CHP 52: Den of Lions

"That sword..."

A gruff voice called out as I was exploring the corridors of the Red Keep in the morning.

I kept my hood on, and most of the patrolling soldiers steered clear for the simple fact that someone who walked around like he was meant to be there couldn't possibly be an intruder. Who'd be stupid enough to try entering the Red Keep when unneeded? They'd only make fools of themselves in case I was a noble.

It was amusing to see the mental loops they were jumping through as I passed.

So, I was curious as to who'd finally worked up the courage.

A heavy, muscled man a bit taller than me, decked in soot-dark armour. His long dark hair was swept to one side, as if he was trying to hide that side of his face with it but ultimately failed at concealing blackened skin and wet red cracks that seemed to ooze.

Burn marks. I realised. 

There were no lips on that side of the face, and a bit of bone was visible at the jaw.

A grim punishment, especially with the scars running down to his neck.

Closing my eyes, I sniffed the air.

"I smell... Gregor Clegane?" I questioned as I approached him with my head cocked. "No, it's different. A brother?"

He let out a small growl, then pinched the bridge of his hooked nose. His grey eyes wandered across the longsword slung over my shoulder before he held out his hand. "Give it here."

Curious, I pulled it out and offered it to him.

"Sandor. Or, the Hound as your King would have it." Sandor flipped the sword in his hands, glaring at the chipped grey steel. His lips trembled, well, half of them considering the other half was nonexistent. When he finally looked up, I saw fury in his eyes.

But not the kind I would expect from someone looking at his brother's murderer.

He gave the sword back. "...Did he suffer?"

"I tore his jaw out before stabbing him through the head with my hand." I spoke plainly, sheathing the sword.

Sandor snarled and spit on the floor. "More mercy than that bastard deserved."

I just shrugged my hands.

"What of the girl?" He spoke again after a few moments of silence. "Sansa?"

Oh?

"She's at Winterfell. With her family."

This was quite the pleasant surprise. He'd put two and two together, all by himself.

He grumbled inaudibly. "Hm."

I'd seen situations like this so often it was funny. When someone who looked rough and monstrous on the outside was actually caring and nice instead... Well, Sandor didn't seem so nice and caring. At least he had a good heart.

"I owe you." He declared suddenly.

"I'll keep that in mind?"

He shook his head and held up his hair to show the extent of his burns. "Gregor's the one did this. Over a fucking toy. When we were brats."

I really had done the world a favour by getting rid of The-Mountain-That-Rides.

Sandor had been standing near a door when he called out to me. That door opened, and a youth stepped out, dressed in a gold tunic, inlaid with small rubies. He was broad shouldered, and undoubtedly handsome but what caught my eye was something else.

Bright blonde hair.

Green eyes.

Joffrey.

A small grin tugged at my lips as the youth sized me up, confused but curious. Sandor slowly reached for the blade at his waist, suddenly alarmed, but I discreetly shook my head. 

"Who are you supposed to be?"

"A new guard." He failed to notice my amusement. "Your new guard."

He smiled lightly, like a child who had found a toy. "Well you certainly look the part. Almost as big an oaf as him. Are you stupid too?"

"I like to think not."

"Are you talking back to your King?"

I pursed my lips.

"Come on then. I'm feeling hungry." He gestured with his head. "You too, dog."

I spent the next hour following the young 'king' around as he did whatever he wanted. Mostly giving harsh punishments to the servants over small mistakes, shouting at his guards, eating, drinking, and talking to nobles who kissed his ass and licked his feet.

It made me realise he thought it was his right to do whatever he wanted... and that he possibly had a mental illness with how fast his moods changed.

Then, as we walked through a corridor, one of numerous in the keep, a soldier in Lannister red came rushing up. He stopped a few steps away and bowed his head. "Your Grace. You are requested."

"Who by?"

"Lord Tywin."

Joffrey's face soured. He glared at the messenger. "You tell that old geezer I'm the king! Me! He can't order me to do anything!"

"Marika... He's fucking stupid too." I chuckled.

Tywin Lannister was the one responsible for keeping what remained of his kingdom in check, and making sure their own men didn't deliver their heads to Stannis or Robb on a silver platter giving the hopeless nature of their situation.

Sandor let out a gruff hum. "I wonder how he still hasn't managed to throw himself out a window."

"I think the realm would be better off if he did."

"Haha." I laughed, then realised that neither of us had spoken. It was someone standing behind us. Sandor quickly followed behind Joffrey but my interest in messing with Joffrey had faded. Instead, I turned around to look at the person who had the guts to say the King should die.

"Well. That there's something I don't see often. Whatcha doing here?"

It was a strange dwarf. With one black eye and one green, and thin hair so blonde it seemed as white as mine. He licked his thick lips, twirling a silver goblet in his small hand. "I merely wished to see the look on my nephew's face when he received a summons that may have come from certain... dubious sources."

A prank? 

He raised a curious brow. "Though I do believe I've come upon something far more interesting. To my knowledge, no new guard was supposed to be with Joffrey."

"Maybe."

"Well then, my friend, either you're a great fool or a piece in someone's game. I'm curious to which is true."

