Chapter 25 Tyrion

When Tyrion Lannister first heard the news that his father was dead he could scarce believe it and had rushed to the camp with Bronn at his side. All was in an uproar and men were on high alert expecting an attack which never came. The news that their commander was dead, murdered in his tent by an assassin, spread quickly and Tyrion felt as if a shudder had passed through the army. But his uncle Kevan and Ser Addam Marbrand and the Mountain Gregor Clegane and the other commanders had shouted orders and restored calm. Tyrion knew that the death of his father was a blow to the army, but it did not mean its destruction. Other men were in charge now, men who knew war, and knew his father's plans, especially his uncle Kevan, who had been Tywin Lannister's right hand for many years now.

Tyrion found them in the commander's pavilion, his uncle Kevan standing with a grim look on his face, Jaime sitting in a chair by his father's body, tears streaming down his face, his hands bloody, his white enamel armor spotted with blood. Tyrion took one look at his father's body and felt a wave of sadness engulf him. He knew his father did not love him, had known if for years, but nonetheless this was his father. Now both his parents were dead. Did that make him an orphan?

Tyrion walked up to his brother and put his small hand on his shoulder and Jaime looked at him and there was sadness and rage in his eyes.

"How?" Tyrion asked, one word and Jaime shook his head and had a helpless look that scared Tyrion. His brother had never been helpless in his whole life.

"A shadow," Jaime said in a bare whisper. "His last words, he said it was a shadow."

His uncle Kevan then explained, about the boat, and the woman in red, and Margaery Tyrell and the parley that afternoon, all of it, and Tyrion and Bronn listened. Men had been sent across the river at once but they found only the empty boat and no one on the far bank.

"The guards swear no one entered the tent," Kevan explained. "They felt a coldness and then a moment later Ser Jaime was rushing up here and…we found him, like this, breathing his last."

"How is it possible?" Tyrion asked and then he took a large glass flagon of wine off the table and drank straight from the neck. He passed the flagon to Bronn who drank as well. "Could there be any truth to this shadow?" Tyrion added.

"A shadow?" Bronn snorted after he drank. "Some cunt slipped in here and did the job is all."

"No," said Jaime in anger. "It's Stannis and his cunt, his red cunt. She did it and I will have both their heads. Now! Uncle Kevan, we attack! Right now!"

Jaime stood and a rage was on him and it took all of Kevan and Tyrion's power of persuasion to calm him down. Tyrion finally convinced him it was rash to attack by saying that it was exactly what Stannis Baratheon wanted and expected them to do. Finally, Jaime sank into the chair again, all the energy gone from him. Bronn handed him the wine and Jaime took it and drank deeply.

"Cersei," he said suddenly. "Someone will have to tell Cersei."

"I will," Tyrion told them. "You stay with Father."

Jaime straightened up, his mind now focused on the new task. "Yes. I will stand vigil. We must prepare him. Call the Silent Sisters," Jaime told his uncle and Kevan stepped outside of the pavilion and passed the message on.

"What do we tell the people?" Kevan asked once he returned, looking at Tyrion as Tyrion had often seen Kevan look at his father. Does he expect me to lead them? Tyrion thought. Perhaps so.

Telling the people that a shadow had killed his father would never do. "We tell them what Bronn said," Tyrion replied. "An assassin did the deed and got away. It will make us seem weak and powerless but spreading stories that sorcery killed my father will only spread fear. That we cannot have."

"No, indeed," Kevan said. "There are other matters to discuss. We will need to talk about the succession."

Tyrion knew what he meant. The succession to Casterly Rock. "That can wait until after the funeral," Tyrion said and his uncle agreed. "You will take command of the army, uncle," Tyrion added.

"For certain," Kevan said with confidence and Tyrion was glad that one man here still had his wits and courage. His brother was broken, for now, and would need to be rebuilt if he was to be of any use.

Tyrion took one last look at his father's body. A red cape was hanging off the back of a chair. Tyrion took it and then covered his father's body with it. "Farewell," Tyrion said softly, and he felt one tear roll down his left cheek which he quickly wiped away.

"Come, Bronn, we have work to do."

"Tyrion," Jaime said as they were about to leave. "Be gentle with her."

"I will," Tyrion promised.

He found Cersei in her chambers and she greeted him with a dirty look. "What do you want now?" she asked. "Come to tell me again how you want the wildfire I ordered made? Well, you can have it if that's what you want. I care not if you burn your cock off with it."

"Wildfire?" he asked in puzzlement. "No…Cersei…I have terrible news."

"Well, out with it then."

There was no way to say it but to just say it. "Father is dead."

Cersei stared at him in disbelief and a long few seconds passed. "What lies are you telling now?" she asked in a strangled voice.

"No lies," he said, stung she would even think he would be that cruel. "He is dead."

Then she did believe him and she gasped and staggered to her divan and sat. "How?" she asked, her voice breaking.

What to tell her? The truth would be best, knowing Cersei. "Jaime believes Stannis' red priestess sent a shadow to kill him. Same as Renly."

She stared at him in disbelief and a fury was in her eyes. "What mummer's farce is this now? Tell me the truth!" she screamed.

