Author's notes: Well, here it is. The second part of this story.

Sorry it took so long, but this character is incredibly difficult to write. Too many times I had to go back and re-read what I had just wrote asking myself if he would really do that.

Finally, I think that I have maaged to obtain a good perspective of the character, and I hope you enjoy it.

As always reviews are welcome for future chapters.

So, without further ado, please enjoy.

"And who are you the proud lord said that I must bow so low"

"Opening Lines from: 'The Rains of Castamere'."

Chapter 2: The Proud Lion

Imagine if you will a city. A city that is near the bay.

There is a port where the wares come in. There are houses for both the rich and the poor. There is even a Sept for the faithful to gather.

Yes, this city could be one in a hundred of those existing. And yet, it has the pleasure of being unique as well.

For you see, this particularly mentioned place has the most peculiar characteristic that distinguishes it from any other in all of Westeros.

This is the capital of the entire Seven Kingdoms, and it is known by its official name of King's Landing.

It has grown in power beyond any expectation in the entire Seven Kingdoms, both politically and economically, in only three hundred years. It already outshines far more established cities that have existed since long before the Andal invasions.

Situated along the Kingsroad at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush and overlooking Blackwater Bay. The site of the Iron Throne and the Red Keep, the seat of the king.

The main city is surrounded by a wall, manned by its city watch, also known as the gold cloaks.

The city is extremely populous, but rather unsightly and dirty compared to others.

Poorer smallfolk build shanty settlements outside it. The stench of its waste can be smelled far beyond its walls. It is the principal harbor of the Seven Kingdoms, rivaled only by Oldtown.

There are seven gates leading into it: the Dragon Gate, the Lion Gate, the Mud Gate, the Old Gate, the Gate of the Gods, the King's Gate, and the Iron Gate. Within the walls, the city is dotted with manses, arbors, granaries, brick storehouses, timbered inns, merchant stalls, taverns, graveyards and brothels.

There is a fish market. Hundreds of quays can be found in the harbor. Between buildings the roads are broad, lined with trees and branching alleys and streets.

The city covers the north shore of the Blackwater and covers three tall hills, named after Aegon the Conqueror and his two sister-wives, Visenya and Rhaenys.

Aegon's High Hill, surmounted by the Red Keep, the royal castle located in the south-eastern corner of the city.

Visenya's Hill to the west is crowned by the marble-walled Great Sept of Baelor and its seven crystal towers.

Rhaenys's Hill in the north is capped by the collapsed ruins of the Dragonpit dome, its bronze doors shut for a century and a half since the last dragon died.

The poor reside in the slums which are called Flea Bottom, a maze of narrow streets and alleys, where many beggars and the poorest part of it's population resides; they regularly subsist on "bowls of brown", a mystery stew that can include the meat of rats and murder victims, among other things.

This is the city of King's Landing, the seat of power over all Westeros despite its youth.

Winterfell, the city said to have been built by giants. Made by Bran the Builder himself, it was certainly older.

Casterly Rock, the fortress which is carved out of a great stone hill with its natural defenses, further enhanced with walls and other structures had existed since the age of heroes.

Highgarden, seat of House Gardener before they faced the Targaryens. Now the seat of House Tyrell, could claim to have existed before the dragons arrived.

Riverrun, where the Tumblestone river meets the fork is certainly over a thousand years old. And that was for the time that was held by House Tully.

The Eyrie, several thousand feet above the valley floor below. Considered impregnable to attack with its seven great towers to defend themselves is much older.

Storm's End, one of the strongest castles in the Stormlands, the ancestral seat of the Storm Kings extending back many thousands of years.

Sunspear, a walled settlement, protected by three massive winding walls encircling one another. It's more a town than a proper city, yet its founding proves its age.

All these cities, all with a history, a wealth, a Legacy far grander than the one place by the coast, yet they are all still seen as lacking by the inhabitants of the continent.

For you see, King's Landing was something greater.

It was an ideal, a symbol of Targaryen might and otherworldliness comparable to the Dragons they rode, or the Iron Throne on which they sat.

For it was their grand statement to the Kings of Westeros from before the unification, that their greatest cities, their grand armies, were nothing to the might of the Targaryens, who could build a new city on the very place where they landed, and make them pay homage to it.

And it succeeded beyond their wildest expectations. King's Landing was revered and respected as the center of the Seven Kingdoms despite its youth.

Yet, perhaps one should have warned them, because as many people have said, and will continue to say: Pride cometh before the fall.

And what a fall it was.

Imagine now this grand city, the symbol of conquest, the symbol of Targaryen Might, the symbol of unity…

Now burned, looted, and left to die like some common street whore.

Bodies of all kinds; men, women, children, littered the streets. Family members looking for loved ones crying as they found them. Looters congregated seeking to take what they could before anyone else noticed. The already rotting bodies being dragged by its inhabitants under the watchful eyes of the very soldiers to have invaded and destroyed great part of it.

Houses were wrecked and burnt, with the destruction being more prevalent in the slums were many of its buildings were made of wood. The rich were not unharmed either, many opportunities for the soldiers to loot after all. Many possessions, belonging to the rich and the poor alike, were lost.

All around great columns of smoke still rose towards the heavens obscuring the sun, clouds of ash lending the aftermath a dark and depressing atmosphere.

This was the fate of the city built by pride and conquest. The seat of Targaryen Kings had now been reduced, like its own motto, to Fire and Blood.

And though the fire had been controlled and no longer rampaged through the residences, though the soldiery had stopped its discriminating killing and looting, it could not be said that the tribulations were over.

The city was no longer in flames… It was now under siege.

It was a strange state of affairs at the moment.

And finally, the grand mastermind behind the sacking and burning, behind all the calamities to befall upon the smallfolk… is asleep at the moment in one of the surviving structures.

Or at least, he was asleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Is it morning?

Those were the first thoughts that came through Tywin Lannister's mind as his eyes opened and laid sight upon the house he was staying.

It was not an impressive residence. More closer to a hovel than a true house and situated closer to Flea Bottom than Rhaenys Hill, yet it would have to be enough for the task ahead.

He certainly did not expect for matters to last longer than two days.

I also did not expect to be suddenly attacked.

He stopped that thought before it could go any further. He acknowledged that he'd been surprised yet thinking about it would not help now.

Now, he had to retaliate.

He had slept in the tunic that he'd worn last night under his armor, this particular establishment did not possess any place to clean his clothes, so he would have to wear it once more. Not that it worried him overmuch, he'd worn worse on campaigns.

This wasn't supposed to be a campaign.

He rose from what could be named a bed and called for his squires to help him once more into his armor. If he had time to think about this fiasco then it was time to move ahead with the business of the day.

The two squires, from House Plumm and House Moreland respectively, set to the task given. As they worked Tywin tried to focus in the present and drive the thoughts of the past from his mind. Unsuccessfully in the end, as they seemed to have a life of their own.

After all, in both occasions a Stark was involved.

He still remembered, that day one year ago when the news of Lord Rickard Stark's death had been announced to the entire realm, and the shock that was on everyone's face but his own. He remembered talking with Kevan then, about the many different Lords and how they would not take this action sitting down.

After all, if Aerys could kill a Lord in good standing with that mockery of a trial, even before the gods, then what was stopping him from doing the same to them as well? Had Aerys sticked to the smallfolk or lesser nobility he could have continued on until his natural death. Now that he threatened the Great Lords, Tywin predicted that the first action would come from the North and their vassals, and would be at least accompanied by the Riverlands.

Never had he imagined that Jon Arryn would be the first to raise his banners, nor that Robert Baratheon would also join him alongside Eddard Stark, the second born of Lord Rickard. These three completely changed the dynamic of what should have been a brief yet bloody revolt. A show of strength to once more reinforce the idea of royal strength and the futility to stand against them

Suddenly there was cause to really worry for the Targaryens.

Not that Aerys cared, even then he dismissed the idea that the rebels might be able to kill him, or even harm him at all.

Perhaps believing himself to actually be a dragon. Tywin thought scornfully.

It had taken three battles, two which were rebel victories, until that fool actually realized the danger that the rebels represented.

Not that it actually bothered him, he had taken a course of neutrality among the parties, a wise course especially when Hoster Tully joined the rebels.

Tywin had sat at Casterly Rock and patiently waited, ignoring King Aerys' orders to take arms, taking no side until he heard the news of the Trident.

Robert Victorious. Rhaegar killed by his hands. The Loyalist army scattered to the seven winds

It was only after that battle that Tywin mustered his forces and rode for the capital city of King's Landing

Despite what his retainers might have thought, it had not been a pleasure when he heard the news of Robert's victory in the Trident. He still owed payback to Aerys for the humiliation given when he refused to marry Rhaegar to his daughter, that much was true, and perhaps any other person might feel content with the current fate of the Targaryens.

However, he was not like most people. And where others might see the final resolution of their vengeance, he saw the repercussions that would follow from such an act.

Both Aerys and Rhaegar were in the end a known quantity. He could see the patterns they would enter in, and knew their way of thinking well enough to make countermeasures against them. There were many different ways in which he could have payed them back for the indignity perpetrated against his house.

