A/N: Tyrion Lannister joins the story at long last!
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Tyrion Lannister had many, many regrets about life. For instance, he regretted not being in King's Landing when his brother-in-law the King had gotten himself and both of Tyrion's nephews blown the fuck up by wildfire. Maybe if he had been in the city at the time, he could have been a shoulder for Jaime to lean on and his brother wouldn't have taken his own life.
He also regretted coming home to the Westerlands from where he'd been visiting the Citadel in Old Town when his father had sent a letter recalling him months ago. With Jaime's suicide and Cersei apparently going insane, Tywin had decided Tyrion was better off close by where the Old Lion could see him.
Tyrion would have told his father where he could stick his summons but seeing as he was rather reliant on Lannister gold, he hadn't felt like he had much of a choice. In hindsight, he almost wishes he'd done it anyways… would have been better to be penniless down in Old Town than to be up here in the middle of all this.
The dwarf further regretted being down in Lannisport the day of the Ironborn attack. In his defense, his favorite whore in all of the Westerlands worked out of a brothel in Lannisport. Also in his defense, while everyone knew that the Ironborn were likely about to make some sort of play for the Lannister Fleet any day now, nobody actually thought that Lannisport itself would fall in less than an hour.
Even back during the first Greyjoy Rebellion when the Lannister Fleet was burnt while still at anchor, Lannisport had managed to batten down the hatches and ride out the assault from sea until reinforcements could arrive.
Not this time though. Not this fucking time. Tyrion had been lucky that he made it back to Casterly Rock, all things considered. Not everyone with the Lannister Name had been so lucky. Their cadet branch, House Lannister of Lannisport, was said to be gutted. Meanwhile, Tyrion's uncle, Ser Kevan Lannister, had died leading the doomed defense of the city.
But of all of Tyrion's regrets, his greatest regret of all had to also be his oldest regret. Namely, that he'd been born with this fucking pathetic, stumpy legged, big headed dwarf body in the first place… and worst still, he'd been born to the family with the most vertical fucking Ancestral Seat in all of the Seven Kingdoms to boot.
See, not even the Eyrie had anything on the number of staircases in Casterly Rock. The ringfort that sat atop the massive stone hill Casterly Rock was built into was nothing but a crown for the true stronghold that lay underneath. Everything from the winding staircases to dungeons, storerooms, grand halls, courtyards, gardens, armories, bed chambers, and a sept… all of it lay down within the Rock itself.
There was no denying that Casterly Rock was the strongest, most impregnable seat in all of Westeros. Even Euron Greyjoy and his 'super kraken' couldn't possibly do anything to them once they'd turtled up in here. But poor Tyrion had spent his entire life in the Rock, traversing its halls… and ascending its staircases on legs that were far too little for them.
Huffing and puffing, Tyrion finally makes it up the stairs and down the hall to his father's study. Reaching up, he knocks for a moment before listening intently. After a moment…
"Come in."
Straightening his tunic as best as possible, Tyrion pries open the heavy wooden door and moves inside. He gets all of three feet past the door before a dry look from Tywin sends him scurrying back to close it back up. Then and only then does he approach his father's desk, where the Lord of House Lannister has turned back to the papers he's working on.
Hesitantly, half-expecting Tywin to order him to stand, Tyrion nevertheless takes the risk of leveraging himself up into a chair and sitting down. When the other man neither tells him off for doing so, nor so much as acknowledges his presence, Tyrion waits a moment… and then breaks the silence.
"You wished to see me, father?"
Silence falls as Tywin ignores him for a time. Seconds drag on into minutes while he sits there, waiting for his father to acknowledge his presence. Then again, this is nothing new. Tyrion had never had the best relationship with Tywin Lannister.
Mostly on account of the aforementioned regrettable dwarfism and the fact that he'd killed his own mother in childbirth. From what some had told Tyrion, mostly his spiteful sister, Tywin had actually loved his wife, Joanna Lannister. Before Tyrion, Cersei even liked to claim that Tywin smiled from time to time.
And then Tyrion had come along, killed Lady Joanna in the birthing bed, and ruined everything. At least if Cersei was to be believed anyways. Jaime, on the other hand, had never seemed to blame Tyrion for their mother's death. Unfortunately, Jaime had been alone in that because while their father wasn't quite so overtly sadistic about it, he clearly hewed closer to Cersei's view of Tyrion than Jaime's.
