Tyrion Lannister

The Western Camp near Harrenhal, 300AC

Knowledge was something he always thirsted for. For as long as he could remember, his head had been buried in a book whether that be ones written by Maester's or small folk or the rare few that had made it out of the Valyrian Freehold prior to the Doom. Ayrmidon's had always been favourites of his, and it fascinated him greatly how an empire of such grew the way that it had. Granted, it took hundreds of years- some would even say thousands- but impressive nonetheless. His head was still aching from the battle they had lost, where Robb Stark had set out a brilliant plot to keep his father occupied.

Not that he would say it aloud, but it was amusing to see his father with a sour look on his face. Especially because it was a boy of seventeen who had done so. If it weren't an attack against his own House, he would've laughed merrily. But it was, and his brother now lay in chains in a dungeon either at Riverrun or near Riverrun. The Golden Lion now a prisoner himself. Anger bubbled up inside because when he heard of his capturing, he had immediately wanted to ride east with the Mountain Clan's who had come down from the Vale to free him, but his father had already sent them all back to their mountains to continue their normal lives. And as much as he hated to admit it, he couldn't do anything about it currently.

Harrenhal had fallen within two hours the bards said when his father rode up to the gates and demanded Lady Shella Whent to yield her Seat. Even though much of it was nought but a melted ruin from Balerion the Dread's black flames, it was still an honour to hold a place as such and his father seized the chance as a way to get back at the Tully's after Lady Lysa took him prisoner. Thank goodness Jaime was inducted into the Kingsguard otherwise he would've been wed to that maniac. It was embarrassing enough having a Frey uncle, he didn't need to add an insane goodsister to the mix too.

Not all Tully's were evil though, remembering Lady Catelyn and Ser Brynden's attempts to diffuse the situation but being tied as they were in their kins Kingdom and therefore did not have much say in things. Whilst he had not heard the words himself, he was perceptive, and he could tell neither wanted to be there and thought it was a farce. But something bothered him, why was Lady Catelyn in the Vale? She must've ridden south after hearing he had been taken hostage to try and reason with her sister.

"Come back to bed, my lion."

He snapped his head around to be met with Shae. The whore Bronn had found a few days prior that had caught his fancy partially due to her looks but also down to her mind. Playing a drinking game he had made up years ago which she picked up easily and was even able to get him flustered with her tongue- in more ways than one. His cock twitching ever so slightly at the thought.

"I'm afraid I cannot, my Lady. My father has summoned me and I'm sure even the Lorathi have heard it is not a good idea to anger the almighty Tywin."

Black curls snapped back as she threw her head back in annoyance and he seized his chance to begin making his way to the centre of the hall. The scent of blood still strong from when his fathers men killed everyone within the castle when Lady Shella abdicated her Seat. There was no way out of it, she either gave it up or it was being forcefully taken from her. Not that it done her any good as she was now a prisoner herself and her surviving sons put to the sword and thus continuing the curse of the castle. One House extinct, Tyrion assumed more than one would experience the same fate during this war his wretched nephew had started. Tensions had been building for a while which a lot of people ignored but he never did, but ordering Eddard Stark be imprisoned and later executed was what dropped the flame into the oil.

Why was he being summoned? A part of him hoped that he was finally being considered as the heir of Casterly Rock but he rid himself of these thoughts almost immediately. All his father talked about since finding out Jaime had been taken hostage was how it damaged his precious legacy that he had worked so hard to create after his pious father Tytos had practically made House Lannister the laughing stock of the Westerland's. Of how with that being the case he no longer had his perfect heir. It grated on Tyrion, but he had gotten used to it a long time ago. It was no secret that he was hated by his father because Joanna had died birthing him. He whistled quietly as he sat down in front of his uncle Kevan and some others he did not recognise, being pleasantly surprised by the large wood block on the ground to help him get seated with his stunted legs.

"Now, why has my wonderful father dragged me from my morning activities."

Tywin was seething, he could feel the anger radiating off of him like sunshine coming through a window nearby.

"By morning activities you mean having your cock inside a whore."

"Of course not, where did you get such a notion?"

This was always a favourite of his. His height meant he was abysmal in warfare, but he had a wit, and he worked on it constantly. He wasn't going to let him walk all over him which many would do due to his feared name. But he wasn't scared of him. If he died it would fall to uncle Kevan to take over as the head of the House, and Tywin would not settle with this. Solely due to his aunt being a hostage gift by her father.

