Tony entered the Small Council chambers, feeling incredibly self-conscious.

He usually didn't care what the other members of the council thought of him or the new position of 'Master of Works' that the King had invented solely for his benefit, but right now, it was difficult not to feel conscious.

But the other councillors hardly spared him a glance as he entered.

All the attention was on the Lord of Casterly Rock, who was sitting at the head of the table. He seemed calm and still. But after a moment, one would realize that stillness was almost unnatural, the Hand making no motion at all except for the sound of his breathing.

And then one would look into his green eyes and realize they were burning with incandescent rage.

"Lord Stark," Tywin said, giving him a cold glare. "How kind of you to finally grace us with your presence."

Biting back his first response, Tony instead forced himself to bow his head as he sat down. "I only received the message just now, I came as soon as I could."

"We have no time for excuses," Steffon Baratheon cut in briskly, and Tony resisted the urge to scowl at him. He wasn't making excuses. "The matter at hand is far more important. Do we have any further news from Duskendale?"

Ser Gerold Marbrand, the Master of Whisperers, a shorty, stocky dark-haired man with brown eyes shook his head with a grimace. "Only what we already know. The King and Lord Darklyn quarrelled, and when the King refused to grant him a city charter, Lord Darklyn had him seized and his guard killed."

"I told Aerys this was a mistake," Tywin said softly, his voice thrumming with rage. "I told him." He repeated, his voice growing louder with every word. "But he insisted on disregarding my advice out of petty pride and spite. That damned fool!"

Coming from anyone else, in any other situation, these words would have been treason. The speaker would have been cast into the Black Cells immediately for daring to slander the King so in the presence of the Council.

But given the current state of affairs, no one dared dispute the Lannister's words.

How could they?

"We are going to siege Duskendale., Tywin said finally, breaking the silence that had descended upon the room after his outburst. "I will gather a host and march on the city, force Darklyn to give up the King. Grand Maester send ravens to Lord Rosby and Massey, tell them to gather their men and join me on the march to Duskendale."

At this, there were finally nods. It was the only course of action that made sense.

"As you command, my lord," Pycelle, the old fool practically simpered. Tony inwardly scoffed, barely able to contain his contempt for the so-called Grand Maester.

"You are all to remain here and continue to govern the kingdom in my absence. Do not fail me," Tywin continued. "In my absence, Lord Steffon will serve as my proxy."

The Lord of Storm's End gave his friend a nod. "I will do my best, old friend."

"See that you do," Tywin replied before his focus shifted to Tony. "Lord Stark, you will accompany me. Bring a handful of your rockets and cannons along. They will serve as a useful demonstration to Lord Darklyn about the consequences of his defiance, and what will happen if he does not return the King to us immediately."

Tony nodded, feeling a spark of excitement kindle in his chest.

Perhaps there was an opportunity in this, he mused. Yes, the King's capture was unfortunate, but he was sure his weapons would intimidate Darklyn into surrendering the King.

Aerys would surely reward him afterwards and perhaps he'd even gain some favour from Tywin himself after this. The Warden of the West had made commissioned to the Alchemist's Guild, as most had over the past few years, but he had never been particularly fond of Tony himself. Had always viewed him with disdain for lowering himself to work directly in trade, for working directly in the forge and studying under the alchemists.

Tywin was a fool, of course, who didn't understand the value of what he was doing. But he was a powerful fool, one whose favour and friendship could elevate Tony to greater heights.

Perhaps their relationship would finally change after this. To have the King and the Hand on his side? Tony's mind was already churning with the possibilities.

"I understand and obey, Lord Tywin."

"See that you do," Tywin said gruffly, standing up. "We ride out at dawn tomorrow. We will gather forces along the way."

With those words, he swept from the room.

Tony wiped the sweat from his brow with one hand, the other keeping a firm grip on the reins of the black horse below him.

The summer sun was shining brightly above, and the city of Duskendale was resplendent in the distance, its whitestone walls practically shining and the towers rising high into the sky. It might not be as large as King's Landing, but it was far more pleasant even from this distance, if only for the lack of stench. The waters of the sea shimmered next to it, creating an almost idyllic vision.

But the subtle details betrayed that. The gates of Duskendale were shut tight, with far more sentries on the wall than anyone would expect for such a town in normal times. There were few ships in the harbour, and no sign of any people on the docks at all, or on the road leading up to the city gates.

Duskendale was a town preparing for a siege, fearfully awaiting what was to come.

Not that they were wrong to do so, Tony admitted to himself, casting a glance backwards.

Lord Tywin had assembled a terrible host to fall upon Duskendale. It was not very large, perhaps two thousand men in total. But two thousand men were still more than enough to raze a city like Duskendale to the ground.