This was all to say that Tyrion had long been the black sheep of House Lannister. Physically deformed, hated by his father, barely tolerated because of the Lannister blood that flowed through his stunted body. Most other noble houses would have probably done away with him, but Tywin had too much pride for that.
Although… given recent events, Tyrion had to admit, part of him was glad that he'd never had their father's love. After what had happened with Cersei, it seemed far better to start off hated by their father, rather than have his love and then lose it in truly spectacular fashion.
His sister's fate-
"An opportunity presents itself."
Tyrion jolts as Tywin finally breaks the silence and in doing so cuts off his own internal monologue. Blinking at his father, Tyrion's brow furrows in confusion. Opportunity? Casterly Rock was under siege, Lannisport was in ruins, and there was a damn sea monster bigger than any Tyrion had ever read about lurking in the bay! And Tywin was talking about opportunities. Or maybe he misunderstood.
"An opportunity to… break the siege, father?"
The look Tywin gives him makes Tyrion feel smaller than he already is, which is no mean feat. Sneering at him, the Old Lion shakes his head.
"Don't be ridiculous. What use are you in a war? If this were about the siege, why would I call for you?"
Tyrion flushes. So his first instinct had been right, Tywin was talking about something else. Of course, he couldn't very well say that was what he'd originally thought now, he would just look like even more of a fool in his father's eyes. Instead, the dwarf simply sits and stews until Tywin decides he's been humiliated long enough and finally continues on.
"No, this opportunity is singular to you. A chance for you to finally be useful to both our House and the Realm."
Straightening up, Tyrion nevertheless is just more confused than before. What exactly is his father talking about? Not marriage, surely. There isn't a woman in the Seven Kingdoms who wants to marry a dwarf. But then… what?
"I'm sure by now you've heard about the most recent wildfire explosion in King's Landing. We now know the perpetrator was one Petyr Baelish… the former Master of Coin."
Blinking rapidly as he tries to catch up, Tyrion opens his mouth and then closes it again. Yes, he'd heard that someone bombed the Small Council in King's Landing. The rumors regarding the situation had been rather wild.
For a time, nobody had been sure whether the King had died or not. Now, nobody could say for certain whether he'd been in the chambers and somehow lived anyways, or just not inside the room when the wildfire pots had gone off.
The most outlandish tale that Tyrion had heard at this point was that the King had supposedly walked from the Small Council Chambers to the Great Sept of Baelor while covered in green flames. There he'd apparently burned for seven days and seven nights before being reborn anew with not a single blemish on him.
A load of bullshit, probably… but even the Septons and Septas holed up here in Casterly Rock were preaching the story as the truth now. But his father wasn't even talking about the explosion. He was talking about the aftermath. From the sound of things, Littlefinger was dead, probably executed by the King for his crimes.
Good riddance if he was actually guilty, though it came as a surprise to Tyrion, who had thought that Baelish was Jon Arryn's man through and through. The Hand had given Petyr Baelish everything. Why would the Master of Coin conspire to kill him and the rest of the Small Council?
"You will be the next Master of Coin, Tyrion."
Pulled from his thoughts once more by his father's words, Tyrion's eyes widen as he fully comprehends them.
"Me? Surely not. There's no way the King would accept me for the position. Not after everything Cersei tried to do."
Tywin scoffs at that, waving a hand dismissively.
"Cersei's actions aren't relevant to this situation. SHE is not relevant to this situation. Her… madness has been dealt with. She won't be causing anyone problems again."
A shiver runs down Tyrion's spine at that. Best not to think about it. Even if he hated Cersei… well, she'd made her bed he supposed. Now she had to lie in it.
"You know your numbers, don't you?"
Tyrion flushes a bit at what had to be the most backhanded compliment he'd ever been given. He knew more than just his numbers, but he wasn't expecting his father to acknowledge that fact.
"Yes, but-!"
"Then it is settled. The Seven Kingdoms assemble even now to deal with the Ironborn threat. The King and his armies will be making for the Westerlands soon. Our own armies continue to hold the roads to the East. With their pet limited to the coast, the Ironborn have no way of taking the Rock from us."
Tywin scoffs.
"If they were smarter, they would have moved on already. At this point, they will be too late to stop the Royal Fleet from convening with the Redwyne Fleet at the Arbor. The Ironborn are just as foolish and poorly led as they were the last time this happened."
