petyr Baelish, of House Baelish, stands accused of theft and treason. He stands accused of bribery, attempted murder, and... conspiracy to usurp the crown."

Gerold watched as the Grand Maester's words took hold on the court and everyone else present. There were some gasps of shock and some more mutterings. There were frowns and sneers directed towards Littlefinger and the man himself struggled against the hold of the two men.

"Lies! All of those are lies! Are you all going to just stand there and listen to this welp?!"

"My nephew is the Lord Regent; I suggest you address him with the respect that he is due." Uncle Tyrion said and he had a smile on his face.

"He is the one who should be in chains! He committed a coup in these very halls! You all saw the bodies of Meryn Trant and Mandon Moore!" Littlefinger yelled.

There were some murmurings at that and Gerold couldn't fault the court for them. It was clear that he had all but committed a coup in the halls of the Red Keep, but he was the one with the army, so his word was law. He didn't like that he had to use such force to reorder the city, but needs must be, and if he was going to survive this war, he didn't want to constantly be looking over his shoulder.

"The Queen Mother relinquished her responsibilities of the king's regency to me Lord Baelish. The grief over King Robert's death has taken its toll on her and she requires rest." Gerold said, and that wasn't a total lie. Aunt Cersei did need some rest.

"Lord Tywin will hear of this!"

"Lord Tywin charged me with putting this city into order. He tasked me and my uncle with bringing stable rule to the city and that is what we are doing. Now, Lord Varys, if you could so kindly bring forth the evidence to those in the court."

The eunuch bowed his head and brought forth the various account books that Littlefinger had in his possession. Gerold knew what contents of them were. Rows and columns of neat writing that detailed transactions and exchanges of gold dragons, silver stags, and bronze stars. Every single piece of coin that Littlefinger had taken from the crown as detailed within.

Gerold had to admire the man for his ability to steal so much with no one knowing or noticing.

The lords and ladies of the court were most shocked at the contents of the books, as well as all the things that Gerold's men had seized from many of Littlefinger's brothels. The man had been using them as little safehouses around King's Landing and thus there were many interesting things stored in them. Gold, weapons, silks, but most importantly, information.

"Information is key." Gerold's father had said. "Sometimes it is more important than gold."

Gerold was no in the possession of many little pieces of information that could bring down noble houses. Not that he had looked through them, but from the glances that he taken, it was clear that there were many things that people didn't want to get out. It was the leverage that he might need in the coming future if he was to hold this city together.

The men of the Lion Guard as well as some of the Gold Cloaks had formed quite a little pile of chests filled with various things in front of the Iron Throne. Littlefinger's face had drained of its color as more and more chests were put forth, but it was the rather ordinary letter that made the man go berserk.

He tried vainly to escape his guards and Gerold stood from his seat and descended the Iron Throne. His footsteps were sure and each one rang out against the folded swords that made up the steps of the throne. He walked towards the pile and picked up the ordinary looking letter and opened it.

"NO! STOP!"

Gerold ignored those words and continued to read. How curious, Petyr Baelish was... or had been cuckolding the Hand of the King. Jon Arryn's lady wife had laid her treasons out right in this very letter and used some words to describe acts that Gerold was sure were more in place in a brothel than the Tower of the Hand. But what really caught Gerold's eye was mention of a... interesting acknowledgement.

Poison was always a women's weapon after all.

"Lord Baelish," Gerold said as he came to stand in front of the man, letter in hand. "It appears that you've done more than steal from the crown, you've stolen into another woman's bed. Lysa Arryn of all people. Tell me, how long did it take before you were able to convince her to poison the Lord Hand?"

The entire throne room was silent for a moment, digesting the words that Gerold had just said, before it exploded with noise. Littlefinger was shouting his denials and claiming that Gerold was lying, but the lords and ladies of the court were out for blood. For all that was going on, all the plots and schemes, having someone easy and simple to hate was easy.

Gerold waved the letter in the air and shook his head.

"The proof lies here, my lords and ladies. Lysa Arryn poisoned Jon Arryn with Tears of Lys, and she did so at the command of Petyr Baelish."

The court was outraged and there were many demands for Littlefinger's head.

"It was murder! You had the Hand of the King killed, and that is tantamount to attacking the king himself, and we all known the penalty of that."

"Take his head!" Someone shouted from the crowd.

"Kill him!" "He's a traitor!"

"My lords and ladies! This man is a traitor through and through, but he was not alone in his act. Grand Maester, read the charges." Gerold said.

The old man once again made the long journey of standing up from his seat at the table and unrolled a second piece of parchment.

"Lady Lysa Arryn is attainted a traitor to the crown and the Seven Kingdoms. She is hereby stripped of all titles and lands, incomes and holdings. She is accused and found guilty of murder and treason and sentenced to... death. Any man or woman who aids this traitor shall also be considered a traitor to the crown and shall face the same punishment." The Grand Maester's words filled the throne room and were met with more shouting, though this time there was some affirmatives mixed in there.

"You can't do this!" Littlefinger said. "Lord Tywin won't allow it!"

"I am the Lord Regent. I speak with the king's voice, and I have found you guilty of treason." Gerold said as he looked down at the man.

"But-"

Gerold turned away from the man and his sputtering. He didn't need to hear any more of it. The walk back to the Iron Throne was a short one and he maneuvered around the small pile of chests. Uncle Tyrion had gotten up from his seat and met him halfway there.

"There will be consequences Gerold." Tyrion said in a low voice as the court continued to shout at Littlefinger.

"Aye, but he did order Jon Arryn's death, so it is only right that he be attainted as a traitor and die as one." Gerold said.

"You've made us an enemy of the Vale; we may need them in the coming months."

"She killed her own husband uncle."

"Aye, she did seem a little mad when I found myself locked in a sky cell."

"Well, she's guilty and now a traitor. If what you say is true about her, then the Seven Kingdoms are better off without her."

"What about Littlefinger? Are we killing him today, or are we making a bigger show of it?" "You did say something about goats." Gerold said.

"Aye," Uncle Tyrion said with a snort. "let's feed him to the goats."

They laughed with each other as the sounds of the court and Littlefinger's outraged screaming filled their ears. They had done some good work this day, and Gerold didn't feel at all guilty for what was going to happen to Littlefinger. The man deserved it after all.

The Lion of Lannister

Chapter Summary

A hammer fell on a young wolf.

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

It was a cloudless night.

The moon was full and shone in the night sky like a beacon.

Next to it, the small hints of the red comet could be seen as well, but they were nothing compared to the moon's light.

Leo Lannister wondered what his siblings were doing at this moment, this late into the night.

Gerold was probably asleep, as dealing with the situation in King's Landing as well as the court and apparently being Lord Regent if the reports were true, had to be tiring work. His older brother was always a man who did worked hard and left little time for himself. All those lessons that Grandfather Tywin had given them about legacy had taken a slightly deeper hold in Gerold than the rest of them.

Isabella was probably gazing at the stars with her Myrish lens. The far eye had been imported from Myr at their father's request and ever since Isabella had been fascinated by the night sky. Leo had looked through it once and it was truly amazing to see how brightly all those little dots shone. Like diamonds amongst a black field.

Leo spared a glance towards the sky again and found it littered with stars, giving off just enough light for them to see.

They'd need it after all, for the attack was about to begin.

"Remain with Ser Alyn Vikary, and do not leave his side Leo. He has command of the vanguard and I'll not have you lose your life too early now." Leo's father said.

Ser Jason Lannister sat atop his horse in full Lannister armor. The red and gold plate shined to a mirror finish and his lion helm made it so that he looked like the roaring beast on their banners come to life. He was tall and strong, his sword at his side having seen more battles than Leo knew years of life. When his father turned to look at him, he was met with green eyes of the Lannisters.

Granduncle Kevan said that Jason Lannister had Grandmother Joanna's eyes. Those eyes were hardened and betrayed nothing, only focus and determination. They had a war to fight and a currently a trap to spring.

"Aye father, I'll make sure to keep my head attached to my shoulders." Leo said.

His father gave a small huff of laughter a small nod before turning back to the field of battle in front of them. In the distance they could see the torch lights of a host, but they were not Westermen, but Northmen. Traitors all and would be invaders.

The Young Wolf had thought to outflank the Golden Tooth by taking a goat track. It would have worked as well, if Leo's father hadn't been meticulous in mapping out the Westerlands. Part of that mapping occurred around the Golden Tooth, and Leo had been part of some of those expeditions, for he would one day rule the Golden Tooth as its lord.

They had come across the tracks and while they were small and unknown, they were large enough for men and horse to travel through. That meant they were a vulnerability, and thus they were accounted for and marked down in their maps. Discreet lookouts were placed along the paths, and they were given orders to do nothing but watch and report back.

When the lookouts had reported Robb Stark's host moving through it meant that the plan was to be put into motion.

Granduncle Stafford's host was to be the bait. They were hoping that the Young Wolf would overstep and become overconfident, that he would attack it in the hopes of gaining another easy victory. Ser Jason Lannister had explained that Robb Stark would attack it as his bannermen would demand blood, and Stafford's host would be easy pickings.

That was what they wanted them to think after all.

The host was placed just outside of Oxcross, in a way that left little question as to where it was. If any of the Stark's scouts came forth, they would see a host that was green and not at all ready for war. They'd see an easy target to take out, and when they came in for the attack, that was when the hammer would fall.

Their anvil was so enticing that no man could resist, and certainly not a young wolf.

"My Lord, the scouts have returns. Robb Stark is on the move, and they think that he means to attack Ser Stafford's host." A knight in House Lefford colors said as he stopped his horse in front of them.

"Very good, head back to the Lefford host, I want them to be ready for the signal." Ser Jason said. When the horns sounded, the attack would begin, and the hammer would fall.

The knight nodded and in moments he was riding off into the night. Leo clenched the reins of his horse a little tighter in his hands and took a breath. The battle was coming, and he could feel his blood thundering through his veins. His sword hand itched towards his blade.

His father gave the order, and their host was off, keeping distance from the Stark host, but remaining close enough for their plan to work. Lannister Hammer on a Lefford Anvil. The Lefford host had nearly all heavy infantry, knights armored and armed with the finest plate and steel that the Westerlands could offer. Their own host had all the cavalry with them and

the noise that the horses made was rather loud, but these were Lion Guard men, and all that training was paying off as the noise level wasn't so loud that they'd be spotted.

The Northmen were marching as well, and the noise the savages made would cover up any noise their own host produced.

Leo's father had warned him that it would be a bloody affair, this upcoming battle. That while the Stark's had fewer men and horse, they made up for it in ferociousness in battle. That Robb Stark had a direwolf with him, and that such a beast was ruthless and deadly. It was not going to be an easy victory, but hopefully it would be one that was quick.

Ser Clarent Crakehall rode with Leo as they made their way towards the vanguard. Leo's father giving him a final look over before wishing him strength in battle and wisdom in the fight. He took the words of advice that his father gave him to heart.

"Never hesitate Leo. Always go for the kill, no matter how dishonorable it may seem, for in war, there are only dishonorable men and there are dead men."

He had eyes on the camp.

The torches that illuminated the camp stood out against the near total darkness of the night, as the moon's rays were barely able to light the way. From the distance he could see that there were very few fortifications and no sentries to be seen. The Lannisters wouldn't see them coming until it was too late.

"Poorly done, Your Grace. Posting no sentries is just asking to be attacked." Ser Brynden said.

"Aye, they're exposed, and won't be ready for when we attack." Lord Rickard Karstark said.

Robb Stark listened to his lords and knights as they appraised the camp. He could see that there was nothing stopping them from going on in and taking it. There really were no sentries watching the camp and the fortifications did look weak from where they were.

The men were ready for a battle while the Lannister were sleeping in their beds. It would be an easy victory.

"Send the men down to cut the lines of the horses. Once they're cut, I'll loose Grey Wind and startle them into a mad panic, and that will be the signal to begin the attack." Robb said, and everyone voiced their agreements.

The men were sent off, and Robb could do nothing but wait until the horse lines were cut. His mind drifted towards everything else that had happened in such a short amount of time. His lord father was dead at the hands of a boy king and now the Seven Kingdoms were at war. Sansa and Arya were prisoners in King's Landing, in the hands of Cersei Lannister.