But now…

Now, there is a new untested Lord who would be the ruler of us all.

Robert Baratheon, the first son of Lady Cassana and Lord Steffon Baratheon, head of House Baratheon and lord of the Stormlands. A man who embarked in this war not for survival or justice…but to rescue his betrothed from the clutches of the Crowned Prince.

The peasants loved it, they all loved the story of the dragon being slayed and the princess being saved by the gallant hero.

A child in a man's body would be a better description.

Not that the smallfolk knew better, to them Robert Baratheon must seem a grander than life figure, whose every blemish and eccentricity was to be forgiven and dismissed.

Yet… wasn't that something? That the leader of a rebellion to depose a 300 year old dynasty just happened to be nothing more than a battle crazy, whore mongering Man-child?

Why, exactly?

Because of his blood.

Yes, because his grandmother just happened to be a Targaryen, because we have all seen how Wonderful having a Targaryen is. He thought scornfully.

The Seven love to play their tricks on us. They were the ones who took …

He closed that line thought! He closed it, buried it and hoped that never more it reached the light of day again!

Joanna…

Quickly his mind changed tracks, he was in critical stage of planning for his family standing, Go back to before…

Robert Baratheon was an unknown, he certainly hadn't met him personally, nor given him much thought either. Only someone who had not yet learned to control his most basic impulses and desires.

But that could be used, after all such a man will need advice at every turn, and nothing that had been heard about him mentioned that he had a head for statecraft.

The man could fight and command an army, yet he would be utterly incompetent when it came to ruling, of that he was sure.

Not that there is anyone who can rule among them.

Jon Arryn? He was sentimental fool whose defiance had only made him loose what few heirs he possessed. Even his marriage to Lisa Tully was unlikely to produce new ones.

As for Eddard Stark…

"All done sire."

His contemplations were abruptly interrupted as his squires had fitted him with his armor, which was as kept as it could be.

He gave a cursory nod as they handed him his sword and left the wretched place. Stepping out he got a good look on the area surrounding Rhaenys' Hill.

Flea Bottom, what the slum area of King's Landing was called. A down-trodden area of town. It usually had a stench of pigsties and stables, tanner's sheds mixed in with the smell of wine sinks and whorehouses.

There was a maze of twisty, unpaved alleys and cross-streets below the Street of Flour on the way down the west side of Rhaenys' Hill. The buildings leaned over the narrow alleys, almost touching.

A disgusting place for disgusting people.

Then again, there was hardly any people around, only his soldiers who were stretched thin having to patrol the entirety of the city for any dissident or any peasant with a grudge. What should have been a quick decapitation strike had turned now into an occupation of a sullen city.

The Red Keep, where he should be staying not this pathetic and filthy place, was now host to nearly the entire Northern Cavalry, alongside their lord.

Eddard Stark.

Robert's best friend, second son to Lord Rickard Stark. The spare, who no one ever expected to inherit…And now the one who had ruined his plans for making sure his House and family ended on the winning side.

His hands unconsciously clenched in anger, yet the scowl on his face never wavered or gave a hint tow-

"You look like shit."

His head turned quickly to where that comment came from. His temper already frayed from earlier thoughts, was ready to burst.

Yet his self-control quickly resurfaced, a good thing as they met the eyes of the one man who cared not for his power, threats or authority.

A full mane of golden hair that ran past his shoulders, no beard in his face since he shaved at every opportunity, a tall robust physique which complemented his long muscled arms.

But it was those green emerald eyes which radiated contempt and hatred which always drew his attention.

I would pluck them out were you not my brother.

"A message Tygett?" He asked

Tygett's face bristled with a look of pure anger at the implied insult towards him. Which didn't surprise Tywin at all, this was always the situation between the both of them.

Tygett Lannister, a man of powerful passions… and an even more powerful hatred. He would never bow to his brother's authority, and as a result he was never fully trusted and on any possible occasion given mediocre tasks.

At least until he learns his place.

A pity, for the man was a warrior born, his skill with the sword could be compared to a member of the Kingsguard, and his skill as a general was still above average indeed. Yet there was a flaw in his ability, and it was that he could lose himself in battle, hacking and slashing until there was no one else to stand against him.

Gerion had once joked that if ever killed in battle Tygett would still swing his sword until there was no one else in the battlefield.

Tygett took it as a compliment.

Which shows which one has the brains in the family.

"Well?"

Tygett slowly took deep breaths to calm himself until he once more could look at Tywin without breaking into shouts, he can at least show some self-control, Tywin thought as he focused on the words coming from his brother.

"Kevan requests your presence. Some sort of important news coming in." Tygett nearly spat.

Tywin nodded his head as he called to one of his squires still in the house.

When the squire arrived Tywin gave his orders without breaking eye contact with his brother. "Get two horses, and then make yourself useful to the captain assigned to this area."

The squire nodded quickly as he left, leaving the two brothers alone for the moment.

The silence stretched between the both of them. Tywin, never being a man of many words, was willing to stay silent until Tygett decided to speak.
Which he did after a while.

"I'll get back to my own men now" He said, the scowl never leaving his face as he started to move in the direction of the Gate of the Gods.

"No, you won't." Tywin replied.

The note in his tone of voice halted Tygett without the need for him to move from his place.

"You'll be coming with me." He continued, "If Kevan deems this meeting important then I don't want to have to call upon you again."

Tygett turned to look directly to his face. His face looked murderous, his anger rose to the fore once more.

"Then get a messenger and relay the news."

The squire returned with the horses, saw the tense stand-off between the two brothers, and wisely remained silent with the two horses as he gave a quick bow.

"That's your job," Tywin coldly replied as his squire helped him climb his horse, "Now get on your horse and follow."

Tywin rode never looking back.

He knows better than to defy me at this juncture, he thought.

True enough, soon he could hear the noise of Tygett's horse besides his own as he moved towards Aegor's Hill.

He didn't have to look back to know his brother would be stewing in impotent anger as he followed.

As they moved he saw the results of their attack. The streets were as deserted as the ones left behind. Moving through blackened areas and ruined buildings he could clearly see the devastation brought forth by his own soldiers to this people.

The captain removed the bodies, he thought, no chance of disease hitting us.

Perhaps we could send some in Stark's way?

Already they were approaching the entrance to Aegon's Hill where he could see part of his assembled army already behind fortifications made to begin a siege. Most of the materials seemed to be pieces from destroyed houses.

I wonder how much money Robert will borrow to repair the city.

That was one of the benefits of his wealth, it could buy so many things, both in materials and influence… especially influence.

By this time next year, no one will even remember what my troops did. Only what my money gave them.

He entered the encampment, and saw the flowing Banners of his Lords fluttering in the breeze.

There on the distance he could see the golden wreath on blue with a gold border sigil of House Algood. They had stood loyal during both, the period when his father's weakness had nearly destroyed his House, and again during the Reyne rebellion. They were dependable.

Next to it was the hooded man, black on grey within a fiery tressure of House Banefort. The leader, Lord Quenten Banefort, was a man that like his sigil could stand silent and ready to obey any orders given. A perfect subordinate indeed.

In the distance, the three beetles in a field of yellow could be seen, with the men of House Bettley readying arms for the day. Yet not as quickly or as swiftly as those of House Brax next to them, the purple unicorn in Silver proudly flapping in the breeze.

Lord Brax may still feel sore about that rejection.

Lord Andros Brax, a corpulent man whose everlasting loyalty was usually enough for Tywin to overlook his lack of wits and imagination. However Hoster Tully did not, as he certainly made him know when he went to Riverrun to ask for a match between his heirs and Hoster's daughters just to be soundly rejected.

And now he faces the one whom Hoster did approve of.

Or did he…? Catelyn Tully was to be married to Brandon Stark before the entire Kingdom was embroiled in the same madness that Rhaegar had succumbed to, and when he was killed Hoster was offered a replacement, and the opportunity to have connections to both the North and the Vale with the marriage of Lisa Tully to Jon Arryn.

Perhaps a similar arrangement could be made once this situation has passed… Jaime will need a bride eventually.

Thoughts of his son brought him back to the present, as he and Tygett moved through the camp, and closer to the hill, he could start to see the Red Keep in all his glory…

With the Direwolf emblem proudly flying in its encampments.

"M-My Lord" A squeaking voice called.

Tywin looked down towards the speaking man, a page no doubt by the lack of spine and the fearful look on his face, but looking closer he could see the kept armor that he wore, as well as the white unicorn on green and black raven on white sigil on his chest.

House Doggett.

A true disappointment if there ever was one, that one of the more noble houses in the Westerlands just so happen to be without any redeemable qualities… No courage in a fight, no intelligence in deals, and only surviving by the luck of having capable subordinates.

The Seven love to play his tricks.

Even so, they were still a noble house, and due honor had to be given to them. They would make a mistake soon enough, and then he could finally get rid of them.

The man had not spoken yet, Tywin's usual scowling look having robbed him of his words.

The pure incompetence of this buffon was irritating to him especially since he was wasting time that could be used for better things.

They should learn better than to send this worthless craven to deliver a message.

Tygett shared his opinions it seemed, he beat him to the punch just before he could make his displeasure known.