He told her what Jaime and his uncle had told him. Still, she did not believe it. "You fools. All of you!" she raged. "You let an assassin walk right into the middle of his army and kill him. Gods, what fools!" Then she suddenly looked fearful. "Joffrey! Tommen!"

"I have doubled their guards," he told her. "Three hundred gold cloaks now stand in front of and inside the Red Keep."

She nodded and then stood and went to a table and reached for a flagon of wine. "Good, good," was all she could say. Her hands trembled as she started to pour and he went to her side and reached out and took her hand to steady it. She recoiled from his touch. Then she looked at him and tears were coming now. "What are we going to do?" Her voice was on the edge of panic.

Tyrion had always felt he was the strongest of the three, the one who would keep his head when all went to hell. Jaime depended too much on his strength and steel, Cersei on her looks and charm. Both would disappear with time. But Tyrion had no strength or beauty. He depended on his wits and his brain and they would last him for many years to come, as long as he kept his head attached to his body.

"We are Lannisters," he told his sister firmly. "We will stay strong and we will fight. We will have our revenge."

She took three slow deep breaths, then placed the flagon of wine back on the table. She straightened her back and wiped her tears. "What first?" she asked.

"We must bury Father," he told her. Tyrion took the wine and poured himself a cup and drank.

"Yes," she said at once, strength coming back to her voice. "In the Sept of Baelor he should lie in state. Then he must go home, to Casterly Rock."

"Agreed," Tyrion said as he sat in a chair and she soon sat opposite him on her divan. "Jaime insists on standing vigil."

"How…how is he?" she asked, worry in her tone.

"Angry," Tyrion told her. "As can be expected. He wants to kill them all. Soon he may have a chance to do so."

"What of the army?" Cersei asked next.

"The command of the army passes to uncle Kevan. He knows all of Father's plans. For now we stay on the defensive until we know how this will all work out."

"What will we tell Joffrey?"

"I think it best if we say what you suspect. An assassin stole through the camp and killed him. It's what the people will be told as well."

"Yes," she said, seizing on it. Then she looked at him, and gave a small sigh. "We must send word to Aunt Genna."

"I will get Pycelle to send a raven."

"And tell Varys to begin an investigation into this red woman," she said, anger now in her voice. "Tell him to also find an assassin to work for us. I don't care if she did it or not. I want her head."

"The Faceless Men of Braavos might do for this work."

She snorted. "The realm owes the Iron Bank of Braavos too much money, thanks to my late husband's extravagance."

"The Faceless Men do not work for the Iron Bank. But they are expensive."

"We have all the gold of Casterly Rock to pay them. See that it is done."

"I will."

She stood and breathed deeply. "I must see Joffrey and Tommen. And send a raven to Harrenhal. I want Myrcella back here once Stannis is defeated."

"What of Father's treaty with Ned Stark?"

She snorted. "My daughter is coming home. Ned Stark will freeze in his northern hell before he ever has my daughter as hostage."

"Agreed," Tyrion said.

Cersei stared at him for a long moment. "I suppose you are really the Hand of the King now."

"Not a task I relish."

"No. But it is yours. For now. Just remember I am Queen. Do what I say and we shall have no problems."

"Of course, dear sister," he said. You bitch, he wanted to add, for bringing up this petty matter when their father was freshly dead. But he didn't say that. "And what about Joffrey?"

"What about him?"

"He is still the King and he enjoys shouting orders at people."

"We listen to him, we mollify him, and if he has a reasonable command we obey him. And we teach him how to be a King. In less than three years he will be sixteen and come into his own right. You had best walk carefully around him if you do not want him to have your execution as his first order on his name day."

"We have to make sure Stannis doesn't cut all of our heads off first," Tyrion reminded her. Then, for a moment, he thought of telling her about his escape plan, but thought it was not the right time and would seem like panic so quickly after their father's death.

They left together, her to see Joffrey, and him to see Varys. Bronn was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs leading to her chambers. Cersei took one look at him, said nothing, and then her guards followed her as she left to find the King.

"How'd she take it?" Bronn asked as he and Tyrion walked down a corridor.

"Badly, as expected. But she doesn't believe in shadows any more than you do."

"At least she hasn't lost her wits."

"There must be something to this," Tyrion said strongly. "First Renly, now Father. And that fire at the Tyrell camp. What are we dealing with here?"

"Panic and fear," said Bronn, as if it was obvious. "It will destroy your army quicker than ten million swords."

"Indeed," Tyrion replied. "Come, we must find Lord Varys and set the spider to work,"

Tyrion knew Bronn had the right of it when he said panic could easily destroy an army. But still, all this bothered him to no end. Jaime and his uncle Kevan were perhaps two of the most sober, straight forward men in the kingdom, yet they had both heard Tywin Lannister say 'a shadow' before he died. Sorcery was not something Tyrion could see and touch, and therefore it was difficult to understand, and anything that was difficult to understand vexed Tyrion Lannister to no end. Like why the dragons had all died out and the few eggs that remained had turned to stone and did not hatch. There were many theories on it and each had merits but in the end most of those scholarly men who wrote on the subject ended with phrases such 'the magic had gone from the world' or 'the power that kept the dragons alive had fled' or other such nonsense. Dragons were animals, nothing more, Tyrion believed, wonderful animals to be sure, but as animals they lived and died as other animals did. But that still did not explain why they had died out entirely.

