The Hand's Study, Red Keep - King's Landing, CrownLands
After Cersei's visit, Tyrion went for a walk with Bronn and Podrick to clear his head. After he had taken his time to recover from his headache, he gathered his courage to finally visit his father.
It was ironic to him, how just a few days ago that huge study room was all his and now it had been taken from him; just like that. The golden Lannister banners were still hung on the walls but more papers and work could be seen piling up on the smallest tables close to the main desk.
His father, in all his might, was busy writing scrolls with instructions and orders. He barely glanced at his son when he entered and did not look at him even when he sat on the chair at the other side of the desk.
The silence was in the room, parts of it covered in darkness while the only source of light came from the sun coming from the few windows overlooking outside. The only sound that could be heard at that moment was the quill as it was effortlessly pulled across the scroll.
Elegant letters formed words on it, and his father was as always proudly sitting with his back straight and choosing to not acknowledge his son yet. It was something he often did, to make them wait in silence and become uneasy.
It was his way to remind them that he had the power and the conversation would start when he chose to. It made Tyrion wonder if he used the same technique with his good-mother, letting her wait in silence while he was busy with something else.
He suspected that the answer to that question was yes but he had his doubts. When those two first started to work together, Visenya was the Princess of the 7 Kingdoms and one of the heirs to the Iron Throne. Tywin would be a fool to disrespect her that way, considering her assistance when it came to ruling the Kingdom from behind Aerys.
Eventually, he found himself unable to sit in the silence any longer and tried to do something. His eyes fell upon the golden pin, the sign of the power of the Hand. Who would have thought that the mighty Lion of Casterly Rock would wear it again after 17 years of taking a break from it?
"The badge looks good on you," he pointed out, hoping this would force his father to finally look at him and they could have this dreaded talk at last. His father kept writing, dipping his quill in the ink and not reacting.
"Almost as good as it looked on me. Are you enjoying your new position?"
Finally, Tywin let the quill down and looked at his son. "Am I enjoying—"
"I was very happy as Hand of the King."
A small chuckle came from the mighty Lion but his amusement was not one to be taken lightly. "Yes. I heard how happy you were." He started, blowing on his paper to dry the ink. He then placed the paper on the desk and folded it in the right places to seal it. "You brought a whore into my bed." He said and Tyrion had to bite his tongue.
He was not sure how he had found out about Shae, although his mind quickly went to his sister. Considering her morning visit, she most likely had ratted him out because their good-mother never would.
"It wasn't your bed at the time," Tyrion commented, chasing his luck.
Tywin looked at him for a moment, clearly not pleased with his attitude and comments. He grabbed the small container that was above the lit candle, the red wax inside it smooth and in liquid form. "I sent you here to advise the king. I gave you real power and authority." He carefully let some of the red wax fall to the folded edges in the middle of the letter. "You chose to spend your days as you always have, bedding harlots and drinking with thieves." He pressed the signature ring of the Hand on the wax, sealing it.
"Occasionally I drank with the harlots," Tyrion continued.
With a sigh, the mighty Lion of Casterly Rock stood up. "What do you want, Tyrion?" he asked him as he walked to a nearby wooden desk that had a jug and two goblets in case Visenya paid him an early visit to discuss important matters.
"Why does everyone assume I want something? Can't I simply visit with my beloved father?" the dwarf asked as his father filled a goblet with wine and brought it to his lips. "My beloved father who somehow forgot to visit his wounded son after he fell on the battlefield."
"Maester Pycelle assured me your wounds were not fatal. Your good-mother did not visit you either and yet I do not hear you complain about that," he drank some wine.
Tyrion remembered that Visenya had paid him a visit in secret, evident now more than ever that Tywin never found out. Yet, he felt he could not just let it be and his mouth started to move before his brain could ever stop it.
"I am sure she wished to, but you must have forbidden her," he pointed out, making his father lower his goblet and look at him. "I mean, you never truly liked it when I was around her, father. Always tried to chase me out as if I would infest her with some deadly plague. It only makes sense that you simply tightened the collar around her neck."
