Tyrion IV

King's Landing still smelled like shit. He had been gone for well over a year now, and had heard of the Dragonpit exploding in a cloud of green. He had hoped maybe the explosion would have blown away the smell but alas, the stench of the city still lingered. At least the newly rebuilt portions of the city looked a lot better than the older ones that hadn't gotten blown up, for whatever it was worth.

He rode through the capital at the head of a small host of men, feeling like the conquering hero from the stories of old. Riding next to him were Bronn, Ser Mandon Moore, and Ser Harwyn Plumm, commonly called Hardstone. Ser Harwyn was the third son of Lord Phlip Plumm, one of his father's loyal bannermen, and was very skilled with a warhammer. He had been assigned to accompany Tyrion to the capital. Behind them rode twenty Lannister men, half of those who had been with him since he had first left Casterly Rock. He hoped after over two months of leading them he had their loyalty, but he wasn't quite sure. He did know that whatever loyalty they did have for him was going to be tested by his sister.

Behind those twenty men were the thousand Gold Cloaks that had originally been sent by Ned Stark to break Tyrion's siege on the Tower of the Rush. The rest of that force, five thousand Crownland levies, had split off the day before to go back to their lands. Ser Mandon Moore had reached the host to turn them around the day before Tyrion ran into them, which was good news because the last thing he needed was to be killed.

And mixed in between all these men was the whore Bronn had found him. A small dark haired girl named Shae. She was slim and pretty, with large dark eyes, and short dark hair. Tyrion thought she was beautiful and was glad Bronn found her before some other man within the camps had.

It had been twelve days since Tyrion had been ordered to become the acting Hand in his father's place. Ten days since Jaime had ridden north to Riverrun and he had ridden east to the capital. He wondered how Cersei was going to feel seeing which of her brothers was riding into the city, probably enraged. He couldn't wait to see the look on her face.

As they moved closer to the Red Keep, he instructed Bronn to set Shae up in a nearby tavern, since he had to evict Ned Stark from the Tower of the Hand before he could bring her into the keep.

The first person he saw upon entering said keep was Varys, who stood there in the front courtyard with his arms folded across his chest.

"Lord Tyrion, it is great to see you again."

"Oh yes, I'm sure you're beyond thrilled," Tyrion said as one of the stableboys rushed over with steps usually used by small children to dismount from their horses. With some effort he dismounted, going from being a few inches taller than Varys to over a foot shorter.

"I did miss your humor, my lord," Varys tittered. "What do we owe the pleasure of your arrival?"

Varys looked curiously at the men who rode next to him and then at the Gold Cloaks who poured into the keep behind him.

"I am told good King Robert has been lost at sea, and that my nephew has been crowned king."

"You have heard correctly."

"My father has been appointed as the new Hand of the King, but finds himself otherwise occupied at the moment. I have come to assume the position until he is freed from his other duties."

"Well let us hope you fare better than the previous Hand," Varys said with a giggle.

Tyrion frowned. That didn't sound good. He hadn't heard of anything happening to Eddard Stark.

"What has happened to Lord Stark?"

"Thrown in the black cells for refusing to pledge his loyalty to King Joffrey. Lord Stark holds out hope that his dear friend King Robert is still alive, or so he claims."

It seemed Cersei and Joffrey had been busy. "Where are my dear sister and nephew?"

"In the Throne Room, appointing a new knight of the Kingsguard after we've lost so many of them "

"So many of them?" Tyrion asked, confused. As far as he knew it was just Jaime and whomever accompanied Robert on his ill-fated voyage. "Please Lord Varys, walk with me to the Throne Room and tell me all I have missed."

Ser Harwyn, Ser Mandon, and the Lannister men followed dutifully behind them. Varys told him of what had happened in the Throne Room when the body of Ser Boros Blount had been discovered; Stark refusing to pledge his loyalty, his nephew's decision to order the death of all of Stark's men, Ser Barristan's betrayal, and Ser Preston's death. He was told that those of Stark's men that hadn't been killed had somehow escaped from the Tower of the Hand with Ser Barristan, along with the rest of Stark's household, including his eldest daughter.