"Stop this sniveling behavior and deliver the message. NOW!"

Tygett's face was filled with rage, as the young man shrank in himself before replying in a tiny voice.

"L-Lord K-K-Kevan w-w-waits f-for y-you, h-he S-set the M-main T-Tent near H-house F-foote and House H-h-hamell."

Tygett grew more and more exasperated hearing him stutter through what should be a single sentence that for a moment Tywin actually thought that he would lose what little restraint he had.

"Good." Tygett replied in a deceptively low voice. "Now, LEAVE!"

The man startled and gave a shriek of fear as he fell on his bottom and scurried away before being able to get up and run as if the Stranger himself was chasing him.

"Finally…"

Tywin didn't reply, only moved his horse to the place where he could see the emblems of both, House Foote and House Hamell.

There.

Just at the entrance to Aegon's Hill, near the troops from House Plumm, the three purple rondels on gold showing despite the many other sigils around.

Passing through the men who were making way and inclining their heads in respect, were the two standards of House Foote and House Hamell. A copper dagger across a black chevron on white, and an erminois maunch on pink with an erminois border respectively.

The mentioned tent was big enough from the outside, enough to accommodate a gathering of his Lords and captains…If some of them remained standing and others were simply not summoned.

Not like they all need to know everything.

Both Tywin and Tygett dismounted their horses as they reached the tent, giving the reins to a couple of squires who were waiting outside, and entered preparing themselves for the work of the day.

The command tent was indeed roomy inside, with a great table where many people could sit, and space enough so that others could stand around it as well. Banners of house Lannister where hung about, and a great desk with important documents was at the side.

He wasn't worried, any who dared to touch them would not live long anyways.

Tywin's arrival was not unnoticed, the moment he entered he was immediately greeted, as was his due, by all the Lords and captains there.

"Welcome Milord, we are ready to do your bidding." Said the high and blustering voice of Lord Andros Brax. With nearly all the other Lords agreeing with the statement or giving similar greetings.

Tywin continued on, neither responding nor acknowledging the greetings of his subjects. He arrived at the grand table and took a seat at its head. Only when he had done so did the rest of his Lords were allowed to do the same.
From the Noble Houses, to the Knightly Houses.

When everyone had been seated he spoke.

"What is the situation?"

He did not bother asking any of his Lords there. From Sebaston Farman to Reginard Estren, from Andros Brax to Antario Jast, they all knew better than to think that Lord Tywin directed the question at them.

Such news would always come first from the thick waisted man with rounded shoulders and fair skin.

"We have begun construction of siege fortifications at the entrance to the Red Keep," The man began, "we will then begin to expand them more around it, we'll also make sure that there are no blind spots. However, there is currently a lack of construction material…"

Tywin just looked at the speaker. "I saw our men using the remnants of the burned houses and using them for makeshift walls. There should be enough there." He said in a calm, yet hard tone.

"The main problem," The man replied, "lies in that the residences ruined by the fire are limited, and we have a great perimeter to blockade. As we-"

"Use the intact ones then," Tywin interrupted in a cold voice. "Anyone that opposes us can join the dead in complaining."

The speaker stayed quiet for a second before he replied "Of course milord… this will however not endear the people towards us." He said, trying to put it in a delicate way.

Tywin fixed him with a cold look as he replied in a testing tone. "And why should we care, Kevan?"

Kevan stopped talking for a moment as he maintained eye contact. Many would have thought him to be paralyzed with fear; not Tywin though. He knew his brother well enough to know that if he took this long, then he was mainly gathering and organizing his thoughts.

"I think," Kevan slowly replied, "That with the situation as volatile as it is at the moment, we cannot afford to further alienate the people of King's Landing."

Kevan Lannister was not like his other brother, both in looks and personality. Where Tygett was aggressive, Kevan was placid. Where Tygett was tall and powerfully built, Kevan was medium sized and already spotted a pot belly and a double chin in his face where he grew a small goatee in order to hide it better.

But perhaps the main difference between them was that while Tygett fought and raged against his authority, Kevan had simply recognized Tywin's superiority at an early age. Therefore, he was comfortable doing his duty to realize his brother's wishes, though this meant perpetually living in his shadow.

Not that this came without any benefits. Tywin had recognized his reliability and loyalty by making him his unnoficial second-in-command, elevating him above many others, including Tygett who could only stare at Kevan with a look of contempt.

Yet many who believe him to be only a follower are nothing but fools.
While willing to work for his brother in any task, Kevan was also willing to give his earnest and honest advice about Tywin's plans. The fact that he did not do this often was only because they mostly had the same ideas and ways of action.

Except here apparently.

"When we embarked on this course of action, our projected goals were to take the city, capture the King and his family in one quick strike before Lord Baratheon arrived. Thereby proving our loyalty to his cause." Kevan said.

The Lords assembled all nodded their heads or made sounds of agreement, no one mentioning the real orders given by Lord Tywin regarding the King and Royal family.

Are they dead? Did Clegane and Lorch fulfilled their mission before Stark arrived?

"However," He continued "due to circumstances beyond our control, we now find ourselves having to sustain a siege inside a city that we have just recently put to the torch, while at the same time trying to maintain another siege to a fortification inside said city."

At that Tygett's look of anger seemed to increase. He had suggested in a past meeting to attack Stark in the Red Keep with overwhelming force before turning and doing the same to the army outside the gates.

The plan had been rejected, too much risk, and there was every inclination to believe that Stark's army would attack the moment they heard the sound of battle.

"Even with the amount of men we possess, we can't maintain fortifications on both sides while at the same time dispatch more soldiers to prevent unrest among the people. They have lost nearly all they have, they are desperate. Any aggressive movement now could unleash a massive riot among them, which will give Lord Stark or his army the opening needed to attack us."

And we can't obtain reinforcements from the Westerlands at this juncture. I have to make do with the number of soldiers at my command.

12,000 Men. While it seemed big enough one had to consider that Stark's host had nearly the same amount of men, and they did not had to divide them more than they already had.

He could not attack the Red Keep without being attacked by the army led by Lord Karstark at the gates. He could not attack said army without being attacked by Lord Stark with his cavalry.

Now, I can't build more siege fortifications without inciting a riot.

Although no physical change was seen, Tywin's mood seemed to grow grimmer as this realization spread through the rest of the Lords in the tent. With many muttering among themselves about different ways that they might be able to obtain more material for construction.

All were useless of course, Kevan was right, they had to make do with what they had and try not to kick the Hornet's nest that King's Landing had become.

To be at the mercy of such worthless peons...

"A-ah Milord…"

Tywin's gaze moved to the figure of Lord Terrence Kenning. Lord of Kayce, and distantly related to the Kenning's of the Iron Islands.

It seemed that Kevan's finishing of his report and his silence had emboldened him to speak.

"While it's true that Lord Kevan's report and summation is accurate to his own sensibilities," He spoke, projecting a bravado that he clearly didn't feel. "I can assure you that my men, and the rest of my friends here can stop any attempt at a riot that these…'people' might try!"

At his side, Lord Damon Marbrand gave his assent while further on lord Andros Brax was also giving his loud and blustering approval to this sentiment. Indeed many smaller Lords were also in approval of the sentiment…If not the idea.

Fools.

Kevan's assessment of the situation was the correct one, yet these glory seekers would try to refute and deny it in a foolish attempt at possible glory.

The fact that one of his more reliable man was actually agreeing with this insanity just made it worst.

I expected this from Tygett, not from you Marbrand.

Still, Damon Marbrand was one of his most dependable men, both in campaign and in any political matter, always supporting any action he took expecting him to be correct. But now in the middle of this fiasco…

This has gone long enough.

Tywin straightened himself in his chair, a movement which was not missed by any of his Lords, some of whom had been in muttered conversation among themselves regarding the idea of riot control.

All of whom fell silent when he directed his gaze among them, quelling any conversation or discussion immediately.

"There will be no more talk of this. We shall make do with the amount of materials we have at the moment. We shall not invite any more problems among the smallfolk here."

All delivered in a calm voice that yet carried an undercurrent of anger. Anger at them. Anger at the situation they were in. Anger at Lord Eddard Stark which had put them there.

"Am I understood?"

The assembled Lords were quick to give their assent. Some giving them with a simple nod of their heads, without any need to speak. Even through it all, these were men who were loyal to him.

They will remain so, or else.

After all, everyone still remembered the fate of House Reyne and House Tarbeck.

Now that order had once more been reestablished, Tywin turned his gaze once more towards Kevan.

"I assume this is not why you had this meeting called."

Kevan cleared his throat before answering. "The news about our situation needed to be conveyed yes, but that was not the entire reason."

Kevan stood and moved towards another table, this one with documents on top. He continued talking as he looked through them.

"It arrived a little while ago, while we were all asleep actually. Tygett was the one who received it first and then brought it to my attention… Aha! Here it is."

With that final exclamation he turned once more towards the Great table and presented Tywin with a Scroll.

A scroll sealed with the Baratheon coat of arms.

As murmurs once more started sweeping through the assembled people, Tywin's eyes locked on the scroll.

