All I could see was a blurry white.

I felt so tired and hungry.

No control of my limbs, though I could feel them.

What had I done to deserve this kind of afterlife?

Where are the angels with white wings and harps... wait.

A few thoughts about my life...

Where are the flame-pits and little randy demons to fuck me with pitchforks?

Muffled sounds.

I saw shadows move across the blurry white.

Great giant Caucasian fingers broke through the white expanse above me.

I never would have guessed god had dirty fingernails and...

and blond curly hair?

And god brought friends.

Four giant heads loomed above me.

"Behold the freak." god said and reached down toward me.

"OWWOOOOOAHHHHH!"

A wave of pain went through me and I lost all concept of reality.

Whatever words came out of me were not of my own doing.

I just have a very foul mouth when in pain.

After the pain came to an end and my words stopped all of the heads staring at me with very strange expressions. Two with great humor and two with great shock.

I don't know if god is a cock pincher or not but, I am beginning to suspect that this is not the afterlife.

"I would not call a cursing toddler normal, but, he doesn't look like a monster to me" Said one of the heads in a very weird accent.

Mustering all of my growing muscle control to lift my left fist.

My stubby little middle finger rose and gave the blond face the bird, probably for the first time in her life.

"Fuk yu bish." Was all I could consciously manage.

Stress and exhaustion took me.

Blackness.

Power resides where men believe it resides. No more and no less. . .A shadow on the wall, yet shadows can kill. And ofttimes a very small man can cast a very large shadow.

TYWIN

"He is a genius, my Lord." The Maester repeated to me.

Pycelle is a fool, I know this. He is an educated fool though and that made him useful.

Was his usefulness coming to an end?

The boy is an embarrassment and this idiot thought it genius?

"He is a waste of air and food, and a devious little lecher. How does this make him a genius?" I asked the pale old man.

"He has a great mind my Lord, reads better than young Lord Jamie and better with arithmetic than even myself. He has shown me what he calls a zero and a processes he calls long division and it is genius beyond measure I assure you. He belongs in the Citadel. He will rise to Arch-Maester in no time I assure you." he implored.

So that is what he wanted.

A Lannister in Dorne is not going to happen.

Especially that one.

"And embarrass me with his whore mongering from the seat of knowledge?" I asked in a cold tone. The Maester winced.

I had caught six whores in his room in Casterly Rock just last week.

He used them as furniture.

SANDOR

"Ya got a deal, my swords your's mi'lord." I told him.

My brother would die screaming.

"You don't know how glad I am that we could come to an agreement, now I need these supplies from the alchemist in Lannisport get them and come straight here." said the ten year old as he handed me a list.

"And don't call me lord. I'm not a lord. Just call me Boss." he continued as he climbed back back onto his chair of flesh.

"I can't read mi... Boss"

"The alchemist can. When he asks for payment, give him a smile from ear to ear. He over-charges." The evil child smiled as he drew a line across his neck with a finger, making his meaning clear. "And wear a cloak" he finished.

"Yes, Boss"

Maybe working for the Imp was a bad idea. Maybe the queen-cunt would have been a better choice.

She didn't offer what he did though.

TYRION

I lowered the reed-straw from my lips after the dart left and entered the Mountain's throat.

Sandor sat beside me on the wall as a column of riders entered the Rock, Back from oppressing more small-folk.

He immediately toppled from his horse. From here, it was easy to see that he had fallen at the wrong angle and broken his neck.

I turned to the new Lord Glegene "I'm sorry the strangler and bleeder didn't have time to kick in. I didn't mean for him to fall like that." I said.

"No need to apologize Boss. He just got killed by a ten year old dwarf, I think thats good enough." He replied with a took a long drink from a wineskin he carried and passed it to me.

My eyebrow raised as looked at him.

Too brash and loud for delicate work. Good for smashing skulls and being a patsy if need be though.

I took a swig of wine and threw the reed over the wall behind me.

Watching the Mountain's bannermen panic below was pretty damned funny to watch.

"You ever heard of brandy before?" I asked Sandor.

"The red-head at the Clam Tavern?" He asked confused.

I smiled "Lets go visit a Cooper"

He stood up and brushed off his pants.

"Whatever you say, Boss"

He's got the idea.