Joffrey had ordered the already stretched thin Gold Cloaks to hunt down Ser Barristan and those of Stark's household that had escaped. Shortly after word had come of Robert's disappearance, Tommen and Myrcella had both been summoned back to the capital from their fostering by the Queen, and had arrived within short order. As for the vacant Kingsguard positions, of which there were four, two of them had already been filled with Ser Phillip Foote and Sandor Clegane.

"Clegane?" Tyrion asked, doing his best to make sure he wasn't gaping. "The mad dog isn't even a knight!"

"It is unprecedented," Varys said, choosing his words carefully.

Tyrion hadn't expected to walk into a complete mess but it looked like that was what his sister had left him.

They arrived at the Throne Room, the doors pulled open for them by the Gold Cloaks who stood outside.

Sitting on the Iron Throne was his nephew, who looked beyond pleased with himself. His sister stood at the foot of the throne. The two Kingsguard who stood there protecting the King were the newly appointed Sandor Clegane and Ser Phillip Foote.

In front of them was Ser Manfryd Yew, who Tyrion had never seen advance far in any tourneys because he lacked the skill necessary to compete against the best knights of the realm. In no world should Ser Manfryd be a member of the Kingsguard. Hell, in no world should the Hound and Ser Phillip be a part of the Kingsguard either. The Hound because he not only wasn't a knight but because he lacked chivalry and morals, and Ser Phillip because he was nowhere near skilled enough, though still more skilled than Ser Manfryd. They were likely appointed because they were loyal to Cersei, and most likely it was the same reason Ser Manfryd was going to be appointed.

Whatever was about to be said died on Cersei's lips as she saw who it was that entered the room. The scowl on her face made Tyrion smile.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Tyrion said as he approached.

"Uncle," Joffrey said, the word dripping with disdain, "what are you doing here?"

"Your grandfather accepts your appointment as the Hand of the King but finds he is unable to come to King's Landing at the moment. In his stead, he has sent me as acting Hand."

"Impossible," Cersei spat out. "He would never do such a thing."

Ser Mandon Moore moved up to the dais, to stand next to Ser Foote and resume his duties guarding the King.

"It's true your grace," Ser Harwyn said, stepping forward with the sealed scroll that stated such. "Your father gave me this to present to you."

Ser Harwyn bowed low and held out the scroll. Ser Phillip moved forward to take it and gave it to Cersei. She broke the seal and looked over their father's words, her face getting redder and redder with each word she read.

"I was just as shocked as you, dear sister," Tyrion said grinning as he savored the moment. When he was on his deathbed, which was hopefully decades from now, this would be the moment he would think of before slipping away from the mortal realm.

"I won't allow it," Cersei said.

"If that is your wish," Tyrion said. "Do you want to write the letter to father, or should I?"

Cersei scowled again. "No, if father thinks you capable," she emphasized the word to show her disbelief, "then who am I to disagree."

"Excellent. Now Ser Manfryd, there is no need for you anymore."

Ser Manfryd looked shocked. "I beg your pardon my lord, but I am to be a member of the Kingsguard. The Queen said it herself!"

"Yes, well as the Hand, I disagree with the selection. The Kingsguard is to have the most talented and valiant knights in it. While I do not question your valor, I do question your talent."

The knight purpled. "I will not have my swordsmanship questioned by a, by a-"

"By a dwarf?" Tyrion asked. He looked behind him and saw that Bronn had slipped into the room. "Very well sir, here is your chance to prove your swordsmanship not only to me, but to your King as well. Bronn, can you come up here."

Joffrey perked up at that. If there was one thing his nephew seemed unable to get enough of, it was violence. Tyrion found that rather concerning, but for once it was to his benefit. Bronn made his way past the Lannister men and came to a stop next to Tyrion.

"Ser Manfryd, let us see how you match up against my hired sword Bronn."

"I will not lower myself by fighting this common sellsword!"

Tyrion tutted. "How can you expect to protect the King if you'll only fight knights? Do you expect everyone who might threaten the King to be a knight?"