"Are we sure it is genuine" He asked, locking gazes with Kevan.

"As much as we'll ever be" He replied confidently. "The sigil has been examined, and it fits with what we know of House Baratheon's emblem. This message is addressed to you from Lord Robert."

As Tywin looked at the scroll, a suspicion passed through his mind.

"How did he know where to send it?" He asked as he narrowed his eyes.

That was a legitimate concern, after all the attack on the city had been a complete surprise for both sides. Only the accidental discovery of his army by Stark…

"Were any ravens sent from the Keep?

If Stark had managed to send his version first, then…

"No sire. We have been vigilant in that regard."

Good.

Still…

"Then how did Lord Baratheon knew where to send it?" He asked, his frown growing deeper already knowing the answer.

Kevan looked somewhat uncomfortable as he tried to deliver the next bit of news. He took a deep breath.

"The only place would be from Lord Karstark and the host from the North outside the walls. They didn't even try to stop the messenger from delivering it."

So, his first hearings of the events are from the Northern forces after all.

Such events would put him in a bad light, probably also trying to put his being here as an enemy defending Aerys.

His mood grew dimmer at the realization, still he would need to know what was in the scroll eventually.

Might as well do it now.

"Read it Kevan"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A deathly silence hung inside the tent.

The Lords were shocked at what they had just heard to try and speak, so they remained quiet while Lord Tywin, still with that impassive yet angry look in his face, remained at his seat giving no clue to the world outside of his thoughts.

He can't be serious.

If there was one thing Tywin Lannister would pride himself in, then that would be his ability to always make himself heard and respected. If no one took you seriously then they might think that it was alright to simply disobey one small order, or to be late in performing one's task.

And he knew very well that once that began, then it would only grow worse.

That's why in his entire tenure as Lord of the Westerlands, he'd never given anyone cause to not take him seriously.

People heard his commands and hurried to obey them. No one ever laughed at what he said for fear of whatever retaliation he might unleash upon them, and those with the courage to attempt it soon found themselves destitute if they were lucky.

A man disobeyed an order? Tywin had him beaten nearly to death, explaining how next time he would save himself time and send for his executioner.

A task performed incorrectly? Perhaps he won't eat until it is done to his satisfaction, and even then for longer until he feels it has been enough.

Houses sworn to him rise in rebellion? Crush them, kill all their members; men, women, children, until their name becomes synonymous with extermination.
Once done, no one dares rise again.

That had been his way, had been his response to any who dared laugh at him and think they could get away with it.

That had been the mistake of his much despised father. Tytos Lannister had been a kind but weak man. The kind of man who everyone had laughed at openly, and anyone who heard him immediately dismissed his words as either a joke or empty air.

He loaned money to lords who never bothered to repay him afterwards. His vassals openly ignored his orders, yet all he did was laugh it away, like it was some big joke.

If it was, then the joke was on him.

And how could he forget one of the greatest humiliations to his house, when he decided to please Lord Frey by marrying Genna, a daughter of the Warden of the West!, to his second son, Emmon Frey. He'd spoken against it, even his vassals had spoken out against the wedding seeing it for what it was, a shameful affair.

Not even the Firstborn, like she was some common noblewoman, instead of a member to one of the most influencial families in the Seven Kingdoms!

Even on the occasions when he had decided to punish his vassals he'd failed.
Tytos had imprisoned Lord Tarbeck for disloyalty against his liege lord. In return, Lady Tarbeck had seized three Lannisters, including his cousin Stafford, whose sister…

Don't think about it!

He'd suggested that Tarbeck be sent back to his wife in three pieces, one for every Lannister taken, but his father had returned Tarbeck unharmed!

But I showed them. Them and the Reynes. You don't mock a Lannister. Not anymore.

Yes, he had shown everyone that he was not his father's son. Tytos Lannister had been slothful, weak-willed, soft. A disaster for House Lannister.
It had been up to him to recover his family's reputation. And after many years, hard work, and shrewd decisions, he'd accomplished it.

And now, this…this would-be king expected him…

The contents of the message had been telling indeed. That Robert felt secure enough to give such orders in such a tone showed him to be completely secure in his power.

Or completely without tact whatsoever.

"Repeat the message Kevan." He asked of his brother in a calm voice that veiled a great anger underneath.

Kevan Lannister had never been a man that others looked to as a leader. In fact many people often joked that Kevan never had a thought that Tywin didn't have first.

Yet thankfully he is no idiot.

Kevan just gave a look that bordered between fear and exasperation. Had anyone else tried to do the same they would have wished for death compared to what awaited them.

"In brief, Lord Baratheon has commanded that you break the siege against the Red Keep immediately, furthermore he orders you to abandon the city and form yourself in a different encampment opposite Lord Stark's forces."

The message had been longer than that, including a warning about troops left in the care of Lord Tully, which could easily turn towards the Westerlands now that it was unprotected.

But the most important threat of all need not be mentioned again.

Jaime.

His son. He threatened his son's life. The future heir of House Lannister.
It had been an angry tirade, one in which it ordered, commanded more likely, to leave Stark alone, or his homeland and son would suffer.

Looking around the room, he saw the disbelief and worry reflected in each of his vassals' faces. Growing grimmer and more scared.

Lord Brax was looking lost, not knowing what to do exactly, and in that he was accompanied by Lord Kenning, the braggart now not knowing how to act.

Thankfully there were still other lords whose silence were not the product of fear and indecision, but of caution and attention, waiting for his response. Lord Marbrand chief among them, with Lord Banefort a close second.

It was not supposed to go like this.

He had underestimated Robert Baratheon. And why shouldn't he? He was only an overgrown boy, not even raised to rule among his parents but sent to the Vale as a boy.

He was not supposed to have obtained the loyalty and allegiance of the great lords so easily. He was not supposed to have been a great leader and commander. He was supposed to have tried to placate him in this situation.

Yet it seemed that he had made a mistake in writing him off so quickly.

He had never once thought that he would dare to march against his men to get to the Keep and rescue Stark. And never in his dreams did he imagine that he would dare threaten to take his son's life, which given that Jaime was with Stark in the Keep it could be done.

Glaring once more at Kevan and the message Robert (The future King now) Baratheon had sent him, he resisted the urge to sigh. How else should he react to it now that things were upside down?

How did it come to this?

His scouts were the ones responsible in never letting him know of another force coming from the Kingsroad. And by the time they knew of Lord Stark sortie into the red Keep he was already inside, further attempts to enter had been stymied by the Northerners.

Naturally, the scouts paid their failure with their lives.

They should be grateful their families didn't pay the price as well.

Only some news from inside had been obtained thanks to Pycelle; it had been his son who had killed Aerys Targaryen and the last anyone had seen of him was when in the company of Lord Stark.

No more news had come after that, either Pycelle was dead or Stark had cut all forms of communication and he did not dare send another message.

I have no news of Jaime.

"He threatens my son"

Kevan sighed. "Yes he does."

All the lords in the room were paying attention to his words. Waiting to see what he would do in this situation.

No, not this time.

He turned his hard gaze towards the gathered lords around the table as he spoke in an authoritative tone.

"Leave. All of you."

The lords prepared to make some kind of protest, or at least tried. But one look at Tywin's eyes was enough to kill their objections and make them leave. Little by little the tent became emptier. Leaving the Lannister brothers alone.

All of them.

"That includes you as well, Tygett."

Tygett just kept on looking with his flinty gaze, not budging an inch.

"You called on me to come to this meeting." He said, nearly spitting the words out.

"And now I'm telling you to leave it." Tywin replied, looking straight at him, imposing his will.

It was a curt dismissal, one that only served to enrage him further.

Tygett looked ready to explode at this cavalier response, his body tensed as if he was ready to attack. Kevan even started moving towards them, ready to intercept any sudden movement.

He saw the movement which distracted him from his fit of anger. Taking deep breaths and one last venomous look towards Tywin, he turned towards the exit and left.

"Was it that bad to let him stay?" Kevan asked, truly curious.

"He hasn't earned the right yet." Tywin answered. "He still chafes against me, until he bends then he won't be given the same privileges as you."

Kevan gave a single nod, not at all upset at how Tywin looked at his actions.

"How shall we deal with Lord Baratheon?"

Kevan looked placid, as he always did as he asked what everyone in the room had been thinking.

"There is no mention of anything regarding what will happen to Lord Stark because of his actions…" Tywin mused. Exasperation and anger beginning to make his way through his body.

It was quite a conundrum, he could try to stay inside the city and fight, declare for the loyalists and join forces with Tyrell and Martell.

I would be a complete fool if I believed that possible.

The loyalists would never accept him, not after the news of the sacking. And even disregarding it, attempting to fight both, Baratheon and Arryn's forces, with Stark looming at his back was nothing short of suicide.

It could hurt them, but it would destroy me. It would destroy Lannister.

Kevan, Tygett, himself and his son were at this place, if they died or were captured that would leave leadership to Gerion, or even worse…Tyrion.

The Clown and the Dwarf.

His youngest, and perhaps most reckless brother. Gerion Lannister was different not only in temperament but in his physical aspects as well. Possessing both, the golden hair and the green eyes of Lannister, the rest of his body was skinny. Not enough to make him sick, but more like someone who saw no interest in exercising whatsoever.

