The Prince that was Promised {{ AU, Game of Thrones

Chapter Two: Tyrion Lannister

"My lord," the doors of his room opened abruptly, sending papers scattering to the floor in a whirlwind.

Tyrion Lannister set down his book and looked up at his intruder with a tight smile. "Yes, Ser Brienne?" There was a note of annoyance in his voice, but the longer he observed the member of the Kingsguard the further it slipped from his mind. The woman stood tall, as she always did, but the skin about her neck and cheeks appeared sickly pale, like forgotten milk.

"My Lord, there has been an accident."

A day didn't go by without a problem in King's Landing or any of the other regions of Westeros for that matter. King Bran's progressive stunt of appointing outcasts and rejects for his Small Council had been a bold move and one that was inspiring–in theory only. Over the course of several months, it had become apparent to Tyrion that things could not go on as they had. The reality of their situation was that those appointed were not capable of performing their duties as required. He'd expressed this numerous times to the King, but each observation fell on deaf ears.

In the course of several months, the Greyjoys of the Iron Islands had sent several ravens, and even a page boy to the Red Keep in order to request materials to create a larger fleet. Each request had been denied by King Bran and, in consequence, Lord Bronn and Ser Davos. Still, the ironborn were not known for their meekness. Their insistent requests continued as they reminded the King and his Small Council that Euron Greyjoy was still alive and very much a threat.

Tyrion had instructed that letters were to be sent to Essos regardless of the King's dismissal, seeking news that might help soothe their ironborn brethren– any sighting of the would-be tyrant. After all, their relationship with the Iron Isles had been rocky at best since the end of the war and now was not the time to lose the faith of their second-largest fleet in the Seven Kingdoms.

The Riverlands as a whole was struggling to rebuild, their coffers nearly empty from aid efforts and taxes to the crown. Much of the land had been destroyed during the War of the Five Kings, and further destruction followed with months of neglect. Matters were only made worse as houses were forced to resituate themselves as vassal houses suddenly found themselves in possession of great keeps and great responsibilities.

 
The Reach struggled financially as well, though not as significantly as others, but their crops were planted late, the unprecedented cold brought on by the Night King's advancement had ruined their last harvest. Which meant the realm, as a whole, struggled to feed itself. Highgarden and the Arbor did their best to mitigate the slow famine, but there was only so much they could do until their crops were grown and ready to be distributed.

With all that in mind, Tyrion decided to play a little game. As it was the only way to prevent himself from going mad and considering the entire kingdom a sinking ship.

So, he contemplated as he watched Ser Brienne and examined her face. Which house was upset this time? What fire needed putting out? Had Sweetrobin sent another person flying through the moon door? Did Lord Harys Haigh wish to step down as Lord of the Twins? Or had he come to his wit's end at the still squabbling Blackwood and Bracken families? Had another batch of grain been spoiled by mold? Perhaps it was none of those, and the issues were closer at hand.

"Has Bronn broken the fingers of another high lord?" Tyrion slipped down from his chair, his soft leather boots making a muffled thump on the stone floor.

He liked Brienne, he really did, but she seemed incapable of taking a joke. Now that he had spoken the words and taken in her expression, he wondered if he'd discovered their problem. "Alright, lead the way."

Bronn had not taken a liking to his role as Master of Coin. He was not a stupid man, but he had expressed disappointment in his placement and the reality of his work. In the end, it had resulted in him forcing money out of people. Primarily people who were not used to being forced to do anything. He'd stated on more than one occasion that if this had been made clear to him early on, he'd have refused. Tyrion could not fault him for it.