As they walked in a corridor of the Red Keep lit by flickering torches, coming towards them was Lord Varys himself.

"By the looks of your faces I fear the news I have heard is true," said Varys solemnly as he met Tyrion and Bronn.

"It is," Tyrion replied heavily.

"You have my condolences, my lord."

"I thank you but I have need of something more substantial. Do we have any assassins in our pay?"

"For Stannis?" Varys asked right away.

"Aye," said Bronn. "And his red cunt."

"There was a Faceless Man of Braavos in our dungeons not more than a moons turn past," Varys told them.

That took Tyrion by surprise. "Really? What was his crime?"

"Failing to kill a young girl who caught him killing her father. He went north with Ned Stark's Night's Watch party. Escaped when they were attacked at the holdfast. Comely fellow, with red and white hair."

"I think I know who he means," Bronn said. "The third prisoner in the cage."

"Jaqen H'ghar, Ned Stark said was his name," Tyrion remembered. "He was helping Arya and Ned Stark and then he just disappeared. And now you say he is a Faceless Man. I would give him a thousand pardons if he did this deed for us."

"Alas, he is in the wind," Varys told him. "And getting a fresh one from Braavos will take time and much money."

"Money we have, time we don't," Tyrion replied. Then he looked at Bronn. "Can you convince Stannis you turned your cloak?"

"I like the color of my cloak as it is, thank you very fucking much lord fucking Imp," Bronn spat and Tyrion grinned.

"No, I suppose that would not work."

"Indeed not," Varys told them. "Stannis despises sellswords."

"Of course he does," Tyrion said ruefully. "Well, Lord Varys, my sister demands you investigate this red priestess and also help us find a way to rid us of her."

"This may take much coin."

"As I said, coin we have. See to it." Varys bowed and scurried away.

After Tyrion and Bronn saw to the security of the Red Keep, they went to the entrance to the secret passage Varys had showed him and made their way into the city and then to the house where Shae was at. After the last few hours drama Tyrion had need of her warm arms. Bronn set himself up in the lower level in chair by a fireplace with a whetstone and his sword to keep him company while Tyrion went upstairs.

He found her reclining in a chair with a book in hand, one of many he had left behind for her to help pass the time during the days. It so happened she was reading one of those histories of dragons he had just thought on and if he hadn't been so disturbed by the evening's events he would have found pleasure in that coincidence.

She smiled and put down the book as he entered the room. "Good evening, my lord."

He stepped to the sideboard and started to pour two cups of wine. "It is decidedly not a good evening," he told her. He picked up the two cups and handed her one and her face had a look of puzzlement on it and then worry.

"Something has happened."

He raised his cup. "Let us drink to the memory of Lord Tywin Lannister, Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock, father to two beautiful twins whose dreadful secret he never knew and one ugly little dwarf he could never love."

He drank deeply and drained the cup. Shae had put hers down on a table and was looking at him with worry and fear in her eyes. "Tell me."

"My father is dead," he said, and then a small gasp came out of his mouth, and a few tears fell and then she was with him, holding him tight, saying soothing words. She took him to bed and held him and for a long time, he just lay there and let her womanly warmness and softness ease his pain.

A long time later Tyrion got out of the bed and returned with their cups filled with wine and sat on the edge of the bed. As they drank he told her what had happened, telling her it all.

"Fuck," she said softly after he had finished. "This bitch, this red woman. She must die before she does it again! Anyone could be next! You could be next!"

"Not to worry, my dear," he said as he filled their cups again. "Stannis thinks so very little of me he would never waste his red woman's power on such a wretch."

"You are smarter than all of them put together!"

"That may be so, but my knowledge of this woman and her land and powers is lacking."

"I know her kind," Shae said with some anger. "In the east they are everywhere. Like the mushrooms after the rain. They scare the people into following them. They burn their fires and pray to their Lord of Light. The people say that the priests and priestesses can see the truth in their fires. But these red ones fear the night. That is why they love the fire."

"Fear the night, you say," Tyrion said thoughtfully as he drank. "There may be something to this."

She took away his cup and put it on the table. "Come, my lord, before you are too drunk to fuck me."

"I find myself strangely not in the mood."

"Then I will make you feel the mood again." She rubbed his shoulders gently and Tyrion felt a lot of the tension leave his body. "Did you love him?" she asked quietly.

Tyrion thought for a long moment before answering. "No…I think not. There was no reciprocity."

"Did you hate him?"

I should have, Tyrion thought, for what he did to my wife. But all he felt now was a hollow emptiness. "I think not also," he told her. "I think…I think I wanted his approval. I was always trying to impress him and I always failed."

"Some men are never pleased with their children, no matter what they do," Shae said as she sat next to him on the edge of the bed. "You once told me your father was a cunt."

"I did," he said, not angry she used this word, because he had said it. "And he was. But he was still my father."

"Then you find this red whore and this bastard Stannis and you cut off their fucking heads!"

He laughed at the absurdity of him trying to do such a thing and she was angry at first and when he explained why he laughed then she laughed as well. "I think I will leave the actual killing to my brother," Tyrion told her. "The planning of the kill, I think I will relish that immensely."

"Good," she told him. "Now you have some balls again, come and fuck me."

Tyrion laughed once more. "Yes, I think that would please me greatly."