Quick to laugh, and quick to make others laugh.

Just like father. Thought Tywin Scornfully.

Gerion however seemed to at least recognize his authority. Or perhaps it would be better to say that he saw no point in what he called the "game" and instead made jokes that mocked everyone, including himself.

He would destroy everything I've worked for in one day. No, in one joke.

And then, there was the dwarf.

Tyrion.

Tyrion Lannister, his third "Son" as it were. The ultimate proof that the gods were cruel and played jests on all, big or small. Giving him a mockery of a child instead of another worthy member of his House.

What father could love a stunted Dwarf more than his true son or daughter?

In the end, to allow that dwarf to inherit was never in the plan before, nor would it ever be in the future.

There are no worthy heirs for House Lannister to take my place.

There was no choice then, for the House to survive he would have to give way. He would have to bend to Lord Baratheon's demands and leave the city.
The very thought… the very humiliation of what such act would bring sparked an anger inside of him that he hadn't thought possible.

Enemies will see weakness and try to once more see how far they can push.
The pre-eminence of House Lannister in the Westerlands will be shook, everything I have worked towards will suddenly be set several steps back, yet to refuse would mean destruction…

"My Lord, If I may?"

Kevan's question broke through Tywin's mind, who gave him a gesture to continue, if anything it might distract him from the anger long enough to figure a way to minimize the damage to his reputation.

"As we can infer from the message, it seems that Lord Baratheon shares with Lord Stark what one would clearly see as a very close friendship. Born perhaps from the time they spent together as wards." Kevan spoke slowly, arranging the arguments in his mind.

"The very reason Lord Baratheon fought in the rebellion is because of Lord Stark's sister, or so he claims…" Kevan continued. "Still, from what little information we have gathered, it would seem that Lord Stark will not be harshly punished for his actions today.

"The fact that Lord Baratheon's message was so threatening shows that he holds him in very high regard, Lord Stark only needs to give some excuse, any at all, and Lord Baratheon will immediately clear him of all wrongdoing."

Kevan's words made sense, yet he was not saying anything new. All of what he'd said had already been clear to Tywin, so why…?

"I'm afraid that in this situation, it is us who are at a disadvantage for the moment. Therefore, my Lord I would strongly suggest that we do as Lord Baratheon says, and remove ourselves from the city."

…What?

Tywin stared with an impassive look, wondering if he had actually heard Kevan correctly.

All the while, Kevan maintained eye contact

Do you take me for a fool? He thought angrily.

He knew he had to retreat from the city. He knew that there was no way to obtain victory here. He was all set to prepare such actions.

Yet now, for Kevan to just suggest it like that.

Do you really believe me to be so foolish!?

Did Kevan really think that he would attempt to fight? That he would give Stark and Baratheon the chance to get rid of him? To humble House Lannister for the next two generations?

I expected better fr-.

He stopped.

…Of course.

It was clever once he processed the information.

After all, Kevan was not an idiot.

With the suggestion given, and the guards outside who might have heard it, Kevan will be the one who comes as suggesting abandoning the city and bowing to Lord Baratheon's demands.

It would mitigate somewhat the damage to his reputation, since blame would likely fall on Kevan, giving him more room to maneouver the following ramifications, thus regaining lost ground faster.

I will have to give the order, but if it is seen that my closest advisor was the one to suggest it…

It would still do damage, but less than the alternative.

Kevan never stopped looking at Tywin's eyes during this reasoning, yet no sign of the revelation showed on his face.

"I will think about it." Said Tywin after a while, giving a small imperceptible nod.

Kevan gave a slight bow. "Of course."

Tywin backed into his chair as he spoke. "Call them back, in about an hour."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The abandoning the city had not been any easier.

Once the decision had been made and communicated to the rest of his bannermen the process to break the camp had begun.

Things then developed as expected after that. Tygett had been furious with the idea of retreating from a battle, the rest of his vassals had looked at Kevan with reproach, blaming him for the situation and decision.

His men were demoralized after the entire debacle; what at the beginning had seemed like a promising and successful pillage had turned into a depressing and costly fiasco that left them retreating.

But the worst had been the smallfolk.

They had been watching and sulking all the time since after the fires had died down, rage, resentment and fear coursed through their bodies at the sight of armed soldiers. And though their anger was great and their resentment as well, it was still a delicate balance between them and fear.

His soldiers had gathered their equipment in relative silence, and once put into formation they had then moved towards the gate to leave.

That had been the moment when the smallfolk had gathered, word passing through the grapevine faster than anyone thought, standing by the sides, looking.

Just looking.

Delighting in what they see as my defeat.

Which was true in a way. To see the soldiers who had inflicted as much damage upon them and their property just leave like beaten dogs had been for some the highlight of their days, if not their lives.

The only reason they refrained from cheering was the weapons we had.

Many of the soldiers had drawn their weapons at the order of their commanders, ready to attack at the first sign of provocation by the rapidly forming crowd.

It was not necessary, the crowd of people contented themselves observing from a distance in silence, moving to give them room to leave as soon as they made way towards the gates. Some of them were even getting over their fear, their faces starting to show vindictiveness and satisfaction at their humiliation.

And then… the last blow.

For it was when they were all nearly our when the cheering began. It could be thought that the populace had finally decided to celebrate once they were out of sight, but it wasn't that…It was worse.

They were cheering Stark.

Once they were nearly out the Red Keep's doors had opened, and out came the Northern cavalry, marching down to the cheers and happiness of the smallfolk, dividing themselves under each of Stark's companions and providing order to the areas vacated by his soldiers.

It didn't matter at the moment to the smallfolk that they had done nothing to stop the sacking of the city, or that they had been the enemies not two nights ago.

No, what mattered to them now was that they had opposed Tywin, and for the moment that was enough.

He'd done his best to ignore it, even as he marched his men to camp to the opposite side of Stark's host near the Gate of the Gods.

It was while they were still near the gates when the noise of the Northern cavalry approaching was heard.

They were still in formation at the site of their new campsite when they first saw it, movement near the ramparts as a stout man with a brown beard and full mane of hair lead a group of other armed men with him.

The Lannister sigil, the Golden Lion in a field of red had been left in the ramparts, a signal to show everyone who had been the one to take the city.

And it was the Golden Lion in a field of red which was then removed and thrown to the ground as it was replaced with the Direwolf Sigil.

He looked at it in complete silence as the rest of his host did the same. Not one of his vassals had thought that such disrespect would be shown to his Emblem. He knew how his men and his vassals would interpret such action.

It was then that a shout was heard from the Stark encampment.

Further on in the direction of Stark's host, little by little, the soldiers of the North watched the ramparts. There, the man still proudly posing showed their sigil now held upon them and the reaction was instantaneous.

They started to cheer.

First one, then another until soon enough the entire host of the North was cheering and chanting the name of the man in the ramparts.

"Dustin! Dustin! Dustin! Dustin!"

The effect could not have been more devastating for my men.

At that stage, with their spirits in the ground they could not have mounted an effective attack or defense against anyone.

They will pay for this.

His family name had been humiliated, the actions of Lord Stark and Lord Baratheon had made sure of that. And now, his sigil had been made a mockery as well.

There would be a reckoning for this.

Keep your mind in the present for now.

He could not let himself be distracted by the past actions, not now when they were approaching the endgame.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

At the top of Aegon's Hill lies the palace of the Targaryen Kings, known throughout the land as the Red Keep.

It has an interesting story, this palace. Built first as a fort during the War of Conquest, it was later made even grander under the orders of Aegon the Conqueror.

He died before the construction was finished.

The labor was continued during the reign of two Targaryen Kings later on; Aenys and Maegor, both brothers. And while the results were as magnificent as their father had expected, it did not stop Maegor from killing the builders of such marvel.

After all, it would not do for them to spread the secrets of its construction.
The Red Keep was made of pale red stone. Seven massive drum-towers crowned with iron ramparts were made for its protection. Massive curtain walls surrounded it, with nests and crenelations for archers.

Thick stone parapets, some four feet high, protected the outer edge of the wall ramparts, where the heads of traitors could be placed on iron spikes between the crenels at the gatehouse. The walls had great bronze gates and portcullises, with narrow postern doors nearby. The immense barbican had a cobbled square in front of it. Behind the walls were small inner yards, vaulted halls, covered bridges, the barracks of the gold cloaks, dungeons and granaries.

While the outside of the keep had the strength which would keep an enemy at bay, The inside was designed to awe any who took residence.
Maegor's Holdfast, named after the Third Targaryen King, lies behind walls twelve feet thick. A dry moat lined with a bed of formidable iron spikes surrounds it, with a drawbridge spans the moat. Inside is where the royal apartments are located

The only way in or out is across the drawbridge. And a knight of the Kingsguard is always posted at its far end.

At least it was always supposed to be posted.

The Holdfast contains the Queen's Ballroom, a hall only half as big as the Small Hall in the Tower of the Hand. The Ballroom seated one hundred men and women, and had beaten silver mirrors behind the wall sconces which made the torches light seem twice as bright. Its walls are paneled with richly carved wood and it has a gallery above the main floor. High arched windows sit along the south wall.