"My uncle is right, we need to see your skill Ser Manfryd," Joffrey said, a look of anticipation on his face. "Fight this man, your king commands it."

Ser Manfryd, doing his best to hide his anger, bowed stiffly to Joffrey. "If that is what the King wishes."

Tyrion, Ser Harwyn, and the rest of the Lannister men-at-arms cleared room, giving the two fighters space.

Ser Manfryd was dressed in decently made plate armor that protected him well and on his back was a wooden kite shield. Bronn wore only boiled leather. Ser Manfryd took his shield in one hand and sword in the other, and readied himself. Bronn grinned and took out his own sword, which he twirled expertly in his hand.

Bronn allowed Ser Manfryd to come at him and used his lack of armor to stay mobile, dodging out of the way of Ser Manfryd's swings, rarely meeting the man head on. Tyrion saw what Bronn was doing. He was tiring the Knight out and Ser Manfryd was too stupid to realize that.

Ser Manfryd tried to charge at Bronn, using his shield as a potential battering ram, but Bronn jumped out of the way. Before Ser Manfryd could adjust, Bronn brought his sword down with two hands, right on the right elbow joint. The metal that protected the joint crunched and Ser Marwyn let slip a cry of pain but to the man's credit, he kept a firm grip on his sword.

The knight came at Bronn in a fury, using his anger to offset whatever pain was throbbing from his elbow, and this time Bronn stood his ground, meeting each swing of the sword with one of his own. An aggressive swing by Ser Manfryd had him over extending himself, causing him to lean too far forward. Bronn got behind him and kicked Ser Manfryd in the ass with the heel of his foot, sending the knight toppling forward in a crash of metal.

"Enough!" Tyrion shouted, much to Joffrey's disappointment.

Bronn immediately took a few steps backwards but kept his sword out and his eyes on the knight, in case he tried something. A teen rushed forward to help Ser Manfryd up, likely the knight's squire. Tyrion could see blood dripping from the gauntlet of the wounded arm.

"If you can't defeat a common sellsword, how can we expect you to protect the King?"

Ser Manfryd's face was scratched and bloodied from crashing into the floor. He looked both livid and ashamed. "Your grace," Ser Manfryd said, bowing stiffly to Joffrey again, before turning on his heel and marching from the room.

Tyrion clapped his hands together and smiled at his sister. "Now that we avoided that mistake, whose brilliant idea was it to not only arrest the Warden of the North, but to also attempt to kill all his men?"


Cersei tried to defend her decision to arrest Ned Stark, and Joffrey offered no defense of his decision to order the killing of his men because he didn't think he needed anything other than, "I am the King." Joffrey had always been a spoiled brat and now that he was King, Tyrion only expected it to get worse.

There was already a good chance the North was gathering their strength to march to the defense of the Riverlands, given that Edmure Tully was Catelyn Stark's brother, but whatever chance there had been that the North wasn't going to march an army south was now thrown out the window because they had arrested the head of House Stark and killed dozens of his men.

They had effectively made it so Ned Stark would never truly be a loyal man. And their only way of forcing Ned Stark to swear his loyalty to Joffrey, even if the honorable man would never actually mean it, was gone the minute the man's daughter had escaped from King's Landing. Now they had no leverage over the man, and Ned Stark was nothing if not stubborn.

"And you threw him in the black cells?" Tyrion had demanded. "If Stark dies in our captivity there goes any chance we have at peace!"

Tyrion had ordered Lord Stark moved to the highest room in the Maidenvault that was to be under constant guard. The Warden of the North had been in the black cells a little over a week, hopefully not enough time to do any severe damage but the man was already suffering from a leg injury that being thrown into the small dingy black cells could only make it worse. Tyrion had ordered food and wine be brought to the man, a bath be drawn so he could wash off the grime of the dungeons, and a maester to check on the man's injured leg. He would need to speak with the former Hand, but that would have to wait.

Everything Stark's household had left behind in the Tower of the Hand had been gathered and placed in the storage rooms on the bottom floor, to be gone over at a later time. Tyrion hired himself new servants from out in the city proper; a cook, a kitchen maid, a chambermaid, his own personal stablehand, and three serving girls.