A long time later as the rosy fingers of dawn were coming across the city and as Shae still slept, Tyrion dressed and came down to the first floor and found Bronn dozing in the chair by a fireplace. The sellsword was awake in an instant as Tyrion came into the room. He handed Bronn a cup of wine and then he sat opposite him.

"Sorry about asking you to turn your cloak," Tyrion said as they drank.

"Not the first one to ask me," Bronn replied.

"Oh?" Tyrion thought in puzzlement. "I know you turned it for me once, but are you referring to something in your distant sordid past or something more recent."

"More recent."

Then he had it. "Ned Stark."

"Aye. I was tempted but I'm still waiting on that lordship I was promised by you Lannisters."

"Well, I think we shall have no difficulty with that matter now. My father could be prickly about such things but I am not."

Bronn looked at him oddly. "Don't tell me you are Lord of Casterly Rock now."

"It is a difficult question to answer. Jaime is heir, but, as a sworn member of the Kingsguard he cannot marry nor inherit any titles. Cersei, as a woman, cannot inherit before any true born sons, so that leaves me. However, my father never proclaimed me his heir. Much will depend on if he left a will or not."

"By all the laws you are heir," Bronn told him.

"Yes. Funny, here is a sellsword reminding me of the law."

"A sellsword that stands to gain much if the law is followed."

Tyrion had to grin. "Help me defeat Stannis and I will make you lord of anywhere you wish, as long as we don't have to kill off anyone already in that position."

"You already owe me a lordship for Harrenhal. And I don't want no high titles or fancy posts," Bronn replied. "I just want a nice little castle, with a woman in my bed and gold in my treasure vault and food and wine on my table. Maybe a few hundred peasants to keep in line so I don't get bored when the fighting is done."

"I am sure there are more than a few places in the Riverlands that have what you are looking for. But first we must win the war. How?"

"I'm no general," Bronn reminded him.

"No, which is why I am asking you," Tyrion retorted. "You see things from the soldier's point of view."

"Good enough," Bronn said. "So, Stannis, he wants to be king, he wants Joffrey's head. Let him come and try to take it. Sit and wait and he will attack first, and you should let him. We got more than enough men to stop him now."

"You mean we should bring the army into the city?"

"Fuck no, and cut the head off the first cunt that suggests that," Bronn told him. "An army in a city is nothing more than more mouths to feed. They stay outside the city and offer battle. Men in ranks in strong defensive positions will surely stand firm if they have good leaders and a belly full of food. Stannis' lot, more than half of them was with his brother not more than week ago. Might be there is some hard feelings there. They might just run if things seem to be not so rosy."

"It would be better if they turned on him," Tyrion commented. "But that is as likely to happen as Varys growing a new cock. If Stannis attacks, he must get across the river. For that he needs his fleet."

"Aye, and the tide and the wind."

"True," Tyrion mused. "We have plenty of wildfire now. If only we could set the sea and the river afire when he approaches."

"Why not?" Bronn answered. "Fill some barges with the pots. One flaming arrow and the whole lot will go up. And any cunt that gets ashore we rain fire down on him."

"How goes the practice with the paint pots?"

He shrugged. "Not too bad. Some lads got steady enough hands. The ones that don't I sent to learn how to drop rocks over the walls. Not glamorous, but least they won't burn the place around us."

"Indeed, that wouldn't do." Then Tyrion worried on something else. "Any word from Shagga or the rest?"

"None."

"Damn."

"The Mountain's men said they refused to come with them, wanted to cause mayhem on their own. Lucky for them or they would have been beaten back to the river as well."

"Then they are still out there, in the Kingswood. How many?"

"Less than two hundred. Maybe, if they haven't lost too many."

"Not enough to matter," Tyrion replied. "Not if Stannis has tens of thousands."

"They could cause trouble," Bronn said. "If they knew what to do and when."

Tyrion grinned. "I think it is time we sent a messenger across the river. Tell him to tell Shagga and Timett and the rest that I want Stannis' army harassed and…no…I want…" And suddenly he knew exactly what he wanted. But before he could tell Bronn, they heard the sound of a horse outside in the small courtyard. Bronn drew his sword and they both went to the door. A rotund man in a cape with its hood up was getting off his horse.

"Put your sword away. It is just Varys." Tyrion said.

Varys entered and they bade him good morning. "How go things?" Tyrion asked.

"Your father is lying in the Sept of Baelor and Ser Jaime is standing vigil," Varys said first. "The news has spread rapidly through the city and will be known by all before noon I am sure. This day may see some unrest."

"Good," said Bronn. "Then there will be fewer mouths to feed by nightfall."

"That is one way to look at it," Varys said. Then he looked to Tyrion. "The King is quite upset and has called for you and Ser Kevan Lannister to report to him at once."

Tyrion sighed. "Well, I must see what nonsense my nephew wants me to do now."

The rest of the day was one long miserable course of meetings and dealing with trouble spots. First, he had Bronn send the messenger off to the Kingswood to tell Shagga and the rest to continue to harass but also to burn the Kingswood as close to Stannis' camps as possible. The smoke would vex them greatly, if the wind was blowing the right way. Then he had Varys check with the naval commanders with their small fleet in the Blackwater about the tides so they might guess when Stannis' fleet might sail. Bronn said high tide was the best time for them to land soldiers as there would be less chance of running aground far offshore and there would be less distance to run between the boats and the city walls.