He had called the banners and marched south with the intention of freeing his father. But now? He had led his host past the Golden Tooth and deep into the Westerlands. He had a crown placed on his head and hailed as a king by his bannermen. He was fighting a war against the Lannisters, and at times he didn't understand why they were even fighting.

Justice and revenge for his father was the answer.

He had to remind himself that he was doing this for his father. But another part of him wondered if his father would have done this, if he had still lived. Would he be sitting here, waiting to attack a Lannister host filled with green boys?

Robb didn't know the answer, and he wouldn't have anymore time to think on it as soon enough the men that were sent had come back, the horse lines cut. His battle guard sat on their horses around him and were all ready for the fight to come. Smalljon Umber with his greatsword, Dacey Mormont with her mace, Patrek Mallister with his sword, and Owen Norrey with his axe were closest to him. They would be with him when he entered the thick of the fighting.

He looked down at Grey Wind by his side. The direwolf was nearly as big as a pony at this point and it wouldn't be long before he matched the size of a horse. Those yellow eyes looked back up at him and there was a slight tingling at the bad of his mind. He didn't know what it was, but it felt familiar.

Without needing to say a word, Grey Wind was off. The direwolf knew what he had to do, and Robb watched as he bounded down towards the Lannister horses. There would be chaos soon to be had and he readied his horse and-

"Aaagh!"

-felt a sharp pain slam into his head. It was searing hot and right at the back of his eyes that he didn't know if he'd been hit with something, or a sudden sickness came over him. He was vaguely aware of his battle guard asking what the matter was, what caused his pain, yet Robb couldn't answer. It was like his mouth didn't work anymore; it was held shut by muscles that refused to work.

He looked out towards the Lannister camp and saw something that made his blood run cold.

He saw Grey Wind, but he wasn't making the horses go wild. No, he was being surrounded by Lannister men! Even from the distance Robb could see the blood that was coming from his direwolf, and he watched as a Lannister man-at-arms threw a spear that landed true. A flash of pain came upon Robb's right side, and he grit his teeth to keep from screaming in pain.

The damn Westermen were more prepared than they thought. He needed to get to Grey Wind.

"NOW! CHARGE!!!"

He kicked his horse into motion as the words left his mouth and he was off. His battle guard were right after him and from the corner of his eye he saw the thousands of Northmen and Riverlanders coming from the trees as well, their horses pounding on the ground, the war cries coming from the lips of them all.

There were Karstark men on the left riding along side Tully men. Umber men on the right with Blackwood men. The Manderly knights were roaring a mighty war cry as they charged ahead, the Merman banner flying. The Mormont bear was flying his as well and the men of Bear Island were screaming their heads off.

Grey Wind took another hit but not before he bit a man's arm off and Robb was sure that he felt blood in his mouth, but he couldn't be sure where it had come from. Mayhaps he'd bitten his tongue. His muscles were screaming at him, and his blood was thundering through him. He could only see what was in front of him and that was his direwolf being sliced and stabbed at the hands of Lannisters.

The blaring of horns sounded in the distance and Robb barely heard it and the thundering of hooves. He needed to get to Grey Wind. The direwolf was in need of help and he was only a couple paces away! Robb swung his arm and the blade sliced through steel and flesh, spraying red into the air. The man went down with a garbled scream and blood gushing from his neck.

Robb didn't spare him a second glance as he was already riding down the next man in his sights. It was a knight in Lannister colors with a sword and shield in hand. He was fully armored, and Robb urged his horse on. The man barely got out of the way but not before landing a hit on Robb's horse. The animal let out a cry of pain and Robb glanced down to see that the knight's blade had come dangerously close to his leg, but it had cut through the horse's flesh.

The beast wouldn't last much longer, and Robb threw himself from the saddle. He landed on his feet and yelled for his guard to rally to him. The sounds of the horse dying in the background were barely acknowledged as Robb cut through a waiting knight. He wasn't particularly skilled and went down in only three moves. Beside him Robb heard the crunch of plate as Dacey's mace landed with deadly precision, caving in a man's head.

Smalljon Umber was yelling a war cry and swinging his greatsword around, cleaving limbs from bodies and taking heads. It was as if the very ground was shaking, and Robb turned to

look for his direwolf. He spotted him in the distance, still surrounded by Lannister men and still putting up a vicious defense.

All the Lannister men that Robb could see were armed and armored and a part of him wondered how they had gotten ready so quickly. But the cry of pain from his direwolf stole those thoughts away and pulled him back to the moment. Robb moved with a sure gait towards Grey Wind, making sure to fend off any who came in his path. Dacey and Smalljon took his flanks while Patrek and Lucas Blackwood were at his back.

He vaguely saw the Blackfish in the distance in a duel with a knight wearing Lefford colors, both men still somehow on their horses. Robb couldn't spare his granduncle another glance however as a knight who was also wearing Lefford colors came up to him and nearly took his head off. Robb moved out of the way at the last moment and brought his sword up to block the next blow that he knew was coming, yet it never did.

Dacey Mormont caved the man's head in with a single blow, the blaring of horns in the distance accompanied the crunch of metal. The ground was positively shaking, and the screams of men and horses filled the air. But all of that didn't matter for Grey Wind was right in front of him.

"Come on!" He shouted as he made the final push towards the direwolf. His body was aching, and his bones felt as if they might give at any moment. His still felt blood in his mouth and he spat it out, yet nothing but spittle had come out.

"Robb! We need to regroup!" Lucas Blackwood shouted as he swung his sword. He had abandoned his bow a ways back as they had entered the thick of the fighting. The many tents of the camp forming a veritable maze around them.

The sounds of screaming filled the air, and the thundering of hooves shook the very earth under them. Robb dispatched the final man attacking his direwolf and looked over the injured beast. He had cuts and stabs and slashes all over his body. His fur was coated in his own blood and the blood of his attackers. It was a gruesome sight, and in the back of his mind Robb could feel the pain, in some backwards way he did.

"In coming cavalry!"

Whoever shouted it out soon found himself with a spear in the throat. Robb turned to look around and found hundreds of men-at-arms and knights fighting, the colors they wore almost impossible to see in the darkness of night. The cook fires that the Lannister men had set up were not enough and Robb couldn't see past the red colored tents to see what was causing all the shaking.

Another horn blast sounded through the air and Robb looked for the source. He couldn't see it however and as he cut through another Lefford knight he only then realized that nearly all the men he'd encountered were Lefford men. There were definitely Lannister men around, but all the Lefford men had been knights, fully armored in plate and baring castle forged steel.

Where had they all come from?

Where were all these men and horses coming from?!

A scream of pain came from his side, and he turned to find Dacey Mormont fall to the ground with a spear lodged in her leg, the steel tip coming a full foot from her thigh. The man who had landed the hit didn't even try to withdraw the weapon as he reached for the blade at his hip and drew it.

This man was also a Lefford knight, for he had the inverted pile on a blue field on his surcoat. Robb came at the man with all he could and swung his blade to kill. He let out cries as he swung, and the knight met each of his swings with his sword. The man grunted each time their blades met and through the slit of his helmet Robb saw blue eyes looking back at him.

Robb raised his blade to swing again when pain ripped through his side. He screamed as he barely managed to block the Lefford knights attack and get away from both him and the unknown threat to his rear. He turned to face them and saw a knight in Lannister colors, with Patrek Mallister at the man's feet, his body unmoving. Smalljon was occupied with two men- at-arms on one side and Lucas Blackwood was off on another side dealing with a knight wearing colors that Robb couldn't make out.

Dacey was down, mayhaps dead. Patrek was definitely dead, and he didn't even know where Owen Norrey had gone off to. Hopefully the man wasn't dead.

"Stark!"

Robb turned towards the shout of his name and came upon a knight wearing a lion helm. He knew that the only people who wore lion helms were the actual Lannisters. Jaime Lannister had worn a lion helm, and it was said that his kingslaying brother also wore one as well. But this knight in front of him wasn't the Kingslayer.

No, they said that the Kingslayer was at Casterly Rock, so this had to be someone else. "Let's end the war right here and right now!" The knight yelled.

Grey Wind, who had kept by Robb's side even in his injured state, bared his teeth and let out a fierce growl at the knight with the lion helm.

Robb readied his blade and steadied himself as prepared for the attack to come. His muscles were on fire and his body ached. He was fairly sure he was bleeding from his side and the earth was shaking from underneath his feet. What in the name of the gods was doing all that shaking, and how were the Lannister so ready for them?

The scouts said that this camp was an easy target.

"We need him alive Leo!" Another knight shouted over the sounds of battle going on around them.

"Ser Jason's orders!" A knight wearing the brindled boar of Crakehall on his surcoat said.

Robb looked around and found himself being surrounded by Lannister men. His battle guard were nowhere to be seen, and each way he looked, he found nothing but red and gold.

"Take the beast down!" A Lefford knight shouted and before Robb could even turn to face the man who had shouted the order, his side exploded with pain. He turned to swing at the attacker but found none.

No, they had attacked Grey Wind.

The direwolf at a spear sticking out from his side and he struggled to remain on his legs. The wound was bleeding profusely, and the heaving of his ribcage was apparent for all to see. Each breath was a struggle and Robb could only watch in horror as his direwolf fell to his side.

He swung to face the knight with the lion helm and let out a roar of rage and pain. It was clear this man was the leader and Robb swung at him with all the fury he could muster. He was screaming as he swung left and right, pressing his attack even as his body screamed at him to stop, as the blood from his wounds ran down his body underneath all his clothes and armor.

The knight with the lion helm met him blow for blow, his gods damned golden sword ringing out as their blades clashed. None of the other men around them moved to intervene. They had in fact closed the circle around them, cutting off the outside world.

Robb could hear the sounds of men dying in the air as well as horses pounding the earth. Banners were flying in the distance, and they weren't the Stark Direwolf, but the Lion of Lannister.

"Yield Stark, and you may yet live!" The knight of Lannister yelled.

Robb answered with a primal growl and swung his blade again. The knight answered with his own swing and their blades met, the cross guards knocking together, lion heads and direwolf heads nearly kissing.

The sounds of horns blaring in the distance filled his ears again and the knight of Lannister pushed him away. Robb stumbled back and raised his blade to block the incoming attack, but none came. The knight simply held his ground and looked at him.

"Kill the beast." Was all he said.

The squelch of blade meeting flesh sounded from behind him, and Robb turned to find Grey Wind with a sword running through his skull, the bone breaking under the man's thrust. Robb's head exploded with pain, and he struggle to remain standing. His world was whirling around him, his eyes losing focus on the very man in front of him.

"No." Robb muttered as the blade in his hand fell from his grip. It clattered down on the grassy earth and was soon followed as Robb fell to his knees beside Grey Wind's corpse.

"No." "NO!"

Robb felt a hand come down on his shoulder and he swung at whoever had touched him. His punch landed on red and gold plate and a lion helm looked down at him.

"I am sorry, but needs must be."

The Lion of Lannister swung his gauntleted fist at Robb's face and the last thing he saw was the roaring lion before his world went black.

Chapter End Notes

Well damn, that happened.

The Brothers Lannister

Chapter Summary

Gerold and Tyrion get some news. Leo and Jason plan for the future.

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

"Tyrion! You are a most welcome sight."

Tyrion Lannister, Hand of the King and a dwarf, looked up at his cousin's smile as they entered the windowless guardroom in the gatehouse. He had been informed by Ser Jacelyn that the Starks had sent an envoy bearing a peace banner and terms to King's Landing.

He had made his way to the gatehouse with his mountain clansmen and stepped into the room occupied by a haggard looking Cleos Frey. Aunt Genna's eldest son looked all too much like a Frey, for his face was thin and his chin was weak, so very unlike a Lannister. The man had stringy brown hair instead of the golden blond of his mother and he was rather thin, though that could have been from being a prisoner than his overall body shape.

But, while the rest of House Frey had sided with the Starks, Cleos Frey remained loyal to Casterly Rock, and that was all that really mattered in the end.

"I will say, you are a sight for sore eyes cousin." Tyrion said and gestured for the door to be closed. The room was lit by a couple torches in wall scones and gave the room an almost dilapidated look.

"I bring King Robb's letter and his offer of peace. Is Cersei here with you?" Cleos asked.

