[Castle Black]
After Robb had left for Winterfell, Jon's heart was restless. The thought of his father captured in the south didn't let him sleep peacefully.
He wished he could go there himself, ride south, march to King's Landing if he had to, to rescue his father, Arya, and Sansa.
However, he couldn't. His duty stood at the Wall now. More importantly, Robb, before leaving, had tasked him with looking for Bran.
Bran being lost somewhere beyond the Wall gnawed at him day and night. He had to go there himself, to find Bran, so he asked the Lord Commander.
It wasn't easy, but after much difficulty, he finally got reluctant permission from Lord Commander Mormont. Jon began gathering a small party to search for his brother.
When word spread in Castle Black, the reaction was not what he had hoped.
Alliser Thorne was right in the middle of the hall when he heard it. His lip curled as though he'd swallowed sour wine. "This is madness, Snow. Risking lives for one boy? Beyond the Wall? You'll find nothing but death out there."
Jon stood firm. "He's not just any boy. He's my brother. And if there's a chance he's alive, I won't sit idle while he freezes to death—or worse."
Thorne scoffed. "You Starks think your blood makes you special. The Night's Watch takes no sides. We serve the realm, not your family."
Jon's fists clenched, but before he could speak, Lord Commander Mormont's growl cut across the room. "That's enough, Thorne. I gave the boy leave. If you don't like it, keep your tongue in your head."
Still, most of Thorne's men backed away from Jon, muttering under their breath. None volunteered.
It left Jon standing alone until a soft, nervous voice piped up. "I'll go," Samwell Tarly said.
"I—I can't fight much, but I can read signs. Tracks. Books taught me things about the wilds. You'll need me."
Jon looked at him, both grateful and worried. "Sam, you don't have to—"
"I do," Sam interrupted, surprising even himself. "You're my friend, Jon. And Bran's your brother. If he's out there, I'll help."
A second voice joined in, rougher but steady. "Well, I'm not letting you have all the fun," said Grenn, standing tall. "If you're going, I'm going."
"And if Grenn's going," muttered Dolorous Edd in his usual dry tone, "then clearly I must too. Gods forbid, with him along, you might come face-to-face with a Wight two steps beyond the Wall. I'd rather stay warm and alive while the rest of you freeze your bollocks off. But someone has to, so let it be me." He grinned.
Jon couldn't help but smile. "Thank you. All of you."
Alliser and his followers still gave mocking looks, but Jon didn't care. He didn't need anyone to help him look for his brother—but help was always welcome.
The four of them prepared quickly. Outside the gate, the wind howled, carrying with it the bitter bite of the true North. The Wall loomed behind them, cold and massive, as if warning them to turn back.
Sam shivered under his furs. "Seven hells, it's colder out here than Alliser's heart."
Grenn chuckled. "Don't say that too loud. Thorne might hear you."
"Thorne hears everything," Edd said with a sigh. "Probably already writing our names on the Wall, ready to chip off the ice when our frozen corpses come back."
Jon pulled his cloak tighter and looked northward. "We'll find Bran," he said firmly. "No matter what waits for us, we'll find him."
The gate closed behind them with a heavy thud. Four black brothers, bound by oath and by choice, marched into the wild.
...
[Casterly Rock]
Tywin Lannister sat in his large war tent, the room dimly lit by a few flickering candles. The smell of parchment and ink filled the air, and maps of Westeros lay spread across the wooden table in front of him.
For days, he had been waiting for a proper letter from King's Landing. The news he had received earlier was far too vague to make any plans or understand what was happening there. That's why, when Pycelle's letter arrived, he expected reason and clarity. Only a few knew that Pycelle was his spy.
Through Pycelle, he had an insider's view of the capital.
Tywin still frowned.
His incompetent daughter couldn't even keep two little girls from fleeing.
Just as he was reining in his anger, Tyrion entered the tent a short while later, dressed in fine dark clothes, a wine cup already in his hand. He looked relaxed, but his eyes were sharp as ever.
"Ah, calling for little old me, Father? Either the stars in the night sky have disappeared, or the Shadow Lands of Asshai have finally been conquered by men. Surely nothing less would make you call for me."