Tywin could handle a lot of things; he could remain calm in some situations where many other men would fail. However, certain things challenged his self-control and almost always came from the disgraced dwarf he had to call a son. He hated blunt accusations, not truly caring whether those were true or not. Visenya was his wife and he had every right to keep her close, especially with such... cursed little men walking around.
"I will ask one more time, Tyrion. What do you want?" he asked him, his voice having a small hint of warning.
Tyrion knew he was walking on thin ice but he did feel the courage to just speak his mind. Seeing him about to snap when he brought up Visenya, he knew that his words had hit a spot.
However, he reminded himself why he had come in the first place. "I organized the defence of this city while you held court in the ruins of Harrenhal. I led the foray when the enemies were at the gate while your grandson, the king, quivered in fear behind the walls. I bled in the mud for our family. And as my reward, I was trundled off to some dark little cell. But what do I want?" he asked, always looking forward at his father's empty chair before he knew he could never look him directly in the eyes and not be intimidated by him. "A little bloody gratitude would be a start."
His father scoffed. "Jugglers, monkeys and singers require applause. You are a Lannister. Do you think I demanded a garland of roses every time I suffered a wound on a battlefield?" he asked rhetorically. "Your good-mother not once got applauded or rewarded for all the times she helped the Kingdom or led an army to war. You do not see her running after it because she is a Lannister and this is not what we do," he continued and let his goblet on the small table. "Hmm? Now, I have seven kingdoms to look after and three of them are in open rebellion. So tell me what you want." He sat back on his chair.
"l want what is mine by right" Tyrion said, finally looking at his father in the eyes. "Jaime is your eldest son, heir to your lands and titles. But he is a Kingsguard, forbidden from marriage or inheritance. The day Jaime put on the white cloak; he gave up his claim to Casterly Rock. I am your son and lawful heir. I was born before Trystan and I am the next son after Jaime".
His father did not say anything for half a moment, just staring down at his 'son'.
"You want Casterly Rock?" he pointed out.
"It is mine by right."
For a moment, Tywin was ready to just kick him out or truly put him back into his place. He found it ridiculous that Tyrion had the guts to ask him of such things. However, he remembered what Visenya had told him and for her sake, he chose to try and be civil.
He let out a sigh as he controlled his temper.
"We'll find you accommodations more suited to your name and as a reward for your accomplishments during the battle of Blackwater Bay. And when the time is right, you will be given a position fit for your talents so that you can serve your family and protect our legacy. And if you serve faithfully, you will be rewarded with a suitable wife" he said but despite trying to be civil, Tywin felt the disrespect coming from the dwarf. He knew that he had to remind him of his position as he always had. He was linear but he was still the head of the family. "Trystan is my rightful heir and the next Lord of Casterly Rock, whether you like it or not. He is anything that you can ever be and will take my place when it's time...And know that I would let myself be consumed by maggots before mocking the family name and making you heir to Casterly Rock."
Tyrion stared back at his father, trying his best not to show how much his words cut him. Someone would think that after all those years, he would be more used to it but every time his father seemed to be able to just...find new ways to cut him with his words and not care at all.
"Why?" he finally found the courage to ask, sounding more like a child than a grown-up man.
"Why? You ask that?' he asked rhetorically, his voice raising an octave as his temper flared. "You, who killed your mother to come into the world?" he continued and stood up.
Despite all those years and despite having Visenya, Tywin still held a grudge against Tyrion. Joanna was his first wife and love, the one he had chosen himself to marry and Tyrion had taken her from him. If the child had been born normal, if Tyrion was more like his brothers, Tywin would not bother that much. He had Visenya now but that did not mean he ignored what led to him eventually seeking the comfort of another woman, who was the one that eventually led to the union between the two houses.
He walked towards him, his shoulders tense and a hardened glare full of hatred visible in his green eyes. He came to a halt close to him, hands behind his back to prevent himself from slapping him.