"Did word not reach before you departed from Riverrun?" Tyrion asked and got a shake of the head in turn. "Well, my dear sister is no longer the Queen Regent, she is just the Queen Mother now. Gerold, my older brother Jason's son, has taken up the position. He is the Lord Regent now and in all honesty he's probably the Protector of the Realm at this point..."

"For true?"

"Aye, Cersei and Joffrey hold no power in King's Landing as of now. My sister and her son are confined to Maegor's Holdfast as of now, and if you ask me Gerold couldn't have made a better decisions about it all."

"I... wouldn't have thought that Cersei would give up her power like that."

"Oh, she didn't. Needs must be cousin, and in times of war we all must be decisive."

Cleos lips formed a line and he nodded.

"Now, let us take this conversation to Gerold. He aught to hear what the Young Wolf has to say as well." Tyrion said and waved for his cousin to follow him.

The door to the little room in the gatehouse was opened and Tyrion had Cleos escorted with him towards the small council chamber. He had sent a servant off to inform everyone that needed to be present for the meeting and along the way he regaled his cousin of Frey about all the changes that had been made to the city since the change of power.

Things had been improving in the city if Tyrion was to be honest. Food was still an issue as the breadbasket that was the Reach was now cut off to them, but Gerold had worked to remedy the situation the best he could. Food was now being strictly rationed, and with the Gold Cloaks being brought into a semblance of order, the smallfolk were begrudgingly accepting the limited but constant stream of food and water.

Gerold had also taken the advice of Bronn, Tyrion's friendly sellsword, in imprisoning all the known thieves within King's Landing. They were going to be expecting the city to be under siege from either of the Baratheon brothers, and the last thing that any of them needed was a thief running off with the food. So, into the dungeons did the thieves go, and gone was at least one threat from within the walls.

Varys, as much as Tyrion disliked the eunuch, was proving useful. The Master of Whispers had fettered out the vocally disloyal amongst the small folk and Gerold had his men go out and take them prisoner. They didn't need the mood in the city to fall anymore than it already had. There was a war going on, and the last thing they needed was a riot that could potentially spell their doom. It had worked out for the most part, and while Gerold didn't like it, Tyrion knew that his nephew understood the necessity of it.

It was as he got around to explaining how the totally-not-a-coup had occurred within the Red Keep that they arrived at the small council chamber. There were several knights of the Lion Guard standing around the small council chambers. Two knights of the Kingsguard, or Ser Boros Blount and Sandor Clegane, stood on either side of the door. Blount looked... well, hungry, and Clegane looked bored. The fat knight sneered down at Tyrion but quickly backed off after Timett son of Timett stood at Tyrion's back.

Clegane snorted at the whole exchange and opened the door for them. Tyrion offered the scarred man a nod and entered the small council chamber and was greeted with what they were now calling the smaller council. They lacked a Master of Laws, a Master of Ships, and now a Master of Coin. Littlefinger had been thrown into a black cell and Gerold had no intention of letting the man out of it.

He was a traitor to the crown and had been one since the days of Robert Baratheon. He wouldn't be missed.

Gerold sat at the head of the small council table with a plate of food in front of him. Tyrion belatedly realized that it was around time for the midday meal and felt quite hungry himself. Grand Maester Pycelle was nibbling on a piece of bread and Varys, the Master of Whispers, was sipping a cup of wine. There were many empty chairs around the table and gestured for Cleos to take one of them.

"Ah, Lord Tyrion, it is good to see you again." Varys tittered.

"You as well Lord Varys." Tyrion replied.

"Cousin Gerold." Cleos began. "I must congratulate you on your recent promotions."

"It's hardly something I wanted, but needs must be." Gerold said as he wiped his mouth and took a sip of water. "Last I heard you were a prisoner at Riverrun. Dare I say you've made an escape?"

"No, I... I've come bearing King Robb's terms of peace." "Demands more like." Tyrion said.

"Robb Stark is a traitor ser, there is only one king." Grand Maester Pycelle said. The man had a sagely voice or was trying to use one. Pycelle was Lord Tywin's creatures, he always had been, so of course he would remain loyal.

"Of course, Grand Maester." Cleos said.

"It's a matter of semantics Cleos." Gerold waved off. "It's only a matter of time be-"

The door to the small council chamber burst open and they all watched as Ser Lancel Lannister actually fell over himself in his haste to enter. Tyrion's rather slim cousin pushed himself off the floor and reordered himself as if nothing had happened. He flushed in embarrassment but soon moved on to whatever he was here for.

"A raven, Lord Regent, from Ser Jason." Lancel said as he walked over to Gerold's side and handed him the rolled-up parchment.

Gerold quirked an eyebrow at Lancel as he broke the seal and read the contents. Tyrion watched as his nephew's eyes widened and the shock settled on his face. Gerold broke out into a smile as he chuckled to himself before handing the scroll to Tyrion.

"Well, your purpose here has become rather redundant cousin Cleos, Robb Stark is defeated and taken prisoner." Gerold said with a laugh.

"My lord?" Varys said.

"It is for true Lord Varys." Tyrion said. "Robb Stark's host somehow slipped past the Golden Tooth, only to fall between a Lannister hammer on a Lefford anvil."

"He's been taken prisoner, along with several Northern and Riverlander lords. For all intents and purposes, that war is over." Gerold said.

"This is joyous news." Grand Maester Pycelle said and gave a small chuckle. "What about the..." Cleos trailed off.

"Robb Stark is captured cousin." Tyrion said with a smirk. "The war is over, at least the one against the Starks is."

"We need to send for Lord Tywin." Lancel said. "He needs to come to King's Landing before Stannis or Renly does."

"What is to happen with the new prisoners that Ser Jason has acquired?" Varys asked. "He does not say Lord Varys," Gerold said. "but I'm sure you can figure it out."

Varys acted as if he didn't know what was being implied.

"Robb Stark may be captured, but the Riverlands are still very much at war. News needs to spread of the Young Wolf's defeat before my father can come. There's also Roose Bolton and his host that is still out there. The Northmen are not completely out of the fight just yet." Tyrion said.

"Aye, and Uncle Jaime is still a prisoner at Riverrun. Who is in command of the garrison at present?" Gerold said.

"My little birds say that Ser Edmure Tully is at Riverrun for the moment." Varys said.

"He's not the smartest man I've ever met, but he still is a threat." Tyrion said. "And I doubt that he'd just hand Jaime over now that we have Robb Stark."

"Are you suggesting another siege, my lord?" Grand Maester Pycelle asked.

"Mayhaps we can end hostilities by having Robb Stark bend the knee and swear fealty. Though, I have my doubts as to what will happen once Joffrey becomes a man grown and I can no longer keep him locked up." Gerold said.

Cleos blanched at the mention of their king being locked up like a common prisoner, but everyone else showed no sign of any expression on their faces. The Grand Maester was stroking his beard and Lancel had his hands on his hips. Varys was unreadable and Tyrion couldn't care less about what happened to Joffrey.

"It would be a prudent course of action." Varys said.

"What of Stannis and Renly? They're going to march on the city!" Lancel said. "Varys, what do your spies say?" Tyrion asked.

"Renly Baratheon is currently moving to lift the siege of Strom's End. Stannis Baratheon is outnumbered in terms of men and horse, but the men he has are loyal to him. And most interestingly, Lady Catelyn Stark is with Renly's host." Varys tittered.

"Catelyn Stark? What the hells is she doing with Renly Baratheon?" Tyrion asked. "Cleos, was Lady Stark at Riverrun when you left?" Gerold asked.

"Uh, last I saw her was when I was being given the task of bringing Robb Stark's demands to King's Landing and Cersei Lannister." Cleos said.

"She may not know of her son's defeat and capture yet." Tyrion noted.

"Well, I see no point in telling her, she'll figure it out eventually." Gerold said. "Spread the news of Robb Stark's defeat, that'll give the smallfolk something else to talk about for a couple days."

"W-What about the letter?" Cleos asked.

"The king who wrote that letter will soon no longer be a king." Grand Maester Pycelle said. "I see no reason why we must entertain it any longer."

"The Grand Maester speaks true, the war with the North and the Riverlands is all but over. You have no reason to return to Riverrun Cleos." Tyrion said.

"But I vowed that I would." Cleos said.

"You made a vow to traitors." Lancel snapped. "You don't need to keep it."

"Just stay for a couple of days. We'll figure something out by then." Gerold said and stood. "If there is nothing else, then this meeting is at an end. If any of you need me, I shall be visiting the Madienvault."

"My lord?" Varys asked somewhat confused.

"Someone needs to inform Lady Sansa of the news, and I'd rather it be done with the respect that is due to her station. She is Joffrey's betrothed after all." Gerold said over his shoulder as he left the room, his guards and the two men of the Kingsguard following him.

Tyrion watched his nephew go and looked back at the raven scroll in his hand. One down, two to go.

"Gods, is this for true?"

"Aye, it is. Balon Greyjoy must be an idiot if he thinks he can hold all of the North." "Did he have to murder both of the Stark boys? That's just cruel."

"War often is Leo, and Iron Born are especially ruthless."

Leo Lannister nodded his head at his father's words. The Greyjoy Rebellion was still talked about down in Lannisport. Those rapists and reavers had thought that they could attack the Westerlands without consequence. They had thought wrong however, and Leo's father had been there to beat them back during the initial attack. Then he had been one of the first men to set foot on the Iron Islands during the days of the war.

His father was a veteran when dealing with Iron Born raiders, so Leo took what he said about them seriously.

Though, he didn't think they were all idiots.

"They cannot think they can hold the North." Leo said.

"Most certainly not." Ser Jason Lannister said. "Greyjoy's invasion was both poorly planned and executed. He lacks the manpower to truly hold his gains, and his son in particular is an idiot. Killing the Stark boys was unnecessary, they could have been used as hostages, but now? Poorly done."

"Has Robb Stark been informed yet?" Leo asked.

While he didn't like the Young Wolf who was sitting in a cell deep within Casterly Rock, but he could sympathize with him. Leo couldn't imagine losing Gerold and Isabella like Robb had lost Bran and Rickon. He didn't even want to think of his siblings' burnt bodies hanging from the walls of Casterly Rock.

Ser Jason looked towards the Maester who stood by the table they were both sitting at.

"No, he hasn't, my lord." Maester Creylen said. The man was balding and slightly round around the stomach. He was loyal to House Lannister and been at Casterly Rock since before Leo had been born.

"See to it that he is. The man may be a traitor, but he is still Lord of Winterfell. He deserves to know that his home has been taken and his family slaughtered." Ser Jason said.

"I shall do so at once, my lord." Maester Creylen said and hastily made his exit.

"So, the war in the North isn't truly over now, isn't it?" Leo asked once the door to his father's solar had closed.

"No, it isn't." The man sighed. "But that is a problem for another day. Right now, we still have to take care of rest of the Riverlands and both Baratheon brothers before we can turn our eyes north."

Leo looked down at the map that covered his father's great wooden table. Gerold was holding King's Landing with Uncle Tyrion and the latest raven from the city bore good news. Grandfather Tywin was still at Harrenhal with his host, and it looked like he planned to remain there for the time being. Uncle Jaime was still a prisoner at Riverrun, but hopefully that would change soon. Cousin Daven, Ser Stafford's son, was marching into the Riverlands with the veterans of the Battle of Oxcross.

It had truly been a bloody affair, but they had lost surprisingly few men. Ser Stafford had managed to gather twelve thousand men, mostly green boys and freeriders, but twelve thousand of them, nevertheless. That also wasn't taking into account the four thousand strong force led by Ser Forley Prester that had managed to escape Uncle Jaime's failed siege of Riverrun.

In the end, after the battle was done and the dead accounted for, some fourteen thousand men were marching back into the Riverlands with Ser Daven Lannister leading them. They were to besiege Riverrun again and this time with the goal of freeing Uncle Jaime and taking the castle.

Leo was still amazed at how fast everything had been organized. It had taken less than two days to get everyone sorted and put back on the march, and cousin Daven was eager to prove himself by taking Riverrun. Leo had thought about joining him, but decided against it in the end, he'd seen enough slaughter at the Battle of Oxcross.

"We need to send reinforcements to King's Landing." Leo said after looking over the map. "Gerold and Uncle Tyrion are dangerously exposed without a proper host to garrison the city."

