Tyrion II

"What is the meaning of this?" Tyrion demanded as he walked into the throne room, Bronn at his side.

At the foot of the throne, Ser Meryn Trant of the Kingsguard stood over a beaten and half-naked Sansa Stark while Joffrey stood in front of the throne, the crossbow in his hands pointed at the girl. Off to the side, the Small Council watched silently as their king abused the Stark girl.

"What kind of knight beats a helpless girl?" Tyrion growled, glaring at Ser Meryn.

"One who serves his king, Imp!" Ser Meryn replied angrily.

"Careful now," Bronn threatened, though his tone was anything but. "We don't want to get blood all over that pretty white cloak."

"Someone get something to cover herself with," Tyrion ordered, still walking towards Joffrey. "She is to be your queen. Have you no regard for her honor?"

"I was punishing her!" Joffrey said, defending himself.

"For what crimes?" Tyrion demanded. "She can't fight her brother's battles, you half-wit."

Sandor Clegane, otherwise known as the Hound, stepped forward and placed his white cloak over the Stark girl, who pulled it closer around her. She was still weeping softly from the abuse she had received only moments ago.

"You can't talk to me like that! The king can do as he likes!" Joffrey screamed as he sat on the throne.

"The Mad King did as he liked," Tyrion countered, taking a few steps up towards the throne. "Has your Uncle Jaime ever told you what happened to him?"

"No one threatened his grace in the presence of the Kingsguard!" Trant growled, stepping towards Tyrion, a hand falling to his sword.

"I am not threatening the king, ser, I am educating my nephew," Tyrion explained. "Bronn, next time Ser Meryn speaks, kill him."

Ser Meryn looked at the sellsword, who merely had an amused smile on his rough face.

"That was a threat. See the difference?" Tyrion said, scolding the knight.

Tyrion stepped down away from the throne and walked slowly towards Sansa, who regarded him with tear-stained eyes. He held out a hand for her, which she took hesitantly. He led her out of the throne room, ignoring Joffrey as the boy-king shot to his feet.

"I apologize for my nephew's behavior," he said quietly. "Tell me the truth: Do you want an end to this engagement?"

"I am loyal to King Joffrey," Sansa said, her voice neutral and emotionless. "My one true love."

Tyrion stopped at the entrance to the throne room as Sansa walked out, followed by her ladies-in-waiting.

"Lady Stark," he whispered. "You may survive us yet."

Bronn and Tyrion watched the girl leave. The sellsword tucked his thumbs into the front of his belt.

"The little king's backed up," he grunted. "Clogged from balls to brains."

"You think dipping his wick will cure what ails him?" Tyrion asked curiously.

"There's no cure for being a cunt." Bronn replied. "But the boy's at that age. And he's got nothing to do all day but pick wings off flies. Couldn't hurt to get some of the poison out."

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"What was the point of that little charade?" Tyrion asked, barging into his sister's chambers.

Cersei got to her feet. "Have you not heard of knocking?"

Tyrion waved her anger aside. "Unfortunately, we must have this conversation. Your son nearly had his soon-to-be queen beat to death in front of the entire court."

"He wouldn't have had her killed," Cersei responded, retaking her seat.

"His Kingsguard had his sword ready to strike the girl down!" Tyrion cried. "I thought we had an agreement. You control your son while I make sure the city doesn't burn to the ground."

"He was making a point to our enemies," Cersei said. "We pay our debts."

"She's a girl for fucks sake!" Tyrion shouted. "What point was he trying to make? That he is not above killing young girls? He is the King of Westeros, at the very least he should act like it. Especially in front of half his court!"

Cersei scowled but slowly sat back down. "What would you have me do?" She asked. "Have my son restrained?"

"You are his mother and the Queen Regent," Tyrion said. "Advise him against any foolish ideas like the one he just pulled."

"How was I supposed to know what he would do?" Cersei asked.

Tyrion tutted, walking over to a side table that had a pitcher of wine and two cups. He poured himself a glass, taking a deep draft of the purple liquid. There were many things the two siblings disagreed on, but one thing they shared was a great taste for wines.

