Sansa Stark (299 A.C. Fourth Moon)
Red Keep outer courtyard
She gave a brief sigh of relief when Joffrey nodded as he listened to the Hound after she spoke up in defense of Ser Dontos.
"I'll have him killed tomorrow, the fool," Joffrey declared. Then Meryn Trant and Boros Blount spoke of drowning the man in wine.
"Take him away." Waved, and the guards
No, he can't. I still mean to kill him. He's drunk, but he doesn't deserve to die, she thought. Then an idea came to mind, something Joffrey might like.
"You are right, Your Grace. He is indeed a fool. He doesn't deserve the mercy of a quick death. Making him your fool, from a knight to a fool, what a sight he would make," she said with a bright smile.
As she suspected, Joffrey grinned.
"Maybe you aren't as stupid as Mother says." Joffrey then looked with delight upon the still-coughing knight. "Did you hear my lady, Ser Dontos? From now on, you are my new fool."
"Thank you, Your Grace," Ser Dontos said to Joffrey, then turned to her. "Thank you, my lady." He gave a grateful smile, and she smiled back. As Ser Dontos was sent away, the portcullis opened.
"Who opened the gates?" Joffrey demanded. With the rising unrest, the gate had been closed for days.
Soon enough, a group of riders, all armed in Lannister red, entered. At the head of the column was a rider in red and gold-inlaid armor, wearing a lion-helm. For a second, she thought Ser Jaime was riding through the gates, until the man removed his helmet, revealing mismatched eyes, a golden beard, and short-cropped hair curls. Lord Loren Lannister, heir to Casterly Rock, Sansa mused.
To his side was his twin brother, Tyrion. The armor was a mismatched outfit compared to his older brother's. She had thought before: where Loren had the classic Lannister looks, Tyrion was the opposite.
Behind them rode another forty riders, and further behind came several hundred soldiers, some in Lannister red, others wearing the gold-on-blue of House Lefford. Yet what surprised Sansa the most were the men wearing furs, with wild hair and beards.
"Uncles!" Tommen and Myrcella both exclaimed happily.
After the two men arrived, each was followed by two other men. The one following Loren, she remembered from Winterfell, though his name she didn't recall. The other, following Tyrion, looked gruff, wearing a black boiled leather coat with a chain vest under it.
The Hound instinctively went to stand closer to the King.
As both uncles arrived at the dais, Tommen and Myrcella ran to them. Loren embraced Tommen, and Tyrion picked up Myrcella and spun her in a circle. She squealed in delight.
After that, Tommen embraced Tyrion, and Loren gave Myrcella a kiss on the cheek.
She sighed, trying to remember the last time she was given one.
Then both men went to one knee.
"Your Grace, congratulations on your four-and-ten nameday," Loren said, with a tone of mock grandeur.
"What are you both doing here?" Joffrey demanded in his usual bossy tone.
"Well, first, Your Grace, a more courteous greeting might be in order for one's uncles and elders," Tyrion quipped. Loren smiled at his brother as they both rose.
"Indeed, nephew," Loren added. The man was tall, though not as tall as the Hound.
"They said you were dead," the Hound said as he looked at Tyrion.
"We were speaking to my nephew, not his shadow," Tyrion replied.
"I'm happy you aren't dead," Myrcella said, smiling.
"So am I, considering the losses the family has suffered," Tyrion grinned.
"Indeed. Your Grace, tell me, where have you been while we have been fighting your war?" Loren asked, his stare turning to steel. As Sansa watched Joffrey, and she saw fear in his eyes. Sansa had to withhold a smile. Let's feel fear too; the monster deserved it.
"I've been here, ruling the kingdoms," Joffrey replied in a slow tone.
"Hm. What a great job you've been doing," Tyrion quipped as he rolled his eyes.
"Ah, the Lady Sansa. My condolences on the loss of Eddard Stark. The man may have been a traitor, yet he fought beside us in the Grejoy rebellion. One finds a closer bond when one fights in war," Loren said kindly.
Oh, what a genuine man, Sansa thought. But then she looked at Joffrey, whose face seemed to darken.
"Why should she feel loss? The man was a traitor," Joffrey scowled at his uncle, whose face also darkened.
"Well, he was still her father, considering your own loss," Loren replied.
"My own loss?" Joffrey frowned. He doesn't even remember his own father.
Tyrion snorted a laugh.
"Dear nephew, surely you remember, a big man with black hair, blue eyes," Tyrion exclaimed.
"Oh, him. Yes, it was very sad. A boar killed him," Joffrey added.
"Is that what they say, Your Grace?" Tyrion replied, giving Loren a knowing look.
