Chapter 7 Bronn

(Hello everyone! So, this is a fanfic that I've been working on for a while now. I borrowed several elements from Game of Thrones and A Song of Ice and Fire. This is my first fanfic on this site, so constructive criticism is welcome. Appreciate!)

"What a fucking stench!" Bronn exclaimed as he waded through the sewers of Harrenhal. He was waist deep in the muck, holding his fighting dagger in one hand and a lantern in another. All he could think of besides the smell was how he was going to kill Tyrion Lannister if he ever got out of here alive. The walls are too high for ropes and grappling hooks, the Imp had said. The gate is too strong to rush it, he said. Wait, I got a brilliant idea in my fucking dwarf sized brain. "The sewers!" he said. "I was in charge of the sewers of Casterly Rock. They drained into the sea, so the sewers of Harrenhal must flush all the shit and muck into the north end of Gods Eye. A small party of men could get inside and up and open a gate before anyone knew they were in the castle. And Lady Whent has few people inside her stronghold so there won't be that much shit and piss."

Bronn told him to go fuck himself, and Timett and Shagga had said they would cut their own cocks off and feed them to Lady Whent's goats before they would go into the sewer. Ser Jason hadn't said a word, and Bronn could see on his face that he feared to go under the castle into the shit filled sewers. It was only when Tyrion himself said he would do it that Bronn finally relented.

"You're a fucking dwarf," Bronn exclaimed. "You'll drown in two feet of shit before you get two feet in the sewers. If I do this, I want a castle and a lordship when all this is done. And not some pissy little pile of stones, a proper castle, somewhere nice, and with a high born lady as my wife to suck my cock every night."

"Done," said Tyrion without a moment's hesitation. Bronn grinned. Oh, he knew the little shit would do all he could to make that promise come true, cause he was a Lannister and all Lannisters paid their fucking debts. He had paid Bronn well enough until now, in coin, food, wine, and women. Well, not so much the coin yet, since they hadn't come across any chests of Tyrion's gold in his father's camp. But it was promised and a promise from a Lannister was worth more than a promise from most men. Fighting as the Imp's champion in the Vale may turn out to be one of the best decisions Bronn had ever made. But he also had a fear that someday he might regret it when the Imp's tongue got him in more trouble than Bronn or the rest could get him out of. Oh well, enjoy life while you can.

"My lord," Ser Jason bristled. "This man is a common sellsword. He is rude to you and my men and you promise him a castle and a lordship?"

They were on a hill, far outside of Harrenhal, looking down on the castle in the late afternoon. It had taken them four days to get here across difficult terrain and all were tired and saddle sore. The castle before them was truly a monstrous thing, stout and formidable. Even with it's walls and towers broken and topped by stone melted by dragon fire it still had the highest walls and strongest gates of any castle in the land. Bronn took one look and before he could say it Tyrion had voiced his thoughts and said the walls were too high.

"What about a ruse? Try to rush the gates when they open them," Bronn had suggested.

"No," Tyrion said right away. "There is nowhere to hide close enough. The land in front of the gates is flat and open. Besides, how will we get them to open their gates? Lady Whent is sworn to Riverrun and no doubt she knows that we are at war with Riverrun. Everyone in the land knows what I look like, Ser Jason and his men are in Lannister colors, and you and the hill tribesmen would hardly be welcome as weary travelers. I could sing Lady Whent the 'Rains of Castemere' and hope she gets the point, but I doubt it would work. Her castle is already in ruins. However,…" And that's when he mentioned the sewers and the argument had begun.

After Ser Jason's comment about Bronn, Tyrion stared at the knight with his mismatched eyes. "This man has saved my life, Ser Jason, and may do so again in the future, so I allow him a little leeway as far as curtsey goes. And I don't see you volunteering to wade through shit for me."

Ser Jason took a deep breath. "It would be my honor to go into the…"

"Don't need you," Bronn said curtly, cutting him off. "You fight from a horse with a lance. Not much call for that sneaking into a castle."

Ser Jason glared at Bronn. "Are you questioning my honor?"

"No," Bronn told him. "Just telling it like it is. Why do all knights get the wind up their arse when someone tells them they can't do something?"

"Now look here…"

"Enough!" Tyrion commanded. "The enemy is there gentlemen." He pointed at the castle. "Bronn will lead a party into the sewers by the lake shore. We will gather here and charge down to the gates when he opens them. How many you think to take in your party, Bronn?"

"Don't need a party," Bronn answered. "Too many makes too much noise. Me and one or two others should be enough. Some to kill the guards while one opens the gate." He looked at Timett. "Not you, too big." He looked at Shagga and the big mountain man laughed. "Shagga does not swim in shit."

"I'll go," came a small voice behind them.

Tyrion stared at his squire. "Pod, you don't have to do this, there are other…"

"Yes, my lord. But I still want to go. My lord."

Tyrion looked at Bronn, and Bronn nodded. "Fine, we'll go, just the two of us."

"Take a lantern," Tyrion advised. "When the gate is open signal us with the lantern."

Bronn and Podrick left soon after. As the light was fading they circled around to the west on foot, Pod carrying an unlit lantern. The land was hilly and tree covered, offering good cover. There were no farms this close to the castle, no villages, and therefore no nosy people about which suited Bronn fine. Harrenhal was cursed, the smallfolk believed, and none dared live in its shadow.

Bronn silently cursed to himself as they worked their way along a small stream that fed into Gods Eye. He had no idea where the sewers were and looking in the fading daylight would not be easy. On his left was the bulk of Harrenhal, looming above all else, its black walls staring at them. Bronn just hoped there were no real eyes up there staring back.