"You are an ill-made, spiteful little creature full of envy, lust, and low cunning," he started, causing Tyrion to look ahead and not dare lift his head in defiance. "Men's laws give you the right to bear my name and display my colours since I cannot prove that you are not mine. And to teach me humility, the gods have condemned me to watch you waddle about wearing that proud lion that was my father's sigil and his father's before him. But neither gods nor men and not even your good-mother that you constantly and unnecessarily bother will ever compel me to let you turn Casterly Rock into your whorehouse" he finished, feeling no remorse or guilt. "Trystan is my heir and it is final" he reminded him and waited to see if Tyrion would have something to say.
However, the short Lion did not even dare to look his father in the eye for he knew he would only see spite and hatred. His father never truly loved him but after that talk in the tent, he thought that maybe he could finally gain some recognition or even the faintest hints of approval.
He did not ask for the moon and stars to begin with. He asked what was originally his and should get, especially after his mighty father took back his position as Hand and got all those rewards and credits from the world.
It was evident, though, that all of this would never happen. Tywin would never see him as his own son and nothing more than the killer of his first wife. A part of him knew all those things, all that gathered hatred but he still was stupid enough to ask out loud and wonder; as if the answers were not already known to him.
Seeing that he had nothing else to say, Tywin dismissed him. "Go, now. Speak no more of your rights to Casterly Rock" When Tyrion hesitated, he commanded him. "Go." Dejected and wounded, Tyrion got up from the chair and started to walk towards the door. He did not spare a single glance at his father but could feel his burning gaze on his back. "Oh, one more thing. The next whore I catch in your bed, I'll hang."
Filled with anger and annoyance, he opened the door to leave without any other comment. However, he almost bumped on the legs of someone, who was about to open the door from the other side. "Brother" Trystan's voice reached him and the dwarf looked up at the tall young Lion. "l-" he tried to say, clearly having heard the conversation between him and their father.
"Come inside, Trystan," the man of the hour called from inside the room.
Tyrion was still furious and was about to snap at his younger brother but stopped himself. His frustration was about his father and was caused because of him. The boy was innocent, having no word in any of that.
It was not his fault that he was their father's favourite and put him on a high pedestal compared to the rest of his children.
To ensure he would not unfairly snap at him, he moved to the side and walked down the hall. He left his younger brother behind to look at him with regret in his green eyes, having heard a lot and wishing to be able to do something.
"Trystan," the voice of their father was heard again, an evident warning that he should not make him wait any longer.
He let out a sigh and straightened his posture before entering the room, ready to face the most powerful figure across Westeros.
Alchemists Guild, King's Landing - Crown Lands - Middle of the Day
Visenya felt some nostalgia walking through the passages that were once a part of her daily routine. A torch was held to illuminate her path, the humidity and familiar cold air barely affecting her as she kept walking.
No one seemed to have truly found that path, starting from the Royal Library that thankfully Robert hadn't truly messed with. Pleased upon realizing it, she had been careful not to be seen by anyone the moment she entered.
Unlike yesterday, her clothing was far more modest.
Once again, a bloody red colour symbolised the red dragon of the Targaryen but also the red field behind the Golden Lannister Lion. It was high-collared and covered every inch of her skin, all the way to the soles of her feet.
Beneath it was a red tight undershirt that reached past her wrists and covered the bruises left by Tywin last night during their intercourse. It was a matching set with the dress, only a shade darker, as the sleeves of it were quite open and hung around her arms.
There were golden specks scattered across it in random spots and she also wore a silver belt around her waist and a golden necklace, both bearing emeralds from the mines of Casterly Rock.
Her white hair had been braided and then twisted into a bun at the base of her head, two long strands the only ones meant to be free as they fell next to her cheeks and framed her face.
She barely flinched when a rat passed next to her and merely moved out of the way, allowing the little pest to pass by. She never minded them, used to them from the years she spent exploring all the passages and corridors she could find in the Red Keep.
Eventually, she reached a familiar door and pushed it open. The smell of chemicals and plants reached her nose the moment she entered the room, a scent familiar to her but almost fully forgotten. A few alchemists were busy moving and working but all came to a halt upon noticing her.