SANDOR

Thump thump thump

"ARGH!" I yelled pushing the guardsman to the floor and out of my way. The dungeons stank of piss and worse things. Why boss wanted to waste three casks of Arbor gold in a giant copper pot with a swirly pipe out the top was beyond me. Making 'Brandy' here though, that was just like him.

Making a women named Brandy out of wine was thirsty work for my parched throat. Wasting precious golden sweet juice of all seven gods to make a women you could buy for ten damn coppers was pissing me off beyond reason.

Three barrels wasted? MADNESS!

"You bring it to a full boil again and I'll send you to the fucking wall." Boss said as he hit another guardsman over the head with a polished weirwood cane he kept handy.

Thump thump thump

Boss held out a wineskin for me to take.

"Its weaker than it should be thanks to this wet shit." Another whack of the cane punctuated the statement.

I took a swig and choked on it as it burned it's way down.

Boss laughed and informed me the next batch would be a lot stronger.

*2 hours later*

The world spun.

Four guards, Boss and I lied or sat around in the dungeon unable to get up.

"Maybe we shouldn't make it stronger Boss." I slurred.

*Whack*

The cane struck me on the head. Normally that would piss me off, but at the moment, I couldn't feel my head.

"When I want your opinion, I will ask for it." Is what I think he meant to say.

The floor rose up to meet me.

TYRION

I panted hard as I ducked under Uncle Tyg's swing and rolled between his legs. He was better with a sword than anyone I had ever met in my 'short' 15 years in this world. He trained Jamie, and now trained me at arms. I learned much by sparring with him after the break of fast most mornings. Unlike my own 'father', Tygett Lannister was always kind to me.

We both feared Genna.

We both loved brandy.

We both hated Tywin with a passion.

I was fast as I spun my lead weighted blunt hand axes into the padded boots Tyg wore to keep me from making his Achilles tendons into bruised flesh sticks.

"Yielding strike." I laughed though pained gasps.

This could be done only, because I was small and unlike most in this world knew the use of nutrition and regular cardiovascular stressing. Men use their muscle memory when fighting. Not very good for fighting someone of my stature and speed. It was an advantage I sunk my fangs into and shook like a rabid dog.

I'll be damned if i wind up into a trial by combat as often as the true Tyrion and let myself be killed by having a pointy stick wielding scrawny emo bitch as a champion.

Tyg is also having a little problem with a certain thieving asshole.

As many do these days, he came to me with his problem.

I was gaining quite the dangerous reputation as a brutally cut-throat medieval business man.

Hard to believe, I know.

I offered Tyg a solution that he was very happy with.

-

In my past life, I was a trap setter.

Often people would go hunting with a bow or a rifle. I always use a simple snare. I loved rope, knots, the scent of hemp or jute and the feel of rope pulling tight.

With snares, It isn't the power of a bullet or the death whisper of an arrow. It is about pitting your mind against a lesser one and getting the satisfaction of killing the lesser one as punishment.

Hypothetically speaking, for anyone thinking to take the ADHD medication behind my guest bathroom's mirror... Rat poison and Adderall look remarkably similar.

And beware stealing from me.

You get what you ask for.

-

I gave my uncle an exceptionally expensive Myrish glass bottle with elaborate gold lief lettering for his name-day gift.

Red and gold It was exquisite. The amber fluid inside sparkling with the little rubies and powdered gold lief put into the bottle.

At the feast in Casterly Rock I loudly proclaimed it the finest and only sweet orange brandy in the world and was fit only for the greatest lion on the rock.

The brothers have had a sibling rivalry for a long time.

Tywin the older and commander and Tygett the younger and always wanting to be free.

Anything Tygett got, Tywin must have.

It was as ingrained in father as breathing.

When asked by Tywin, I informed him that it would take two years for me to produce another bottle like the one Tyg received. A lie on my part.

A week later the bottle vanished from Tyg's room.

The week after that, Father went blind, followed by painful convulsions and vomiting til death.

Methanol was a far less painful way to go then I would have preferred.

It was justice though.

A bottle for the greatest lion on the rock.

From the new Great lion on the rock.

TYRION

On my sixteenth name-day, Uncle Tygett passed the title of Warden Of The West and Lord of the Westerlands unto me. With Jamie in the King's guard and Cersei with her own 'problems' being born, no one was able to challenge the passing. Not that they would have lest they die in a tragic accident.

A little foreknowledge goes a long way.

Especially in regards to 'surprise' rebellions.