They reached the shoreline of the lake as the sun set and Bronn cursed their bad luck. The castle walls were well back of the shore, not directly on it, and there was a long wharf jutting out into the lake. In the fading light he could see no boats there or guards.

"Come on," he told Pod in a low voice. "We'll take a walk along the shore, but nice and slow. Look for any openings in the rocks."

It was not sight that directed them to the sewer openings but the smell. Bronn smelled it first and then Pod did. It was dark by then, and he was thinking about risking lighting the lamp so they could see better when Pod gasped and Bronn turned, ready for a fight. But instead of seeing Pod with his throat cut open Bronn saw him gazing up at the sky. "What is it?" Pod asked, pointing up. Bronn looked up as well and saw a red streak across the darkening sky.

"Not a clue. But it will light our way well enough."

Soon they found the river of foul smelling sewer water as it made its way into the lake. A channel about twenty feet wide had been dug through the rocks and sand over the last 300 years, as the shit and piss and dirty bath and dish water had made its way from the great castle. They followed the channel inland for about fifty yards and came to an opening made of bricks with a gate barring it.

"That's not good," Bronn said as he pulled on the bars. They wouldn't budge. "Oh well, we tried. Guess we'll have to move on without taking Harrenhal."

"Wait," Pod said. "The ground has worn away under the gate. I think I can squeeze through."

Bronn sighed. The boy was too eager to please and was going to get them both killed. "Right. Give it a try."

Five minutes later Pod had slipped through and there was nothing for it but Bronn to try as well. It took him a bit longer, and the smell was driving him mad, but soon he had wriggled through and was on the other side. Both of them were slimy with the dirty water and mud.

"I think a bath is in order after this," Bronn commented as they made their way into the brick lined sewer tunnel. The water was flowing in a small trickle and was only ankle deep here. The tunnel sloped up, the slope allowing the waste of Harrenhal to flow to the lake. Pod lit the lantern and soon they were moving up the slope, Bronn with the lantern in one hand and his fighting dagger in the other, Pod behind him with a short sword drawn.

Ten minutes latter they came to a junction with three tunnels, one going straight, one left and one right.

"Which way?" Bronn asked.

"The water flows most from the tunnel in front," said Pod. "I bet that's where most of the people live."

Bronn looked at him. "Not so stupid, are you?"

Pod gulped. "No, my lord."

"I'm no lord," Bronn snorted. "Not yet."

"Yes, my…yes."

Bronn moved forward into the tunnel in front of them and Pod followed. As they walked the stench grew, the water got deeper, and then they saw the first rats. Rats were nothing knew to Bronn, he had seen enough of them in his life, on the farm where he had been born, in the sieges he had taken part in as a sellsword, on both sides of the siege lines, and in the few ships he had been in. But like Harrenhal, something about these rats were monstrous. They were huge and their eyes glowed eerily in the lantern light before they scurried away.

"Big," Pod whispered and Bronn nodded. After another fifteen minutes of walking, Bronn stepped and suddenly there was nothing under his foot. He stumbled forward and his feet dropped a bit and then he regained his balance and he was in waist deep foul sewer water. That's when he cursed out loud about the stench and thought of a hundred ways to kill Tyrion.

"What a fucking stench!" he exclaimed. Pod stepped careful into the deeper part beside him and in the lantern light they could see they were in a round shaped junction and sewer water was coming in slowly from several smaller openings above them. Bronn was about to curse again, thinking they would have to crawl on their hands and knees down one of these foul openings when he spotted the steps of a stone ladder carved into the stone of the rounded wall. It went up and there was a narrow grate in the ceiling.

"What is it?" Pod asked as he peered up in the semi-darkness.

"The way out," Bronn said with relief. "Hold this." He handed Pod the lantern and then Bronn sheathed his fighting dagger, moved to the stone ladder and climbed up. The stones were slick and he was covered in shit smelling slime, but he slowly made his way up about twenty feet and soon had his hands on the grate. Bronn couldn't see anything but darkness above the grate. Slowly he pushed and it came open easily. Bronn stuck his head up the square opening and after a moment realized the grate led to a small stone room. He climbed up, and pulled his dagger and stayed crouched for a long minute, listening, waiting…but nothing happened. As his eyes adjusted to the light he saw a door with a handle. He tried it and it opened slightly. He quickly closed it, called to Pod to come up. The boy had a harder time trying to climb with the lantern and almost slipped twice, but he was soon high enough to hand Bronn the lantern, which he quickly blew out as Pod climbed up the rest of the way.

"What is it?" Pod asked in a whisper.

Bronn shrugged. "Don't know. Maybe a way to reach the sewers to clean them or unplug them if they get blocked up. Let's have a look about the neighborhood."

He slowly opened the door and they came out into a dark hallway. It was long and many doors led off from it. Bronn silently cursed again. Harrenhal was massive, both outside and inside. It had hundreds of bedrooms, halls, kitchens, stables, storage rooms, and many, many other rooms. But it was also eerily empty. They slowly made their way in the darkness, trying doors that always led to empty rooms. They found another corridor and then another and just as Bronn thought they were hopelessly lost, Pod nudged him.

"I see a light."

Bronn looked in the direction Pod pointed and there it was, a torch on a wall down a side corridor. A torch meant a way out. But it also meant people lived here. Bronn drew his dagger and Pod took out his short sword. They quietly made their way and soon saw more torches on the walls. After a while they turned down another corridor and there at the end they saw an opening. It led to an inner courtyard. No one was about.