The City Watch of King's Landing, the famed Gold Cloaks, weren't what Leo would call a proper army. His father had described them as upjumped sellswords and some of Gerold's

ravens hadn't portrayed them in a good light either. If a siege were to happen, the last thing Gerold needed was a garrison that broke at the first sign of trouble.

"I'll send word for my father to move and support Gerold." Ser Jason said. "With Robb Stark prisoner and Roose Bolton still licking his wounds, the road to King's Landing should be open."

"We should-"

"It is nearly midnight boys." A stern voice called from the doorway. "The war can wait until morning."

Leo and his father both looked up and towards Lady Alysanne Lefford. She stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips and an expectant look on her face. Leo's lady mother was a stern woman when she wanted to be and right now, he knew that she wouldn't be taking no for an answer.

"Alysan-"

"Don't Alysanne me Jason." Leo's mother said she gave his father a look. "You two have already captured Robb Stark and most of the Northern and Riverlander lords with him. I'd say that was enough to warrant some sleep instead of hunching over a map."

"There's a war we have to plan for." Leo said.

"And you'll do so on the morn. Get to bed Leo, you need sleep." His lady mother said as she walked up to him. She took his face in her hand and looked over him. What she saw must have confirmed her words as she gave him a small smile before sending him towards the door.

Leo let himself be pushed towards the door as he knew arguing with his mother was a futile effort. Alysanne Lefford was always right when it came to these matters, and now that he

took a moment, he was tired. He passed the two knights flanking either side of the door leading to his father's solar and the last thing he heard before turning the corner was the soft sounds of his parents' voices.

Chapter End Notes

One king down, but another throws his hat into the ring!

A Caged Direwolf

Chapter Summary

Sansa's thoughts of the recent events and Tyrion and the gang get their hands on some wildfire.

"Do you like it? I want it to be a lion, for cousin Gerold." "I think its lovely princess."

Sansa Stark's answer had come to her without thought. Just say whatever they want to hear. She didn't want to think that way, but her time in King's Landing had changed her, and not for the better. Her father was dead, her sister was missing and most likely dead, the household they had traveled south with was slaughtered. They were all gone, even her dear friend Jeyne Poole was gone, simply disappeared from their rooms one day, never to be seen again.

Princess Myrcella Baratheon was a girl of eight, yet Sansa couldn't help but tread carefully in her presence. She was a daughter of Cersei Lannister, and Sansa had learned that soft and gently words could hide daggers. That there was a threat to everything that was spoken within this city. But Princess Myrcella was young and innocent, she didn't play the games that the courtiers did. She called Sansa a friend, and her little brother Tommen did as well.

They wouldn't hurt her, would they?

Joffrey did, however. How she had been so blind she didn't know. She was so wrapped up in her dreams of marrying the prince and becoming a queen that she did not see the rotten boy that lay underneath the golden hair and the emerald green eyes. She failed to see how cruel and quick tempered Joffrey was, and she still blindly believed in the good of him, up until he ordered her father's head removed from his shoulders. Then he had her beaten for her supposed treasons, for the fact that Robb was winning the war.

Or had been winning.

Ser, no, he was the lord regent now. Lord Regent Gerold Lannister had come to personally inform her of Robb's defeat at Oxcross in the Westerlands. That his host was defeated and that he was taken prisoner along with many lords of the North and the Riverlands. That he was still alive, but his war was as good as done. Lord Gerold didn't smile when he said it, he looked grim and serious, and nothing like Joffrey. Sansa's betrothed would have laughed at her face or mayhaps have her beaten just for good measure.

Either way, Sansa had cried herself to sleep that night.

Her only consolation was that Robb was still alive. Her brother was still breathing, and she prayed that he would be by the time the war was over. He was a prisoner yes, but if he bent the knee he could keep Winterfell, he could go back home. Lord Gerold was the lord regent after all, so he spoke with the king's voice, so he could do it. He could have Robb bend the knee and swear fealty and then everything would be alright. Robb would stay alive and head back to Winterfell.

He had to.

Then news came from the North, and none of it was good.

Lord Tyrion had come to tell her of this news, and grimaced while he did it. The Iron Islands had declared themselves a separate and independent kingdom, and laid claim to the North in the process. It was said that Theon Greyjoy had taken Winterfell. That he had betrayed Robb and attacked the place he had called home for years. That he had done all of that and killed Bran and Rickon in the process. Sansa didn't hear anything else that the Hand of the King after that, only the pounding of the blood in her ears.

Bran and Rickon were dead.

She hadn't even noticed when the dwarf had left, but she had cried herself hoarse that day. Her little brothers were gone, her home taken by rapists and reavers, savages from the Iron Islands. She didn't truly like Theon, but she had lived with him for years, and she didn't think

he'd do something like that. It was unimaginable, yet, Lord Tyrion had showed her the little scroll of parchment, and the words it held.

Bran, Rickon, Arya, they were all gone.

All that was left was Robb and their mother. They were the last Starks, and her father's words rang through her head as she laid in her bed at night. When the snow falls and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. They weren't a pack though. The snow wasn't falling, and the wind wasn't blowing, but they were not a pack either. They were scattered to the wind, dead or dying or captured.

She hated herself for it, for being so stupid. Arya was right, life wasn't all fairytales and dreams. Joffrey was stupid and mean and Sansa just hadn't seen it until it was too late.

"Sansa? Its going to be okay."

Princess Myrcella put a small hand on top of her own and Sansa looked up. The golden haired and emerald eyed girl had stopped her embroidering and was looking at her with a sad smile. It was a blurry image, and Sansa belatedly realized that she was crying. The tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand.

"I..."

"Uncle Jason won't kill your brother, not like Theon Greyjoy did." Princess Myrcella said. "Uncle Jason's a good man, nice and kind, honorable too."

Sansa didn't know what to think about the man. Honorable? Jason Lannister was known as the Kingslayer from Dorne to the Wall. Sansa knew it from the moment she could understand what a king and what honor was. The man had killed Mad King Aerys and tried to save Princess Elia and her children. Everyone knew the tale, of how the brothers fought before the Heir to Casterly Rock came out on top and then ascended the steps of the Iron Throne to kill the king, driving his blade through the man's stomach.

Princess Myrcella said that her uncle was a nice and kind man, that he would never kill Robb like Theon had done to Bran and Rickon. Sansa wanted to believe that, but the man was a Lannister. Queen Cersei had said nice and kind words to her and look where that had ended her at. No, she would not trust another Lannister just because they had nice and kind words. Lord Gerold and Lord Tyrion were at least truer than the queen, but Sansa was still wary of them.

She was surrounded by Lannisters, a lone wolf in a pit of lions and stags. "That's... good to know princess."

"You don't have to keep calling me that Sansa."

"You're a princess, I have to."

"Gerold says that your Joffrey's betrothed, so that means you'll soon be my goodsister. If you're going to marry him, I'd rather you call me Myrcella."

"Okay, pri-... Myrcella." Sansa fumbled out the sentence.

She got a smile in return and soon the two of them returned to their embroidery. Princess Myrcella was stitching a lion for her cousin, the outline already finished. Hear Me Roar was already finished, and the words were in gold on the red cloth. Sansa looked down at her own embroidery and found it rather empty. She hadn't seriously done any embroidery since her father had died.

Her hand trembled slightly as she started to stitch. A direwolf, that's what I'll make. She was a Stark of Winterfell, she had to remain strong. She'd hopefully see Robb soon, and mayhaps their mother as well. It wouldn't do good for them to meet someone who was unrecognizable, but Sansa feared that she already was.

"Wildfire?"

"Wildfire."

"Wildfire?!"

"What are you all, children learning their first words? Yes, wildfire."

Tyrion watched as his nephew rubbed his face with a hand, sighing all the while. He had to admit, that had been his reaction when he had learned the news as well. Of all the things to find underneath the Dragonpit, wildfire was the least expected among them.

"What in the name of the gods is three hundred jars of wildfire doing under the Dragonpit?!" Gerold yelled.

The rest of the small council grimaced as the Lord Regent looked at them all as if they were children. Pycelle certainly acted cowed, and Varys was bowing his head. Tyrion was a little amused at that and made sure to remember it for later.

"They were found by some whores entertaining their patrons, ha!" Hallyne, the wisdom and head of the pyromancers, was a pallid man who was slightly hunched over due to his age. He was garbed in the clothes of the Alchemists' Guild, leathers and chains all.

"I want to know why there are three hundred jars of the stuff under the Dragonpit." Gerold demanded. "I want to know why its there and who put it there."

"Lord Rossart placed the cache of wildfire there my lord regent, but the reasons for why are lost to us." Hallyne explained.

"King Aerys' Hand of the King?" Tyrion asked. He knew his histories, as well as the tales that Jaime told. The head pyromancer raised to the position after Qarlton Chelsted was burned.

"Correct my lord hand, Rossart was the last Hand of the King to Aerys Targaryen." Pycelle said.

"So, a dead man ordered them placed there and he told no one of it?" Gerold said. "Varys, I want to know of any more such caches of wildfire that may or may not be around the city. We're soon to be under siege and I'll not have the city accidently burnt to the ground."

"At once my lord regent." Varys said and made a hasty exit, no doubt to do many things with this piece of information, as well as carry out Gerold's orders. Tyrion disliked the eunuch, and they would have to think of a way to get rid of him once the war was done.

He gave off a wrong feeling to Tyrion.

"The wildfire could be useful in defeating Stannis or Renly when they come to siege us." Tyrion pointed out. "We may have a use for it."

"It is a dangerous substance my lord." Pycelle warned. "Not for the faint of heart."

"It is most useful my lords." Hallyne said. "The substance burns so hot that it melts wood, stone, even steel, and of course, flesh."

"We'll need every advantage we can get until Lord Tywin finishes with his campaign in the Riverlands. Very well, continue making the wildfire Wisdom Hallyne." Gerold said.

The pyromancer chuckled as he nodded his head and made his way from the room. Wildfire was a dangerous thing, even Tyrion knew it. The tales of the Mad King burning his enemies was still a well-known one. Wildfire burnt so hot that it could do so on water, and that gave him some ideas. If Stannis were to emerge victorious from his little confrontation with Renly

in the Stormlands, then he would be attacking by sea with the stolen royal fleet, and that had opportunities.

If Renly won and marched on the city, they might need to find a way to safely catapult the jars at the attacking host. Though, Bronn had said it was a stupid plan, for in the chaos of battle, men dropped things, and they were just as likely to burn down King's Landing's walls as they were for Renly's host.

Still, the wildfire would be of use to them.

"Grand Maester, send a raven to my grandfather. Inquire as to how long it will take until he is able to march to King's Landing." Gerold said. "We will need him if either one of the Baratheon brothers marches on the city, and I'd rather not leave it to fate."

"Of course, Lord Gerold."

Tyrion watched as the old man stood very slowly and shuffled out of the room. The act of the senile but wizened old man was a good one, but Tyrion was pretty sure it was a false one. A mummer's trick to fool people into believing that the man was not a threat, when he clearly was. The Mad King had learned that lesson far too late after all.

"Well, its not all bad. At least the Baratheon brothers are fighting one another." Tyrion said.

"Aye, but we both know that sooner or later one of them is going to march on the city." Gerold sighed. "Gods, I'm starting to regret all of this. How did Grandfather do this for over twenty years?"

"Fear not nephew, you won't be Lord of Casterly Rock and Hand of the King. By the time that happens your grandfather, your father, and I will all be dead, and Joffrey won't be king any longer." Tyrion said.

"How very enlightening uncle." Gerold snorted.

"Oh, then you are going to love what I have in plan for us now." Tyrion said and got off his seat.

"I'm not visiting Chataya's brothel uncle, I don't do whores."

"Not that, though we'll have to fix that at some point. No, we'll be taking a stroll towards Maegor's Holdfast."

"And what possible reason do we have for visiting Aunt Cersei and Joffrey?" Gerold asked as they left the small council chamber.

"To deliver the good new after all. I'm sure they still think that Robb Stark is out there and that Balon Greyjoy was still a lord."

"Hardly good news, and she'll probably yell at us both before we even get a word out." Gerold sighed.

"Aye, but we still need to tell her, she is the Queen Mother, and Joffrey is the king."