Before supper time three riots had broken out, mostly about lack of food, and all were put down by the gold cloaks. As Bronn predicted there were fewer mouths to feed by sundown. A new curfew from sunset to sunrise was ordered by the King and for once Tyrion did not question his nephew's judgment. Joffrey had fear in his eyes, Tyrion saw, as he and Kevan met with him. Joffrey had placed all his hopes on his grandfather saving him and now that he was gone the King was floundering. He kept demanding they attack at once before Stannis' fleet could sail and while Tyrion saw some wisdom in this Kevan at once rejected the idea, giving the same arguments Lord Tywin had. Then they had a long council meeting with the High Septon to discuss the funeral rites. Cersei was dressed in mourning black and had a stern face through most of the discussions. At the end she and Tyrion were left alone as it neared the supper hour.

"Jaime has not come to see me," she said at once, worry on her face.

"He is standing vigil," Tyrion reminded her. "Have you not gone to Baelor to see Father lie in state?"

She gave a short shake of the head. "I will see him at the funeral. Jaime must be exhausted by now. He has not slept well since arriving. Let other men take the duty. He must rest before the funeral tomorrow."

"I will see to it at once."

As Tyrion was on his way to the Sept of Baelor to drag his brother off to get some rest, he got Bronn to join him, along with Ser Preston of the Kingsguard and twenty gold cloaks as added security. As they were leaving the Red Keep Varys joined him.

"What new news, Lord Varys?" Tyrion asked as they walked thorough the city, Bronn close beside them, and Ser Preston and the gold cloaks in step behind them.

"Nothing you do not already know my lord. I have found a few scraps of information concerning this red priestess. She came to Dragonstone over a year ago, brought there by Stannis' wife. She is a devoted follower of the Lord of Light as are many others in Stannis' camp."

"But not Stannis?"

"Oh, he believes, to a point, and will continue to believe as long as she helps him bring victory."

"What of his fleet?"

"Some ships were seen sailing north from Storm's End a few days past, but where they are now I do not know."

"At our gates before long, no doubt," Tyrion said ruefully.

Soon they arrived at the Sept of Baelor and they found Ser Jaime standing vigil over his father's body. Tyrion looked at his dead father's body, laid out by the altar, dressed in his splendid armor, his throat covered in a red silk cloth to hide the wounds that had killed him. The Silent Sisters had sewed his throat closed and then had washed and prepared the body for the funeral. Now for almost twenty-four hours he had laid here in state and many had come and seen him as Jaime stood vigil.

Jaime was in his splendid white enamel armor, which still had blood stains on the breast plate from when blood had spotted it when Jaime had vainly tried to save his father's life. He was exhausted, and his eyes were bloodshot, and Tyrion knew he had not slept in almost forty hours.

"Jaime," he said gentle. "It is time to go to bed."

Jaime suddenly snapped his eyes at his brother and then at Lord Varys and Bronn who stood behind him. "Tyrion," he said, as if not knowing who his brother was for a second, as if trying to remember his name. "Tyrion," he said again. "I had them…they were right there. In two or three seconds I could have had their heads rolling on the ground. But Father said no, it would not have been 'honorable'. Honorable?" And then he laughed and his laughter sounded out of place in this solemn sept as it echoed off the walls. "What do I know of honor? Everyone knows I have shit for honor."

"Come, Jaime," Tyrion said again, ignoring his brother's ranting. "Ser Preston is here to stand vigil. The funeral rites will be held tomorrow. You should get some rest before then."

"Ser Preston? Here?" Jaime said as he looked behind him and saw Ser Preston by the doors of the sept. "Who is guarding the King?" he shouted.

"Ser Arys and Ser Meryn, my lord," Ser Preston said immediately as he stepped forward.

"Good, good," Jaime said as his eyes suddenly closed and then he started to lose his balance. Tyrion and Bronn rushed to his side and helped him stand.

"He is dead on his feet," Varys observed.

"I can still walk," Jaime told them as he stood up straight. He looked at Ser Preston. "The duty is yours."

"Yes, my lord," the knight replied and he marched up to the body of Tywin Lannister and took his post as Jaime was led away.

"Tell me the news," Jaime asked as they reached the entrance of the sept. They stepped outside and stood near the spot where Ned Stark had confessed. Tyrion was not here for that, but had heard plenty about it.

"Cersei has been asking for you," Tyrion told his brother.

"Yes, I must go to her."

"After you have rested," Tyrion advised.

"First, the news," Jaime said as he straightened up. "What of Stannis?"

"Still scratching his arse across the river," Bronn told him.

"All is the same, Lord Commander," Varys said in his more refined way. "Stannis' army has not moved, his fleet is no where in sight. The Lannister army remains in camp in defensive positions."

"Morale is good," Tyrion said next. "Many are angry, not afraid. We have quashed any rumors of shadows in the dark. A lone assassin, unnamed and unknown of course, is taking the blame. Their blood is up, and they vow revenge on Stannis."

"Then we should attack," Jaime said with a fire in his bloodshot eyes.

"Uncle Kevan thinks not," Tyrion told him. "We await our reinforcements from the west."