"A piece?" I mused, cocking my head.

My face was still covered by a hood, and medieval societies weren't the best at transmitting facts over great distances so it stood to reason he didn't recognise me.

"Did I hurt that overly bloated ego warriors tend to have? I assure you it was not my attention. Tyrion Lannister." He gave a curt bow. "You may know me as the dwarf of Casterly Rock. Through certain circumstances, I've come to be the King's Master of Coin."

"Congratulations?" I could only see any position where one was in charge of others as the greatest headache, nothing else.

He smiled and sipped his wine to hide his nervousness, but I saw the slight tremble in his form. "Well then, friend. What will you do? Attack me? Personally, I'd much prefer we talk over a drink about why you're here than resort to unnecessary violence. Surely what you were promised isn't worth death."

Men could be so very entertaining with the vast variety of personalities their advanced minds allowed them. Tyrion Lannister appeared to be one of those men.

I clapped my hands. "Well then, lead the way."

"You demonstrate quite the intelligence for one who looks like a brute." He looked at me with narrowed eyes before shrugging and turning around to lead the way. "Who sent you? Stannis? No, Stannis isn't the sort. Robb then? I doubt it. Those Northmen seem to have a strange obsession with their honour."

"Honor." I echoed curiously. "A strange thing."

"Indeed. Is honour being just? Or is it doing whatever is necessary for one's master? Anyway, I could pay you far more than whatever they are. Just give me a name."

I just laughed at his question. Rather quickly, we arrived in a solar, Tyrion's solar I assumed. It was a large room with walls lined with shelves which then had rows upon rows of well kept books, large and small, thick and thin, lined within them.

He hobbled to the table at the head of the room, and climbed atop a mahogany chair with the help of a stepping stool. The windows behind him were closed, but the thin maroon curtains draped in front of them were tied to the sides.

"Well. Don't let me keep you. Sit." Tyrion gestured to the chair across from him. "And that cloak. I think I've seen it before." He put a hand to his chin. "Is that not the one Lord Tytos Blackwood is so proud of?"

I shrugged.

I'd stolen it from the Riverlands camp before leaving.

"Huh." He poured red wine from a jug already on the table for himself and oddly enough, me too. "Will you tell me who hired you now?"

"Nobody." I smiled.

This had become oh so entertaining.

"I'm surprised Joffrey's still walking now that Tywin knows he's a bastard." I mused aloud, sitting down across from him as I grabbed the cup.

Tyrion's eyes widened ever so slightly. "A lie by our enemies."

"You really think so?"

"No," He let out a long sigh. "It's plain to any who bother to take a closer look. The boy has green eyes!" Tyrion took a long gulp from his wine. "Why are you here?"

He was trying to maintain his family's honour.

I smiled. "Travelling."

"Through the Red Keep?"

"Through the Red Keep."

"Where to?"

"The Stormlands."

"Why?"

I sipped my wine and stared into his eyes as I slowly put the cup back on the table. "Wanna meet him."

"...What?"

That was really all there was to it. I wanted to meet Stannis Baratheon. The delivery quest was just a side mission if anything. 

"Wanted to talk to Renly again too. He's dead though so I guess that's not happening. I'll set out for Storm's End today."

"What makes you think you're going to walk out of here in one piece?" Tyrion asked, leaning in as if he'd miss my answer if his attention was diverted for even a moment.

I just smiled again. "Oh, I will."

Before he could make some snide remark about my words, the door to his solar was roughly thrown open by...

"Tyrion. What is the meaning of this?"

Tywin Lannister entered the room, dressed in a red doublet inlaid with gold. A roaring lion was sewn into the breast.

"Meaning of what exactly?" Tyrion inquired calmly.

Grinning slightly, I took off my hood and turned to look at Tywin. As expected, he halted in his tracks, his breath hitched as his eyes widened and his words got caught in his aged throat. "Old men shouldn't be making such a fuss."

I approached him with slow steps.

"...What are you doing here?" He tried to appear composed but it seemed he was deeply aware of the very real difference between us and had no intention of denying reality. "What do you want?"

"Just visiting. Making sure you aren't being naughty."

Tyrion looked between me and his father as realisation dawned on him. To his credit, it happened fairly quickly.

"My men... have not... set foot into the Riverlands since that day."

Tywin was holding everything together. If he were to fall, the rest of them would crumble apart with slightest resistance. But, I was too old to stake everything on a person I'd only heard about from others. I would do nothing to help Stannis until I met him.

Varys was being stupid with how long of a game he was attempting to play. Life was short for men, and unlike my kin, they did not spend centuries just idling or mulling over things. The world of man moved too quickly and erratically for a ‘long’ term plan, especially one concerning a whole continent.

He intended to let the realm go to war, hundreds of thousands of innocents would suffer or die, just because there was a chance peace would follow.

I patted Tywin's shoulder with a neutral smile. "There. There. I was just making sure. No need to worry. Now, be a dear and don't cause a fuss before I leave."

He nodded shakily and stumbled to the nearest chair, falling into it as soon as he reached it. I politely waved goodbye to Tyrion and left the room.

-

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