[Chapter Size: 2200 Words.]
Third Person POV.
Winterfell.
...
...
Tyrion walked in a dejected manner on his small little feet, entering the corridor toward the Council Chamber. While the Kingsguard opened the door for him to enter. Tyrion found his father inside, alone.
"Did you send for me, sir?", he said in a choked tone, which made his father lift his gaze to him while he kept a pensive look, barely noticing the presence of his dwarf son.
"Have you been drinking?", he murmured, frowning, Tyrion was quite drunk with just one look at him.
"And how could I not? A week ago we received Genna's head along with those of her children. This morning we saw my brother beheaded. Can you say I'm happy enough with all this to want to stay sober?", Tyrion scoffed.
"You should drink too, you must be angry, rethinking your life, your decisions, the ones that led us here, we have the throne, but will we survive? It is very likely that we won't, father." Tyrion continued speaking in the same tone.
"You'd better watch your tongue," Tywin said with a direct threat in his tone. The man seemed harsher than he usually was.
"And what are you going to do? Behead me too? We don't really have many Lannisters left around anyway...", Tyrion mocked.
He would never have acted like this with his father. However, after seeing his brother be killed, he could barely believe it, denial was all that clung to him as he simply dropped onto the stones, slumping down with his back against the wall of the rampart and starting to cry.
The memory was still very vivid, his sister was there with him, Uncle Kevan and his father, she began screaming and his father had eyes burning with fury, unable to do anything but watch the head of his eldest son rolling somewhere into some kind of very distant grass, something inside him had broken.
Tyrion had not even managed to see the details of his dead brother, but he knew it was truly Jaime, he could feel his heart shattering.
He also remembered the words exchanged when Daemon Targaryen was Dovahkiin, a wandering warrior bard. Was that what he had said to Jaime that Tyrion hadn't heard, that Daemon would kill him one day? He would never know...
Returning to the council chamber, his father stared at him, almost ready to attack him, but he restrained himself. He held back as he sat down and began to think, taking a cup of wine and drinking.
"We are in a bad situation."
"Don't tell me."
Tywin merely stared at him with fury in his eyes, caring about nothing else, if this man took his life as well, he would only hasten the inevitable. Tyrion knew he was walking on eggshells, but he was so angry that, at that moment, he didn't know if he would survive until the next day, or even until that night.
"He found out about the ship. He found out that my son was there. My son, captured by the enemy! How was I so foolish as to think I could deceive him with this?", Tywin said, his voice incredibly dark, dry as Dorne.
He blamed himself deeply for what had happened... Tyrion realized. But blaming himself would not bring Jaime back...
His father made a small pause before looking back at Tyrion. "Do you think we have spies among us?"
"Maybe, but I don't think it's that simple. Only you and a few others knew about Jaime's withdrawal from King's Landing. Even so, the enemy went after him in the middle of the sea. He already knew which ship it was and where it was." Tyrion sighed while his father remained frozen in place, staring at nothing.
He moved and took some wine as well. Tywin said nothing. Tyrion drank the entire cup and filled it again, while trying to decipher his own expression on the surface of the wine, trying to understand the state of his eyes, which must have been red from crying so much. He was already tired of crying all day.
It was ridiculous to call alcohol a companion, but the wine helped ease the pain he felt. It did not erase the loss of his brother, but it made everything a little more bearable.
'Oh, Jaime… I never imagined that I would be together with our father and our sister, watching your own public execution, without any trial, without even being present. Just the enemy deciding that his death was worth it and making it happen to hurt us. Poor Genna, poor Jaime…', Tyrion lamented, still staring at the wine.
"I still can't believe it." He said softly.
"You… will now be the lord of Casterly Rock." Tywin suddenly spoke again, while Tyrion looked at him, bringing the goblet to his mouth. He had asked for this a long time ago, and the answer he had received had been his father's mockery, saying that Tommen would take over. Tyrion, at another time, would have been happy with that news, but he had always known that his father would choose him last. And so it was. They had to remove everyone from the way for him to take the place of being his heir.
"My sister won't be very happy about this. She'll try to kill me and blame me for Jaime's death," Tyrion murmured.
"Don't worry about her. She is unstable. I had her locked in her chambers. She no longer has authorization to leave in that state," Tywin replied.
Tyrion nodded. His sister had been beside herself in recent months, but had completely snapped upon seeing Jaime die. At least Myrcella was in Dorne, promised to a prince, she would have a better chance of surviving — at least, a better chance than Jaime had.
Tyrion said nothing about his father's statement and finished his cup, and his father also remained silent for a moment.
"I know you have nothing more to say to me. So let's stop this charade. I'm going back to my chambers, unless you want me to put on armor and stand atop the castle operating a scorpion," Tyrion said, knowing that was something impossible for him.
His father glared at him with great anger. "Get out of my sight, now!", Tywin said, exhausted.
Tyrion obeyed without arguing. But before that, he filled his cup and did not return it. He left with it in hand, drinking.
Climbing the towers of the Red Keep, up to his chambers, he could still hear his sister's screams in the distance. She was breaking everything in her room while the guards kept her from leaving, posted in front of the door.