Bronn was just about to cross the courtyard when he heard a cough. He froze and looked up and there on the wall in the light of the red streak in the sky he saw the silhouette of a man with a spear. Then he saw another, and then a third off to the right. As his eyes got used to the light he saw directly opposite them a small gate, big enough for two men or a man on a horse but not much else. A fourth man with a spear was there. It was a long way across that courtyard and there was no way Bronn could see him making it without someone seeing him. They could look for another gate, the main gate, but that would take time and they might run into more of Lady Whent's small garrison.

He turned to Pod. "Lad, you follow me, and you say nothing and do nothing. There's one guard on the gate and three on the wall above. We'll kill the gate guard, open the gate, you wave the lantern, then we guard the gate until the rest get here. Got it?"

Pod gulped and nervously nodded. "Yes, my…yes."

"Put your sword away," Bronn told him and then he and Pod sheathed their weapons. Without a second thought Bronn started walking toward the gate. They were almost on the guard before he noticed them and the three on the wall made no sign they saw anything amiss.

"Hello friend," Bronn said to the gate guard.

"Who's there?" came the nervous answer.

"Humble workers for Lady Whent," Bronn said.

"Seven hells, what's that stench?" the guard said in a more relaxed tone

"Us," said Bronn. "Was unplugging the sewers and just on our ways to the baths. Could you direct us?"

The guard pointed off to the right. "Past the main gate and the forge, the big low stone building. And be quick about it before we all die of the stench."

"Many thanks. Say, my young friend and I was wondering what that thing in the sky is?"

Bronn pointed up, the man looked up and that was the last thing he ever did as Bronn's dagger slit his throat and he fell with a clatter before Bronn could catch him.

"They killed him!" yelled a voice from above and a spear whistled past Bronn's ear and slammed into the ground.

"The gate!" Bronn yelled to Pod as he ran forward. The gate had a heavy metal bar across it which they quickly pulled up and tossed aside and pushed open the iron gates. There was a long tunnel lit with three torches and at the end was a stout wooden door.

"Open it and signal the others!" Bronn shouted to Pod and as Pod ran down the tunnel, Bronn drew out both his sword and dagger and turned just in time to face the three guards that had been on the walls. The fight was brief as Bronn's sword skewered one through the throat and his dagger hamstrung another as he crouched under a spear thrust and cut the back of the man's leg. The man fell in agony and then the third one had a short sword out and he and Bronn traded a few blows before Bronn's sword bit deep where the man had no armor in the armpit of his left arm. He screamed in pain and then Bronn shoved his dagger into his throat and did the same for the one on the ground he had hamstrung.

Now he heard more shouts from around the castle and torches were coming their way. He turned and saw the gates at the far end opened but Pod was having trouble with the lantern.

"Hurry! We have company!"

There was no time to say more as several men rushed toward him. But in the narrow tunnel Bronn had the advantage as no more than one or two could come at him at a time. If they had been smart they would have flung spears at him or called for archers but they weren't smart and their blood was up so they drew swords and charged down on him, first two, then two more and by the time these four were dead the boy had done his job and Bronn heard the battle roar of Shagga and Timett with Ser Jason and his men not far behind. Shagga and Timett moved in front of Bronn and started swinging their axes, as more than forty Whent men at arms crowded in the tunnel in front of them. It was grim bloody work and would have lasted longer but Ser Jason's men had their lances with them and they thrust deep into the Whent crowd. Two men fell to lance thrusts, Shagga cut the head off a third with his big axe and Timett dropped another with a blow that took off his left arm. Then the Whent men lost hope and those in front started to panic and soon the whole lot of them were streaming back into the castle. Bronn and his companions cut and slashed their way among them and soon they were in the open courtyard. The fight was much briefer here as many Whent men yielded and Ser Jason's men had to protect them from the rampage of the wild men. Ten minutes later it was over. Two of Ser Jason's men were dead, four more wounded, and score of Whent men were dead or wounded, the rest prisoners. Tyrion and the rest of the men came in on horseback carrying lanterns and torches.

Tyrion looked down on Bronn and Pod, wrinkled his nose and grinned. "Well done. Was it worth a lordship?"

Bronn shrugged. "Won't know till I get it, will I?"

Tyrion laughed this time. "Well said. Now, where is Lady Whent?" He climbed off his horse and looked at the twenty or so captives they had who were on their knees in the courtyard. "Who is in command here?"

One man looked up. "I am, my lord."

"I am Tyrion son of Tywin of House Lannister. In his name I take command of this castle. My father's army will be here by the morrow. He would like to be honorably greeted by the lady of Harrenhal. So, where is she?"

"Gone, three days ago," the man said.

"Gone where?"

"She didn't say and we didn't ask, my lord. She told us to guard the castle and she would be back soon."

Shagga growled. "He lies Halfman. Let Shagga trim his nose and see if the truth comes pouring out of him with his blood."

"No," Tyrion said forcefully. "Take what plunder you want but do no harm to these people. If any man resists, kill him. But no unnecessary deaths. And no rape."

Shagga growled. "The Halfman takes the joy out of war, but we will abide."

They began to search the castle and before long secured most of the people. The castle was massive but there were less than two hundred people living here, and they occupied only a small section of the place. They rounded up the remaining soldiers, got a maester out of bed to tend the wounded on both sides, and secured the unwounded prisoners in some barred cells. They got the same story about Lady Whent that the man at arms told from the castle's maester. Lady Whent left three days ago, but no one who remained knew exactly why, not even the maester. Most of her staff went with her including her chief steward as well as her personal handmaids and guards and twenty other men at arms.

