The King of Winters

Chapter-129

Tyrion

Somewhere off in the far distance, he could hear the screams of men and horses alike in battle. From his room atop the tower Tyrion could not see them but the battle was raging beneath. The high and loud sounds of steel clashing and rocks pounding the walls carried a long way in the night air, so far beyond the battlefield and up to the tower cell where he was imprisoned. Tyrion knew he should be glad that he was not down there fighting, but the waiting here was even worse. The fear that gripped his head had been plain in the way that he had never felt before. Not even when he had been set upon by bandits or watched the dragons for first time.

It was on that day he truly felt fear as he watched. His cell was dimly lit by the couple of dying torches but he could see the fires of battle outside which lit up his room somewhat. The sight of flames brought a bad taste in his mouth and Tyrion knew it would not leave him for a long time.

He still remembered that wretched day when he was ushered into here along with half of the nobles in the court. His guards had all been killed, Jyke, Morrin, Oldor, Joss and everyone else cut down by Rhaegar's devil dogs. And Bronn, the bloody black hearted bastard was no where to be seen. He was killed as well, most like. Or fled knowing his woe. That very same dusk he had seen the southern sky aswirl with glowing, shifting colors, the reflections of the great fires that burned below all around the castle wall like a beautiful ring of hellfire. Baleful green tides moved against the bellies of the black clouds, and pools of green light spread out across the heavens.

He had heard the lament of the entire city that shook him to the bone. Tyrion had heard about the ominous tales said about Starfall but even that must have paled in comparison to what happened in King's Landing. Tyrion had backed away from the window, retreating towards the safety. He could hear the screams of dying men and the wailing of women even in his sleep. And he'd never slept ever since perhaps afraid that he might be next.

It was a different sound which pierced his ears now. And the fire outside his window was the reds and yellows of common flame instead of the emeralds and jades of wildfire. The air itself smelled burnt, and Tyrion was grateful that it was not the same stench as the one he had smelled a few days before.

Embers drifted through the night air like swarms of fireflies as the fighting continued far below.

Had he not come here he would down there fighting on his own horse, he knew. Amidst his father's men, dressed in some boy's armor, with a sword and dagger and his dinted greathelm down over his head. The night was alive with fight and fire, and he could see the men moving behind the city's walls and towers. To the west the stars were coming out of dusk, one by one. Trumpets were blowing all along the Blackwater and warhorns answering from the northern walls of King's Landing. Some ship was sinking in the river mouth, afire. Dead men and alive were crawling through the mud, whilst the boulders crashed and clashed on the buildings of the city. Tyrion could not see them from here, but he could hear the sounds: the clash of steel against steel and the groans of men and horses alike as they battled together, the deep-throated warhorns of the rebels and royalists alike, the shouts and battle cries, the crash of axe on armor, sword on shield, all mingled with the shrieks of wounded men. There were ships far out in the bay, and he could not see any fighting over there, but he could see the fighting on the land all the same and the sounds were clear as a crystal. The music of slaughter. The night was filled with the music of slaughter.

From the castle he could see the trebuchet and the catapults of the defenders all along the walls, their long arms swinging up with a clutch of rocks and boulders. The rebels returned back with their own volley which tumbled through the roofs and walls of the inns and houses. Outside the walls the siege camps shimmered in a gaudy haze of red and gold, but the famous red walls of the city resisted against their fury.