"Stannis seems to be making no plans to attack us, either," Varys added. "Our scouts and spies have seen no activity in their camp other than training. Stannis has not done anything to suggest he is planning an attack."

"He's waiting for his fleet," Jaime declared.

"Our thoughts exactly," Tyrion replied.

"The highest high tide for many moons turn will be in the evening in two days time, the sailors tell me," Varys said.

"The winds, only the gods know what they will be like," Tyrion added. "But with the high tide, he can land his men close under our walls and have sufficient water to get his heavy ships upriver to ferry his men across."

"If he plans to attack in two days time his fleet must already be in or approaching Blackwater Bay."

"I'd bet a lordship on it," said Bronn.

"Then we will soon be under attack," Varys observed.

"Good," Jaime said strongly. "Then I must rest if I am to kill Stannis and his red whore."

Soon they were at the Red Keep and Tyrion and Bronn led Jaime to the tower of the Kingsguard, where Tyrion got a squire to help his brother undress, with orders not to wake him until the morning. Then Tyrion and Bronn went to where the battlements looked out over Blackwater Bay as the sun was setting behind them to the west. The wind was blowing into their faces from the sea.

"The wind is with him," Tyrion said.

"Aye," Bronn replied. "Maybe we should have stayed at Harrenhal."

Tyrion snorted. "I thought you hated the smell of that place."

"I do, but I'd rather smell shit than be dead."

"We won't die," Tyrion told him. "I have a plan of escape."

"Oh, well. That's good to know. Am I included in these plans?"

"Of course. Along with Cersei, Tommen, and the King."

"Do we have to take him?"

"Cersei wouldn't leave without him I am sure."

"Leave her behind too," Bronn suggested. "She hates you and you hate her so what's the point."

Tyrion shrugged. "None, not really. I feared my father's anger if I escaped and she didn't, but now that is not a worry anymore. But…she is still family, so she and her sons will come."

"What about Shae?"

"Her as well."

"The Queen won't like that."

"The Queen can stay behind and await Stannis' justice if she doesn't like that."

"He'll kill her and her sons if he catches them."

"I know." Joffrey, well, his head on a spike might be pleasant to look at. However, Tyrion had no dislike for Tommen and would feel quite upset if the same fate befell him.

"Where will we go if we escape?" Bronn asked him.

"Lord Varys has a ship nearby, hiding up on the north coast of Blackwater Bay."

"Varys? You trust him?"

"No. But I have few choices here. The ship will take us across the bay and then we head inland to Rosby. We still have friends there. From there, we can go where we wish."

"And once Stannis is King what chance will we have of escaping unnoticed?" Bronn observed. "Everyone knows what the King and his mother look like and you stand out like a sore thumb. Every peasant and petty lord of the land will cut our throats to gain a favor from the new King."

"Then we'll make our way to Casterly Rock," Tyrion declared. "It can withstand anything."

"If it has enough men, but most of them are here," Bronn stated strongly. "How long will it hold out with hardly any men left to defend it?"

Tyrion knew he was right. "Maybe Ned Stark will offer us bed and board in Winterfell," he quipped.

Bronn had to laugh at that and then Tyrion joined him. "Not likely, is he? Then I suppose we had best not lose the battle," Tyrion said. As he spoke he looked at the water's edge down below the city walls. "If only we could put some wildfire down there before the battle begins."

Bronn looked where he was pointing. It was a narrow beach between wall and sea, with plenty of rocks and some sand and mud. "We could bury the pots in the sand."

"They might break, and the stuff is rather delicate," Tyrion told him. "Maybe once the ships are sighted, we can bury some pots."

"Can be done," Bronn said. "We'll make a warm welcome for Stannis no matter which way he comes at us."

"Yes," Tyrion replied. "And if that doesn't work, then…well, I suppose a trip across the Narrow Sea might be in order."

"Aye? That sounds better then hiding in these parts waiting for the axe to fall," Bronn said. "Lots of work for likes of me over there. What would you do?"

"Put my mind to many endeavors, grow rich and fat and fuck whores all day."

"Now that's a plan I like," Bronn stated and they both agreed that's what they would do if all went to hell in the coming battle.

Tyrion had one last order for him before they parted. "Tomorrow night I want you to bring Shae into the Red Keep. Find her a quiet spot in my tower. Things are coming to a head and I want her close by."

The next day the funeral rites were held for Lord Tywin Lannister. All the nobility of King's Landing came out to pay their final respects. The ceremony was long and tiresome and by the end Tyrion was wishing he was dead. Cersei shed some tears for the public and Jaime stood tall and strong beside her, his armor now cleaned and polished. Joffrey was dressed splendidly and wore his crown and looked as bored as Tyrion felt. Tommen stood beside his mother, holding her hand, and giving off little sobs now and then. When it was over, Tywin Lannister's body was loaded onto a splendid wagon and driven through the city along a cordon of gold cloaks and Lannister men. The small folk were most silent as the funeral procession moved through the city and then Tywin Lannister left through the Gate of the Gods with an escort of cavalry for his final journey west to Casterly Rock.

After, Cersei, Jaime, Tyrion, and Kevan met alone in the small council chambers.

"We need talk of your father's successor," Kevan said as they settled in.