As much as he hates agreeing with his father, Tyrion can't help but feel like the Old Lion is right. The enemy's tactics really don't really make much sense. The kraken that destroyed the Lannister Fleet and allowed them to pillage and burn Lannisport was a massive asset in any naval battle to be sure, but the way the Ironborn were using it so far was… lackluster, to say the least.
If Euron Greyjoy were smarter, he would have immediately gone South after smashing their fleet and razing Lannisport, to take down the Arbor and the Redwyne Fleet. While the Redwyne Fleet was technically bigger than the Ironborn Fleet, they didn't have a kraken on their side.
With that kraken on side, the Ironborn could have destroyed the Lannister Fleet, destroyed the Redwyne Fleet, and then swept all the way around the southern coast of Westeros and smashed the Royal Fleet as well. Just like that, they would have been in control of all of Westeros' waters.
And sure, maybe going all the way to King's Landing would have stretched their supplies too thin, especially since the Ironborn were notoriously bad at such things like 'supply chains' and 'staying adequately provisioned', but at the very least they could have taken the Arbor by this point.
That they hadn't, that they were still here trying to take Casterly Rock… it was the height of foolishness in Tyrion's learned opinion.
"When the King and his armies arrive, you will ingratiate yourself with him. You will befriend him and do your best to make him like you. The Crown still owes a considerable sum of golden dragons to our House. If I have to, I will even forgive some of that debt to get you into the position of Master of Coin."
Tyrion gapes at that. Truly?
"What… what do you even want me to do if I become Master of Coin? What are you planning?"
Tywin narrows his eyes and shakes his head.
"Your job, what else? This is not some grand scheme, Tyrion. Our blood was set to sit upon the Iron Throne before this whole mess began. Now, our power and influence have both waned dramatically. You will be the first step to regaining some amount of what we lost. You will not embezzle; you will not allow corruption to take root. In fact, I want you to be everything Petyr Baelish wasn't."
For a long moment, Tyrion just stares at his father. No grand scheme? No big plan? Just… a small maneuver to try to regain lost influence? Was this truly his father? Had Tywin Lannister truly been so diminished by the events of the last several months?
No… it abruptly dawns on Tyrion what's not being said. What Tywin is really getting out of this.
"You… this is just another way for you to sideline me as your heir, isn't it? You're getting rid of me."
His father scoffs.
"Getting rid of you? I'm going to ensure you become Master of Coin. What more could you possibly want?"
What more indeed? Tyrion scowls, squirming in his chair.
"But I-!"
WHAM!
Tywin's hand comes down on the desk, causing Tyrion to jolt and fall quiet. For a moment, the dwarf sees his father's true face beneath the façade. He sees the tremble in Tywin Lannister's hand and realizes that for all he puts on a proud and implacable act, everything that has happened has truly shaken him. The loss of their fleet, Lannisport, and Kevan… all of it had only added to Tywin's growing frailty.
"Your sister is pregnant."
The news hits Tyrion like a rock to the head. And he knows exactly how that feels, Cersei and her friends had loved throwing them at him when he was younger.
"You will never be my heir. You will never inherit Casterly Rock. Even if Cersei doesn't give birth to a son, I would sooner name Lancel as my heir than allow you to become Lord of House Lannister. Do I make myself clear?"
Tyrion's mouth goes dry. He'd always known his father hated him. And deep down he'd always known that Tywin didn't intend to let him inherit. He'd just… always thought that the Old Lion wouldn't have a choice in the end. First because Jaime was a Kingsguard and sworn to serve for life, and then more recently because Jaime was dead and Tyrion was Tywin's last living son.
Only now is he given a glimpse of just how deep Tywin's hatred for him truly runs. Only now does he realize why Tywin gave up so much gold to get Cersei back to Casterly Rock after everything she'd done.
"I said, 'do I make myself clear'?"
"I… yes, father."
"Good. Then get out of my sight. Focus on preparing for the King's arrival and figuring out ways to impress him. If you're not able to secure the position of Master of Coin… then you truly are worthless to this family."
Tyrion hops down from the chair and makes his way out of his father's office on short legs that feel laden down with extra weight.
He really, really regrets being born a dwarf. But more than that… he thinks he regrets being born to House Lannister most of all.
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A/N: Poor Tyrion. How the fuck is he going to convince Axel Baratheon to make him Master of Coin?
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