"We received a raven from the capital, nephew."

He turned to face his uncle who didn't like him, but did respect him, who slid over a yellowed piece of parchment for him to read. Eyes bulging as he continued with it before snorting aloud.

"My idiot of a grandson has granted Harrenhal to Janos Slynt. The son of a bloody butcher- Harrenhal! And my moron of a daughter did not stop him as she should have done given her being his Regent."

He would never say it aloud, but it was amusing hearing Cersei being called out. She'd always despised him, always reminded him that if he were not born she would still have a mother. But despite this, she was his sister, and he loved his family much like his father did.

"Regent? She has no control over the boy hence how he succeeded in executing Lord Stark. Have we received confirmation yet as to why he did so?"

Those around the table shook their heads. Words were whispered of a confession, but what confession? It grated on him he had nothing to go on in the matter.

"Any further word on the Young Wolf as they're calling him? The Stark appears to be less green than we had hoped given his age."

"I've heard his wolf killed a dozen men and as many horses."

That surprised him. He'd not seen the wolf himself since it was a pup, remembering asking if he was certain it was a direwolf and not a regular wolf. Clearly it was a fierce beast.

"Is it true about Renly and Stannis Baratheon?"

"Both brothers have taken up against us. Jaime captured, his armies scattered, it is a catastrophe. Perhaps we should sue for peace."

Tyrion began shaking as he tried to hold in a laugh at his uncles words, instead knocking over the glass of wine he had just finished which turned all of their gazes towards him.

"There is your peace. Joffrey saw to that when he decided to remove Ned Stark's head. You'll have an easier time drinking from that cup than you will bringing Robb Stark to the table. He is winning in case you haven't noticed."

As the words sank in for everyone at the table, he reached over to tear off a leg of the grouse they had shot down, almost moaning as the juices exploded in his mouth with spices he had not eaten in months considering he was given barely enough to survive on whilst in the sky cells.

"I am told we still have his sisters. First order of business is ransoming Ser Jaime with no truces. We cannot afford to look weak. We should barter them to him. But first, we must return to Casterly Rock to raise more banners-"

"They have my son!"

It was the first time his father had spoken during the meeting, voice deep and everyone went quiet immediately. At some point he had stood up and was looking to all of them very much like a lion that was about to attack its prey for its next meal. Your eldest son. Tyrion wanted to say that but he managed to bite his tongue.

"Get out, all of you."

There was no attempt to argue which wasn't surprising. Tyrion beginning to stand up to walk out as well before hearing a quiet,

"Not you."

Confusion crossed his face but he turned back to sit down again, turning to face his father who raised a jug of wine and began pouring him a glass and sliding it across the table. Taking a tender sip and noticing it was a Dornish Red, one of his favourites. But Arbor Gold would always be the one on top.

"You were right about Eddard Stark."

There was no need for him to feel prideful at being praised for that, because anyone with a brain would've figured that out.

"If he were alive we could've used him to broker a peace with Winterfell and Riverrun. Which would've given us more time to deal with Robert's brothers but now? Madness. Madness and stupidity."

Glee bubbled up inside because despite no names being said the slight was obvious. Cersei always fancied herself fathers heir, but as Tywin had once said in passing- she was not as smart as she thought she was.

"I always thought you were a stunted fool. Perhaps I was wrong."

His eyebrows creased a little now because that was praise. When was the last time his father had said something good about him? Had he ever? A weird feeling emanating within his body but he knew it was something he could not get used to.

"You're only half wrong. I might be new to strategy but as we are surrounded by three armies, we cannot stay here."

"I won't stay here. Ser Gregor will head out with five hundred riders and set the Riverland's on fire from the God's Eye to the Red Fork. The rest of us will regroup here. And you, you will go to Kings Landing."

Confusion burrowed deep within him now, wondering where he was going now with all of this.

"And do what?"

"Rule. You will serve as Hand of the King in my stead. You will bring that boy King to heel and his mother too if need be. If you get so much as a whiff of treason from any of the rest. Baelish, Varys, Pycelle-"

"Heads, spikes, walls. Why not my uncle? Why not anyone? Why me?"