"There is no need of discussion, uncle," Cersei said at once. "Jaime is heir and will be Lord of Casterly Rock."

"I don't want it," Jaime said at once. "Tyrion, it's yours."

"Father never wanted that!" Cersei said sharply.

"Of course he didn't," Tyrion added. "Or he would have named me heir when Jaime put on his white cloak all those years ago."

Kevan looked to Cersei. "Your Grace, the law clearly states that Tyrion is heir, not Ser Jaime."

"Laws can be changed," she shot back.

"Dear sister," Tyrion said in puzzlement. "Why does it irk you so that I will become lord of our homestead?"

"Father never wanted it!" she repeated with venom. "You would only besmirch our family name with your whores and drunkenness!"

"Yes, our family name has been besmirched much of late," Tyrion retorted. "But I have had little to do with that."

"And to what would you be referring, little brother?" Jaime asked with a sudden coldness in his tone and eyes.

"Oh, nothing," Tyrion replied airily. "Yes, Cersei is quite right, I am the shame of the family. You can have the Rock, dear brother. I would not go where I am not welcome."

"That is quite enough!" Kevan said forcefully. "If your father was still alive he would be most disappointed in all three of you. We are on the verge of battle and you three are squabbling like spoilt children."

"I will not be spoken to in this way!" Cersei shouted at her uncle.

"Yes, you will, Your Grace," said Kevan calmly. "Listen to me, or I will leave for Casterly Rock this instant and you can all sort out Stannis on your own."

Cersei glowered at him but said nothing else.

"Tell, us, uncle, what would you have us do?" Jaime finally asked. "The law clearly states that Tyrion is heir. I cannot resign as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."

"Yes, you can," Cersei said at once, seizing on this idea. "When the battle is won you will resign and become Warden of the West."

"Good," Tyrion said with some small measure of joy. "Then when it is over I should like my inheritance and will go where I please and be happy with my whores and wine far from prying eyes."

Jaime laughed, the coldness in his eyes now gone. "Oh, little brother, I think you would miss all of this. Retirement is not for you. Nor is it for me. I will never resign."

Cersei shook her head in disdain. "See uncle, what I have to deal with. What would you have us do I ask ?" She was her charming self again, now that she needed something, Tyrion observed.

"Your father has a will, locked away safe in Casterly Rock," Kevan told them. "I do not know its contents but I am sure your father provided well for all three of you. As to the succession, he always told me he wanted Jaime to succeed him."

Jaime sighed in frustration. "Aren't you all listening? I don't want it!"

"Then who is next in line after the two of us?" Tyrion asked.

"If you and Jaime both refuse, and you both have no heirs," Kevan began and that last phrase hung heavy in the air for a moment. "Then the title passes to Cersei."

For a brief moment her eyes gleamed in joy but then she remembered something. "I am Queen Regent."

"Only until Joffrey is of age," Tyrion reminded her.

"I will remain here as long as he needs me to guide him," Cersei told them.

"You have done little to guide him so far, Your Grace," Kevan told her. "If what reports I hear of the King's cruelty are true."

Her nostrils flared as she glared at him. "What do you know of it, uncle?" she spat, and Tyrion knew she was about to explode, her ability as a mother being challenge and that she would not stand. "You have been sitting by my father's side for so long you forget yourself, ser. You are not my father, and I have had quite enough of your tongue lashing. I am the Queen Regent, need I remind you, and I am in charge here!"

"I see," said Kevan calmly. He stood. "Very well, Your Grace. You wish to be in charge, then by all means take charge. I will stay at my post and will not abandon my men of the west over such pettiness. I will be with the army if you have any commands."

Then he turned and left without another word. Jaime looked at his sister. "That was well done."

"Don't," she said, her anger still on her. "All my life Father spoke to me in that tone. I will not have it from his brother as well, who is nothing more than an upjumped squire."

"Ser Kevan is not a squire, sister," Tyrion explained. "He is invaluable to us."

"Then he should know his place," she retorted. "I am the Queen, not some little girl he can scold when he wishes!"

"Let us put this aside," Jaime suggested. "And the matter of succession. For now at least."

"Yes," Tyrion agreed. "I suggest we leave all this till after the war is won. Meanwhile, Father's castellan will run affairs at Casterly Rock till one of us arrives to take over."

It was agreed to and then the meeting ended, and Tyrion rose from his chair. But his siblings did not and he soon left them alone. Cersei was one day without Father to guide her and already she was bungling things, Tyrion thought. Well, maybe continuing to bungle was a better way to put it. At least in the past she had Father to help her out of the messes she had made. Not anymore.

He collected Bronn outside the chamber doors. As he and Bronn walked through the empty throne room, they passed the Iron Throne and Tyrion stopped and looked at it.

"What folly and terror men do to sit their arses on such an uncomfortable chair," he said to Bronn.

"You can make it more comfortable," Bronn replied.

Tyrion gave a small grunt. "How?"

"Call a smith and beat or cut all those barbs off and then put a few cushions on the seat."

It was so obvious Tyrion had to laugh. "In three hundred years no one has ever suggested something so simple."

"That's cause they don't see it as a chair," Bronn countered. "They see it as symbol of the rule of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Yes," Tyrion replied. "A symbol. Stannis wants it and Joffrey wants to keep it. Renly died because he coveted it as well. Come, let us see if we can save our own arses while protecting Joffrey's right to sit his on that uncomfortable chair."