Tywin didn't look up. "Tell me everything you know about this man… Thor." He had learned that getting straight to the point was the most time-saving and efficient way to talk with this monster.
Tyrion blinked. "Ah, the Hammer Lord," he said with a chuckle. "Why the sudden curiosity?"
"Tell me everything you know," Tywin said coldly. "Only facts."
Tyrion set his cup down. "Very well. I've heard he came from the North, though no one knows exactly where. He traveled with Ned Stark and his daughters to King's Landing when they left Winterfell. As I've already told you, he was the one who captured a White Walker with his bare hands. He even defeated Sandor Clegane in combat at Winterfell."
"That's it?"
"What's the point of asking if you're not going to believe me anyway?"
"Is that it?" Tywin asked again.
Tyrion looked into his father's eyes, as if searching for some hidden thought, then shrugged. "That's all I know."
He knew his father didn't believe a thing about the White Walkers. He tried, but Tywin would rather trust a beggar than anything else.
Tywin's eyes narrowed. "And his allegiance?"
Tyrion shook his head. "Hard to say. He seems to care about the Stark family, but he hasn't made any political moves. My interactions with him were minimal, to say the least. I didn't see him show any allegiance in Winterfell, nor did I hear of him doing so at Castle Black."
Tywin leaned back in his chair, hands pressed together in thought. The capital was in chaos.
All major positions were vacant in King's Landing. If the age-old walls of the city weren't there, even those filthy mountain bandits with their meager numbers could have besieged the Red Keep.
Robert—dead. Littlefinger—dead. Joffrey—dead. His daughter had captured the Spider in suspicion of poisoning Joffrey.
Both Stannis and Renly were missing from the capital. Cersei, in this case, had all the power of the city if she could just control Tommen's mind.
However, Cersei…
She would lose control soon. In the absence of the small council, there was no one to stop her from doing whatever she wished. His daughter was many things, but a good leader she was not.
Tywin could see what would happen next. With many key players absent and the crown's military power unguided, the scavengers of faith would grow strong.
The Faith would rally people in these trying times, growing in power to push back the crown's authority.
It was a headache. None of his children were competent. Jaime was hunting stories beyond the Wall. Cersei would draw all the ire of the people of King's Landing. And he would have to fight a war on multiple fronts soon.
Then his eyes fell on the dwarf caught stealing wine from his personal stash.
"Perhaps I was wrong," Tywin finally said.
"Pardon?" Tyrion blinked, thinking his lord father had just agreed he was wrong.
"Prepare yourself. You're going to King's Landing."
"What! What… what will I do there?"
"Rule… You'll be the Hand of the King."
Tyrion was baffled.
"You want me to be Hand of the King?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Acting Hand," Tywin said. "You will take control of the city, restore order, and keep your nephew in line. Most of all, you will find out the truth about this Thor. If he's an enemy, remove him. If he's useful… bring him to our side."
"Huh… there are better men than me. Have Cersei do it—Seven knows she craves power," Tyrion rolled his eyes.
"Joffrey is dead," Tywin said, finally silencing the dwarf.
Now, Tyrion didn't like that boy, but he hadn't wished him dead either; he was still his nephew.
"Robert is dead," Tywin continued.
"Petyr Baelish is dead."
"Most of the king's guard is dead."
"And your sister has taken the Spider to the dungeons, claiming he poisoned Joffrey."
Tyrion was stunned. Of all things, he wasn't expecting this.
"Tommen is the king now. He will need prudent advice," Tywin said.
Tyrion paused, lost for words. "Why not Uncle Kevan? Why not someone else? Why me…?"
"Because you're my son."
Tyrion sat there, pondering what had just happened. Did this heartless man—who thought of him as nothing but a monster responsible for the death of his wife—just call him his son?
"You're dismissed," Tywin said after seeing no response from Tyrion, returning to his work.
"And keep an eye on those Faith servants," Tywin added as Tyrion made his exit.
...
A/N : What do you think ? A little too out of content work ? Should I focus more on the MC ?
Guys please give me stones. I wish to continue this story but without motivation how would I know that you like it. If the state of this fic stay like this I might have to drop it!
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