The Tower of the Hand, the apartment of the most important of the King's council contains Its chambers. Its Small Hall is a long room with a high-vaulted ceiling and bench space for two hundred.

The private audience chamber is not as large as the king's, it has wall hangings, and a golden-tinted round window that give it a sense of intimacy. The Tower also has tall windows, a solar, and a garderobe.

I spent around 20 years there managing Aerys' Kingdom.

The Great Hall, the throne room of the king. The Iron Throne sits on a raised iron dais with high and narrow steps. A long carpet stretches from the throne to the Hall's great oak-and-bronze doors. The cavernous Hall can sit 1,000 people and is oriented north to south, with high, narrow windows on the eastern and western walls. Skulls of the Targaryen dragons adorned the walls so that every noble or petitioner never forgot about the Targaryen motto.

Fire and Blood.

Impossible to enforce now, with the last dragon dead for over 100 years.

Overall, the Keep is not particularly large, smaller than Winterfell if one cares to measure.

Still…

Doesn't mean it's not large.

Those were the thoughts of Tywin Lannister as he approached the keep, mounted and in full armor. The way was now clear of any debris or fortifications.

The Direwolf banner still flew over it.

"There! Now once Ned and I meet we can make our plans and continue the advance. That Bastard Tarly won't get the drop on me this time." The large man leading the way said, his voice both boisterous and happy at the same time.

He was not alone this time though.

Two other Lords had come with him, the guards surrounding them looking around the place ready for any attack upon them, one could not be careful enough about their safety.

Leading the group was Robert Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End, and de jure leader of the Rebellion. Tall, broad shouldered and muscled, he wore his armor almost like a second skin, with the huge antlers in his helmet standing proudly.

His face showed the mood of its wearer, cheerfulness and excitement was in it.

A weakness if there ever was one.

Robert always displayed all his emotions for the world to see, never hiding not tempering them. Not a good quality for a king to have.

Despite his injury in battle, he had refused to walk or be carried once entering the city, thus he endured the pain that must be coursing through his body as he climbed his horse and rode from the gate to the Keep.

"Robert, please." Spoke the other man comprising the trio. "You are still recovering from your injuries. You should not be riding, let alone diving headfirst into battle yet." His voice although old was still strong and firm, yet carried a soft gentleness, one of a father worrying for his child.

This was Jon Arryn, Lord of the Vale, Warden of the East and first to rebel against Aerys. Mentor of both Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark.

His hair and bear were already grey, not surprising considering his advanced age, yet despite such he possessed still the strength and will to fight alongside his former wards.

He'd been the one to try and soften the crude attitude of the future King, trying to be diplomatic when Robert was being direct, to the point of insulting.

A lackluster job, but he at least recognizes the severity of the situation.

Despite his warning Robert only laughed it away, talking about their next move, their encounter against the Tyrell forces besieging Storm's End, and how with Ned and their side they could finally kick the Loyalists away and rescue Lyanna.

And no mention whatsoever about me or the acts against my host.

That had been the reception he'd gotten once they'd met outside the Gate of the Gods. That had been the response to the unprovoked attack by one of their own.

Utter and complete silence from Robert's part.

Not that they ignored his presence of course, the common courtesies and greetings were observed. But Robert Baratheon's actions made absolutely clear that no harm or repercussion would be coming on Eddard Stark's head, at least until they had a chance to speak with him.

It did not surprise him, he and Kevan had the right of it when they thought about what Robert would do. He would give Stark any and all opportunities to get free of the charges

While I surely will get the blame for defending myself.

They had moved past the entrance a while ago, and once they'd left the horses behind they had then moved towards the entrance, moving past the hallways towards the Great Hall where they had been informed Lord Stark awaited.

The hallways had been cleaned recently, yet still some splotches of blood could be seen in different places. On the floor, on the walls, etc.

At least the bodies had been removed.

How many of them were my men?

He was sure that Eddard Stark had killed many of them, there was no possibility for the Targaryen guards to rally enough men with the discipline to kill Lord Crakehall and Lord Westerling's troops.

They had been missing as well and, as speculated by Kevan, possibly held captive in one of the cells in the keep.

Is my son there as well?

At this stage he would not put it past Stark to do just that. He would surely put a heavy price to release them knowing full well how important it was for his family to have a worthy heir.

It was tis final thought which resided in his head as they finally approached the gate leading to the Great Hall. There at the front were two of Stark's men which moved aside and opened the door as they approached.

As he entered a small part of his mind noticed that the Great Hall had not changed much since the last time he'd seen it. The room still possessed the long carpet stretching from the throne to the great oak-and-bronze floor looked as shiny and resplendent as the days before the rebellion.

Probably just cleaned recently.

One change he'd noticed immediately was the lack of skulls of the Targaryen dragons which had formerly adorned the walls. Now there were only empty places where they usually were.

But that still took second place to what he, Robert and Jon saw. For there at the base of the Iron Throne stood two figures, one of them being the person responsible for all the misfortune he'd suffered since he arrived at the city.

There at the foot of the throne, still wearing his armor and with the Valyrian sword Ice in his sheath, stood Eddard Stark.

And he was not alone.

Jaime?

Next to him, at the other side of the base, Jaime Lannister stood guard with his sword still in his sheath. His Kingsguard uniform looked crumpled, it showed that he hadn't changed in a long time. Still his face looked clean, serious and alert, with no sign of his usual mocking grin.

The sight of his son at the side of Stark confused Tywin, he'd expected Jaime to be a prisoner, to be a bargaining chip that Stark and Robert would use against him in the future. To see his son still in the armor of the Kingsguard, still armed and standing proudly right in front of him…

What is going on?

He'd managed to contain the surprise so it didn't show on his face, a good thing since the moment he'd entered Stark had looked straight at him with what was probably the coldest look that one could make.

It was not impassive however, there was anger there… no, it was more than anger. It was pure complete rage, a murderous desire to inflict harm barely being held back.

Tywin kept his gaze locked him, not giving an inch nor retreating, this will contest did not last long as a booming voice brought them out of it.

"Ned! What's with that face? Have you scowled so long it finally froze that way?" Laughed Robert as he approached his friend with a wide grin.

Jon approached as well, happy to see his former ward was not harmed yet also with some trepidation, as the anger coming from Eddard's body was too great to be easily dismissed.

At the sound of Robert's voice Ned's face seemed to soften a little, almost going back to a more relaxed expression.

But all it took was one quick look at the floor for it to harden once more.

Curious, Tywin thought as he quickly looked at the floor as well, and found to his surprise that he had focused so much on Eddard and Jaime that he had not noticed the red cloak on the floor.

That color looks almost like…

A sudden feeling of dread pooled around his stomach at the sight of the cloak.

It could be because of its coloration, or perhaps how it was big enough to cover a grown man's body.

Or perhaps it was the slight bulge that rested in the middle.

"Robert," Eddard began with a voice as cold as his eyes were at the moment.
"I'm glad to see you here, there is a matter of grave importance to discuss."

"Come on, Ned" Replied Robert in a cajoling tone. "We've just arrived here, we should be celebrating! Aerys is dead, and we shall soon do the same to that fat hog of Mace Tyrell."

Fool.

Robert could not see it, still too joyful about killing Rhaegar, too excited about a new campaign that he missed that during the entire interlude Eddard and Tywin had not broken eye contact at all.

"This matter needs your attention Robert." Eddard slightly snarled, this time a note of impatience entering his voice.

Jon had been advancing towards his former ward alongside Robert and Tywin, and the change in tone prompted him to speak before Robert.

"What is the matter Eddard?"

Robert finally noticed that the situation was serious and started to frown. Tywin, although not completely sure about what was about to happen, had an inkling of a suspicion.

They stopped walking the moment they reached the crimson cloak on the floor, looking both at it and Eddard, who was at the other side. This close to the cloak they could feel something different.

That smell. Tywin thought. It's almost like…

He knew then, just what was inside the cloak.

"We must discuss the shameful and criminal actions performed by Lord Tywin two days ago."

The silence following that proclamation could belong in a graveyard.

"Criminal acts?" Jon asked, curiosity and incomprehension in his voice "Ned, Lord Tywin's assault on the city, while certainly-"

"I'm not referring to that violation." Eddard interrupted, a touch of disgust in his voice.

"Then what is this about?" Robert asked in an exasperated voice. "And could someone get rid of that smell?! Where is it coming from?!"

"That, Robert," Eddard continued, his voice taking a deceptively soft tone before it exploded. "would be THIS!"

With a quick move Eddard grabbed one end of the cloak and threw it open revealing what was inside.

Of the three of them, Tywin was the only one not surprised of what was inside.

The entire body was unrecognizable, if it had even been a body to begin with. The skull was a ruin, all mixed in red with chunks of brain barely clinging inside. Robert Baratheon, a fighter and veteran of many fights, could not even stand its sight.

All that remained of the boy, for indeed it was a boy, was a faceless horror of bone, brain, and gore with a few hanks of fair hair.

"What is this?" Jon asked, horrified of what he was seeing, his voice trembling at first yet gaining strength as he continued.