It was rare he was lost for words, but he was right now. Was he finally seeing him as more than the monstrous dwarf his beloved wife died bringing into the world?

"You are my son."

More words were spoken but they immediately went out the other ear. Was this the first time he had actually said so to his face? And for a position as ludicrous as that? Oh he wanted to rub his hands together in glee at being allowed to put his spoiled nephew in his place like he had done in Winterfell for refusing to pay respects after Bran fell. The Hound had called him out on it, but he could tell it amused the burned man massively. Instead finally walking out towards his own tent outside as he refused to sleep inside the cursed castle that was Harrenhal where Shae was waiting on him alongside Bronn.

"So what did that cunt father of yours want?"

"I'd be careful saying words as such in here."

The sellsword laughed aloud.

"What is life without a little fear. Your father don't scare me."

"He should, but I do commend you for it. Despite being idiotic. I need to begin packing as I have a long ride ahead of me."

"You'd better not be leaving me now."

She smiled lightly at him and batted her eyelashes.

"As if. I may have only known you for a couple of days but you do fascinate me. You will be coming too. We are heading to Kings Landing."

He moved to sit down and Shae wasted no time in sitting down on his lap and rocking her hips against his hardening cock. If Bronn weren't here he would've already taken her.

"Why in all the bloody gods are you going to Kings Landing?"

Tyrion reached over for his flagon he always kept close by and taking a long drink of wine before swirling it within its container in thought.

"My father has charged me to be my vile nephew's Hand until he can stand in."

"Good luck with that. I ain't ever met your sister or your vile nephew as you put it, but you ain't one to mince your words so I will take that on board."

He didn't have many belongings, which was a blessing and a curse. A blessing because he could get away from this place and a curse because he was heading to the capital. He hated it there. The whole place was littered with spiders and leeches. Either people willing to commit the worst atrocities to get somewhere or not knowing if the person befriended was a spy or not. Hence for this reason, he put it off by a few days. It was ominously silent in the camp as all were awaiting instruction on what the next course of action was going to be. The only thing they knew was that they were not remaining here. The only thing to worry about was whether to head west towards where the Stark and Tully armies were situated or go south where the Baratheon brothers were in open rebellion with one another?

Renly's marriage had been a surprise to him. It wasn't a secret in the capital he'd been bedding Loras Tyrell, but a third son marrying into a House of such a status? There had been talks for years with Robert about who to wed him to. Names being tossed from Marbrand's to further tie the Westerland's in and some even mentioning someone from a House in Dorne to try and soothe tensions between the southern Kingdom and the crown. Nothing ever came from it though. Whilst he lacked the brashness of his eldest brother and the tactfulness of his other brother, he didn't lack in charm. He was sure if given the opportunity he would talk himself out of a murder trial with minimal effort.

Dorne would be a problem, that was for sure. It didn't take a genius to realise that going against all the armies was a death sentence, they needed more men. And the Dornish did command around thirty thousand at their disposal. A House here or there would be easy enough but trying to get the Martell's on board was laughable. His father never outwardly confirmed it, but everyone knew he was the one to give the order. He'd only been ten when the rebellion ended so he had not been there at the time. But it was said Amory Lorch had dragged Princess Rhaenys from under her fathers bed to be stabbed half a hundred times and that Prince Aegon was ripped from his mothers arms and thrown against the wall so hard his head crumbled on impact. Not to mention the Mountain boasting on how he had beaten and raped her with her sons blood still on his hands and finally splitting her in half from collarbone down with his sword.

It made him sick, that anyone would stoop to such things. But it was common knowledge that war brings out the worst in everyone. Desperation some would call it, but he would call it callous. By the time that had happened they were all dead and the heir barely a year old. Remembering the numerous lectures his father gave both him and his siblings that the best way to prevent something was to rip it out root and stem. In this case, the stem was Princess Elia and the roots were the infant Prince and Princess. Now, there was only one Targaryen left and she was last known to be somewhere in the Dothraki Sea so she was not an issue currently. Tyrion had no doubt though that once power was firmly back in the Lannister's hands, she would be dealt with next.

"My Lord, a raven arrived. You have been summoned."

Now what?

