Game Of Thrones... With A Twist

Clash of Kings - Chapter 19

<Two days later, The Imp's Quarters, The Red Keep, King's Landing, The Crownlands...>

The screams of war still echoed in his ears... and even as a single green eye opened, the sight of men fighting and dying with the fires of war being all it could see... before it blinked to reluctant reality.

And the first face Tyrion saw after the Battle of Blackwater was the smugly smiling face of Grandmaester Pycelle with his shorn beard.

"Pod." Tyrion gasped before he yelled, "Pod!"

Said red-armored squire barged into the room of his lord immediately as Tyrion spoke, "Find Bronn or Varys. Tell them I am here with Maester Pycelle. Tell them I am very much alive."

"Yes, my lord." Pod answered loyally before he ran out of the room, even as Pycelle chuckled at the Imp of Casterly Rock.

"Would you like something for the pain?" Pycelle asked in a surer and darker tone as he tried to touch Tyrion's bandaged wound, even as Tyrion shied away from the old man's fingers.

"What happened?" Tyrion asked, immediately getting to the point.

"The murderer and traitor Stannis Baratheon suffered a stunning defeat at the hands of your father." Pycelle spoke, not even a hint of a stutter in his voice as he stood to his full height without his signature hunch.

"Where am I?" Tyrion asked, gesturing to the unfamiliar chambers around him.

Pycelle looked around as he answered, "These are your new chambers. A little cramped, perhaps, but you don't need much room, do you?"

Tyrion only glared, but Pycelle had no fear for the Imp of Casterly Rock anymore.

"You are no longer Hand of the King." With that statement, Pycelle turned to leave, is chains clinking as he walked away while Tyrion slowly came to terms with the loss of his position of power.

The Grandmaester stopped though, before turning around and holding a single gold dragon in his hand.

"For your trouble." Pycelle quipped as he tossed the coin to Tyrion before leaving the room.

<Same time, Throne Room, The Red Keep, King's Landing, The Crownlands...>

No one dared to mention that there was horse dung in the corridor leading to the Red Keep.

No, not one would dare mention... especially considering who was riding the white horse into the throne room, where all the court of the Red Keep had gathered.

Lord Tywin Lannister, fully armored but cleaned from the recent Battle of the Blackwater, trotted his horse forward as his daughter sat next to the King on his right while his grandson sat upon the Iron Throne.

"I, Joffrey of the House Baratheon, First of My Name, The Rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, do hereby proclaim my grandfather, Tywin Lannister, the savior of the city and the Hand of the King." Joffrey announced pompously from atop the monstrous throne before gesturing to an aide to do his bidding.

Said servant carried the Badge of the Hand towards the Old Lion and offered it to him with his head bowed low.

The Lord of Casterly Rock took the pin before bowing slightly, "Thank you, Your Grace."

Joffrey himself was still armored as he lounged upon the throne, and both mother and son watched as the Lion Lord left the hall with his reward given.

"Lord Petyr Baelish, step forward." The Illborn King called, causing the wily man to walk forward and kneel before the throne.

"For your good service and ingenuity in uniting the Houses of Lannister and Tyrell, I declare that you shall be granted the castle of Harrenhal with all its attendant lands and incomes to be held by your sons and grandsons from this day until the end of time." Joffrey announced, receiving gasps of awe as Littlefinger smiled to himself.