Gerold rolled his eyes and Tyrion chuckled as they made their way through the Red Keep. Aye, they were going to tell Cersei and Joffrey of the comings and goings of the world, but also to see how they were holding up. Being basically imprisoned wasn't an overall enjoyable experience, but this was Maegor's Holdfast after all, and it was certainly better than a sky cell.

Dark Wings, Dark Words?

Chapter Summary

Gerold and Tyrion get a raven in the night.

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The raven reached King's Landing late into the night.

When the Grand Maester saw the seal on the scroll, he was confused. Why is a Baratheon sending a message to King's Landing? The only true Baratheons were right here in this city, the rest were traitors. The seal bearing the sigil of a crowned stag was broken by weary fingers and the parchment was unrolled. The writing had proven to be erratic, marred with errors, clearly a hastily written thing.

The message it held proved to be just as chaotic.

The Grand Maester read it once, then twice, and on the third read the words finally became real to him. He rushed to call a servant in, ordering them to rouse the Lord Regent and the Lord Hand from their slumbers. News from Bitterbridge was something that those two men needed to hear. Robb Stark may have been defeated and captured by Lord Jason, but there were still two Baratheons out there. Two false kings in the south to deal with.

Or there were two of them.

Lord Gerold and Lord Tyrion did not believe his words at first, but the Grand Maester remained adamant about it. Renly Baratheon is dead! It was written here on this very message. Who had written the message was unknown, as was their reason for sending it to King's Landing and thus the Lannisters, who were King Renly's enemies. The Lord Regent had come over his shock and started asking questions then.

"Who killed King Renly?" Gerold asked.

The small roll of parchment in his hands felt unreal. Renly Baratheon had the power of Highgarden and the Reach behind him due to his marriage to Margaery Tyrell. He had the power of the Stormlands, rallying most of the Stormlords to his cause, stealing them from his elder brother. Gerold and Uncle Tyrion had been formulating plans that focused on what to do if Renly Baratheon attacked them, for it was certainly going to be the youngest brother of the late King Robert.

Yet, that was not to be. Renly Baratheon was dead and his host of one hundred thousand men was scattered. The war had shifted so abruptly that a part of Gerold still believed that this was all some wild dream.

"The message does not say my lord, but it may not matter. Renly Baratheon is gone and so too is the threat from the south." Grand Maester Pycelle said.

"I would not say that too hastily now." Uncle Tyrion said, the man looking tired, his hair still rumpled from his sleep. "With Renly dead, that means Stannis has no competition. He will most likely rally the remaining Stormlords to his side, and with them and the Lords of the Narrow Sea, he will attack King's Landing."

"There's also Highgarden and the Reach." Gerold pointed out as the three of them looked over a map of the Seven Kingdoms in the Maester's tower. "They raised a mighty host and intended to take King's Landing and put a Tyrell queen on the throne. That host is ready for war and though Renly Baratheon may be dead, that doesn't mean they might do something on their own. Renly had no right to crown himself king and yet he did. What's to stop Mace Tyrell from doing the same? He has everything he needs to do so."

"He doesn't have kings' blood however." The Grand Maester pointed out. "The Tyrells were stewards to the Gardeners, nothing more. They were servants, and as such, any claim to kingship they may make will be proven false. There are several houses in the Reach who can trace back to the Gardeners before Aegon's Conquest."

"The Fat Flower doesn't seem to be the person with the balls to do such a thing either." Uncle Tyrion said. "It's commonly known that the man's mother rules over him. Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns, that is the one we have to be wary about. Jason visited Highgarden a year

before Jon Arryn's death and met with the Tyrells. He told me that Olenna Tyrell was the one to watch out for, that while she is frail, she has a mind as sharp as Valyrian steel."

Gerold looked over the map and the little pieces of stone that represented the various armies across the Seven Kingdoms. Grandfather Tywin was still stuck in the Riverlands, as Roose Bolton had started to march again from the Twins. The man was blocking Lord Tywin's route to King's Landing, and reports said that Edmure Tully was doing the same, moving his men around to try and take an opportunity to attack the Lannister Host at Harrenhal. It seemed that word of Robb Stark's defeat had not yet reached them, and so they should have been pulling back but they weren't, and that was causing some problems. There were too many Direwolf pieces in-between King's Landing and Harrenhal for Gerold's liking, but that may soon change.

Ser Daven Lannister, a cousin who was now in command of a host comprised of veterans from the Battle of Oxcross, was marching into the Riverlands. Reports had it that they had already passed the Golden Tooth and were now making their way towards Riverrun, threatening the castle. Uncle Jaime was still prisoner, and as far as they knew, he was still alive. Gerold wouldn't put it above the Starks to take revenge for Joffrey's killing of Lord Stark by taking Uncle Jaime's head. But the Starks were an honorable bunch, and he hoped that the reputation of the father was passed on to the son, and from there to whoever was left in Riverrun after that.

Ser Stafford Lannister, who had been injured in the Battle of Oxcross, was said to be riding with a small host to Harrenhal itself to supplement Grandfather Tywin's men. Gerold hadn't met Stafford Lannister yet, but what he heard said that the man wasn't the most competent of military officers. But he had distinguished himself at Oxcross, and he was Grandmother Joanna's brother, so it had to mean something. Whether the man and his reinforcements did anything for the Lord of Casterly Rock was yet to be seen.

The Iron Born had grown bold since the Greyjoy Rebellion had ended in defeat. Gerold looked at the little stone pieces shaped like squids with disgust. It may be war, but to slaughter little boys in their own home? That was truly barbaric and an affront to the gods if he ever saw one. The North was in disarray, with several notable keeps being taken by the Greyjoys. Winterfell, Moat Cailin, Deepwood Motte, and several other smaller keeps had all been taken. Word was coming through Varys' limited spy network in the North that Torrhen's Square was seeing battles and the Stony Shore was being raided, with anything that was unable to be looted burnt down.

It was a whole mess that Gerold didn't want to touch with a three-foot lance, yet if they were to win this war and keep Joffrey as King of the Seven Kingdoms, they would eventually have to deal with the North. But that was for another day, for today was about the death of one stag and the oncoming threat of another.

"Stannis Baratheon won't get the support of the Tyrells." Gerold stated as he took hold of the little stone stag that was on Storm's End. "They nearly starved him to death in Robert's Rebellion, and Stannis is said to be a hard and brittle man, so he won't be a forgiving one either. The Tyrells are out of the fight for now, so that means that Stannis Baratheon will have most of the Stormlords and Lords of the Narrow Sea with him. He also has the royal fleet and can attack the city from Blackwater Bay as well as from the south."

"I don't like it Gerold, we don't have enough men here. The city is simply not ready for a siege, and if Stannis has most of the Stormlords with him, he might just assault the walls itself."

"He'd lose thousands of men."

"But he would breach the gates." Grand Maester Pycelle said. "If this city falls to Stannis Baratheon, then the war may very well turn to his favour. King's Landing is the seat of kings after all, and there can be only one king on the Iron Throne."

"Aye, we can't let that happen." Uncle Tyrion said.

"Lets just hope your wildfire plan works out then." Gerold said with a sigh. "That, or we hold on long enough for Grandfather Tywin to get here, but I don't like those odds."

"It'll have to work, but that doesn't mean it the only route we can take." His uncle said as he sipped his wine, which seeing as none of them were going to go back to sleep any time soon it seemed appropriate. "The Tyrells only crowned Renly to get Margaery Tyrell a crown of her own."

"My lord...what you are suggesting..." Grand Maester Pycelle stroked his beard in contemplation.

"The Tyrells never did get a princess or queen during the Targaryen dynasty." Gerold said as he started to see where his uncle was going.

"Exactly." Uncle Tyrion said with a snap of the fingers. "They want a crown and the legitimacy that goes with it. Not many remember, but Olenna Tyrell was once betrothed to a Targaryen, back when she was simply Olenna Redwyne. Prince Daeron Targaryen, the son of King Aegon the Fifth of His Name, was the man she was betrothed to, but it was broken off when Olenna Redwyne married Luthor Tyrell. Now, I can see why the Queen of Thorns didn't want to marry Prince Daeron, him being the fourth son and all. So, they would want to get royal blood another way, and that way was Renly, but now he's dead. So, there is really only one option we have left."

"Joffrey." Gerold said as he palmed his face.

"Joffrey." Uncle Tyrion said as he raised his cup of wine in faux salute.

"But the king is already betrothed to Lady Sansa Stark." Grand Maester Pycelle said. "You don't mean to break the betrothal in favour of Lady Margaery."

"If the price of gaining the support of the Reach is putting a crown on Margaery Tyrell's head, then I say that it's a worthwhile price to pay. We need men and the Tyrells might be able to reach King's Landing before my father at this point." Uncle Tyrion said.

"But Lady Margaery married a traitor, my lord. She has already been wedded and bedded; it is not something that the king would accept."

"The king has no say in the matter as of right now." Gerold said. "He is still not a man grown, and until he is, I have the final say in all matters concerning him. So, uncle, do you believe that this is a good plan? There are risks in doing something like this. Mayhaps we should speak with Grandfather Tywin about this."

"There are risks aye, but the rewards outweigh them. The Tyrells have the largest number of men and a fleet that almost rivals the royal fleet itself. They also have most of the food that the Seven Kingdoms needs to survive, so not only would this potential alliance secure us a victory in the eventual attack from Stannis Baratheon, but it would also solve the food problem that King's Landing is slowly heading towards. Lady Sansa Stark, for all that she is a nice and kind girl, offers us nothing. Her father was an accused traitor who was beheaded for his crimes and her brother is a traitor and a prisoner as well. The Starks no longer truly hold the North either, so the choice seems rather obvious when comparing the two." Uncle Tyrion said.

Gerold didn't truly know what to do, nor did he like the way that the other two men were looking to him for the final decision. He was the youngest person in the room! Yet, he was also the one they were looking towards for an answer, or an order. This was one of a growing number of times where he regretted taking up the Lord Regency, not that it was being offered, but needs must be in order to keep the city functional and relatively safe.

He didn't even know how they were going to broach this possible alliance to the Tyrells if they agreed on doing this. How would they even get the message to them? This wasn't something that you could simply send by a raven, the information was too sensitive to be left to a birth. He couldn't think of anyone to send that was within King's Landing as they needed every capable man present.

But it seemed that they might have another option, for another raven fluttered into the tower, as they were sitting in the small solar within the Maester's tower. The rookery was just above them and this was a rather loud bird, which caused the others to make noise, sounding out their songs at this early hour.

A short journey up the stairs and into the rookery found the three of them faced with a raven with a little scroll at his leg, a scroll with a lion of Lannister seal on it. A message from Casterly Rock itself. Gerold got to the bird first and took the little scroll of parchment off, breaking the seal and unrolling it. The words were the small, neat handwriting of his lord father, yet the message seemed to solve one problem for them, though it created more questions for him. Gerold turned back to the other men in the room and asked a simple question, for he could not in his life remember who this person was.

"If you two could remind me, who is Ser Damion Lannister?"

"And the one that looks like a falling sword is the constellation for the Sword of the Morning."

Leo squinted into the Myrish lens as he gazed upon the stars. It was a cloudless night, and the moon wasn't lighting up the night sky, so the stars were ever prominent. There were thousands of them in the sky, all of them tiny dots of white on a black field.

The constellation of the Sword of the Morning did indeed look like a falling sword, once you wrapped your head around the concept of drawing imaginary lines between tiny dots so that the shape of a sword came about, so he kind of saw it. The Ice Dragon constellation had been much of the same, drawing lines between tiny glowing dots in the night sky that didn't really look like a dragon, but also kind of did.

"They say that the constellation is where the Dayne's got their title from, and that the falling star that the Greatsword Dawn is made of came from that constellation. They also say that's where the name Starfall came from, because the Daynes followed the falling star."

"'bella, I think you're looking too deeply into this. It's just a pretty collection of stars." Leo said and he heard his sister's harumph off to the side.

Isabella Lannister, the youngest child of Jason Lannister and Alysanne Lefford, did like her stars and histories. Whether the Daynes did truly take the name of their legendary title from a constellation or not matter little to Leo though. To him it was just a happy coincidence that it all lined up so perfectly.

"It's a sword made from a falling star Leo, there's no other like it in all of the world. It's said to be as strong or even stronger than Valyrian steel." Isabella said.

