Bringing the Dawn

LXXV

Tyrion Lannister

Casterly Rock, 301 AC

His father had arrived through the night. A part of him was annoyed by such a thing because there was only two ways he would've gotten here with no prior knowledge. Whilst Jaime was gods know where he was technically the Heir of Casterly Rock. When they'd made their escape from Kings Landing once it became clear they would need to remobilise their armies and come up with new tactics to take back what was taken from them- this fact had span in his head and Tyrion was not ashamed to admit it made him feel seen for once. Not seen solely for being a dwarf or the embarrassment of House Lannister, but actually seen.

So the fact he was unaware of the visit had firmly ripped the rug from under his feet. Only because it was a common occurrence was he able to keep his body firmly planted on the ground. Either his father had not liked what he had heard and had come here to talk sense, or his rat of a nephew had written a letter complaining. Joffrey had whined when he was firmly told that he would not be ruling Casterly Rock nor would he be ruling Lannisport. His sister had been furious and had pitched herself for the task which if anything only angered their father even more. It was rare he took glee in watching her be put in her place due to her volatile nature, but even Cersei wouldn't dare try anything against Tywin Lannister.

They'd all split up, it was dangerous to remain in a pack because then there was a singular target to be hit. Which in turn meant there was a distinct possibility of that one particular place being targeted on all sides. They could not risk such a thing. He had been ordered to remain in Casterly Rock with Joffrey- with strict orders not to coddle him like his mother did. Cersei had fumed at the blatant disrespect and had fought their father on it, begged that she remain with her son, and yet his view had not changed. One of the main reasons they were in the mess they were was because Joffrey had never been checked once in his life and the result was he believed everything in the world was owed to him.

His father had taken up residence in Castamere- well, what was left of it. He had not done so alone, taking a valuable prisoner with him who was being sharply questioned to try and get information out of him. As annoying as it was, Tyrion had to respect Lord Stark for his hardiness for he had yet to break under his father. Tywin hated it, that much was obvious given the curl of his lips the other two times he had made the journey to Casterly Rock. The first visit was to explain Tommen was to be fostered in Fair Isle with the Farman's. When his sister had heard such a thing she had screeched aloud. Throwing items at anything and anyone. From expensive pottery to gold of such a shit quality they at best would use it to decorate their chamber pots. She'd tried to flee with Joffrey that night but was caught by the guards throughout Lannisport and marched unceremoniously back to Casterly Rock.

The second visit was one he took immense glee in himself. Watching in amusement as his sister was told that she would be leaving Casterly Rock without her eldest son. She'd ignored it at first, believing it to be a bluff. Yet their father never once made a threat idly. It became clear in the first few weeks the sooner they separated Cersei and Joffrey the better a chance they had to make the boy more amendable to criticism.

"Why don't we just kill him and get it over with?"

Tyrion was brought out of his thoughts as he blinked a few times before looking to his nephew who as per usual was sporting a bored expression. Toying with the sword at his hip that wouldn't cause any damage as the blade was blunted. Not that anyone in Casterly Rock knew of such a thing, for that would make them look weak and that was something they could not risk. In the meantime seeing their King with a sword at his hip suited them just well and signified they were not stepping down from the fight.

"If we kill Robb Stark now we have nothing to prevent an attack on our walls."

His father spoke, his face tightened confirming Robb Stark had still not broke under whatever his father was doing to him. Credit was due where credit was due, and it was rather amusing because it was clear to those who knew his father well he respected the resilience. He did despise it though. Wondering not for the first time what might've happened if his rat of a nephew did not order Eddard Stark's head cut off on the steps of the Great Sept of Baelor. That act alone had damaged their campaign in many ways. It gave them one less hostage to barter with (especially because the Stark daughters had escaped), it littered a holy place publicly which angered the High Septon and his lackeys, and it also angered the bloody Hightower's considering they were in control of the Citadel and the Starry Sept.