"This…is Aegon VI Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell, brother to Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, and he was only one year old when your assassins ended his life!" Eddard shouted at Tywin as the rage overcame him, his heavy breathing proof of it.

The silence in the hall was even more pronounced after the shouting. Jon Arryn kept looking at the body, his features becoming more in control, yet still horrified by the implication. Eddard's eyes however were still locked on Tywin's, drilling with their accusation and anger.

Yet Tywin remained unfazed.

So… Clegane succeeded at least.

The fact that the child had died meant that at least part of his objective had been completed.

But what about Elia and Rhaenys? If they had been killed as well then Stark would surely have presented them like he did right now.

Still, he had to remain calm.

"It was necessary to eliminate any future threats to the throne."

And it was. After all one could not usurp a three century dynasty and expect the transition to be smooth, if anything to eliminate the family in their place should be seen as a favor.

From the angry look of Stark to the growing disapproving from Jon Arryn, it seemed they didn't.

Just as I thought…honorable fools.

And I'd believed you'd be different Stark.

From the taking of the Red Keep till this moment he'd thought Stark would have acted in the same way he would, taking ruthless advantage of any opportunity. Now, it seemed that he'd once more misread another of his opponents.

Eddard had opened his mouth, ready to deliver another argument against him…

"Well, that's that then."

Yet it seemed it was unnecessary as Robert chose that moment to interrupt.

Eddard quickly turned his head towards Robert, the look of anger in his face now replaced by one of incredulity.

"…What?" He asked.

Robert turned his eyes from the body and looked straight at Eddard. In his eyes there was no sign of guilt, disgust nor even reproach of anger.

"That's that Ned." Robert replied. "The royal family is dead. The Targaryens are dead. So what does it matter now?"

This answer, delivered in a calm and disinterested tone, didn't seem to be what Stark expected, since his confusion seemed to grow and was now joined by another emotion.

Disbelief.

"You can't be serious…" Stark spoke softly "He is-"

"Dead." Robert interrupted once more, exasperation breaking through his voice. "What do you want me to do Ned? The children of Rhaegar are dead, there is nothing else to do here. The matter is settled."

Robert spoke with finality, wanting it seemed to close this chapter once and for all.

And it seems the one I expected the less from actually understands.

Yet looking at Robert and the way his eyes seemed to light up a little, it appeared that it was more emotion than logic which moved his decision so.

Although he'd won the rebellion and killed Rhaegar, Robert's hatred of his slain foe had not diminished.

Seeing his hated foe's progeny thus eliminated, as well as their entire house brought to ruin, was not something that would move him.

As stupid as he is even he knows Rhaegar's children had to die if the throne was ever to be secure.

Yet he sees himself as a hero and heroes do not kill children.

Tywin looked on at the debacle happening around him, from Eddard's lost look slowly changing to one of anger once more, to his own son's stony façade. From Jon's near understanding to Robert's look of not caring.

Of the group who'd entered the Great Hall, he was the one still in full control of his emotions.

Thus, he was not surprised at all with what happened next.

Eddard Stark was outraged and disgusted by the act, one could see from the way he had reacted; from seeing Tywin to accusing him of murder.

But that Robert seemed completely indifferent to the act seemed to enrage him even more.

"What is wrong with you!" He shouted, gaining force as he continued. "Lady Elia had to witness her son, her one year old son, be brutally smashed against a wall until he finally died! She was then nearly raped and murdered by Tywin's mad dog, Ser Gregor Clegane!" He put as much scorn in the title and name as possible. "Princess Rhaenys was nearly killed as well by Ser Amory Lorch, and you tell me that the matter is settled!"

Robert's face was a sight to behold, from the moment Stark started shouting at him until the moment he ran silent many different emotions could be seen. Shock at the beginning, surprise at hearing of Lady Elia still being alive…

Rage, at hearing the last part of Stark''s diatribe.

"Ned, are you telling me that they still live." He spoke softly, a calm before the storm. "Rhaegar's remaining spawn still live?"

Robert's anger was subdued for the moment, only a pulsing vein at his neck betraying it.

"Yes." Stark replied "I killed Clegane and rescued Lady Elia. Ser Jaime rescued princess Rhaenys from Lorch."

At that Tywin reacted, although no one noticed. A quick look at his son was all he afforded, yet inside he was seething at the action. His son had killed Aerys, why had he saved the rest of the family?

He did not get a chance to wonder, as Robert gave a shout more commonly found in battlefields.

"WHY! Why would you do such a thing Ned!? You came to this city to get revenge! Don't try to tell me you didn't! Have you forgotten what they did to us!? What they did to your family!? What they did to Lyanna!?"

Stark's response, far from being subdued, was as angry as Robert's

"I know very well what they did to my family!" He spat "But I came to kill Aerys, not to kill innocent people! Not to kill defenseless women and children!"

"Innocents?! THEY ARE TARGARYEN! THEY ARE THE ENEMY!"

The argument could not be more ferocious if one tried. Here they were, two friends as close as they could be, now metaphorically at each other's throats.

Jon Arryn seemed conflicted, his facial expression conveyed as much. But Tywin…

Interesting.

He didn't know what to expect… No, perhaps better to say he'd expected for Stark to get clear of all wrongdoing, and for him to carry the blame for this fiasco.

This…this was more than he could hope for. If he was a different man he may have actually smiled.

My opinion of you is not wrong after all Stark… You truly are a fool. An honorable one, but a fool nonetheless.

The argument between the two friends only seemed to escalate more and more, with shouting between them echoing through the Hall. Stark raged on about the killing of the supposed innocents while Robert could only rage about how part of Rhaegar's family was still alive.

"What do you think will happen then Ned?! Should we let them live so they could plot their vengeance later on?!THEY ALL MUST DIE!"

"There are options! The Night Watch! The Silent Sisters! Either one could take them and without the need to kill them! Dear Gods Robert, Aegon was only a babe! Rhaenys is just a child!" Ned continued his voice imploring at the end, nearly begging his friend to see reason.

Robert did not respond, instead he turned his head to look at Aegon's body once more. His face relaxed and started to lose that angry tone, Stark even began to look hopeful.

"I see no babe, only dragonspawn."

The reply had been given in a completely serious and toneless voice. Robert's face was a contradiction in itself, completely relaxed and hateful as he declared his intentions without speaking them.

It hit Stark like a punch. His eyes widened, a look of complete shock and incomprehension on his face, looking at Robert as if seeing him for the first time.

It didn't last.

Stark's face soon grew rigid, the rage he had formerly directed at Tywin now channeled at Robert himself. His look could not be said to be cold, freezing might be a better word. At his side Jaime…

What…?

Through the entire confrontation, even before that Jaime had remained completely stone faced, serious at all times, yet now when he had heard Robert's intentions…

He would kill him. Right this moment he would do it.

Robert paid no attention to Jaime's look of complete hatred as he was more occupied paying attention to Stark, who after several moments only replied with a single sentence.

"You are no better than Rhaegar."

Robert's eyes opened full in fury, the blood once more rushed too his head as his face grew red in pure rage, his body moved almost in mechanic precision as his hands grabbed for his Warhammer and his legs adopted a fighting stance made to strike with full force.

Not that Stark had remained idle.

Just as Robert began to move, so did Stark adopted a defensive position, his handready to end the fight in a single move as he drew his sword from his scabbard. A Valyrian blade passed through the Stark family for generations, if it striked first the fight could be over in a second.

Can't let that happen.

Tywin prepared to draw, he had already sacrificed too much to let Robert be killed. That it would also remove Stark permanently was a bonus.

Just as Tywin began to move, just as Robert grabbed his Warhammer and Stark his sword there was a grand shout that rang through the hall.

"ENOUGH!"

It was enough to make them all hesitate, which gave time to Jon Arryn to interpose himself between them, his sword already out and in his hand.

"That! Is! Enough! I will not have you both fight and kill yourselves! Eddard! Robert! Put your weapons down. Now!"

From anyone else such an order would have never made Robert nor Stark back down.

But this was Jon Arryn. A man that had been in all respects like a second father to them.

They slowly moved their weapons down, yet the anger still remained in them.

"That goes for you two as well. Lord Tywin, Ser Jaime. Do not unsheathe your swords."

At the warning Tywin turned to look at his son, and indeed Jaime had made as to unsheathe his sword, the angry look still on his face. He could still see the struggle in his son's eyes, he who had never run from a fight was now being ordered to restrain himself, yet in the end he slowly removed his hand from his sword.

But unlike him his eyes had been on Robert.

His son had been planning on aiding Stark.

What is happening to you?

The situation with his son was already confusing him too much. But the matters at had demanded his attention the most.

He let it pass for now.

They would have a conversation when this is was all over.

"This is has gone long enough! Whatever happened it's resolved for now. We still have to take care of the Royalists in Storm's End." Admonished Jon to Stark, whose countenance remained frosty and angry.

"As for you Robert," He turned to present his visage upon the King-to-be
"Relations with the Martell's will be difficult enough without you killing what's left of their family. So don't even think about it!"