She looked to the two men and remembered her lesson: Courtesy is a lady's armor.
"Lord Tyrion, I am sorry that my lady mother took you captive," she said.
Loren smiled at her. Then Tyrion gave her a sad smile. "Thank you, my lady. A great many people are sorry about that."
"Nephew, before we depart, where might we find your lady mother?" Loren asked.
"Oh, she is with my council, considering your elder brother keeps losing battles," Joffrey snarled, giving her a venomous look, as if it were her fault.
"Her damn brother has been calling himself a king," Joffrey spat.
Tyrion smiled. "All sorts of people are calling themselves kings these days."
Joffrey looked around after that. "Yes, well. Glad you're not dead, uncle," he said as he looked at the dwarf. "Did you bring me something for my nameday?"
"We did, of course. With a war going on soldiers, and our steady hand, it seems, are what's needed here," Loren replied.
"I'd sooner have the head of Robb Stark," Joffrey said, giving a dark look.
"If that is all, Your Grace, happy nameday. We wish we could stay, but my brother and I must see our beloved sister. There is work to be done," Loren said as he walked past Joffrey, followed by Tyrion, who gave them a grin.
"What work?" Joffrey began. "Why are you here?" he asked, but Loren and Tyrion were already out of earshot.
Soon enough, the rest of the men the Lannister brothers had brought marched into King's Landing.
Loren Lannister (299 A.C. Fourth Moon)
Red Keep – Small Council
He never liked King's Landing, and the damn war hadn't helped.
"Damn that boy. Killing a man on his nameday. Drowning him in wine. Hopefully, we can restrain the damn impulses of the King," he growled.
"Indeed, brother. We've always known that boy is all Cersei, had she been born a man. Our sister was always cruel, yet being a woman has held her back in some aspects," Tyrion added.
Ser Mandon took one more step in front of the door. "Her Grace has ordered me not to let anyone disturb the council."
"Well, Ser, let us pass. You know who I am, and who my brother is. Or we could leave you alone with some friends of the mountain my brother's collected. Or the men I've fought beside since I was five-and-ten? I'm sure they would treat you well, considering you bar the door to their benefactors," Loren replied coldly as he looked at Ser Mandon Moore.
The Kingsguard's face had fallen low. Maybe only Aerys, Barristan, and his brother were of true standard. This buffoon was a disgrace. He wondered where Ser Barristan was; normally, the Lord Commander stood guard over the King.
Ser Mandon glanced at his brother, nodded, and then opened the doors.
"Good man," Tyrion quipped as they walked through the doors.
The Small Council fell silent at their entrance. Cersei glared at them.
"You two."
"Hello to you, too, sister," Loren said dryly. "I see now where Joffrey learned his manners."
Tyrion chuckled.
"What are you two doing here? This is the Small Council." Cersei seethed.
"We bring a letter from Father. Does that explain our presence, dear sister?" Tyrion replied with a smirk, pulling a scroll from his coat.
Loren scanned the council. He recognized them all, Littlefinger, Varys, and Pycelle, but one man was unfamiliar. Fat, bald, with a small black beard, wearing a sigil of a golden spear with a bloody tip on black.
"Who are you?" he asked the bald man, as he sat down in the Hand's chair, noticing that Cersei had taken the King's seat. Of course, she had. The vain fool likely thought she would rule outright once Joffrey became King. Did she truly believe she could control that little monster? She had one task: give Robert a trueborn heir. Instead, she had to be petty. Loren thought irritably as he rolled his eyes.
"Lord Janos Slynt, my lord. Lord of Harrenhal." The Balt men repield. His eyes went wide. How was this nobody Lord of Harrenhal? The castle itself was a ruin, but the land held its value.
"Hmm, indeed, my lord. Well, I haven't heard of you. How is that? Especially the Lord of Harrenhal," he replied.
"Her Grace granted me the title after I helped stop the traitor Eddard Stark," Slynt said, puffing out his chest.
"And what were you before?" Loren asked.
"Lord Commander of the City Watch." The man stated, puffing his chest.
"Ah. A commoner, then. No noble name, or you'd have mentioned it." Loren turned to Cersei, his expression one of quiet disappointment. "Some men rise far these days. No wonder we have so many kings." Tyrion chuckled. "Quite right, brother."
Cersei's irritation flared. "This letter, let's see it."
Loren handed it to Varys. "Read it, if you will."
Varys inspected the seal, smiling. "Ah, how kind of Lord Tywin. Even the wax has a nice golden hue." He broke it open and read aloud.
"In the name of Lord Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King.
