"𝑊𝑜𝑙𝑓'𝑠 𝐵𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑," their father always called it. Could make a man or woman wild in a sense, unpredictable, and powerful. And when a violet-eyed twin born to the Lord Eddard Stark, all knew that the boy would have it. And he did.
Beside his...
꧁~~~Tyrion Lannister~~~꧂ ꧁~~~298 After Conquest~~~꧂ ❄❄❄
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꧁Tyrion had never seen his fatherstunned to utter silence before. An infuriated silence that was threatening to explode if pricked the wrong way. Tywin had his back facing the lords of the Westerlands, with Tyrion at the far end of the table, barely even listening to them all.
"They have my son."
Tywin seethes with such a dangerous tone that Tyrion is surprised the ground beneath them all did not shake out of fear of the Old Lion. He may have been old, yes, but the years on Lord Tywin Lannister have only given time for him to sharpen his blade. But it seemed apparent to Tyrion that he did not sharpen them enough. Not even close.
"It seems you were wrong."
He said to no one in particular, but the other lords look at Tyrion as though he was in dangerous waters. And he was. And he tried forward anyways, shaking his head with a slight smile.
"They are far less greener than we'd hoped."
"I hear their direwolves ripped apart one of the camps by themselves, and Benget Stark himself tore through the other two alone."
One of the lords mutters with concern, making Tyrion only look away as the lords of the Westerlands begin to bicker.
"Is it true? The news about Stannis and Renly?"
"Both Baratheon brothers have taken up arms against us. With Jaime captured, his army slaughtered...it's a catastrophe."
His uncle Kevan says, pausing for his next words before speaking them quietly.
"Perhaps we should sue for peace."
Without leaving any room for another to make a point or suggest otherwise, Tyrion smacks his glass of from the table, watching it shatter into pieces onto the floor as all the lords look at him once again.
"You'll find it easier, my Lords, to pick up all the pieces of that cup there, mend them together and drink from it once more than extending an olive branch to Benget Stark and the North now."
Tyrion says, shaking his head. And despite how terrible the future looks for his House, Tyrion cannot help but smile in the slightest, amazed and yet terrified of the man he had met in Winterfell, the man who protected him on the Kingsroad, the man who was supposed to still be on the Wall.