Robert's visage was a picture of rage, whether because of the insinuation or because of his rejected desire to kill what was left of his nemesis' family Tywin did not know.

Then again, that look of rage is purely focused on Stark.

It was more than rage if one cared to look closer, there was a feeling of…
Well, it doesn't matter.

The damage had been done, it was not a complete removal as he'd hoped but Stark's standing had been given a serious blow, and from what he could see it would not be recovered until one of them gave up on their stated positions.

Something he did not see happening.

I can work with this.

However, he would not be the one to start the process.

"We have to move quickly" Jon continued, now in a more calm tone of voice.
"News of what happened here will have spread but we don't know how the Tyrell's will react."

If he expected either one of them to give his opinion then he was disappointed. Neither Robert nor Stark spoke. They could barely stand to look at each other, the feeling in the great hall was thick as everyone could feel the anger of these two men.

Looking at both sides Jon sighed and spoke once more.

"… Ned perhaps you should relieve Storm's End. Your men and Robert's forces will go with you while my men and Tywin's garrison the city."

Stark turned to look at Jon, his face giving voice to his conflicted thoughts.
He clearly didn't trust the Lannisters in the city anymore, and from the looks he gave Robert he didn't trusted him either.

Yet before he could speak his mind he was interrupted.

"It's a bad idea."

All eyes turned to the speaker surprised.

Jaime Lannister had remained quiet during the entire talk, even during the almost-fight. For him to speak all of a sudden was somewhat shocking.

If any of the attention unnerved him he didn't show it as he continued on, his face serious once more.

"With the damage done there would be a great deal of discontent in the city should the Lannister army be brought back in. Not to mention that the safety of Lady Elia and Princess Rhaenys might be in question."

No one expected those words. Especially not his father.

Tywin was stunned, it lasted for about a moment but it was quite a shock.
To hear his own son speaking as such.

He recovered quickly though. If his son was planning on acting in such a way as to bring the fortunes of his house even lower, then it would be his duty to show him the error of his ways.

We will have words later on Jaime. Words about the importance of the family and what it means to be a Lannister.

"While that may be so, Robert and my men will also be here to stop any kind of pr-"

"Actually," Jaime interrupted. "Lord Baratheon staying here would only make me feel less sure about their safety."

Robert turned slowly, the rage inside of him having now found an outlet. He advanced towards him, his hands near his weapon yet not reaching for it as
he started speaking in a falsely calm tone.

"Do you have anything to say to me, boy? Do you have any accusation to give against me? In that case… you better do it"

All through the talk Jaime looked at him, his posture relaxed, his hands away from his weapons, no sign of fear in his eyes.

It made his voice all the more cutting.

"I don't trust you with their lives."

Silence.

Robert's reply was not what one would expect. Given the anger he still carried inside one could assume he would lash out, screaming or with his own fists.

No one expected him to break out laughing.

But this laugh was different form his usual displays of merriment. Those laughs invited everyone to join in the happiness, to share the joke, to be happy with the same person laughing.

This laugh was dark, mocking, one used to hurt the recipient of such. Just as Robert intended when he finished laughing… and replied.

"And you would be better at protecting them?" Robert shot back in a mocking tone. "You who broke his own oath and killed the King that he was sworn to protect?"

That he had approved of the act had been forgotten, all he wanted at the moment was to bring down the one who had dared insult him.

It seemed to have worked… Jaime's face for a moment turned dark.

He will not harm him here, Tywin was sure of it. But this might actually make him reconsider.

This could be of use to getting Jaime back after all, getting him out of the Kingsguard would be the first step into regaining his heir.

Before he could interrupt Robert, Stark started speaking once more.

"Ser Jaime killed Aerys… and in so doing saved the city."

…What?

This was not what he'd been told, but why-?

His son looked surprised at the statement, not because it was untrue…That look was surprised that his actions had been revealed!

It affected the others as well, Jon looked confused at the news. Robert though…he went back to glowering at Stark once more. Probably thinking that he was doing this to spite him.

Stark didn't seem to care as he continued talking, keeping his gaze on Robert for any sudden movement.

"Aerys was insane, we all knew that. But it seems we underestimated how far he would go when pushed into a corner. When the city was already on the verge of falling," At this his eyes turned to Tywin for a moment, accusing with their intensity. "He gave the order to 'Lord' Rossart of the Alchemists to use Wildfire to burn the city to the ground."

The former revelations should have made it impossible for everyone in the hall to feel any more shocked than they were, yet the thought of what Aerys had planned, the idea of using Wildfire… It sobered them.

"When he heard of this Ser Jaime killed Rossart first, and then killed Aerys as he tried to run away, probably to the other alchemists in order to still try and burn everything. What was it that he said? 'Let Robert be king over charred bones and cooked meat. Let him be king of ashes.' Those were his last words, weren't they Ser Jaime?"

Tywin felt some of the fear grow inside him before he quickly crushed it. He and his host would have burned had Aerys succeeded in his plot.

"Really?" Robert sarcastically drawled, rage still bubbled inside of him yet without as much strength as before. "Then what evidence do you have of this? Or do you take everything your new friend tells you at face value Ned?"

"That would be the many jars of wildfire my men were able to find when we left the Red Keep." Stark replied, his rage simmered down, but his tone still cold.

"Ser Jaime told us of Aerys plan, and after the Lannisters left the city we were able to take as many of those cashes as possible. We also were able to find and capture the two other members of this plot. 'Wisdom' Belis and 'Wisdom' Garigus are inside the black cells at the moment waiting for interrogation and to find any other cache we might have missed."

Tywin didn't miss the way Stark made the separation between his son and 'Lannister'. Almost as if he did not want anything connecting them together at all.

"So in the end Robert, Ser Jaime is more than ready and qualified to protect Lady Elia and Princess Rhaenys. After all, he protected the entirety of King's Landing not two days ago."

With this final proclamation the room went silent once more. Stark's challenge laying there for Robert's response.

"We seem to have gone off-topic." Hurriedly replied Jon before another fight could break out.

"While we can be assure of Ser Jaime's intention to protect the Royal family we must still send forces to relieve Storm's End, and for that we must send your Northmen and Robert's men."

Tywin could see that the dialogue would be a bitter one, especially now with the rift between Stark and Robert being wider than before.

And he knew just how to expand it even more.

"I have a suggestion…"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The Tower of the Hand had not changed much since his departure, it still had that sense of decadence around it, yet without being too overwhelming to the senses.

The fact that the bed had been better than the cot he'd slept in before didn't hurt either.

"So, we sent our host, and Lord Baratheon's as well alongside Stark's while the Valemen under Lord Arryn garrison the city."

Behind a desk as he reviewed the latest missives coming from his domains Tywin remined silent. There was no need to speak, Kevan was not asking for confirmation after all.

"Our remaining here while we give the command to Tygett will certainly give him a more profound sense of importance."

Tygett would be more malleable, especially if he thinks that he might get more tasks like these in the future.

"And certainly, Lord Stark was honor bound to go when you gave him control of the host. Even while you remained here."

And there was the final nail in Stark's coffin.

An honorable fool.

It was like Kevan had told him in that tent, Stark and Robert were brothers in all but blood, enough time together and their differences might have been patched, perhaps even healed altogether.

But…give him full control of my host while offering to remain in King's Landing took away all resistance Stark might have had of leaving. After all, Jon Arryn's men have no love for me, and as far as he knows, there are no men loyal to me in the entire Red Keep.

And of course there is Robert, who at this moment can only think of rage against the Targaryens… and against Stark of course.

Besides even if there were any men who'd be willing, to try and kill Lady Elia and Princess Rhaenys would only incriminate him further. As it was he could still spin the murder of Aegon to make it seem the blame of those particular bannermen of his.

Not like anyone will care for the families of Lorch or Clegane.

"What I don't understand is… why then have you not spoken to Jaime yet?"
That was the rub in it.

Since the end of that meeting, Jaime had returned once more to his post guarding the Royal family once more, he did not miss single day, and in those moments that he needed sleep then he would trust their safety to the group of men that Lord Glover had left behind.

Who'd have thought that their heir still was alive.

Ethan Glover… Brandon Stark's squire, everyone had thought him dead, to find him alive had been a blessing for Lord Glover. And even as weak as he was after his stay at the black cells, he'd still wanted to ride alongside the Northerners.

He still didn't know who'd convinced him to stay and help Jaime protect them.

"Kevan," Tywin began "Jaime is not an issue at the moment. Whether he wants it or not, no matter how much he might defy me now, his leaving the Kingsguard is completely guaranteed. There will be time to teach him family loyalty once we are back at Casterly Rock."

Fighting the future king, and taking the side of his enemies will not guarantee your stay in that group son. It seems there is still much for you to learn… After the appropriate punishment of course.

He went back to reading his documents, his thoughts turning now to the one person who had caused him so much embarrassment.

Eddard Stark.

I underestimated you once. I made mistakes that nearly cost me all I had worked for. You had the upper hand of the entire situation.

And you let it slip.

Now, I think it is time for you to learn what it means to stand against me. To stand against my house. You shall learn what should have been obvious after the rebellion of House Reyne and House Tarbeck:

A Lannister always pays his debts.