I name my son Loren Lannister as Hand of the King in absentia until such time as I may resume the role. Furthermore, my son Tyrion Lannister is to take the position of Master of Laws, replacing the traitor Renly Baratheon."
As Varys read, Cersei's face grew redder by the second. When he finished, she exploded.
"Out! All of you!"
Loren sighed, watching as the council members hurried to leave. His gaze fell on a familiar dagger hanging from Littlefinger's belt. Robert's dagger. How had Littlefinger come by it? Catelyn Stark had claimed it was Tyrion's, used in the attempt on Bran Stark's life.
But it was never Tyrion's; it had been Robert's. Robert had won it from Littlefinger in a bet. Loren remembered because Loras Tyrell had unhorsed Jaime that day, costing him a fortune in wagers.
And then it clicked. Joffrey.
The foolish boy must have taken the dagger from his father's armory and given it to a cutthroat to kill Bran. Perhaps he thought Robert would approve, that killing the Stark boy would earn him his father's favor.
Loren sighed. This entire war might have been avoided if not for Joffrey.
Tyrion eyed him as he looked. Later, he mouthed.
"How did you two trick Father?" Cersei seethed.
"Sister, truly, if you think that, you are a bigger fool than I thought you were. Considering you brought this situation on yourself," he replied.
"I did nothing!" Cersei seethed as Tyrion poured them both a cup of wine.
"Indeed, sister. You did nothing. Why did you not act when your son called for Ned Stark's head?" Tyrion asked.
"Yes, I want to know too, dear sister. Considering the Riverlands and the North have declared Robb Stark king, something they couldn't have done if Ned Stark still lived. Remember Daemon II Blackfyre, he kept him alive, to prevent Aegor Rivers from crowning another pretender? Bloodraven may have been a bastard and a snake, but the man was smart," Loren quipped, taking a sip of wine.
"I tried to stop it," Cersei replied.
"Mmm. Did you? I'm quite sure Ned Stark's head is rotting on a pike on our wall. And now, we have the Faith angry, as we beheaded a man on their fucking stairs," Loren growled.
"Yes, that bit of rashness from Joffrey will haunt our family for generations. The Northmen will never forget," Tyrion added.
"Robb Stark is a child," Cersei said dismissively, as if that meant something.
Loren sighed and looked at his brother as they both rolled their mismatched eyes.
"A child who has won every battle he has fought," Tyrion reminded her. "Do you understand, dear sister, that we are currently losing this war?"
"What do you know of warfare, you little monster?" Cersei spat.
Loren sighed. "Something, considering he survived a battle. Yet I know more than enough. We currently control one kingdom, the Westerlands, and parts of the Crownlands. The rest have either not declared for us or are in open rebellion. We can pray to the Seven that the Vale doesn't join the war. Or I doubt we would have won that battle near the Trident."
"Indeed, brother. One out of seven. I know little of warfare, yet I know people. Thankfully, Stannis and Renly hate each other just as much, and the Greyjoys hate the Starks," Tyrion added.
Cersei sighed. "Joffrey is king."
"So he is," Loren replied.
"You two are only here to advise him," Cersei added.
"Indeed, we are. So hopefully, when he does something, we won't sink further into the shit. Pardon me, my queen," Loren added dryly, and Tyrion chuckled.
"Yes, if he does, we might have our brother, and the king, his uncle, back," Tyrion added.
That seemed to soften Cersei. "How?"
"Well, I know you love your children, Cersei. It's maybe your one redeeming quality," Loren noted as he looked at her intently. Well, hopefully we can trade the girls.
"The Starks love their children. It was one thing I saw in Winterfell. Even the bastard was loved by most of the Stark clan. We have two, and the bones of one." Tyrion added.
"One," Cersei added quietly.
"What?" Tyrion asked.
"Arya, the little beast, escaped during the chaos. She has disappeared." Cersei explained.
"What do you mean, escaped? Did you forget to take her into our custody?" Loren asked, looking at his sister in anger.
"Brother, maybe the Stark girl disappeared like a puff of smoke," Tyrion quipped as Cersei glared at him.
"Damn it, Cersei," Loren snapped. "When you plan the death of a king, you'd better make sure you have all the pieces planned right."
Cersei wanted to retort, but he cut her off before she could. "Don't you deny it. We had three Starks to trade. Renly was fucking the capital, as was Loras Tyrell. You had a lord of a great house beheaded, didn't declare a regency, and let a little girl escape."
"Father will be furious," Tyrion began. "It must be odd for you, being the disappointing child," he finished, giving her a look and sipping his drink.
Proud and a fool, their sister was.