"You are his mother," Tyrion said finally. "If anyone should know what he's thinking, it's you."

"What have you done to hold up your end of the bargain?" Cersei demanded, fed up with Tyrion speaking down to her.

"I got rid of Janos Slynt," Tyrion said simply.

The former Commander of the Gold Cloaks had been a greedy slug of a man who was deep in Baelish's coin purse. Tyrion knew that he had betrayed Ned Stark on Baelish's order, and that was all the information he needed to make his decision. Janos had been sent to the Wall and Bronn had filled in as his temporary replacement. Now, Jacelyn Bywater served as Lord Commander of the city guard. He was a hard, straight-forward man who had little time for fools. He would whip the watch back into shape, and hopefully, weed out the corrupt while doing so.

"He was loyal," Cersei argued.

Tyrion scoffed. "He was corrupt, as is half the watch. No, Ser Jacelyn will serve far better in the man's place. Already, the protests on the Streets of Steel, Seeds, and Looms have been put down and dispersed."

"And the food crisis?" She asked, changing the subject.

"I have lowered the tax on imported goods from the Free Cities if the ship brings food in instead of other commodities," Tyrion explained. "We should have shipments of salted food, hard bread, and other things on the way. It's not much, but it should keep the masses quiet for now."

"You think feeding the commoners hard rations will calm them?" Cersei challenged.

"It's better than not feeding them at all!" Tyrion shot back. "Do not forget, my dear sister, that both the Reach and the Riverlands are fighting us! Where do you think most of our food comes from!"

"You lowered the tax on trading?" Cersei asked, taking a different path in the conversation. "How is the crown paying for the imported food?"

Tyrion smirked. "The taxes I levied against the brothels are helping pay for the food. I also slipped the fact that the crown was taxing whores to the High Septon, who is now looking at us a little more favorable."

"You mended our relationship with the Faith?" Cersei asked, slightly amazed.

"Not quite," Tyrion said, shaking his head. "But it's better, especially since I also mentioned that Eddard Stark wasn't a follower of the Seven, but a 'pagan northerner'."

"You have it all figured out, don't you," Cersei said bitterly, taking a drink of her wine. "Always so smart."

Tyrion bowed mockingly. "Someone has to be."

Cersei glared at him, but Tyrion held his ground. The two had played this game many times before. They were masters at it, like seasoned warriors. They each knew what the other would do, how they would react. Yet, Tyrion always managed to stay just a step ahead of his sister, much to her envy.

"No doubt Pycelle has sent a message to father telling him of this….event." Tyrion sighed. "I will do what I can to placate him, but I will not face his anger alone. If you do not take control of the boy, then I will do what I must."

"Is that a threat against my son?" Cersei demanded.

"No, that is a promise to make sure our family doesn't get dragged down by the boy's stupidity." Tyrion snapped.

Tyrion downed the rest of his wine before setting his cup back on the table. He grabbed the pitcher and waddled out of the room, still feeling the glare Cersei was directing at him.

He and his sister would never see eye to eye. They hated each other, and they were both too far down that rabbit hole to ever turn back. The one thing they shared was their loyalty to family.

Cersei took pride in her family, and the fear it put in the hearts of those around her. She used it to her advantage, using the fear as a blunt weapon that she would stab repeatedly into the heart of her opponent.

Tyrion, however, thought more along the lines of his father. The Lannister family legacy hung in the balance, and both he and his father were doing all they could to keep it from crumbling. The great Lion of the Rock would hunt and kill the enemies of King Joffrey, and the Imp would continue to make sure that the boy would have a city to rule from.

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"Lord Tyrion?" A shy voice said from the doorway.

Tyrion looked up from his reports to catch sight of a tall, graceful young girl with lush auburn hair and striking blue eyes. She was very fair, but her looks were marred by the shiftiness in her eyes and her timid demeanor. Sansa Stark had suffered more abuse than anyone as sweet as she deserved to, no more so than at the hands of her betrothed, King Joffrey.