The Lannister men who came with him took over the guard barracks on the fifth floor. He discovered that the men assigned by his father to protect Cersei were either all dead or at the Wall, and she wanted to take half of his men but Tyrion refused. If she was going to get her men killed or sent to freeze their cocks off, she could write to their father asking for more men to act as her personal guards. Tyrion wouldn't put any of his men in such a perilous position.

He gave Bronn one of the bedchambers on the floor below the Lord Hand's rooms, and moved Shae into his own rooms.

"As long as you are here with me in the city, you are not a whore, you are my paramour. Do you understand me?" Tyrion told her the first night he moved her in.

"What's the difference?" Shae asked, as she slowly started to untie his breeches.

"You will be with no other man except me. You won't be paid the normal way. Instead your pay will be in shelter, food, clothes, jewelry, and spending money."

"Will my giant of Lannister take care of me?" she asked in a low voice, her hand reaching to grasp at his stiff cock.

Tyrion licked his lips and tried to keep his voice steady. "Since you will be a paramour of a Lannister, you must dress accordingly. Which means no more -"

He couldn't remember the other words he was going to say because at that moment she took him in her mouth and he lost all coherent thought. That was the way most of their conversations seemed to go, not that he was complaining.

The Kingsguard needed two new members and they needed a new Lord Commander. Cersei and Joffrey had both wanted Jaime to be reinstated as Lord Commander but Tyrion shot that idea down quickly. Their father/grandfather wouldn't allow it, and Tyrion had to agree with his father. Joffrey tried to argue that he was the King and if he wanted Uncle Jaime to be his Lord Commander of the Kingsguard then he would be, but Tyrion told him if that was his decision he would be the one to tell Tywin Lannister. Joffrey had backed down as even as King he still feared his grandfather, and Tyrion didn't blame him.

Ser Mandon Moore was the longest tenured member and likely the most skilled of the Kingsguard remaining from King Robert, but the man put duty before anything else, even his own morals. While that might be ideal under kings who were gentle of heart, Joffrey was a sadistic little prick and Tyrion didn't want a man who would do Joffrey's bidding without a second thought leading the Kingsguard.

Ser Meryn Trant was the second longest tenured member. He was a sly and cruel man, both cold and uncaring. While Ser Mandon would ignore his own morals if the King commanded him to, Tyrion doubted Ser Meryn had any morals to begin with. Not to mention the man was loyal to Cersei above all others, including Joffrey. That wouldn't do either.

That only left Tyrion with one choice for Lord Commander, Ser Arys Oakheart, who looked more the fabled knights of old than either of his compatriots. While the shortest tenured of the three, Arys had still been a member of the Kingsguard for eight years. He was more skilled than Ser Meryn, and had the courtesies and morals the other two lacked. He was no Ser Barristan the Bold or Ser Gerold the White Bull, but he was the best available.

As for the two vacancies, after much thought Tyrion offered one of them to Ser Harwyn Plumm and the knight had eagerly accepted. He might be hard-eyed and unforgiving, but Ser Harwyn was also gallant and cordial. The knight also hardly spoke unless spoken to, which was something one wanted in a man meant to guard royalty all day. Ser Harwyn might not be as skilled with a sword as the others, but he was more than a match for them with his warhammer, and there was nothing that stated a member of the Kingsguard must wield a sword. Plus, Tyrion's appointment of the man meant that he had the loyalty of at least one of the Kingsguard. Who knew when something like that would come in handy.

He announced his choices in the Throne Room during a session of the court, bullying his way through Joffrey and Cersei's attempts to protest, and making them official before all the realm. There was still one more spot to be filled, and Tyrion announced that any knight who thought themselves worthy were more than welcome to come to the capital to prove themselves. He figured out of the dozens who would come to King's Landing to try to claim the final spot, at least one of them had to be a truly skilled warrior, right?