He wasted no time in following the order but this time there was a horrible aura as soon as he entered the room. Those seated at the table looking to one another nervously- or was it fear? It was difficult to tell from where he was. Walking towards his own seat and looking to his father. It was only when he done this that he realised something had happened, something big. Tywin was white with rage, knuckles gripping the edge of the table and a vein in his neck desperate to pop out.

"Surely it's a mummery-"

"Then explain what is in that and the words from Lord Leo Lefford. He was ordered to regroup the troops with my cousin and goodbrother Stafford yet according to this the latter is now dead. Skewered by a lance from Lord Rickard Karstark during a surprise attack. Another army annihilated."

Tyrion's eyes widened at this by a fraction but he managed to keep his expression mostly under control.

"And the banners, my Lord? Never mind what Lady Alysanne saw?"

"A mummery of course, a damned good one though."

What were they talking about? Did they all forget he was here and was not privy to their earlier conversation?

"I know I am short but would someone be so kind as to tell me what this is all about?"

This done the trick. All in the room quieting down before his uncle pinched his nose and turned to him.

"Robb Stark somehow found out we were regrouping our losses from the Battle of Whispering Wood at Oxcross. He descended on the army and they have all been defeated. In doing so he has effectively cut off our last route we had to the Westerland's and has simultaneously trapped us and preventing other armies from heading our way."

Well, shit. That was the first thing that came to his mind. Words spoken a couple of days prior that he clearly was not as green as they all thought. For someone who had never fought a battle before never mind led a battle, it was an impressive move. He was loathe to admit it, but that is what it was. That explained the looks all had when he entered the room, they were grasping on what to do.

"And what is with this banner and mummery thing? Next thing I hear had better be something ridiculous like they have allied with someone else proclaiming to be King. Has anyone heard who they are planning on backing?"

Silence fell at his words. At first he had been confused but then the penny dropped.

"Don't tell me there's someone else laying claim to the throne."

The silence continued and this was the answer needed. Swearing under his breath before reaching for the strongest wine there was on the table. Much sourer than he typically liked but it would dull his senses quicker and that was something needed currently.

"So who else has entered the wonderful game?"

"Someone saying he is the legitimate son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen."

The wine that was in his mouth left as he coughed at those words, not even attempting to hide his stunned expression anymore. Surely it had to be a mummery? It was too outlandish to even consider it being true.

"And the rest?"

It came out rushed as his heartbeat was quickening in his chest. Thoughts running through his mind to try and figure this out. Beforehand, they were fucked. But now it was obvious.

"Ser Arthur Dayne is alive and is with them."

"And Lady Alysanne swears she saw a bright silver dragon in the sky above the battle."

If he were standing up, he would've collapsed to the floor in shock. Arthur Dayne alive? If he was alive why would he be- wait.

"Wasn't Ser Arthur reportedly struck down by Eddard Stark? Alongside Oswell Whent and Gerold Hightower?"

He tried frantically in his mind to remember the tales , slowly piecing it all together. Eddard walking into the Red Keep to find King Scab with a stab wound in his back and his brother sitting on the throne with his sword still dripping in blood. To the bodies of Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon being presented in robes of Lannister red to Robert who laughed aloud at the 'end of Dragonspawn' as he was so bent on saying. Seemingly forgetting he himself technically was Dragonspawn. To Eddard calling him out on the atrocity and a massive fight breaking out where Lord Stark then went to lift the siege at Storm's End. To receiving a tip off that his sister was being held in a tower in Dorne with three Kingsguard outside. But why were they outside? Why were they not on the battlefield? The only other thing he knew with certainty was that he came back to the Red Keep with his sisters body in a coffin and a newborn son he claimed-

"Jon Snow."

A chill wracked through him now, everything making horrifying sense.

"What about the Stark bastard?"

Suddenly uncle Kevan's eyes widened as he snapped his head around to meet his gaze, clearly understanding just like he had. His breathing was beginning to quicken as it hit him full force. Trying to remember the sullen boy that all reports stated had been lost beyond the Wall. But what if he wasn't? What if it was a ruse? His brother had stated rather begrudgingly that he looked familiar but he could not recall where, and Barristan stating he had not seen someone as skilled as that with a sword other than Rhaegar.

"Did we get a name of who is laying claim?"

"Jaeron the raven states, not a name I've ever heard of. Why imp?"