Only one person ever truly came from that secret door but it had been too long since. Yet, one would be a fool not to recognise the woman with the Valyrian features and the commanding aura of a Queen as she let the door close behind her.
Murmurs immediately started between them and exchanged looks of worry that could be seen until a man stepped forward.
"Princess, it is an honour to have you visit us once again," the man said and gave a deep bow, dressed in the robes of the Head Alchemist.
Out of politeness, she greeted by lowering her head just an inch.
"Haylene," she greeted, taking notice of his robes. "I see you took the role of your predecessor as Wisdom," she pointed out.
She knew Haylene when he was an apprentice under Wisdom Pollitor for the time being. When his master died, Rossart continued to teach him, although every Wisdom kept secrets from their apprentice.
She had met him a few times, Haylene, when he was younger but barely exchanged words since he was busy practising and keeping notes while it was Rossart who had direct contact with her, the only one with such privilege.
"I did, Princess," he said, referring to her former title. No matter whom she married, no matter who sat on the Iron Throne, to the people she was and always will be the Dragon Princess. "Her Grace has been kind enough to become our patron and had installed me in such a position," he explained and motioned with his hand for the rest of the alchemists to continue working.
Visenya stood her ground with her back straight, her gaze hard and commanding. "So I have heard. However, I have returned for the time being and I do expect that the loyalty of the Guild will be focused on the same person that pulled them from the mud all those years ago," she said, warning evident behind her every word.
One would question how fast the Guild would change loyalty but one would easily forget the story behind it. Visenya had been the one to fund the Guild and give them both the premise for wildfire and also chances to test it on the battlefield.
She had been their original patron after years and Haylene had also been an acolyte of her father during his reign.
With all that evidence, only a fool would choose to disagree. Especially when one would consider the fact that Visenya was now the wife to the richest and most powerful man across Westeros.
Haylene gave a small bow, as much as his hunched back would allow him. "Of course, Princess. The Guild was and always will be loyal to the House Targaryen," he said, his words pleasing her but she did not show it, her face as stoic as the one of her Lord Husband.
"Good. I do not believe I need to remind you that all reports are to be directed to me and me alone. Not the Queen, not any of my children and not even my Lord Husband," she continued, locking eyes with the pyromancer.
"Of course," he said.
"Now, tell me about your latest batch of wildfire. I heard it was a success during the fight of Black Water Bay," she said and they both started to walk as she would do with Rossart all those years back.
"It was. The substance is far more powerful and stable now. Our spells seem to be stronger, as if..." he started but stopped his trail of thoughts as he turned to look at her. "Is it possible any dragons may have been born after all those years?"
Visenya arched an eyebrow, her attention going from the work around her to him. "Does the presence of dragons have anything to do with your spells?"
"Yes, Princess. The magic is always stronger when the original magic beings roam the world. When dragons were alive, magic flourished and thrived, only to be weakened by the death of the last one."
Those words put Visenya into deep thought. The last time she had heard of Daenerys was before the war and she knew that Illyrio had gifted her three dragon eggs that had turned into stone.
Could those dragons have been hatched? she wondered mentally.
Her grandfather, Aegon, burnt down Summerhall and ended up killing himself and others in his attempt to bring back dragon eggs through fire but failed to do so. Visenya, though, remembered something.
A red comet was witnessed one night. Old scripts at Dragonstone mentioned its importance in bringing back dragons. Could she have somehow timed it all and hatched them? she asked herself, suddenly having more questions than answers.
She knew that she would have to stretch her spies and pull a few strings to learn more but now she was more determined than ever to do so. If dragons had been born and Daenerys acted right, she would have been able to gather an army and have the power to reclaim her throne.
Now with Joffrey king and the Lannisters more involved than ever, and with Trystan alive, a lot of things were beginning to complicate.
Realizing that Haylene was staring at her, she cleared her throat.
"I am not aware of any of this. However, do keep me informed if you receive any news or see anything different with your spells."
He nodded his head.
"Now, show me the latest batch of wildfire."