Again Shagga said he lied and threatened to bleed the man to get the truth but Tyrion again said no. They had need of a live maester, not a dead one, and he was only protecting his lady. Truth be told, Tyrion told Bronn when they were alone for a brief moment, he cared not for where Lady Whent went. But he knew his father would.

Not long after Tyrion called his commanders into a great hall with many hearths to discuss what to do next.

"We will stay the night," he told Bronn, Ser Jason, Shagga, Timett and the other leaders of the hill tribes. "Come morning we must get on the road again for King's Landing."

"We have wounded men, my lord," said Ser Jason.

"They will stay as will thirty of our men to await my father's arrival. We have more pressing business to the south."

"What business, my lord?" Ser Jason asked.

Tyrion smiled. "Why I am to become the Hand of the King. So it's to King's Landing we go."

Bronn frowned a bit. The Imp wasn't telling these Lannister men about Ned Stark. Not yet. Maybe not at all. He didn't trust them. So Bronn decided he wouldn't either.

After that was agreed to Tyrion gave orders for the cook to prepare a feast for his men. Their own baggage wagons caught up to them and passed through the main gate into the castle, and soon all were making preparations for the night.

Outside in the main courtyard Tyrion looked over at Bronn and Pod and sniffed and made a face. "I think supper will be not so pleasant with that smell in my nostrils."

"You know," Bronn said. "While I was wading through waist deep shit and piss I could think of nothing better to do than to hold your head under the filth and watch you drown."

Tyrion grinned. "A fit of madness took hold of you. If I drown you will never become a lord or get what gold I owe you."

"Aye," Bronn replied. "So it is."

"Cheer up, Bronn," Tyrion told him. "You are the man who took Harrenhal. Who else can say that?"

"Aegon the Conqueror," squeaked Pod. "My lord."

"Of course," Tyrion replied. "But he had three dragons."

Tyrion then bade a passing woman to show Bronn and Pod the baths and to have their clothing washed. Twenty minutes later Bronn sank into a nice hot tub full of soapy water, soaking out the stench of the sewers and the long hard ride he had been on since the Imp had been taken captive weeks ago.

After the stench was gone Pod and Bronn dressed in some clothing the woman brought them while their clothing was being washed. It was rough homespun breeches and long shirts, but it was clean and that was good. Their boots were cleaned by a young boy who then got to work on Bronn's leather armor, with Bronn's admonishment not to scrub too hard because he liked the armor dark and dull, so it did not reflect any light.

Supper was a magnificent feast in the great hall with many heaths, courtesy of the animal pens and storerooms of Lady Whent. They had roast beef, stuffed baked pig, roasted chicken, along with assorted vegetables, pies, cakes, good baked bread, and plenty of ale, beer, and wine. Bronn ate and drank his fill with Tyrion giving him and Pod many toasts for their bravery in taking the castle. But Bronn took a care not to drink too much because when a man was drunk he was at his weakest and that would not do in this time of troubles. A castle taken today can be retaken tomorrow.

After a guard was set and most of the men went off to find their beds for the night, Tyrion asked Bronn to find Shae and bring her to Lady's Whent's quarters, where Tyrion planned to spend the night. Bronn found Shae in the kitchens with a scowl on her face as she sat on a chair while the other servants they brought took to cleaning up, casting Shae dark looks. They all knew she was Tyrion's whore, but none dare say a word to her. Bronn was sure she had a knife hidden somewhere under her robes, ready to cut the first one who suggested she lend a hand scrubbing pots.

"He wants you," he said in a low voice and she smiled, stood and followed him.

"You were brave to go in the sewers," she told him as they walked across the courtyard. "Everyone is talking about it."

"Stupid, you mean, not brave," Bronn replied.

"Perhaps. But men will not say it was stupid."

"I don't give a shit what men say."

"What do you want?"

Tyrion had asked him that once. "I want to enjoy life," Bronn told her. "I don't want to kiss anyone's ass. I want to sleep when I want, fuck while I can, and fill my belly with good food and wine while I still can. The best way to do all that is to hitch my wagon to your lord and see where he takes me."

"He will take us to King's Landing. He will be Hand of the King. There is no higher position in the land, except for the king."

"Aye," Bronn said. "But the last two or three Hands didn't make out so well in case you didn't hear. Some of them died."

"Not Ned Stark."

"No, not him. Not yet. We have to find him before something happens to him."

"He told me," Shae replied.

"I'm sure he did. But keep it to yourself."

"He told me that as well. I can keep a secret."

"Good."

"What will we do with Ned Stark?"

"Bring him back here to his father."

"Tyrion hates his father," Shae said in a bare whisper.

"Most men hate their fathers."

"Why do most men hate their fathers?"

"Cause they stand in our way, or they have land or titles we want, or they told us 'no' or hit us one too many times."

"I thought it was because they fucked your mothers," Shae replied. "And you little boys couldn't stand the thought of your mother in bed with any man, even your fathers."

"Aye, might be something to that. But not for our little lord."

"Why not?"

"Cause when I was in the Vale I heard many stories about him from that bitch Lysa Arryn's men. Tyrion's mother died bringing him into this world so he never knew her." She said nothing and then they were at the entrance to the tower where Lady Whent's quarters were. "Now, off you go, up the stairs to the third floor, second door on the right."