As they walked away Tyrion thought again on the fight between his uncle and Cersei. Kevan was a proud man and would not take such insults from Cersei lightly. And they needed him now more than ever. Tyrion would have to find a way to reconcile them without anyone losing too much pride.

But it would have to wait. With Bronn in tow he spent the afternoon inspecting defenses, dealing with issues of food and pay for the gold cloaks, inspecting the shoreline where Bronn wanted to bury wildfire pots, and then visiting the naval commanders and discussing what limited options they had for dealing with Stannis' much larger fleet. Finally, however, Tyrion felt they had a good plan in place, and after it was long past sunset, he sent Bronn off to take care of the errand for him. An hour later Shae arrived at his apartments in the Hand's Tower.

"How nice of you to invite me to your home," she said after Bronn had left them.

"I wanted you here, close, in case anything happened," he told her as he handed her a cup of wine.

She looked at him, her expression cautious. "You want me here…in case what happens?"

"We are at war, what do you think could happen?"

"You could lose, and the city will fall."

"Do you know what happens when a city falls?"

"Nothing good," she answered.

"No, indeed not," Tyrion said after he drank some wine. "Look, do I have to spell it out for you? I was worried for your safety."

"Why?"

"Damnit, are you going to make me say it?"

She put down her wine cup, walked up to him and put her hands on his shoulders and looked down, deep into his mismatched eyes. "Say it," she commanded.

"I care for you," Tyrion told her in a quiet voice. "Very much."

She knelt down and kissed him once, on the lips, and then pressed her forehead into his thick brow. "And I for you, my lord."

Tyrion hugged her tight and nothing felt so good and warm as long as he could remember. It was time to tell her the rest.

"Shae, I must tell you that I have an escape plan in case it all goes to shit."

"Through the tunnels?"

"Yes, out of the city and to the sea by the Rosby Road."

"Varys told you about this way out?" Her voice held a note of suspicion.

"Yes…why?"

"Never trust eunuchs," she told him. "They have no cock so they don't think like most men do."

Tyrion brooded on that. "What could he do?"

She shrugged. "I know not. I just…I don't trust him."

"I don't either."

"Good. If he fucks with us, we kill him. Make sure Bronn has his sword sharp."

"It always is."

Tyrion set his cup down on the side table and was leading her to the bed when suddenly a bell began to toll. Then another bell, and then a third, and soon bells all over the city were ringing.

Gods, it's happening, Tyrion thought with a shudder. It's happening now.

"Stannis has come," he said to Shae. "Stay here. I will return when I know more."

"Be careful my lion," she said and gave him one last kiss and he left her.

Bronn was running to him as he was coming out of his quarters. Podrick was right behind Bronn. "What's happening?"

"Don't know," Bronn replied and then they all raced to a door that led to a set of stairs to the battlements on top of the Hand's Tower. On top was a catapult and some soldiers on duty. They were all looking towards the sea, the noise of the bells still ringing loudly.

"What do you see?" Tyrion asked as he tried to stand on tiptoes to see over the battlements and finally Bronn just picked him up and placed him on his strong shoulders.

"Don't ever say I never did anything for you," Bronn told him as he grunted with the effort.

But Tyrion wasn't even paying attention to him so intent he was on looking out on the bay.

"There," said Pod, who had excellent eyes. "A ship. One ship."

Tyrion felt a sense of relief. Just one ship. It was not the invasion. Some fool had panicked and rung the bells too soon. There, out on Blackwater Bay, it was a clear night, the moonlight and starlight now clearly showing a single ship in the bay, flashing a lamp at the city. Gods. Tyrion knew what that meant.

"It's our ship with the signal," Tyrion told them, his heart sinking. "They have spotted Stannis' fleet."

The ship was rowing hard towards shore. Behind it, as yet Tyrion could not see the enemy. Then another single ship came over the horizon and it too was flashing the signal, an outlying warning ship, Tyrion knew it was. It's men too were rowing hard for the city. Then not far behind it came the first enemy ship. Then three more appeared, and then a whole row of galleys, all being rowed swiftly towards the city.

Suddenly behind them they heard a noise like a clap of thunder. "To the other side!" Tyrion shouted and Bronn and Pod and the soldiers all raced that way. Far away, out past the city walls and gates they saw a flash of fire, flashing across the land where Tyrion knew with dreaded certainty his uncle and brother's army was located.

"Gods," Bronn said, as the sky to the west lit up. "What in seven hells is that?"

"Sorcery," Tyrion said in awe. There was nothing he could do for them now. Open the city gates for survivors, if there were any. If the gods were good Jaime would fight his way through. They should have attacked first, he now knew. But it was too late.

Bronn took Tyrion off his shoulders. Tyrion looked up at him and then stuck out his hand and Bronn shook it.

"Good luck, my friend. You know what to do?" Tyrion asked as he let go of Bronn's hand.

"Aye," said Bronn with a grin, as if he was glad the battle had finally started. "Fight fire with fire."

Tyrion grinned as well, although his was a bit more forced, knowing now how bad the odds were really against them. "Then let us make sure Stannis Baratheon wished he had never been born."