"Aye, and if I ever get my hands on a Valyrian steel blade I'd like to test that theory if I also ever meet the Sword of the Morning." Leo said as he continued to look through the Myrish lens.

"There is no Sword of the Morning, not after Ser Arthur Dayne died." Leo could almost hear the pout in his sister's words.

"Well, you should blame Lord Stark for that one. He did kill the man after all."

"I refuse to believe that. Ser Arthur Dayne was hailed as one of the best knights in the entire Seven Kingdoms. That he was unmatched on the field of battle when he had Dawn in his hands! I don't believe for a second that some Northerners beat him."

"This sounds an awful lot like a crush. Tell me dear sister mine, do you fancy the Sword of the Morning."

"Don't be stupid, I'm just... very displeased that everyone is agreeing that Lord Stark defeated Ser Arthur Dayne in a proper duel."

"Well, everyone who was present for that duel is dead, so I guess we'll never know."

"That's not true, I read the histories, and they say that Lord Howland Reed was also present, and he should still be alive right now."

"In case you haven't noticed, we are at war with the Lords of the North," Leo looked away from the Myrish lens and at his sister. "and Howland Reed is Lord of Greywater Watch, which is part of the North, who we are at war with."

"I know that."

"Then, stop whining about it already. It happened like twenty years ago, what does it matter?"

"It's the principle of it Leo!"

"If you're so concerned about it, why don't you just head down to the dungeons and ask Robb Stark. I'm sure his father told him about this famous duel at least once in his lifetime." Leo suggested.

Robb Stark and the rest of the Northern Lords were sitting in their slightly comfortable cells within Casterly Rock. The old tunnels that had since been mined of their gold had been turned into all sorts of rooms and chambers. But most importantly, they were also turned into prison cells, and they were so deep within Casterly Rock that it was almost impossible for anyone to break them out. They'd probably get lost if they even managed to escape their cells in the first place.

The River lords had been sent to the Golden Tooth for holding, seeing as the Golden Tooth was the second most heavily fortified keep in all of the Westerlands. Their father had explained it as to keep the prisoners separate from each other incase they got any bright ideas, as well as to lessen the burden of transporting so many men to Casterly Rock. They had taken quite a few lords and ladies surprisingly as prisoner after the Battle of Oxcross.

"He still hasn't said a word since he's awoken." Isabella pointed out, pushing a lock of golden blonde hair behind her ear. "Just stares off into the distance with a blank look on his face."

Leo was pretty sure he hadn't punched the Lord of Winterfell that hard in the face during the final moments of the battle. Stark's direwolf had just been killed and the man hadn't any fight left in him, so it was easy to just come up from behind him, grab his shoulder, and then when he turned around to punch him square in the face. His nose had been broken, but that didn't lead to people not talking.

"Well, I did punch him pretty hard." Leo said.

"Are you gloating? That's not a good look on you Leo, you might end up like cousin Lancel." "If I ever do end up like him, please slip me some Tears of Lys during my next meal."

"Of course, that's what sisters are for after all." Isabella said as she went back to looking through the Myrish lens.

Leo rolled his eyes at that and turned his eyes back to the stars. He could faintly see the Crone's Lantern in the distance, and the little speck of red fading in the distance was the red comet, slowly fading away into nothing. Some said that it was a sign of change, and Leo had heard plenty of different opinions from the men during the march to Oxcross.

The little red speck was nearly gone though, so whatever change it brought must have happened already.

He just wondered what it was. Chapter End Notes

Ser Damion Lannister is a canon character, as the son of Ser Damon Lannister, who himself is the son of Ser Jason Lannister (brother of Tytos Lannister)

A Tyrell Hammer?

Chapter Summary

Damion Lannister enters and then he leaves.

Ser Damion Lannister rode into King's Landing with his party during what looked like several major construction projects.

It was clear that the city was preparing for war, the sounds of hammers pounding steel on their anvils could be heard throughout King's Landing. The gold cloaks were more efficient than Damion could ever remember them being, though the occasional Lannister man in their midst might be the reason for this uptick in efficiency. Certainly, they were actually patrolling and keeping the peace, not just taking bribes and roughing up the locals in Flea Bottom. No, they were doing actual work, and mayhaps they might stand a chance when the Baratheon brothers arrived at the city gates.

On their way to the Red Keep, Damion noticed a construction project going on in the distance. To his eyes, it looked as if the Mud Gate was being fortified. He knew that it was the gate closest to the Blackwater Bay, and that it wasn't named Mud Gate for the sake of there being mud around the harbor. He surmised that it was the strategically weakest of the city's gates, and it was good that the issue was being taken care of. Though, it might not be enough, and even with Robb Stark defeated in the West, the Baratheon brothers were the greater threat.

That was of course, when his party heard new from the south. It was the gossip of the city it seemed. Everyone from common beggars and smallfolk to what few lords remained within the city. From the Street of Silk, Damion heard mention of a green stag falling to a woman of the rainbow, or that was what he could make out from all the moaning and grunting that was also coming from that direction. From the Street of Steel, he heard the smiths and armors talking about how the Baratheon brothers had fought a great duel and that Stannis Baratheon had come out victorious, some saying he became both a kinslayer and a kingslayer to gain the Iron Throne.

Damion shuddered as he heard mention of that when they passed by the Street of Steel.

Cursed is the kinslayer.

There were few crimes greater than that one, and Damion tried not to dwell on it for long. Surely the realms and its people would see that Stannis Baratheon was cursed by the gods. To hear tell the man didn't even follow the Seven-Who-Are-One anymore, instead saying prayers to some Essosi filth. That he let a red witch counsel him in matters ranging from the running of his household to the war effort itself.

How a man like that could see himself as the King of the Seven Kingdoms Damion didn't know. It was clear that no one would accept Stannis as king, but from the few things that he'd heard about his own cousin, Damion wasn't too sure people would like Joffrey's rule any better.

It was a good thing that cousin Gerold was now in charge. Damion didn't know all the details as to what exactly happened to lead to such a change in leadership. Cousin Cersei was the Queen Mother after all and by all regards in a proper position to be Joffrey's Regent. Was cousin Cersei the best person for that role, mayhaps not, but Damion hadn't heard of anyone else competent enough to take up the role. That was until he and the rest of Casterly Rock had received word of the, change in leadership.

For all intents and purposes, it was a coup, but no one said that fact aloud.

Damion had made sure of that when this little party had been assembled. Cousin Jason wanted him in King's Landing, for what purpose Damion didn't know, but Jason was the Heir to Casterly Rock and the West so he couldn't say anything but agree. He didn't quite agree with being saddled with several of the lesser Lannister cousins, however. None of these men were of the main branch, and Damion himself wasn't either, but at least Damion actually lived in Casterly Rock.

The knight glanced over his shoulder and met the eyes of several of his riding companions. They were all also knights, but men of no great renown. None of them would win great tourneys and there would be no songs sung in their honor. They were simply there, to be seen but mayhaps not heard, Lannisters still, but not the ones that truly mattered. A part of Damion knew that he was just like them, relegated to simply being a household knight in service of the main branch of House Lannister, and he was... still debating if he was fine with that.

Who wouldn't want to win great renown, to win the war in one fell swoop like Barristan the Bold had done?

But cousin Jason had told Damion to remain in the here and now, to not risk his life and the lives of the men under his command needlessly. He was to not recklessly chase glory, but to keep House Lannister and remain on task, which meant arriving to King's Landing and meeting with cousin Gerold.

There might be an opportunity to win the war, mayhaps Damion might kill Stannis Baratheon in single combat, but that was something that might not come to pass. Still, it was good to have dreams, and Damion settled for asking his Lord Regent cousin for a position in the defense of the city in this upcoming meeting.

Damion the Kingslayer... there was a certain ring to it.

He intended to win some renown, some glory, in this war. If he was given the chance to, he

was going to grab hold of it with both hands. He was a Lannister after all.

When they had received the raven's message, Gerold Lannister expected one Damion Lannister to arrive at the Red Keep.

What he did not expect was the several other Lannister cousins to accompany the man, nor did he expect to realize that he knew none of their names. They had the Lannister look, the blond hair and green eyes, but that was also true for half of the people living in Lannisport. It wasn't an uncommon sight, and there were many Lannisport Lannisters, so for all intents and purposes it wasn't unique at all.

Still, they all bore the Lannister name, and that meant that they mattered, even if they would never actually come close to a lordship. Gerold could trust them to be at least competent with a sword and shield. Introductions had been made in the throne room as was protocol for all noble visitors. That meant that Gerold had to sit on that seven damned chair again, and it also meant he had to put on all the armor as well.

It was all about image after all.

Gerold felt like he'd be living in this armor soon enough, he rarely took it off as is, and that was becoming more of a reality as the war got closer and closer to King's Landing. The looming threat of Stannis Baratheon hanging over the place like a massive shadow. By the way some people were speaking of it, one would think that the Lord of Dragonstone was right on top of them.

But no, he was still somewhere in the Stormlands, gathering his strength and consolidating the Stormlanders' support. He wouldn't move to attack King's Landing until he had them under his own banner, and that would take some time. Would it be enough to get a messenger to Highgarden to negotiate for an alliance? Mayhaps. Gerold wasn't entirely sure if it would work out in the end. But he could hope.

The introductions had gone as expected. Damion Lannister was the most recognizable of all the Lannisters that had ridden to the city, being that he was the oldest of them, and that his armor was of the best quality. Gerold hadn't ever met Damion personally, and he had honestly forgotten that the man existed, but now that he had seen him, the recognition sparking in his mind. He had seen Damion before, and Uncle Tyrion mentioned that they both lived in Casterly Rock.

Granted, Casterly Rock was a truly massive keep, but Gerold was sure that they had met once or twice before that introduction in the throne room.

The other Lannisters that had accompanied his own cousin were less well known. They were all Lannisport Lannisters, and their names were all unfamiliar to Gerold. They were common Westermen names, ones that were heard from every corner of the West, and none of them registered to a face in Gerold's mind. He hadn't met any of them before that day, and they all looked similar in the way that they all had blond hair and green eyes. There was variation in shades of both hair and eyes, but it remained a fact that they had Lannister features.

Introductions were quickly concluded after names were given, and pleasantries were seen to. They had a war to fight, and everyone agreed that it would be better if they all played the political games after Joffrey's throne was secured. So, a meeting of the Small Council was called and that was where they found themselves now. A lot more Lannisters were now within the small council chamber, and a map of Westeros before them on the table.

"The Tyrells?" Damion Lannister asked. "Aye, the Tyrells." Uncle Tyrion said.

"We mean to propose an alliance. One sealed in marriage." Gerold explained. "Grandfather is still tied up in the Riverlands and the threat of Roose Bolton's host is still present, which means he cannot move to our aid less he opens himself to attack. Even if he reaches us, his forces might not be enough to stop Stannis Baratheon."

"But the Tyrells? I thought they had sided with Renly, and now we're going to just offer Myrcella to them?" Damion said.

"What? No, Myrcella's not going anywhere." Uncle Tyrion said. "The Tyrells wouldn't even accept a marriage like that anyway. No, Myrcella is not the one involved in this marriage alliance, its Joffrey."

"Joffrey." Damion's tone was one of flat disbelief.

"Quite so Ser Damion." The Grand Maester said as he stroked his beard. "The Tyrells want a queen, and young King Joffrey is still unwed."

"Last I heard he's betrothed to the Stark girl." Damion pointed out.

"A betrothal that we shall break." Uncle Tyrion said. "Sansa Stark does not bring an army near a hundred thousand strong. She does not have the food nor supplies that Highgarden has. All of which we need and will get if we offer a crown to Margaery Tyrell."

"It's a risky plan." Gerold said quickly. "But if it works, we can do a pincer movement on Stannis Baratheon. If we get Tyrell support, they can come in from the other side of the Blackwater when the attack inevitably comes to King's Landing. He as the royal fleet, so he's going to attack from the Blackwater Bay, and that means the Mud Gate. With Tyrell support we can have King's Landing be the anvil to a Tyrell hammer."

"A most curious comparison." The Master of Whispers tittered.

"Sounds similar to what Ser Jason did at Oxcross." One of the other Lannister knights said.

"Aye, and it just might work, but only if we get that alliance." Uncle Tyrion said.