The next morning after a leisurely breakfast they were all set to leave Harrenhal. Shagga and Timett and the other wild men and women were a bit sullen and angry. The plunder of Harrenhal had not been much. They found the coin room, directed there after threatening to cut the manhood off all of the prisoners, but the coin room had an immense iron door with several locks and Lady Whent's steward had taken the keys with him. No matter how much they pounded on the door or beat the locks they could not get in.

Before they could set off a drizzle began to fall that soon turned into rain so Tyrion delayed their departure for a few hours till the storm passed. That brought a sufficient delay so that the outriders of his father's army approached before they could set off again and within an hour Lord Tywin Lannister himself entered the great castle with his headquarters group and many guards.

Bronn sat astride his horse just behind Tyrion on his when Lord Tywin Lannister came riding in and headed straight for his son.

"Well done," Tywin said, a bit grudgingly, as he stopped his horse beside Tyrion's. "How did you take it?"

Tyrion grinned. "Bronn and Pod swam through a river of sewer shit to take the guards unawares and open a side gate. I promised Bronn a lordship some day for this great deed. Not a great lordship, but with a nice holdfast and a lady to marry and warm his bed, and some smallfolk to rule over. And perhaps we can make Pod a knight after he has squired for me long enough"

Tywin stared at Bronn, glanced at Pod, and gave a short snort. "If that's what you promised them then they shall have it. Why haven't you left to take care of this other business we discussed?"

"We were just about to leave."

"Then you had best be on your way."

Tyrion nodded. "Yes. But first what news of the war?"

"Nothing has changed since we last talked."

"And in King's Landing?" Tyrion asked next.

"Ravens are not trained to find an army on the march," Tywin told him. He glanced around. "Where is Lady Whent? I expected her here to greet me on bended knee."

"Left four days ago according to her maester and others," Tyrion told his father. "Where, no one seems to know."

"They will soon be talking," Tywin replied and Bronn knew there would be torture here before nightfall.

"We had some wounded taking the castle," Tyrion was telling his father. "And we had two dead. There are also about forty prisoners in the cells. Lady Whent's men at arms. I was going to leave thirty of Ser Jason's men here…"

"Take all of your men," his father commanded. "We have sufficient force here now. If you have nothing else to discuss, you should be off. That other matter is most pressing."

"Of course, father. Fare you well."

Tywin grunted. "And you." And then he rode his horse past his son. Tyrion called Ser Jason forward and told him to get the rest of his men. Ten minutes later they were all mounted and soon Tyrion's small host was filing out the main gate as his father's much more massive host was coming in. Outside the Lannister army was already preparing defenses as the men were still marching over the hills toward the castle. Tyrion, followed by Bronn, Pod and Ser Jason, took the lead of his smaller group and turned to the rutted track that passed for a road leading east to the Kingsroad.

Bronn could see Tyrion simmering with rage and after a short while the two were riding alone with Pod not far behind as Ser Jason set his outriders and scouts.

"You would think he wanted me to fail," Tyrion said in a low, hoarse voice.

"Aye," said Bronn. "Not much for giving thanks, is he?"

"Never has been," Tyrion told him. "One day he sat me and Jaime and Cersei down and gave us his views on such things. They were already tall and blond and gorgeous and I was stunted and ugly and had not yet counted eight name days. But we were all Lannisters, his children. He spoke long on what was required of us and what our family name meant and how we had to uphold the house's honor and all that. 'Success is expected of a Lannister, and one should not expect gratitude for doing one's duty. Failure will not be tolerated and punishment should come quickly to those who fail you or thwart your purpose. Especially those who rise against you and yours.' Those were his exact words. I shall remember them to my last day."

"The Rains of Castemere," Bronn said and no further explanation was needed.

"Indeed. That is my father, in a nutshell. Oh, you will get your lordship when all this is over, if we win that is. But he will grudgingly give it to you, and expect you to bend the knee and offer him your loyalty in all his deeds and wars."

"Ah, well. You can't have everything perfect," Bronn said with a wry grin.

The next day they made the Kingsroad and the road was suspiciously empty of traffic. Soon they saw the first burnt out farmhouse, and then dead bodies by the road, people hanging from trees and smoke columns on the horizon that bespoke of more chaos. Tyrion had warned them they might run into men serving the Lannisters who were ruthless. They were to do nothing but pass them by. They had a bigger mission to accomplish and would not get involved in what these raiding parties were doing. None the less, Bronn could see how Ser Jason's men were uneasy with what they were seeing. The wild men and women did not care so much and once or twice Tyrion had to stop them from wandering off to check deserted farms for any hidden valuables. They had too much ground to make up for wasted side trips.

On the third day from Harrenhal they finally caught up with one of the raiding parties led by Ser Amory Lorch. Bronn didn't know the man but Tyrion and he seemed to have met before. The two columns met on the Kingsroad, Tyrion's heading south, Lorch's heading north. Tyrion told Lorch where his father was now. But it was Lorch's news that was the most intriguing.

"Two days past we ran into a party of gold cloaks and some of the Queen's men she had sent from King's Landing," he told Tyrion. "They had orders to find and bring Ned Stark back to King's Landing."

"And where were these valiant men of my sister's searching for Ned Stark, Ser Amory?" Tyrion asked.

"West of the Kingsroad, my lord," Ser Amory told him. "They had run into some small folk on the road that had seen a party of Night's Watch recruits on the road south of Gods Eye."