By my retroflection, Lannisport was sacked by the Iron Islanders sometime around this point. Which is why the port city has been under renovation to base the second permanent standing army of soldiers in Westeros. The first being the Night's Watch. The Western Rangers were the second.

Corny name, I know.

But it fit these soldiers well.

I had almost all of the steel Lannister armor melted down. My bitch-sister made a fuss and kept the guards in King's Landing in red. I wrote it off and moved on. I personally find arming peasants with steel armor and swords to be a waste of time unlike my bannermen and their knights, but, I am the Boss.

My say counts for more.

After a particularly bad hangover Sandor said some shit that caused a repeat of history. Needless to say, The hounds of the west was a song far bloodier than the Reynes of Casterly. The Clegenes no longer exist.

My Lords know when to shut up now too.

They didn't even make a peep when they were ordered to ship their armories to Lannisport for re-armament.

For any other house, the expense of training a standing army of ten thousand unarmored passive arbalest would be too much to bare. By passive, I mean with a big ass roman scutum. I didn't stop there though. Fifteen thousand light leather armored phalanx spear-men and five thousand heavily armored halberd-men.

Calvary is for scouts and supply line only in this army.

No knights allowed.

They were well fed, young and low paid. They drilled together all-day, every-day. Those not patrolling that is. Unlike the lord's men under me, they had discipline out of more than fear.

Recruiting was easy. The poor starve to death in cities. I offered free food and pay for killing and discipline. The inner city youths jumped into wagons or ran their asses to Lannisport faster than a raven. From White-harbor to Oldtown, the young and fit were flocking to the west.

The Iron-born raided the Riverlands a few weeks after my name-day and avoided the fuck out of Lannister ships. Any Iron Islander that got near a Lannister port or ship got poked full of holes quick.

When Robert sent for me to send my fleet to battle the Iron-born, I sent him a raven that I would be happy to. As soon as I got my million gold coins he was loaned and decided to squandered back. Like thats going to happen.

When the Lannister guards I sent for didn't return from King's Landing, I sent her a raven.

You don't wanna get with the program incest queen?

Fine.

Go be royalty on your own credit card.

I was uncaring if she actually understood what I said, I'm sure she understood the context.

You are cut off.

-

PRINCE JALABHAR XHO

As soon as I got the raven, I rode from King's Landing to Casterly Rock so fast my feathered cape almost tore.

These last two years, Wasted.

I had been asking the wrong person for help in bringing justice to my poor oppressed people under the thumb of my brother. I had begged for two years in King's court to find justice for the murder of my father. Like a miracle, I am offered a way home. By the Great Lion of the Rock.

As I rode through the gate I noticed just how many men stood motionless as statues upon the wall. Massive crossbows pointed upward and rested on their shoulders. They wore red pants and jackets with no armor.

I passed great sized cranes moving large timbers or blocks of stone this way and that. A giant opening was being cut into the mountain that Casterly Rock sat atop, for a reason I know not.

At last, as I was entering the keep itself I was met by the man*BOY* himself as he came to greet me.

TYRION

The Squid rebellion was over by the time I got back from my year long Vacation trip. While exceptionally good with bows, the Summer Islanders have no fortifications to hold off a ten thousand man invasion fleet from 250 Lannister ships. Within a day of landing, the capital city of Walano had sent their surrender. I spent the rest of the year partying with the happy new King and setting up a trade company. The volcanic Islands were tropical paradise. plenty of rich veins too.

Massive swan-ships full of brimstone, fruit, gems and exotic women were going to be sent back and forth between the Islands and the quickly expanding Lannisport harbor. They needed metal goods, red meat and loved Brandy. I also was in very good standing with the King, despite the bloody one day massacre of his people. They were very unlikely to rebel anytime soon after it though.

His brothers were drowned with their heads held in a bucket with an inch and a half of their own children's blood at the bottom.

I don't play around with possible rebels.

One hundred swan ships sailed into Blackwater Bay with 8,000 of my returning troops and I.

It wasn't a warm welcome I received.

-

KING OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS

The little shit walked into court with a swagger and a weirwood cane. He also brought a dozen Summer Islander girls behind him.

Ignore the girls.

He has an army outside the city walls and the closest force large enough to stop his men would take weeks to reach here should he decide to attack. Winning was unlikely, but the death-toll would be high.