Tyrion Lannister (299 A.C. Fourth Moon)
Tower of the Hand – Solar
"Sometimes I wonder how she was raised after mother died giving birth to us," Loren lamented, his voice tinged with frustration. "Father looked after Jaime, that much is clear. But what about Cersei? Did nobody bloody teach her? I thought Genna would have tried. But Cersei never listens to anyone, even when it would do her good. Considering she raised us more than Father did, she and Uncle Kevan, you'd think she would have turned out better. But Father only started paying attention to us after Jaime joined the Kingsguard."
Tyrion took a slow sip of wine, the old wound in his heart stirring. "Mmm. Us. He never truly cared for me. I was never an option. Especially not after Tysha."
It still hurts. Even now, after all these years. If only it had been different.
"I know," Loren said, walking toward the balcony. "Be grateful you didn't have to stand beside the man."
Tyrion let out a short, humorless laugh. Grateful? That was hardly the word. But before he could respond, Loren sighed and gazed out over the city.
"What a mess we're in, aren't we? Harrenhal was granted to the son of a butcher. Joffrey on the throne without a regency. That boy should have been taken from Cersei years ago. Not that it would've helped much. He was already a monster, even as a child." Loren goarned.
Loren turned back, his expression grim. "And then there's the Small Council. Did you notice the dagger Littlefinger was wearing?"
Tyrion nodded, swirling his wine. "Robert's dagger. Catelyn Stark once accused me of owning it, but I never did. It belonged to Littlefinger, that snake. Robert won it off him in a tourney."
Loren gave him a knowing smile. "Indeed, he did. I've always wondered how Littlefinger gained Ned Stark's trust. Likely told him about the dagger. But of course, he didn't tell the whole truth."
Tyrion exhaled sharply. "Joffrey was there when Robert ranted about how he'd rather be dead than a cripple. In his twisted little mind, he must've thought his father would be proud of him for acting on it. That's the only way his involvement makes any sense."
He shook his head. "Cersei may be foolish, but she wouldn't be stupid enough to arm an assassin with something so easily traced back to us. Not after what she and Jaime did to the Stark boy." It still bothers him; he might have killed boys, close to lad ages, boys sent into battle young, or acting like fools, hoping for glory.
"Fucking Littlefinger." Loren's voice was full of contempt. "That man set all of this up, so we'd be at odds with the Starks. And now he's climbing higher than ever. He's another problem we have to deal with. Yet for now, the man can be used. Considering he is..."
He rubbed his temple, frustration clear in his posture.
"The business with Ned Stark, Robert's bastards… he was waiting to see which side would win. Tyrion, we need to figure out which of the three councilors we can trust, or at least, which one isn't already in Cersei's pocket."
"Indeed. But how do we draw that out, so Cersei doesn't realize we're watching? First of all, we need to make sure the Vale and Dorne don't fall in with the rebels," Tyrion noted.
"Yes. A pity Lysa Arryn doesn't have a daughter. Tommen could wed her. That leaves my youngest, Lysanne. It could be a good match if the boy were fostered under me. I wouldn't do otherwise. Robyn, by all accounts, is young and one year older than Lysanne. However, from what I remember of Lysa, the woman was quite a hassle. Lord Baelish is quite close to her," Loren added with a glint in his eye.
"Well, indeed, Lysanne would run circles around that boy. He's quite shy, and she is quite the fireball," Tyrion noted.
"Indeed. She reminds me most of her mother. Joanne is more like me, running around with swords and finding trouble. I don't yet know what I'll do with her. Marrying her off could break that wonderful spirit." Loren noted fondly. There was a warmth in his tone, one Loren reserved only for those he loved.
"Tell me, what did you think of Sansa Stark's brother? That might be your future bride," Tyrion chuckled.
"She is still young. Three-and-ten. It seems Joffrey has already destroyed some of her naivety. Your betrothed cutting off your father's head will do that," Loren added with a sigh.
"Indeed, there is that. I wonder what dear Joffrey has already done to the girl," he mused.
"Let the brides wait, now. Let's discuss how we can improve this city, and snuff out a few rats," Loren added, pouring them both another cup.
Hello everyone!
If you've enjoyed my stories and would like to support my work, consider joining my community. Your support means the world to me and helps me continue creating the content you and I love.
By becoming a Patreon, you'll get access to exclusive benefits like:
- Early access to new chapters (Up to three months ahead)
- Writing and story updates.
- Access to concept art for the stories.
- And, of course, you will support me.
- And much more!
Join now and be part of a community that loves and supports creativity. Your contribution makes a huge difference and allows me to keep bringing you exciting new stories.
If you want to join, go to Patreon. Copy this link : www.patreon.com/HeroDut1998
Thank you for all your support!