Tyrion thanked him for his news and bid them farewell. As the two columns passed each other, Lorch's men made jests about the women they had raped and plunder they took, and at the end of their column was a long line of wagons carrying grain and corn and vegetables, plus a herd of cattle, and many pigs and goats, with chickens and geese in cages. All bound for Harrenhal now, Lorch had said.

"That is how to fight a war," Shagga growled. "Halfman, let us go with them."

"Shagga," Tyrion said with a heavy sigh. "You are free to go as you please. But if you do not come with me you will not get all the gold and wenches I promised when we reach King's Landing."

"There is no joy in getting from you what one can take with an axe," Shagga grumbled and Timett and the others agreed but they stayed with Tyrion's group.

Now came the time where Tyrion had to tell Ser Jason about Ned Stark. He only nodded and said he was to do as Tyrion commanded and would follow him anywhere. As Ser Jason rode off to the front of the group, Bronn looked at Tyrion. "You knew he would follow you. Why the big secret?"

"There is a thing in warfare called a need to know basis. And he did not need to know that we were looking for Stark until now."

"Is there anything else I need to know?" Bronn asked.

"No."

"Would you tell me if there was?"

"No."

"Right. Off we go again."

They decided to cut across the land towards Gods Eye and then move south to make up time. Tyrion knew Yoren, the leader of the Night's Watch party, and told Bronn if he was wise Yoren would try to come up the west side of Gods Eye to avoid the danger on the King's Road.

The next evening after sunset they were still in the saddle trying to make for a small town a map Tyrion had showed was on the shores of Gods Eye. There were many grumbles from tired men wanting to make camp but Tyrion promised them all warm beds and strong ale and wine and maybe even whores in the town if they pressed on. After cresting a small hill they saw fire in the distance to the west. A minute later one of Ser Jason's scouts came riding up hard.

"The town is empty," he said in a hurry. "But someone is attacking some people in the lord's holdfast near the lake."

They put their spurs to their horses and came thundering down into the town, drawn by the fire at the holdfast. It was blazing now and many men were outside it. The men near the holdfast heard the charging horses coming and started to mount their own horses and get ready for a fight. Ser Jason's men were all set to charge when Bronn's sharp eyes saw the banner in the flickering light.

"It's your bannermen!" he yelled to Tyrion as they reined up their horses. The two groups stopped and eyed each other warily.

Tyrion shouted to the men. "Who's in command here?"

"Ser Marcus Lefford," said one man on a horse holding a spear. "But he's wounded. Took an arrow."

"Bring me to him," Tyrion commanded. The man dismounted and started walking and Tyrion dismounted as well, followed by Bronn, Pod not far behind. There beneath the low walls of the hold fast a man lay gasping in pain as someone tried to pull an arrow from his shoulder. Around him were several dead bodies, some with arrows in them.

Ser Marcus looked up and in the light of the fire inside the holdfast his face shown agony and surprise. "Lord Tyrion?"

"Yes," Tyrion said. "What goes on here Ser Marcus?"

"Trying to find Ned Stark," he said, his face contorted in pain.

Now it was Tyrion's turn to show surprise. "Stark is here?"

Ser Marcus nodded. "We got him. But that crow bastard refused to open the gates to give him to us. And the bastard boy."

"What bastard boy?"

"The one the gold cloaks said the King wanted killed."

Tyrion sighed. Joffrey up to some fool thing or another. "Start from the beginning."

In two minutes he had most of the story. Not all the details but the gist of it. "Where is Ned Stark now?"

"Over there," Ser Marcus said, nodding towards a small house. "I need a maester."

"Unfortunately, we didn't bring one," said Tyrion and he turned and there was Pod, who was standing right behind them the whole time. "Pod, find Ser Jason. Tell him to set guards and make camp here for the night, in the houses if possible. Look to the wounded and get supper ready as well." Tyrion then looked at the men helping Ser Marcus. "Get him inside that building. Now."

The knight screamed in agony as they lifted him and soon he was in the small house with Tyrion and Bronn right behind him. They carried Ser Marcus off to a bedroom Tyrion guessed and closed the door behind them. In the small kitchen a few lit candles were on the table and there sitting at the table with his hands tied with rope was Ned Stark, with a guard right behind him.

Stark was heavily bearded, dirty, smelly, and had blood trickling from a cut on his cheek. His eyes were tired and bloodshot. When he looked up at who had entered the house his eyes widened slightly. Then he grinned and almost seemed to chuckle. "Imp," he said and Tyrion winced a bit, and Bronn knew he never really liked this nickname. "The gods have been good," Ned Stark said next. "To bring my enemy to my table."

"Someone else's table," Tyrion quipped. "And I am not your enemy."

"No? The man who tried to kill my son is not my enemy?"

"A falsehood," Tyrion declared. "Which I shall address shortly. But…"

"All Lannisters are liars," Ned Stark said curtly. He looked at Bronn carefully. "You're not a Lannister man. What did he promise you for your sword?"

"A lordship," Bronn said with a pleased smirk.

Ned Stark snorted. "Aye. Maybe you will get it. All Lannisters pay their debts. So do Starks, eventually."

As that hung heavy in the air Tyrion sat in the chair opposite Ned Stark. "We have much to discuss, you and I, Lord Stark."

"Piss on you, Imp. May the Others take you."

Tyrion sighed. "This is starting badly. Let us leave the matter of your son's attacker aside for the moment. I have other matters of great urgency to discuss with you. Matters of state, relating to your son's army. I am here to speak on my father's behalf."