"Why did you bring an army to my city?" Was the first thing out of my mouth."And why the bloody fuck did you not fight the Iron-born when I fucking told you to?" Was closely following the first statement.

"Because I am not your fucking dog!" he answered back "I have given you enough gold to buy a hundred armies! Why should I send my own when that is the only thing keeping the quiddy fucks from pillaging my own lands? As for the army, you think I'm getting anywhere near that crazy bitch without an army to keep her fucking cut-throats at bay?" He gestured at Cersei finished his explanation amid chuckles at the insult to the pregnant Queen.

I looked to my right at the Queen and tried very hard to keep a straight face while looking at her very red one.

"You think you can just" "Quiet woman!" I interrupted her.

The purpose of this meeting was the army at my gates and the thought had a sobering effect.

"So why did you come here?"

"Its about the debt you owe me." The boy said.

I felt my hands shake and skin crack and bleed as my hands gripped the sharp throne.

"You bring an army and threaten to storm my gates for fucking coppers?" I roared as I stood. The last time I felt like this was when that fucking dragon stood in front of me with his fancy armor.

"Of course not, I was wanting to trade the debt for the Island of Dragonstone and want to garrison the the Island with the men for offensives against the pirates in the Steptones." Was his quick reply.

WHAT?

The shock stopped me.

"That fucking worthless rock for a million gold dragons?" I asked calm again.

"These girls too." He replied, pointing behind him.

I smiled.

"Deal"

TYRION

The purpose of an army is to kill. Not to sit on their asses and drink or drill endlessly.

The population in the cities where my recruits come from are huge and far out-pace the surrounding land's ability to feed that many. Oldtown or King's Landing for example both have almost a half million peasants with a few thousand city watch and a few hundred aristocrats. In the last two years since my return, two hundred thousand young men had flooded into Lannisport.

Especially after they heard about the ten thousand that got to spend a year partying in the Summer Isles. Where prostitution is a honorable trade and even high-born ladies sell it cheap.

Dark skinned whores were shipped in from there in the thousands and moon tea was a notable cash crop in the Westerlands.

As the Rangers swelled quickly, I was glad I kept the armor cheap. They ate enough beef to outfit them all with studded leather armor. The mines in the west were geared more toward the rich iron veins in the islands to our west.

Feeding them was easy. They were mostly foreigners, as in not from the west. Some at this point were coming from as far as the free cities. None of my own small-folk were taken from their farms and forced into service like Tywin did. No knights burned down villages for some stupid reason or another like the mountain's favorite excuse 'She didn't want me to rape her and her village got in my way'. No bandits plagued my lands.

I JC'ed bandits.

Whats JC you ask?

I hit the last idiot who asked that with my weirwood cane.

I nailed them to a stick and left them to roast in the sun.

Guess what JC stands for?

One guess and Jake Crown isn't it...

Disciplined troops patrolled the boundaries of the west constantly. Anyone with a sword that wasn't a local knight or Lord-ling got JC'ed.

We Do Not Sow

When I sent Uncle Tyg with a hundred thousand men to the Islands no one said shit.

The next year when I sent the taxes that the Iron Islands should have but never have paid to the King, he sent me a barrel of my own brandy back with thanks.

Word spread to the north that I had spared no pirate on any Island, man, woman, saltwife, or, child.

I received a demand from Lord Stark.

To Lord Tyrion Lanniser, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West.

You have seized lands and slain the people of the Iron Islands.

Seeing as the rightful Lord of the Islands is my ward and

too young to put forward his own claim, I do so in his stead.

I name you a murderer and a thief.

I swear by the Old Gods and The New that you are no

man but a criminal who should be put to trail.

Face a trial and prove your innocence or guilt.

Winter is Coming.

I must have pissed him off with the killing everyone thing.

Maybe I killed the one too many Northern Saltwife.

Stepped on his 'Honor' or something by claiming the land and turning seven kingdoms into six.

Who knows what it was that kicked his puppy, but I replied anyway.

I wrote and sent it under the influence then forgot it as unimportant.

To Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North,

The Greyjoys ignored my ravens, after pillaging one of my swan-ships.

I did what I said I would.

I am a man of my word.

You got a problem with it?

Bring it on bitch.

I'll Fuck you up anytime, anywhere.

How was I to know he would take it to the fucking King and demand a trial by combat on the basis?

But thats for later in the story.

First you need to hear what I did with that army that I'll be damned I pay for nothing.