And that was without Tony's war machines. Dragon-headed cannons and rockets were being lugged along on carts by the men, a threat ready to be unleashed upon Duskendale if the Darklyns did not release the King.

The Hand of the King rode at the head of the host, resplendent in his lion-shaped helm and rich crimson cloak. At his side were Lord Rosby and Lord Massey, and flanking them were the Kingsguard in their gleaming white armour. They maintained a stoic demeanour, their features concealed by their helms, but Tony knew they were embarrassed by this entire affair. It was their duty to protect the King, after all, and this entire affair was a stain on their reputation.

But Aerys had rushed off to Duskendale, taking only a single Kingsguard with him, Ser Gwayne Gaunt, who was now dead. The rest had been left behind by the King, who had declared that he was not a child who needed to be coddled.

Aerys probably wasn't feeling that way now that he was rotting in Duskendale's dungeons, Tony mused, a dark sort of amusement creeping through him. Most likely Aerys wished he had brought along not just the Kingsguard but a whole army.

Well, there was an army here now to liberate him, though Tony doubted they would be needed.

Finally, once they were almost to the city, Tywin raised a hand.

"HALT!" Lord Commander Hightower roared, the White Bull's deep voice ringing across the fields.

The host stopped its long march, and the Kingsguard dispersed, Hightower remaining at Tywin's side while the rest began directing and organizing the host to make camp.

With no little relief, Tony dismounted his horse, feeling the ache his body fade a little. It had been too long since he had regularly ridden a horse, and he was no longer used to it.

What need did he have to do so, after all? He was a lord, an alchemist, the maker of the greatest weapons in the world. Riding horses was for knights.

But there were times like these when he couldn't get out of it.

"Lord Stark," Tywin's voice cut through the air, and Tony spun on his heel, straightening. The Lord of Casterly Rock had removed his helmet and scowled at him, green eyes looking him up and down. "Set up your weapons. I intend to make a demonstration before I make contact with Darklyn."

"You want to attack the city while they still have the King?" Tony questioned, genuinely shocked. He knew relations between Tywin and Aerys had grown terse in recent years, he had been witness to more than one vicious argument between the two. But he had not expected the Lannister Lord to be so callous about the King's safety.

Tywin gave him a contemptuous look, green eyes burning with disdain. "Don't be a fool. Of course not. I simply want you to fire a rocket into the air above Duskendale. Remind them of what your weapons are capable of."

Tony coughed slightly, embarrassed for having missed the obvious. "Yes, of course."

Tywin didn't bother to dignify that with a response, striding away, his cape rippling behind him.

Tony turned to his workers. "Set up one of the cannons and load it with a rocket!" He snapped. "And if one of them goes off when I don't want to, I'll strap the fool responsible to the next rocket. Get to it."

The men scrambled to fulfil his orders, while Tony crossed his arms and waited.

Commoborn though they might be, his men were well-trained and obedient, and soon, they had the cannon set up, a rocket ready to be fired straight above Duskendale.

Just in time too, as Lord Tywin returned, Gerold Hightower with him this time.

"-truly do not think this is a wise course of action, my lord," The Lord Commander was saying. "We should speak to Darklyn first, surely he will see reason."

"It is not your duty to think," Tywin said curtly. "It is your duty to obey. If Darklyn was a man of reason, he would never have taken the King hostage in the first place, least of all over a city charter. Obviously, he needs some incentive to surrender."

Hightower was taller and broader than Lord Tywin, with arms as thick as tree trunks. He was older, yes, with greying hair and deepening lines on his face, but his blue eyes were still sharp.

But when Tywin gave him a look as the Lord Commander opened his mouth to argue, it was Hightower who backed down.

That was power. The power to cow the strongest men in the realm through one's words, because everyone else was too scared to cross you.

That was the kind of power that Tony aspired to.

Tywin turned to Tony. "Are you ready?" He asked briskly.

"As soon as you give the command, my lord." Tony nodded.

"Do it now," Tywin said. "I want this over with as quickly as possible."

Tony gave a sharp nod to the men, and one of them promptly lit the fuse.

They all backed away as the fuse burned away, and then the rocket exploded out of the dragon's mouth, hurtling high into the sky.

He would have to make some changes to improve the accuracy of the cannons, Tony thought as the rocket narrowly avoided hitting one of Duskendale's watchtowers. It should have gone higher than that.

And then the rocket exploded.

A sphere of flame erupted above Duskendale, spreading through the skies, embers falling down below. That rocket could have smashed the gates of Duskendale with ease, opening the way for the army to march in and sack the city, and Darklyn would know it.

Tony smiled visions of the rewards Aerys would heap on him already dancing through his mind.

Now that he had seen the power of the cannons ffirsthand it was only a matter of time before Darklyun surrendered and begged for mercy.

It was only a matter of time.