Stark said nothing but nodded slightly.

"Good," said Tyrion. Then he looked at the guard behind Stark. "You may leave us."

The man stiffened. "Ser Marcus said…"

"Get out," Tyrion said in a low growl. "I am in command here now."

"Yes, my lord," the man said in a hurry and then he was gone.

"Do you always have trouble getting people to follow your orders?" Stark said in a mocking way. "I suppose it's because they still see you as a little boy. But I know you are a ruthless man."

Tyrion shrugged. "Ruthless as I need be. Now, to the matter at hand. My father commands me to find you and bring you to him."

Stark almost laughed. "He's too late. The Queen commanded this lot to find me and bring me back to King's Landing."

"That is moot now," Tyrion told him. "I have the larger force. Ser Marcus is like to die of that wound unless treated properly. And I am a lord and a son of Casterly Rock while he is just a knight. We will go north and find my father."

"Then what?"

"You will be sent under a peace banner to your son's army at Riverrun and…"

Stark look startled. "Robb's at Riverrun?"

"He doesn't know," Bronn said.

"I've hear rumors," Stark told them.

"Oh, yes, you have been on the road where few ravens find men to give them their messages," Tyrion stated. "Your son's forces have taken control of Riverrun."

"And where is your father's host?"

Tyrion hesitated a bit, then spoke. "Harrenhal."

"Besieging it?"

Bronn grinned. "We took it. With just a few men."

Stark raised his eyebrows. "So Lady Whent is his hostage?"

"She is not at the castle," said Tyrion. "When we took it a week past at least. Now, as I was saying, you will go to Riverrun and negotiate a peaceful end to this madness with your son. My father will give you details of the terms to be discussed."

Stark stared at him. "And what of my daughter?"

Tyrion looked puzzled. "You mean daughters, don't you?"

Stark blinked rapidly and cast his eyes left. "Aye, daughters, Sansa and Arya." There was a lie there somewhere but Bronn did not know what it was, not yet.

"They will be traded with you for…my brother."

Now Stark was truly surprised. "The Kingslayer? What of him?"

Tyrion sighed heavily. "Your son's forces captured him about ten or so days ago."

Ned Stark grinned and then laughed, but then his laughter stopped and his face grew grim. "Do you think Robb will trade the Kingslayer for two little girls? You and your father are mad."

"Two little girls…and you," Tyrion said.

"And what guarantee do I have that you lot won't cut my throat or stab me in the back when it comes time to make a trade?"

Tyrion shrugged and looked at Bronn. "The man does not trust me or any in my family."

"He has good reasons not to," Bronn said. "Best get to that other matter now."

"Indeed," Tyrion answered. "But I talk better with a cup of wine in my hand." Bronn took the hint and opened the outside door. Sure enough Pod was right there waiting and Bronn told him to fetch wine or ale or something to drink.

"Now, Lord Stark I wish to make my case for my innocence in regard to your son."

"You may try," Stark said. "But I'm not like to believe you."

"Yes, well, there is naught I can do about that." A scream then came from the other room. Then silence. Tyrion looked to Bronn and he checked the other room. Ser Marcus was lying on a bed, pale, blood soaking the blanket, his right shoulder a mess. The arrow was out but blood was seeping too fast and his men were trying to plug the gap.

"He's done for," he told the men and not ten seconds later Ser Marcus breathed his last. His men dragged his body outside. "What are we to do with the dead?" one asked Tyrion.

"Wait till morning and bury them. Tell your men to get some supper and bed down for the night."

"Yes, my lord," the man said and he left.

Pod entered then and brought in a skin of wine and two cups. Soon Tyrion had a cup of wine in his hands. Stark refused to drink with him. "Talk, Imp, before I decide not to listen any more."

Pod left and Bronn leaned on the wall as Tyrion peered at Ned Stark. "Where to begin? I guess the dagger is a good enough place. I've heard it was a Valyarian steel and dragonbone hilt dagger. Rare, but not a one of a kind item. Your wife accused me of giving this dagger to a footpad who tried to cut your son's throat. And why would she think that I owned the dagger?"

Stark stared at him. "Someone told us it was yours."

"Ah, and who would that someone be?"

"Baelish," Stark replied without hesitation.

Tyrion stared at him and the silence was so long Bronn thought he hadn't heard. "Baelish," Tyrion said at last. "Baelish, who has loved your wife since they were children. Baelish, who, if the stories I heard are correct, betrayed you and had you imprisoned."

"Aye," said Stark. "That's what happened. You say the dagger is not yours?"

"I do," said Tyrion.

"It's Baelish's word against yours."

"Indeed. And what do I have to gain from trying to kill your son?"

Stark looked at him long and hard. "Nothing." Tyrion nodded but Stark continued speaking. "Unless you were helping your brother and sister hide their disgusting lie."

Oh, this is getting interesting. "Bronn…I think…" Tyrion started but Stark cut him off.

"No, let him stay," Stark said. "The whole realm will know soon enough. Stannis knows and he is not one to keep such a thing unsaid. You know too, don't you? You're a smart man I heard, like to read, to watch, to know. Varys is a smart man too and he knew a long time ago. You have known for a long time too I would guess."

Tyrion said nothing, but after a long moment he nodded once.

Stark's eyes were on fire now. "The day of the hunt, we all left Winterfell, you too. But not the Kingslayer and not the Queen. What did my son see? Why did he fall from that tower?"

"I have no idea," Tyrion said.

"But you can guess."