"And how are we supposed to get a message to the Tyrells? Something of this importance can't be trusted to a mere raven." Damion said.

That was when they all looked at him, and soon enough the recognition flashed in Damion Lannister's eyes.

"You are a prime candidate to send for the negotiations." Gerold said.

"And you are a Lannister, so you'll be speaking with Casterly Rock's authority at your back." Uncle Tyrion said.

"The Lord Regent will give you the seals of approval needed to negotiate on behalf of the crown." The Grand Maester said.

"And if this works, we might just end the war soon enough." Gerold said. "Robb Stark is a prisoner and Renly Baratheon is already dead. Who did the deed is not known, but the man's dead all the same. All that's left is Balon Greyjoy and Stannis Baratheon, and Stannis is the immediate threat."

"I'm a glorified messenger then." Damion said, and there was a hint of anger in his voice.

"Essentially, but you will also be negotiating terms of the alliance, and I don't doubt that you will be among the officers of the Highgarden host should they agree to the alliance. You may just yet gain glory in battle cousin." Uncle Tyrion said.

Damion Lannister took a moment to think it over, before he sighed and nodded his head. Gerold and Tyrion Lannister both gave the man a smile and a nod, and soon enough Damion's party was once again riding. This time however, their destination was Highgarden, and once there, they may just find a future queen amongst the rose bushes and thorns.

Direwolves and Roses

Chapter Summary

A flaming stag is marching on King's Landing, a Direwolf is bleeding, and a Rose will soon be wearing a crown.

There was a tension in the air.

It was almost palpable, like a fog had descended on the city, stolen a march through the night and now it was here outside the city gates. Word had fully come from the south of just how large of an army that Stannis Baratheon had amassed. After the death, or murder depending on who was asked, of Renly Baratheon, many of the lords had sworn their swords to the Crowned Stag of The Flaming Heart. Thousands of men-at-arms and knights all now fighting for the former Lord of Dragonstone and now self-proclaimed heir to Robert Baratheon.

Sansa Stark didn't know what to think about it.

She, like everyone else within the city, had heard of the tales coming from the south. Murder and betrayal were now as commonplace as tales of gallantry had once been. Brothers fighting one another and shadows from the far east entrenching themselves in the hearts of men. That the gods themselves were being burned and those who did not submit soon joined them. Kingslaying and kinslaying, wanton murder, and brittle wills.

It seemed as if the Seven Kingdoms had gone to madness.

Within the city of kings, life had gone on as normal, or as normal as it could be due to their circumstances. There was an army marching upon them, that was an indisputable fact, and each day they came closer. Sansa had heard the whisperings of servants in the hallways and dark corners of another sack. She'd heard tell of hammers and anvils converging on the city. Of burning men and fires in the ground.

She'd heard tell of a rose with thorns like Valyrian steel.

But that was the gossip of servants and court, and Sansa did her best to avoid them, for she had no desire to learn about such things. This "War of Five Kings" had already taken so much from her. Father was dead, Ned Stark's head had rolled, and she'd been forced to watch by that monster that called himself king, his laughter and cruel smile still ringing through her nightmares. Arya was as good as dead, not seen since the chaos of father's death, simply disappeared from the Red Keep. Bran and Rickon were actually dead, their bodies burnt black by Theon Greyjoy, a man marked for death in her opinion.

He had betrayed everything they had done for him. Everything that House Stark had given him was spat upon. Sansa had cried angry tears as the news of that tragedy had settled, and she had vowed revenge on Theon Turncloak after that day.

Robb was captured, his army defeated and scattered to the wind, any hope for a Stark victory gone as well. The only consolation that Sansa could take from that situation was that Robb was still alive, not dead like the rest of their family. He was alive and whole, Lord Gerold had assured her of that much, he was mostly unharmed. He would stay that way if he bent the knee and gave up his crown, he had to, it was the only way.

"Lord Jason is honorable." They would tell her. "He would see that your brother keeps his life in exchange for recognizing the Iron Throne."

To recognize Joffrey as king.

Robb would get to go home if he simply bent the knee. But there was no home to go to, Winterfell had fallen into the Greyjoy's hands, savaged and brutalized by the Iron Born. Even if Robb bent the knee there was no where to go, and a part of her did not want him to bend the knee just yet, for if he did that meant coming to King's Landing. The last Starks to come to this city had either been killed or been taken prisoner.

Sansa knew that she was officially a ward of the crown, that title had been given to her by Queen Cersei, but she knew what it really meant. She was a prisoner and a hostage, something to keep the rest of her family in line. They had taken advantage of her and used her for their games. Sansa had been wrapped up in her dreams of knights and princesses that she had failed to see the jaws closing in on her until it was too late.

But at least she was still free to walk the halls of the Red Keep.

Even know, Sansa Stark sat in the Red Keep's Godswood whilst the Queen Mother and the King himself sat within Maegor's Holdfast. It brought a smile to Sansa's face as she sat beneath the branches with the overgrown smokeberry vines of the heart tree. Cersei and Joffrey no longer had power over her, they couldn't do a thing to her, they couldn't even leave Maegor's Holdfast. Gerold Lannister had done more to hurt them than Sansa ever could and even though he was a Lannister, she was grateful that he had done so.

She is grateful still when something she has dreaded has come to pass. Sansa had awoken one morning to the sight of blood on her sheets. She had panicked at first, her body had felt sore with pain and her legs were sticky to the touch, everything seemed to have gone wrong all over again. A part of her had thought that she had been stabbed, that this was the end that she was to meet, but there was no one in her chambers. The only person who could have caused this was herself, and as she lifted her shift, she was met with a sight that she had imagined would have been different.

Sansa was a woman grown now.

She didn't know what to do at first, and the servants had found her in that same state, still in her blood-soaked bed looked at herself. They had overcome the shock of her moonblood coming like it was nothing and moved to ready her. A bath was drawn, and new clothes were fetched. The sheets were disposed of and replaced. They had said words that sounded comforting to her, and Sansa had simply nodded along to them. She didn't know if they were true or not, but they sounded as such.

Lord Gerold had come to visit her after she had finished with her bath. The golden haired and green-eyed knight had inquired after her health, spoke of how she was now going to see more changes, and how her position had changed. Sansa knew that things were going to change now. She was a woman grown now, she could wed and have babies, and a part of her had wanted that before. To marry the king and have his babies. How foolish she had once been.

That part of her had been replaced by dread when her mind had caught up to her. She was a woman grown now, able to have babies, and the king was unwed and childless. Even she knew that there would need to be an heir, for all that was left of the Baratheons were Joffrey,

Myrcella, and Tommen. The king needed a queen and children had to come, and Sansa was Joffrey's betrothed.

She had clasped her hands together to stop them from shaking as she stood and tried to look confident in front of the Lord Regent. She had looked up at him and tried to put on the air of confidence that she had seen the other ladies of the court did, tried to keep her voice from wavering, and she had failed utterly.

"When is it to happen?" Sansa had asked.

Lord Gerold had looked at her confused for a moment, his brow scrunching up, his posture softening slightly. His green eyes inspected her own deep blue orbs. Their gazes remained locked for a moment before realization dawned in his expression. He got a small grin to his face as he shook his head.

"You are not to marry Joffrey." Lord Gerold had said. "The betrothal is, or will be, broken in the coming weeks. Needs must be Lady Sansa, and right now House Stark is in open rebellion, so there cannot be a Stark queen."

Sansa had to fight the sigh of relief that had come over her. It was as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders, her posture for once not crushed under the dreaded future with that monster who called himself Joffrey, and even though she tried to fight it a small smile came to her lips. She ducked her head to hide it from the Lord Regent, the last thing she needed was for him to see how much she had wanted just this, but she failed in that as well.

"Aye, you won't have to wed him anymore, and gods help the woman who does." Lord Gerold had said. "But that does not mean all is done. Until Winterfell is retaken from Greyjoy hands, you will have to remain in King's Landing, as a ward of the crown."

Sansa hadn't even cared about that fact in the moment. She was free from Joffrey, he wouldn't be able to hurt her anymore, never again. She wouldn't have to marry him or have his babies, no more beatings by his Kingsguard, no more having to hear his taunts and threats.

As she sat within the Red Keep's Godswood, Sansa felt content, the weight of it all not bearing down on her. She knew that there were hard days ahead, Stannis Baratheon was marching on the city, but for that moment, she was glad she could simply sit and bask within the heart tree's gaze.

Mayhaps the Old Gods were watching out for her, in their own special way.

It wasn't every day that Highgarden saw lions entering through its gates.

There were only ten of them, they had come with but a single banner flying and their horses near ridden into the ground, their bodies slick with sweat from hard riding. So hard and fast had they ridden that no sooner had they dismounted their horses did the beasts fall to the ground. The Tyrell guards had looked on in shock, and the stable boys had been dismayed, the animals ridden to death in their haste to get here.

But the message they brought was more than worth it.

Margaery Tyrell, the Rose of Highgarden and the unbedded widow of a king, had watched these Lannisters arrive from one of the towers of Highgarden. She hadn't expected much from these visitors at first, much like how she hadn't expected much from Renly Baratheon. They had come to make promises and claims, just like the Stag had, and Margaery wasn't to keen on listening to them this time around.

Renly claimed that he could give her a crown, that he could give House Tyrell a queen, that a king with Tyrell blood would sit the Iron Throne after him. If only he could actually have risen to the occasion in the bed chamber. Margaery had envisioned many things for her wedding night. The bedding ceremony would occur and herself and her husband would be stripped of their clothes, they would be deposited in their bed, and they would make love.

Only it hadn't happened that way.

Instead, Margaery had gotten a man who much preferred her brother than herself. She didn't know if she should have felt insulted at that, the fact that her brother was more enticing that she was, and she was the Rose of Highgarden! There had been a dozen offers of her hand from the moment she had been born! She was beautiful, graceful, soft, loving, and intelligent. What's there not to like about her?

She knew that any man would jump at the chance to be with her, yet the one man that had actually been in that position, had turned away from her.

If only she had been born with a cock.

Renly Baratheon couldn't rise to the occasion long enough even once. She bore herself to him as naked as the day she had been born and had gotten nothing. The youngest Baratheon brother and self-proclaimed king had simply looked upon her with not a hint of lust. His eyes had surveyed the slender and womanly shape her body, past her hips and breasts and towards her face, and they had not for a second been snagged on anything. He had looked at her as if she were some uninteresting piece of art, something forgettable, something bland.

It had hurt her more than she cared to admit.

But he had promised her a crown, and if she were to be in a marriage of name only for it, then so be it. Her grandmother had emphasized how important it was for the Tyrells to gain this step of legitimacy. They needed kings' blood in their line so that there could be no question as to their position as Wardens of the South. Even near three hundred years since the conquest and their position was not secure.

This marriage was supposed to have fixed that.

Then Renly Baratheon had died.

If she had been asked as to who had struck the final blow, Margaery Tyrell would not have been able to answer, every third telling was different. Some said that it was a Knight of the Rainbow Guard and that the man had been bribed over to Stannis' side. Others claimed that it was the woman, Brienne of Tarth, others like Loras who had nothing positive to say about the

Maid from Tarth. Personally, Margaery didn't believe that Brienne of Tarth did the deed, for if anyone looked, they would have seen that the woman was half in love with Renly. She was more likely to die for the man than kill him.

There were also tales of a shadow doing the deed, and as absurd as that sounded, some people were convinced that it was the truth. Margaery even heard tell that it was Catelyn Stark who had done the deed. It had been a shock to see the Lady Stark enter the camp at first, and even more so when they learned that she knew not of her son's adventures into the Westerlands. Was it Robb Stark's defeat that caused her to drive a blade through Renly's back?

No, that was preposterous, the Lannisters had defeated the King in the North, not the Baratheons.

But some claimed that she had done it, and that her fleeing in the dark of night had all but confirmed her guilt, skulking away like an assassin.

Whatever the case was, Margaery Tyrell had come back to Highgarden with her father's host as a widow and not a queen, one that had yet to be bedded and was as untouched as the day she wed the man. At Highgarden was where she remained as the war moved on, as Stannis Baratheon consolidated his power, as the Greyjoys took Winterfell and a new king was proclaimed, as Robb Stark was defeated in the Westerlands, as King's Landing was preparing for siege. The world was moving on without them and Margaery had consigned herself to never getting that crown she had been promised.