Panic turned to anger as he shot a look at who had said it as he pondered it over in his mind. It was brilliant. He wanted to say it was anything but that, but it would be impossible to do so.

"Jon Snow, Jaeron Targaryen. Lord Stark heads back to Winterfell with a newborn after heading to free his sister where there are three Kingsguard members outside. They weren't holding her captive. They were-"

"Protecting her son."

His father had not spoken a word during all of this, steadily getting paler as he got angrier. His lips were now pulled into a tight line and Tyrion could've sworn his eyes flashed but it was gone a moment later. Hands moving to cover his face as he pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes until he was seeing stars himself. Beforehand, it did seem like a mummery. But now? It was not looking like it. Scrambling for words before realising what else was said.

"Lady Alysanne said she saw what in the sky?"

"A silver dragon apparently. Now that portion is most definitely a mummery. Dragons are extinct, have been for more than one hundred years."

"Unless you count Cannibal, that one was never seen again after the Dance."

His quip did little to ease the tension that was now rife in the air. The board was already scattered, but it had now been completely flipped. And for one of the first times since he was only a boy, he felt fear seep into his gut.

Daenerys Targaryen

The Red Waste, 300AC

Her feet ached.

That was the only thing she was thinking of other than the hunger in her belly. If she wasn't thinking of one she was thinking of the other, using each as a distraction from the opposite when it got a bit too much. How had she ended up here? There were many times where she wished she had stood up to her brother and despised that it took him pointing a sword to her bump before she had the courage to do so. What if she had refused his order to wed Drogo? Things would be drastically different but in a way, she wouldn't change it.

Viserion was currently tucked into the crook of her elbow as he nibbled on her exposed breast, suckling the little milk that was in them. The other two were seated on either shoulder with their claws clamped so tight she had thin trickles of blood from where they had punctured her soft skin. Reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear only to remember she now no longer had hair having lost it in the funeral pyre where the eggs had hatched. Instead, she looked up to the sky to see the blood red comet that was still shining as bright as it had when the dragons were born. The first dragons in more than one hundred years, and they had gone to the last Targaryen.

What an end to a dynasty as her own. Being the only Dragonlord family to survive the Doom due to Daenys' visions. Their move to Dragonstone where they eventually moved east and took over Westeros and united it into one realm. Where her family had ruled for three hundred years before Robert Baratheon started a war and won. She didn't remember any of it of course, being a quickening in her mothers womb when she was chased with Viserys to Dragonstone from the Red Keep before being ferried away by Ser Willem Darry to Braavos. Now all she had was a Khalasar numbering eighty- much of which was elderly and female- and three baby dragons that at most would leave a nasty bite or scratch which her shoulders proved.

"How much longer, Ser Jorah?"

Her bear turned to her for a moment before looking ahead.

"Rakharo stated three days, we are currently two days in so we should see in a few hours."

She wanted to cry in relief at these words. Even if they weren't granted shelter, they would at least know where they were. The Red Waste was much larger than initially thought. Many had fallen due to either the heat, lack of water, or lack of food. Plenty of horses too which affected the remaining Dothraki loyal to her as they believed without a horse they were little more than slaves. Daenerys had tried her best to reassure them, but she didn't know what they were going through. Her Silver trotting alongside the other horses. Once again thinking on the fact she was hungry until it was the only thing on her mind. What she would give for even rat currently. It had been something she had resorted to on many occasions with her brother whilst they were begging on the streets. Something that stopped when Magister Illyrio offered to house them in his manse where he spared no expense on them. Viserys thought they were being treated like they should, but Daenerys thought there was more to it.

It was something she had experienced many a time. Before Viserys lost his way and they were granted asylum, they were paraded around like a priceless ornament. Something she misliked greatly. Not that she ever said so aloud. By now, Viserion had let go of her breast and Rhaegal moved to where he had been to have his fill too. She had struggled to name them at first, but she was happy with her choices. Drogon after her husband, Rhaegal after her brother and her stillborn son, and Viserion after her brother. Despite hating her brother in the end, without him she would not be alive and she knew that.

"Khaleesi, look ahead."

She did so, seeing the walls surrounding a city and further out she could see the coast confirming how far they had walked.

"What is this place?"

Jorah rested his palm against the pommel of his sword before turning to her.

"There is only one place we can be. Qarth."