Upon entering his own chambers, he found Shae sitting with a book in her hands. He knew she could not read; perhaps she was merely looking at the small drawings or killing time. She looked at him.
Tyrion had finished drinking the cup he had taken from the Council Chamber and set it down on the already empty table. He said nothing to Shae. He simply went to the wine and began to drink.
Shae watched in silence. He did not care; he had lost the most important member of his family, the one he loved the most, and now he was there, letting the tears fall as he sat in a chair facing a window pointed north. He could see the enemy from there.
Soon, his father — this he knew —, as well as Uncle Kevan, his sister, and other relatives, would also perish. Tyrion did not truly care about the elders there, but Tommen was an innocent boy. What would happen to him, seeing that the Targaryen was about to attack the city, and they would fall before even managing to be attacked by the enemy to the south?
None of this mattered to the Targaryen. All he wanted was to exterminate the Lannisters, and Tyrion knew he would have plenty of time to do so with his army so close to the entrance.
Tyrion said nothing. He simply went to bed and lay down, wanting to rest — or rather, to forget his suffering.
He knew his father wanted to speak more. If the Targaryen knew about Jaime escaping secretly on a ship, he likely also knew about the wildfire plans, the hidden barrels, whether through spies or even through his magic, which allowed him to do whatever he wished, with some even coming to call him a god.
Either way, Tyrion could bear no more. He fell asleep, at least for the first few hours, until he felt someone shouting his name, starting with a muffled sound, while pushing and pulling him forcefully.
"Just a little more…", Tyrion murmured, still trapped in a dream where he forgot all his problems.
"Tyrion!", Shae was shouting at him.
Tyrion jolted at hearing this and looked at her, startled.
"What…", he couldn't even finish when, suddenly, a roar echoed from outside the window.
"We're under attack!" she exclaimed.
And with those words, Tyrion immediately went to the window, climbed onto the stool, and observed the enormous glow in the distance. A white light came from a creature flying over the wall, unleashing flames as it destroyed the entire upper part of the structure. The ice spewed by the Targaryen's dragon froze everything, and the scorpions were destroyed one by one.
Tyrion swallowed hard. He knew very well what that meant.
They could do nothing. Only watch as all the defenses prepared to face the Targaryen were annihilated.
"We're doomed?", Shae asked, now deeply worried.
"We've lost our scorpions, clearly, but we still have the wildfire. Unless…", Tyrion began, but did not finish the sentence.
*BOOOOM!"
A flash appeared behind the wall. Tyrion's eyes widened. All the hundreds of wildfire barrels, hidden and buried in the ground, suddenly exploded, one after another, with green flames tearing through the earth, creating a chain explosion that, in the next instant, made everything shake. Even the castle, at that distance, trembled, and Tyrion nearly lost his balance and fell. Shae screamed, fingers pressed to her nose.
It was obvious. The wildfire kept exploding, and screams echoed throughout the city. Even the bells began to ring. Tyrion knew that night would be long.
The Targaryen would give his family no chance. Tyrion hated him — yes, hated him with all his strength — but he also blamed his father for everything that was happening.
Tywin had sought power. A power he could not sustain. And now they were being charged for it, with interest.
Meanwhile, Daemon watched the massive explosions unfolding below him, satisfied. It had been very simple to plan two ways to destroy the defenses the Lannisters had set up.
First, he destroyed the scorpions with his dragon, attacking during the night, when they least expected it. He advanced through the skies, tearing down the wall as it collapsed along with guards and war machines. He also knew he had to activate the barrels filled with fire that were buried directly in the ground.
He knew exactly where the wildfire caches were. Tywin had given orders for his men to dig during the early hours of the morning, with few watchful eyes, to mark the correct spots. All of this was meant to be a trap and to exterminate a large part of the enemy army.
Daemon summoned fire Atronachs atop his own dragon, getting close enough for them to begin their work, and that was what they did, as they fell to the ground, immediately searching for the barrels, casting fire onto the soil until they activated one.
When the first barrel was hit, the effect was immediate. A chain reaction. In the next moment, entire districts exploded. The force was so great that even Daemon felt the impact while riding the dragon.
He was satisfied. Now that the Lannisters no longer had scorpions nor their precious wildfire, it had destroyed a large portion of the terrain and even created a crack in the gate and across a good part of the city.
Daemon moved deeper into the city, advancing with Winter, unleashing furious roars amid the chaos. His white flames lit up the sky, terrifying the people and the soldiers of the City Watch. Then, he flew directly toward the Red Keep.
Daemon searched for familiar faces in the terrified windows. The dragon roared once more, passing along the side of the Red Keep, while making a slow circle around it. That should destroy what little morale remained until dawn.
Then, he headed toward the harbor. He unleashed his flames upon the ships. No one would escape. He would not allow it. Men began to run in desperation as Winter breathed fire once again. A large number of vessels were destroyed.
Daemon spared not even a few ships before finally leaving the city behind.
At dawn, they would invade the city.
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