Loren Lannister (299 A.C. Third Moon)
"They have my son," his father said, his voice clear as ice. Then his older brother spoke up, "It seems the Stark boy is a bit less green than we had hoped." He glanced at his twin and frowned. Very subtle, brother.
"How could this happen? Ser Jaime should never have split force the way he did," Lord Burton Crakehall exclaimed.
"Lord Crakehall, you know Riverrun, where the castle is located, right?" He questioned the lord icily. The lord granted him no reply, and Loren just sighed at the man.
"Well, let me tell you. The castle needs to be besieged on three sides, as the castle has three entrances; two are on the side of the Red Fork, and the other on the Tumblestone. Then they have another option: to open a channel, and the damn castle turns into an island. Because of this, any army has to split itself into three camps, making them easy pickings. And with Jaime's capture in the Whispering Woods, the army was leaderless." He scowled at the man, who had the shame to look down.
"My nephew is right, m'n lords, Riverrun is impossible to besiege otherwise," Uncle Kevan added in.
Lord Marbrand also added some disturbing news. "It's said that boy wolf killed a dozen horses and many more men in the battle."
"It is true about Stannis and Renly; are they rebelling against the King?" Lord Manfred Farman questioned.
"It's true, both Baratheon brothers have taken up arms against us," Kevan said, confirming the lord's doubts.
"Jaime captured, his army scattered. It's a catastrophe." Kevan paused and looked toward his father. "Perhaps we should sue for peace."
Then, smack, and the breaking of glass. As they looked toward Tyrion, Loren raised his brow at him.
"There is your peace. Joffrey saw to that when he removed Lord Eddard's head. You'd have an easier time drinking out of that cup than bringing Robb Stark to the table now. He is winning, or did all not notice?" Tyrion added.
Tyrion might be small, but his older brother was a smart man. A true pity their father never really looked past how his brother looked, Loren thought sadly with a smile.
"Tyrion is not wrong. Peace without concessions isn't possible, at least not anymore. Especially with vile accusations of Stannis flying about in the kingdoms," he added to his brother's words.
"We can't negotiate with them. It'll make us look weak," Lord Desmond Plumm objected.
"No," Lord Farman protested, "our first priority is to ransom Ser Jaime."
"Perhaps we could trade Jaime for his sisters," Kevan suggested. "We still hold them, do we not?"
"They have my son!" his father roared. Jaime might be a Kingsguard, but he would always be their father's golden son, Loren thought bitterly as he looked his father in the eyes.
"Everyone out," his father ordered. Loren rose to leave. "But not you two," his father said as he glanced at him and Tyrion.
He sat back down, and his father gave them both a glass of wine.
"You both were correct. Eddard Stark's death was foolish; if he had been alive, we could have used him to broker a peace with Riverrun and Winterfell. It could have given us time to deal with Robert's brothers, but now, madness and stupidity," his father said with a grunt as he placed the message down on the table.
"They have us trapped here now, and we can't stay here. The best we can do is regroup toward Harrenhal. Otherwise, both Stark armies might come toward us, and if Stannis joins by Saltpans or Maidenpool, we will be trapped between three armies," he added, and his father nodded.
"You are correct, Loren. Your mind for war is as keen as always. Yet Tyrion, I'm surprised.I thought you would be a studded fool."
Loren's eyes narrowed at that. What did the man want? Why was he giving compliments to Tyrion? He never did.
"Only half correct," Tyrion added. I have known for far longer, brother, he thought as he smiled at his brother.
"Well, you two need to bring your sister into line. So I will name Loren acting as the Hand of the King in my stead, and Tyrion, Master of Laws. You two will go to King's Landing and wipe the council back into line. We can't have any more of this foolishness, not with four of the Seven Kingdoms in open rebellion," his father said.
Both he and Tyrion gaped.
"And do what?" Tyrion asked.
"You two will rule in my stead," his father answered.
"Father, I agree it's high time we do something about the damn capital. The fools there are making it rather difficult to wage war. We all know Cersei cuddles her children too much, and some accounts coming from the capital about Joffrey aren't good either," Loren stated, and his father turned to him.