"Yes. But you may also recall I was on my way to the Wall when your son was attacked."

"Aye, Yoren said the same thing. Said you gave Bran a drawing of a saddle so he could ride."

"I did," said Tyrion. "Designed after one I had made for myself. Does this sound like the actions of a man who tried to kill the boy?"

Stark stared at Tyrion. "Yoren said the same thing."

"Where is he now?" Tyrion asked.

"Dead, I believe," Stark said. "Or run off with some others. I…I don't know where they all went. I was dragged over the parapet of the holdfast, then dragged here. No one has told me the fate of my Night's Watch companions."

"Yoren is a good man," Tyrion replied in a somber tone. "It would grieve me if he were dead. What was done here was ill done."

"Aye, it was. Some of those in the holdfast were just boys. Ser Marcus has been justly paid for his brutality and stupidity."

"Quite," Tyrion said as he sipped his wine. "Ser Marcus mentioned a bastard boy the gold cloaks were to kill or take back to King's Landing."

Stark nodded. "He's a good lad. If you ever find him and see what he looks like you'll know why Joffrey and your sister want him dead."

"Indeed," Tyrion said, his tone curious. "I can think of only one reason they would want a bastard dead."

"Aye," said Stark.

Now Bronn was confused. They were talking in riddles. What did a bastard have to do with all this?

Tyrion took a drink. "Let us get back to the other matter. Your son falls from a tower…"

"Or was pushed, by your brother or sister because he saw their crime."

Oh, Bronn said to himself. That's what is going on. Bloody Lannisters.

"Yes," said Tyrion to confirm it. "Or he was pushed. But the question remains why Baelish would tell you it was my dagger."

Stark sighed and then took the wine skin and filled his cup, awkwardly with his tied hands, and then he drank. "Baelish is playing his own game."

"The game of thrones," Tyrion said softly.

"Aye. Lies within lies within half truths and none with any honor, least of all your sister. Jon Arryn knew the truth and they killed him."

"Lysa Arryn thinks it was me," Tyrion said with a shake of his head.

"Not you," Stark said. "Your sister. Or the Kingslayer. Jon Arryn knew. I found out. I tried to do the right thing, for her children's sake. I told your sister I knew her children were bastards and she..."

"Bastards?" Bronn said in surprise. "How did you know that?"

Stark stared at him. "What is your name?"

"Bronn, just Bronn will do. I'm no ser or lord, not yet at least."

"Well, Bronn, if you had ever laid eyes on your lord's nephews and niece, you would see the blond hair as golden as any Lannister's. And if you ever laid eyes on King Robert's bastards you would see coal black hair and blue eyes, on all of them."

"How many?" Tyrion asked.

Stark shrugged. "Four I know of, including the boy that was here. I'm sure Varys knows the rest."

Bronn took the skin of wine off the table and drank from it, then wiped his mouth. "Let me get this straight. So Ser Jaime and the Queen is fucking…"

Tyrion winced. "Not so loud."

"Right. Anyways, so all King Robert's whelps is really the Kingslayer's whelps. So what's all that got to do with what happened to the little Stark boy?"

"Bran saw them," Stark said in a cold voice as he stared at Tyrion. "At Winterfell. Fornicating. Fucking. And they shoved him off the tower but didn't kill him so your lord Imp here paid a footpad to finish the job before Bran woke up and told everyone the truth."

"Not me!" Tyrion said again strongly, his eyes on fire now too. "I cannot say enough times I did not do this to your family!"

"If not you, then your brother or sister."

Tyrion sighed. "I don't know. And you are forgetting about Baelish, casting falsehoods for his own advantages somehow."

"Maybe he is. I owe him a debt already. Littlefinger will get what is his when the time comes."

Tyrion nodded. "At least we can agree on that much. But it seems I have failed to convince you of my innocence Lord Stark." He stood from the table and drained his wine. "We are going around in circles here. I am tired and hungry. We will leave for Harrenhal tomorrow. You will take my father's terms to your son."

"And then what?" Stark asked.

"Then if your son agrees, you and your daughters will be taken to Harrenhal or Riverrun or some other suitable spot, and an exchange will be made for my brother. Without anyone trying to slit your throat. And then you will continue your journey to the Wall once your son's army heads north."

"What if Robb refuses?" Stark asked next.

"Then may the Seven help us all," said Tyrion in a resigned manner.

"Winter is coming," Stark said in his grim way. "The realm will bleed. Then it will freeze and starve. Is all this worth it?"

"You will have to ask my father. He went to war because your wife kidnapped me for a crime I did not commit. He went to war to erase the stain of honor against our family. As for me, I'd sooner not go to war for any reason."

"Then help me end it," Stark said and Bronn actually believed the man wanted Tyrion's help. He had heard Stark was an honest and honorable man, but would he bed with his enemies just to save the realm and the smallfolk from what was to come?

Tyrion stood there staring at Stark. "How?"

"Tell your father what you know to be true. Tell him Stannis Baratheon is the true heir to the Iron Throne. Let him judge your brother and sister for their crimes. Let Ser Jaime take the black and let Cersei become a septa or a silent sister. Let their children return to Casterly Rock to be raised by your father. Let all armies go home and let us prepare for winter before it is too late."

It sounded good to Bronn. He already had a promised lordship. But Tyrion sighed. "If only it were that easy. My father, brother, and sister would never agree. Nor will Stannis Baratheon. He will see Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen dead. And you forget about Renly. No, we will have war somewhere. Who will survive, well, that is a question only the Seven may answer."