But she had so far managed to survive the viper pit that is the capital, and that made her respected by Tyrion and a few others.

"Lady Sansa, please come in," he said, hopping off his seat and pulling out a chair for the Stark girl. "Thank you for agreeing to have dinner with me."

Sansa nodded to Tyrion and took the seat as Pod closed the door behind her and came forward to pour wine and distribute food. He poured two goblets of Arbor gold for the two before serving good portions of roasted venison and honey-glazed vegetables to either noble. When he was done, miraculously without any screw-ups, the boy returned to his place against the wall.

"Your family served this the night before King Robert left Winterfell," Tyrion said, digging into the venison. "I thought you might enjoy some remembrance of home."

Sansa had a bitter smile on her face. "Perhaps that night was not my finest, my lord."

Tyrion nodded slowly. "Perhaps. If I remember correctly, you ended up with food on your dress, courtesy of your sister Arya."

Tyrion had been present when the youngest Stark sister had flung the food, but he had spoken with a few of the nobles who had been present, asking them for any details on the feast. Many had asked Tyrion for the reason behind the questions, and the acting Hand had claimed it was for a maester in the Stormlands who was writing a book on the life of the late King Robert.

Not so that he could somehow gain a friendship with the sister of his family's current enemy.

"Have you heard anything about my sister?" Sansa asked curiously.

Tyrion shook his head. He had Bronn and the Gold Cloaks sweep the entire city and the surrounding countryside, but the search parties had come up empty-handed. After weeks, the girl could be anywhere. And if she was with her 'dancing' master, then she was also well protected.

"Nothing as of yet, my lady," Tyrion answered.

Sansa nodded slowly, looking down at her plate. For a moment, she didn't speak or move, simply looked at her food. Tyrion glanced towards his squire, who was also looking confused at the Stark girl.

"My lady?" Tyrion asked softly.

"Why did you ask me here, Lord Tyrion?" Sansa said suddenly, looking up at the stunted man. Her voice was scared, but there was some amount of steel in it as well.

Tyrion held up a hand. "I do not want to harm you in any way, my lady." He said gently. "I am not my nephew nor my sister. I merely wish to talk to you about your brother Robb."

Tears instantly appeared in her eyes. "I will not sell out my family." She said, her voice cracking. "I will not do it again."

"Again?" Tyrion asked, frowning.

"The Queen made me do it after my father was imprisoned." Sansa whimpered, struggling to keep her composure.

Tyrion cursed Cersei silently. Of course her sister would kidnap the girl's father then force her to betray her family. It was exactly the sort of manipulative and cruel plot that Cersei would pull on an innocent and naive girl like Sansa.

"Is there any way we can bring your brother to the table?" Tyrion pressed on, trying his best to be gentle with the topic.

Sansa shook her head. "If you want to get Ser Jaime back, he won't take me back. Not with what I've done."

"Presumably not without Ice or your sister either I suppose," Tyrion muttered in annoyance.

"He doesn't know about Arya?" Sansa asked, catching what Tyrion had said.

The acting Hand shrugged. "I'm not sure what your brother does and does not know. All I know is that he is doing quite well for himself, much to my father's displeasure."

A proud smile briefly appeared on Sansa's face before vanishing as she realized where she was. "My lord, may I take my leave?"

Tyrion nodded slowly. "You may. Pod, will you please escort Lady Sansa back to her chambers." He ordered. "And Lady Sansa?"

The tall girl had gotten up and was walking towards the door when Tyrion called to her. She turned around, folding her hands in front of her, her face a neutral and emotionless mask.

"Yes, my lord?"

"I am truly sorry for what happened yesterday." Tyrion apologized. "You have no right to trust anything my family says or does, but I want to let you know that if you need anything, please let me know."

Sansa looked a little surprised. She curtseyed perfectly. "Thank you, my lord. You are very kind."

And with that, Sansa Stark left, escorted out by Pod.

"You are an enigma, Lady Sansa," Tyrion muttered to himself, propping his head on the armrest as he watched the tall girl leave. "If you survive Joffrey, then there might be some hope for you yet."