"You speak of cuddling children when you do the same with your daughters. Speaking of children, Loren, your refusal to remarry has come to an end. It's time to sire more heirs for our house. Your stubbornness over your Hightower girl and her death, that will come to an end," his father said, looking him straight in the eyes.
Loren never flinched at his father, not in front of all his children. He wasn't afraid of the mighty Tywin. He had lost all respect for the man after what happened with Thysa. He still kept his brother's child and her safe in his own estates in Castamere.
"Mmm, I will see, but I won't marry just anyone. I did that before, and I didn't like the match. Lysenne was just like Cersei. I loved her for the daughters she gave me, but I'll tell you no, —I'm your heir by royal decree, and I will decide if I marry again. Either way, I don't need new heirs. Both my daughters are capable enough to succeed me," he said with a growl.
"It's what I like about you, Loren. You are like me, even if you don't admit it to yourself. Very well, I expect an answer in a year. Yet I have a bride in mind for you; she is currently in King's Landing. It's a perfect opportunity for our house. The Lady Sansa Stark is three-and-ten and has probably flowered." His father paused, sipping his wine.
"What? She is still betrothed to Joffrey." He replied, pausing before adding, "I'm almost old enough to be her father."
"Yes, and is that a problem? She is useful for us, not to the King. She is the daughter of a house that is at war with us. We can take advantage of her by installing your future child as the Lord of Winterfell, which will leave the King open to marriage. We can wed him to Dorne, Arianne Martell, or one of the Reach houses. Both the Hightowers and Tarlys have possible options, as they have the biggest strength besides the Tyrells," his father explained.
"I can see the advance, if dissension can be brought to the Reach with such a marriage to the King. Yet as I said, Father, I shall see if I will remarry. Otherwise, we have enough cousins. Lancel, for example, isn't married, he could always marry her," he replied with a grin.
"Lancel will not do. He is not of our line. He will have other uses when the war is done. Know this: if you don't remarry within the year, Joanna will be raised at my side if she is to be your heir. That's the choice I offer you: marry and produce more heirs for Casterly Rock, preferably with Sansa Stark, or your eldest will be taken from you," his father proclaimed.
Loren drew in a long breath, teeth clenched, the urge to strike him burning in his chest. He reached for the void he knew in battle, that cold steadiness, and held it. When he spoke, his voice was quiet but iron-hard. "I will think on it, Father. You are still the head of our house, for good or ill."
His father nodded, then looked at them both. "You may go," he ordered, and both Loren and Tyrion left.
"One more thing, Tyrion — you will not take that whore to court," their father called as they walked out of the tent.
Loren muttered under his breath, though loud enough for Tyrion to hear. "Seven hells… more than once, I've wished I'd been born to Kevan instead of him."
Tyrion smirked. "Preaching to the choir, brother."
"Tyrion… what whore? Who was Father speaking of?" Loren asked with a raised brow.
Tyrion gave a small huff. "A woman I found before the battle. Nothing more."
"Well, I understand the need," Loren said, a faint smile touching his lips. "I slept with Lysenne the night we set sail for the Iron Isles." His smile faded. "It was the last time. A bittersweet memory as she died of childbed fever, but she left me little Lysanne."
Tyrion's tone softened. "Lysenne may have been vain, like Cersei, but she gave you two lovely girls. If she loved anything, it was them. And you love them with all your heart. Still, what will you do? Father wasn't exactly subtle about your options."
Loren let out a quiet sigh. "I don't know. Perhaps I'll see what this Sansa Stark is truly like now. She was infatuated with Joffrey in Winterfell… but after he took her father's head, and knowing him, he's likely shown her nothing but cruelty."
Tyrion gave a dry chuckle. "Then she's already learning the truth of lions."
A shared silence lingered, heavy but not unfriendly.
"Tomorrow," Tyrion said at last, with a faint lift of his cup, "we ride for that rat's nest they call the capital. Best enjoy tonight while we still can."
Loren clinked his cup against his brother's with a small smile. "For once, I'll drink to that."
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