That was until the day that the messengers had arrived.

They came offering what she wanted, what her family wanted, what they had joined the war for in the first place. A crown on her head and a kings' blood in the family, just this time it wouldn't be Renly Baratheon, but Joffrey Baratheon. She would get to be a queen and have all it would take would be her father's support in the war. Their men would march for Joffrey Baratheon and their food would start flowing back into King's Landing. They would help defeat Stannis Baratheon and settle their mark in history during this turning point.

Margaery had only entered her father's solar during the latter part of the meeting, the Lannister men who had come with the message were wholly unfamiliar to her. Her

grandmother seemed to know of them somewhat, though she had that expression on her face that she had for all visitors, something that hid just how razor sharp her mind was. Her father was acting like the oaf that he was, and for all that she loved him, he could be maneuvered around like no other.

All anyone had to do was lead the man on with empty promises and they'd have him in their pocket.

It was only her grandmother and Willas that stopped him from leading their family off a cliff.

Ser Damion Lannister as she later knew him to be, gave the offer of alliance and marriage rather succinctly, and he expected a response rather promptly. Grandmother Olenna hushed the man and read over the letter that the offer had been written down in, her eyes going over the words with a calculating gaze. Margaery wouldn't get to read the letter until after the fact, but when she did, she had to admit that it was too good of an offer to refuse.

Lord Regent Gerold Lannister and Lord Hand Tyrion Lannister were offering them what they wanted. Margaery would be queen to Joffrey's king. Her father would be named to the Small Council and the wedding would take place in King's Landing after the war was over. Their influence at court would rise to new heights and the sky was the limit. All they had to do was support the Baratheon-Lannister alliance and help win them the war against Stannis Baratheon and Balon Greyjoy.

It sounded simple enough, and her father readily agreed to the offer, simply seeing his daughter with a crown upon her head. Margaery didn't think it was so simple, and neither did her grandmother or her eldest brother. Tales of King Joffrey's rather cruel behavior had made their way to Highgarden through spies and general gossip. Whether these tales were true remained to be seen, but when Margaery had looked over to her grandmother, she saw nothing amiss in that wizened expression.

They would ally themselves with the Baratheons and Lannisters for now. Margaery didn't know how the future would turn out. Mayhaps she would get a crown this time, and mayhaps she might actually be bedded on her wedding night. This might be the start of a great dynasty for all she knew.

Mayhaps the Seven-Who-Were-One were looking out for her, in their own special way.

The Lion's Jaw

"Reports from Castamere?"

"Production and mining output is as expected, my lord. The very deepest of the mine shafts are still being drained of water as we speak but Ser Damon says that they shall be empty of water within a year. Two more graves were dug for the bones that were found and all the proper respects were given in accordance with your orders. There's also another shipment of gold to arrive by nightfall and outriders have already been sent to meet with the convoy."

Leo Lannister listened as his lord father, Ser Jason Lannister, and their cousin Ser Lyonel Frey spoke about the most recent report as they moved through the many passageways of Casterly Rock. Ser Lyonel was as chinless as his father Emmon Frey, but he was also half Lannister and a loyal man of the Rock. Not like his traitor kin who had sworn allegiance to Robb Stark, and those loyalties were being tested as there were many Freys currently prisoner within Casterly Rock's dungeons. Those very same dungeons that they were now making their way towards.

His father hadn't said what their exact purpose was for going into the dungeons, he simply ordered that Leo was to join him, and Lyonel Frey was coming along as well. The latter's inclusion might have just been for convenience as Leo's father had needed to speak with the man anyway and it seemed that they were going to be killing two birds with one stone. For all that Ser Lyonel Frey was a Frey he was surprisingly intelligent and that made him useful. Leo's father had seen something in the man and had seen fit to give the man some responsibilities.

"And the progress on the construction and rebuilding of the keep?"

Castamere had been undergoing a reconstruction that was now entering its eleventh year. The lands were Lannister lands first and foremost and the gold and silver mines were supplementing Casterly Rock's vaults. Jason Lannister had argued with Grandfather Tywin about reopening them instead of leaving it all to sit and rot. Much the same was going on at Tarbeck Hall though the amount of gold coming out of the mines was smaller than that of Castamere or even Casterly Rock. Still, they were being put to use and House Lannister's vaults had never been fuller, and Leo's father saw fit to keep it that way.

"Still underway, my lord, though progress has slowed since the start of this war. Many of the laborers were called up when the banners were raised."

The three of them turned a corner Leo noticed how the scenery changed as they started to get closer to the dungeons. The amount of gold being displayed on the walls was slowly decreasing, the stone becoming more and more barren as they went on. The wall sconces for the torches soon turned from gold to plain iron and eventually the paintings and what not were gone. It also seemed to get decidedly colder though Leo didn't know how that was. The same number of torches lined the walls and yet he felt distinctly colder.

It might have just been his mind playing tricks on him. Casterly Rock was massive and there were bound to be areas that were colder than others. The dungeons might very well be that place and with good reason. For all that their prisoners were lords and ladies, they were still prisoners, so a little cold was expected. Then again, most of their prisoners were Northerners, so mayhaps this cold wasn't anything to them.

Leo tried to pay attention to the ongoing discussion between his father and Ser Lyonel but found his mind wandering. The fine details of the construction progress of Castamere or how many bars of gold were being produced didn't interest him as much. He'd rather speak on the war effort and what was going on in the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. Word had it that Renly Baratheon was dead, the manner of his death was rife with speculation, and Stannis Baratheon was marching on King's Landing. The North was supposedly in chaos with the Iron Born attacking. They'd even received word from the Night's Watch about supposed dead men rising up and trying to kill the black brothers, as if that would ever happen. It was just the ravings of half frozen madmen.

He had laughed when they had received that particular raven, though his father hadn't so much as grinned or even reacted at all, and Leo just dismissed that as his father being in a foul mood that morning.

By the time they arrived at the entrance to the dungeons Leo had found that there were many more guards present that there usually were. Though, there were also many more prisoners than usual, so he probably should have expected as much. Most of them were men-at-arms who had years of service with House Lannister. They were all big and strong with armor that was polished to a mirror shine and an intermixing of swords and maces. Casterly Rock had large hallways but swinging a bastard or greatsword would be hard in these spaces. Longswords and maces were more suited.

"My lord." What looked like the chief gaoler said as he stood. Leo didn't know the man and he probably wouldn't have ever met him before today. He was a somewhat burly man with a black beard and a scar on his face. Not at all disfiguring but it most certainly had a story behind it. Mayhaps the Greyjoy Rebellion was where he got the scar?

"How are the prisoners?" Jason Lannister asked. The rest of the guards were standing around and waiting for orders with some of them retrieving keys to open the solid steel doors. There were so many of them present that Leo couldn't honestly think of what they all could do all day. There were only so many men needed to patrol the dungeons.

"All present, my lord." The chief gaoler said. "Some of the Northerners got a little rowdy at first but now they've all quieted down. Seems like some time in the darkness has done them good."

"Good, and what of Robb Stark?"

Leo had wondered as much himself. Other than what Isabella had told him about the Lord of Winterfell he hadn't really looked further into it. Robb Stark was their most important prisoner and a key piece in order to make peace with the North or at least important in retaking the North. That was if Stark bent the knee and recognized Joffrey as the one true king of the Seven Kingdoms. He'd also have to give up his own crown and possibly his lordship as well.

"The Stark boy hasn't said a word since his defeat and capture." The chief gaoler replied and nodded at Leo. That had been happening more often than not after the battle. His first taste at war had ended in victory and Leo had felt pretty good for the first week after the fact.

Now he was ready to head on back into the fighting, but instead he'd been ordered to remain at Casterly Rock with his father, and while annoyed at that he could see the merit in it.

"He has said nothing?" Jason Lannister asked as the gates were unlocked. Half the guards accompanied them with torches as they made their way into the dungeons. Leo grabbed a torch for himself, and his eyes went over the many thick wooden doors that lines the hallway.

"Not a word, my lord. It's like his tongue stopped working."

Leo wondered if he'd hit Stark a little harder on the head than he first thought. If the man wasn't speaking at all then there was something wrong with him. His tongue wasn't removed or anything, so it had to be something with the mind. That was the only explanation that Leo could come up with as to Robb Stark's quietness.

"And the other prisoners?"

"They've mostly quieted down. Some of the Northerners are still a little more violent than others but they've settled down for the most part. Though, the one they call Greatjon still has fight left in him. The man's nearly as tall as the mountain was."

Leo's father didn't react to those words. He didn't like it when people brought up Ser Gregor Clegane in conversation. The memories from that day were apparently still fresh in his mind, or that's what Leo's mother had told him. That and the occasional nightmare all plagued his father and Leo hoped that Gerold was fairing better in King's Landing. Hopefully Gerold didn't become as cold and calculating as his father had, not that it was a bad thing or anything, but when Gerold left he still had a jovial attitude to him. Leo didn't want that to disappear.

"Very well."

They made the rest of the journey in silence. The only sounds filling the air were that of boots hitting rock and ringmail clinking against itself. The torches fluttered and crinkled ever now and then, and Leo's eyes wandered over the many doors they passed. Each of them held a prisoner of some sort within. There were no torches within the cells and the only light that shined into them was from the torches lining the wall sconces in the hallway. What glimpses Leo did catch from the tiny, barred window showed prisoners curled into themselves on the floor or upon a straw mattress.

Lords and knights, they may be, but they were prisoners first, and they were treated as such. Food and water were given and any wounds they had were treated but that was it. There were no tower cells for them, these traitors to the crown, and Leo didn't feel sorry for them. They'd thrown their lot behind a false king, and they'd failed.

"Here we are." The chief gaoler said as they arrived upon a nicer looking prison cell. The door was Ironwood and thick with metal bands roping around it. There was an actual torch within this cell and Leo noted that there were two guards stationed on either side of the door. Both of the men stood from their stools as the party approached and bowed to Leo's father.

Leo quickly came to realize that this was Robb Stark's cell.

"Stark's barely eaten his food or drank his water." The chief gaoler continued as he peered through the little barred window. "But enough that he's surviving. The maester says that his wounds are all healing up and all. Might be that the defeat took him a little harder than the others." A finger was jerked over his shoulder at the other prisoners they'd past on the way here.

"He's starving himself?" Jason Lannister asked, a frown upon his face.

"Mayhaps." The chief gaoler shrugged. "We've been giving him proper food and he's not eaten it."

"I see, where is his latest meal?"

A wooden bowl filled with some bread, jerky of some kind and cheese was brought forth. Nothing special about it and though it looked plain it was edible. There was a wooden cup of water as well and Leo noted that it was all untouched. Was the Lord of Winterfell really starving himself?

Jason Lannister took the bowl and cup in his hands and peered within the cell. What he saw must have confirmed something to him because the next moment he was ordering the cell door to be opened. The chief gaoler started to argue against that but one look from Leo's father stopped that. Ser Lyonel and the rest of the guards were on edge and there were hands on the hilts of their blades. Leo too didn't like the idea of his father going into the cell with a prisoner whilst unarmed.

"Open the door, the rest of you are to remain outside, and only to come in on my orders." Jason Lannister said.

They all nodded, and the chief gaoler withdrew a key and unlocked the door to the cell. The Ironwood creaked slightly and as the door opened, they all got a better glimpse and the King in the North. Robb Stark sat in a corner of the room with his back to the wall. His legs were drawn up and his arms were wrapped around them with his chin resting on his knees. He looked unshaven and whilst a little disgruntled he was otherwise clean. There were some bandaged wounds but nothing else. He looked well treated for a prisoner and Leo noticed that his cell had an actual bed with feather pillow and blanket. Amenities for a king.

Though this king was not using any of these amenities.

Leo watched with everyone else as Jason Lannister walked into the cell with bowl of food and cup of water in hand. The door was closed behind him by one of the guards and they were all left to stand and wait from outside. The little window into the cell was the only thing they could look through and none of them did so. They had not been ordered to not look but it seemed to be an unspoken agreement amongst them. Whatever was said between the Heir to Casterly Rock and the Lord of Winterfell and King in the North would remain between the two of them and the two of them alone.

End Notes

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