Chapter 17

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Chapter Seventeen: Pity.

297AC.

The solar of Casterly Rock was grand but cold, its high stone walls lined with banners of crimson and gold. Sunlight streamed through narrow windows, glinting off polished gold accents and the hard edges of Tywin Lannister's expression. He sat rigidly at the head of the table, the weight of his authority filling the room.

To his right, Kevan Lannister listened attentively, calm and composed. Across from them, Genna Lannister reclined with a lioness's poise, her sharp gaze flickering between her brothers. Though time had thickened her waist and lined her face, her mind was as sharp as ever.

They had been discussing trade and alliances when the door creaked open.

Tyrion Lannister entered with his usual confident gait, a gleam of purpose in his mismatched eyes.

Genna's brow arched. "What brings you here, nephew?"

"My lord father tasked me with uncovering why Lannisport's trade has not returned to its former glory since the Greyjoy Rebellion," Tyrion said smoothly, bowing slightly to Tywin.

"And you've found the answer?" Genna asked with genuine curiosity.

Tyrion's grin was sharp. "I have."

Tywin's expression remained impassive, though Genna noted the subtle tightening of his jaw. "Speak."

Tyrion clasped his hands behind his back, pacing as he spoke. "It all begins with the North," he said. "Following the Greyjoy Rebellion, they built a fleet under Wyman Manderly's direction. They began trading directly with Braavos and other Free Cities—timber, iron, furs, and more. Lord Wyman secured highly favorable terms, and the North's rivers became bustling trade routes."

Kevan leaned forward slightly. "Rivers?"

"Indeed," Tyrion confirmed. "Several northern lords even dug canals to connect them more efficiently. Their goods now flow seamlessly to White Harbor and beyond."

Genna's lips pressed into a thoughtful line. She had suspected the North's growing influence but hadn't realized the extent of their trade dominance.

"And that's not all," Tyrion continued. "The North has become nearly self-sufficient in food thanks to advancements in agriculture. They no longer rely on grain from the Reach or the Westerlands. Instead, they barter northern goods for expensive luxuries from the Free Cities—silks, spices, and fine weaponry—which they trade within the rest of the realm for handsome profits."

Genna caught the faint narrowing of Tywin's eyes—a rare sign that he was listening intently.

"The long summer and the loss of our fleet during the Greyjoy Rebellion made it easy for the North to seize this advantage," Tyrion concluded. "They've become a trading powerhouse."

Kevan let out a low breath. "All under Eddard Stark's lordship?"

"Officially, yes," Tyrion said with a sardonic twist of his lips. "But it's an open secret in the North that much of this prosperity is attributed to Jon Snow, Stark's bastard. They call him a gift from the old gods."

Genna leaned back, intrigued. A bastard guiding such change? How curious.

Tywin's voice cut through the air like a blade. "And what do you propose we do about it?"

Tyrion stopped pacing, his expression thoughtful. "First, we must shift our focus westward. The North has a more direct path to the Free Cities; we cannot outcompete them there. Instead, we should strengthen trade routes along the western front—Lannisport, the Arbor, Oldtown."

He paused before continuing. "Second, rather than fighting the North's success, we should work with them. They're bringing in goods from Braavos and other Free Cities—goods that are difficult to obtain elsewhere. We could strike a trade agreement to help distribute those luxuries along the western coast. They gain more reach, and we profit from handling the trade."

Kevan nodded thoughtfully. "That could work."

Genna saw it too. Tyrion's suggestions were pragmatic and clever—solutions that could stabilize Lannisport's faltering trade.

But Tywin's expression remained stony.

"Craven ways," Tywin said coldly.

Tyrion blinked, caught off guard. "Craven?"

Tywin's gaze was icy. "Seeking compromise with the North rather than dominance? Turning our focus away from the eastern trade routes entirely? That is the talk of a man too timid to act decisively."

Genna's chest tightened at the cruelty of the remark. Tyrion's jaw clenched, but he masked his hurt with a sardonic smile.

"Forgive me for thinking strategy mattered more than bluster," Tyrion said dryly.

Tywin's voice was sharp. "A lion does not bow to wolves, nor beg for scraps at their table."

Tyrion's eyes flickered with anger, but he bowed mockingly. "As you say, Father."

"Get out," Tywin commanded, his tone dismissive.

Tyrion hesitated only for a moment before turning on his heel and exiting the solar, his head held high.

Genna watched him go, pity swelling in her chest. He'll never win Tywin's respect, she thought bitterly. No matter how clever or resourceful he is, his father will only ever see his twisted legs.

Tywin's pride was a fortress impenetrable to reason.

Kevan broke the tense silence. "What would you have us do, Tywin?"

Tywin's voice was cold and deliberate. "Find me pirates—men who know the seas well enough to harass northern trade routes without being traced back to us."

Kevan frowned but nodded. "It will be done."

Genna's stomach churned at the order. The North had earned its success through ingenuity and resilience, but Tywin was not a man to tolerate rivals.

As Kevan rose to carry out his task, Tywin turned to Genna. "Do you have anything to add?"

Genna met his gaze steadily. "Only that sometimes compromise strengthens a lion's den, rather than weakens it."

Tywin's eyes gleamed coldly. "Softness is for the weak."

Genna knew better than to argue further. Her brother's mind was made up, as rigid and unyielding as the Rock itself.

As the meeting concluded, Genna lingered by the window, watching the distant waves crash against the cliffs.

Tyrion's sharp mind had once again revealed truths others had overlooked, but his brilliance would never earn him his father's respect.

And that, more than anything, made Genna pity him.