After the Kingsguard there was the small council that needed to get to its correct numbers. Baelish, Varys, and Grand Maester Pycelle all still had their positions that they occupied under Robert. Tyrion wrote letters to Renly at Bronzegate, telling the man to forgo his calling of his banners, since Tywin Lannister was no longer a threat to the Crown like Ned Stark had decreed, and to return to the city to resume his post as Master of Laws, and to Lord Monford Velaryon, who had departed King's Landing with a large portion of the Royal Fleet the day Ser Boros' body was discovered, to resume his post as Master of Ships.

Then there was the problem that the majority of the Royal Fleet was still gathered at Dragonstone with Stannis, which shouldn't be the case because the man was no longer Master of Ships. Any and all attempts to message Stannis went unreturned, even by King Robert, the man's own brother, so Tyrion doubted he'd have anymore luck. That was something that needed to be addressed but given Robert had just disappeared sailing to the island, Tyrion wasn't ready to tempt fate and make the trip himself just yet.

He was meeting with Bronn in the Hand's solar, a room that didn't currently have a door. It has been shattered to pieces to gain entry after Stark's household had barricaded themselves inside, only for the rooms to be empty of anyone. Quite the mystery that Tyrion suspected Varys had the answer to.

Tyrion decided if he was going to live in this city, he needed more men. Outside of Bronn, no one's loyalties were certain and even Bronn's was questionable.

"I need more men loyal to me," Tyrion explained to Bronn.

"Loyal to you?" Bronn asked, eyebrows raised. "They'd be sellswords, as soon as there's a hint they're losing they'll switch sides."

"There are plenty of hedge knights in this city. Likely there's a few of them who hold true to the code of honor knights are supposed to follow. Those are the ones I want you to find."

Bronn gave him a skeptical look but was interrupted from answering by a servant appearing in the doorway.

"Pardon m'lord," the servant said, bowing low, "but there's been an emergency small council meeting called by the Grand Master."

"Excellent, likely more shit I'll have to deal with. You have your orders Bronn."

Bronn grumbled to himself but left the room, pushing past the servant. Tyrion moved from behind the desk and gave the servant a curious look.

"Did the Grand Master say what this meeting is in regards to?"

"No m'lord."

The downside to being the acting Hand was the amount of steps to and from Hand's room. At the bottom of all those steps his legs ached, but half as much as they did when travelling up. The small council chamber was filled with the members still in King's Landing, including Cersei in her self-appointed role as Regent.

Joffrey was noticeably absent, and Tyrion was grateful for that. Trying to curb his nephew's crueler tendencies became a lot harder a chore since the teen became King.

Pycelle held two scraps of parchment in his hand. They looked like raven messages and must have been the reason for the meeting.

"Riders from Rosby and Hayford have both arrived today, carrying a message they received from Stannis Baratheon." Grand Maester Pycelle grimaced, his wrinkles becoming even more prominent with the action. Whatever was in the messages Pycelle seemed reluctant to expand on.

"Out with it man," Tyrion said. "What did the messages say?"

"Yes, well," Pycelle cleared his throat, "Stannis Baratheon has declared himself the rightful King of Westeros."

Tyrion chuckled, thinking it was a poor joke the Grand Maester was making but he was the only one to do so. No, the old man was serious.

"Stannis? King?"

"He was always jealous of Robert," Cersei said, her eyes narrowed.

"I don't understand," Ser Arys said. "He can't just declare himself King because his brother is dead. King Robert left behind two sons. Does Lord Stannis say his reasoning?"

Grand Maester Pycelle hemmed and hawed but would not give an answer.

"Give me one of the damned messages," Tyrion said. The message was passed to him. "Stannis Baratheon … rightful king … Ah, here we are. He names the boy who sits the throne Joffrey Waters, a pretender born not of King Robert but of," Tyrion looked at his sister, "the Queen and her brother, the Kingslayer."

Ser Arys looked shocked and disgusted at that but he was the only one. Grand Maester Pycelle had already seen the words so his reaction to them would have been earlier. Cersei looked angry but she always looked angry when he was in the room. There was no shock or disgust or offense on her face. The same with Varys and Baelish.

My gods, Tyrion thought, there might be some truth to Stannis' claim.