The Son He Always Wanted

A/N: I originally started this fic a while ago and posted the first parts of it, but got feedback that it stuck much too close to canon. So this is the second attempt at something a bit more AU. Please read and review.

EDIT: I don't own ASOIAF or GoT.

Chapter 1

It was days like this that Lukas wished that his mother was still alive. Because if she was, he would not be returning under such circumstances. He had been away from his home country for most of the last ten years, travelling around the world and building his family's wealth. He wasn't even returning to his childhood home to see relatives, but he was going to Kings Landing, on business.

Yes, he was coming to Kings Landing, a city where his family was equally loved and reviled. A city where his family's happiness and sadness all rolled into one fine mess. The city, where fifteen years ago or so, his elder brother had disappeared, after he had had his soul stripped bare, his shame and glory exposed for all to see, at the King and Queen's wedding feast. All that had been discovered the next morning was a set of white armour on a bed in the White Sword Tower. His elder brother had not been seen again for all these years.

Yes, he remembered it well, even though he was merely a child then. His father had raged for three days and nights, quietly seething but his anger but observable nonetheless. His sister had screeched, cried, thrown jugs and pots at the servant girls, even at the King if the rumours were true. But there was nothing that could be done. No trace of his elder brother remained in Westeros nor Essos. When it became clear his brother would not be returning, his father had left with him in tow.

He ran his right hand through his short, cropped hair of spun gold. He often wondered where his brother was. The logical part of his brain, told him that his brother must be long dead. But his heart, his heart believed that his brother must be out there, somewhere, living.

As the Braavosi trader that he owned, the Smiling Lion sailed towards the Blackwater Rush, the smell of the city assaulted him. He brushed away a stray short lock of golden hair from his forehead. It was a long time coming, but he was home, back in his country of origin. Earlier than he had intended, but still a homecoming. He remembered when he was young, the 'spare' of his father, and hence, not paid much attention until he had become the heir. He remembered that he had been sent away to foster at Hornvale with the Brax's, as a squire and then a knight after his brother had disappeared. He remembered fighting in the Greyjoy Rebellion as a squire and he was knighted not long after the final attack on Pyke. It had been so long since he had left Westeros, a young man full of youthful exuberance. The years spent travelling had changed him,he had learned that power was no just in prestige and the size of his army, but also in wealth and knowledge.

By that time, he was already the heir, so his father expected him to return home to learn the duties of being a Lord. He had refused, instead, wanting to travel overseas, to explore the world, to learn. His father had ordered him to stay in his usual cold manner, but Lukas refused to be cowed. It was in that way that he was his mother's son.

He remembered what had been said. He remembered stalking through the Golden Gallery, walking away from his father as fast as he could, his father's footsteps following him loudly as their argument rang out. "Contrary to popular belief, father," he had said, "you do not shit gold. And sooner or later our gold mines will run out. That's why I have to leave, because we will have nothing left once our mines run out. Do you want us to end up like the Westerlings when their mines ran out, having to marry those greedy Spicers for money. I want to travel, to invest our gold overseas in other businesses, to build a trading empire that transcends borders. The Lannister Trading House that would last forever. You say that you want our name to be remembered for thousands of years to come. This is the way to do it." His father was already the most powerful man in Westeros some said, so Lukas would work on expanding their power overseas.

It was days like this that he channelled his dead mother, Joanna. She was the only one who ever dared to stand up to his father and won. The Reynes and the Tarbecks were living, or perhaps, dead proof of what normally happened to those who defied his father. His father had nothing to say after that and had let him go. But not before extracting a promise that he would return in ten years and not leave again to learn the duties of being a Lord. And he had been gone for most of it, travelling independently around the world for all that time, with only his distant relative Leo Lannister from Lannisport as his travelling companion. Leo was about five years older than Lukas and had been a knight for a while before their journey. Leo had a keen mind and was a smooth talker but most of all he was a wizard with the sword, much better than Lukas who was only a fair swordsman himself. Over their shared journey, they had become brothers in everything but blood.

Lukas was only in occasional contact with his father through letter, updating him of their travels, the business ventures he had participated in, and the people he had got to know. Now, he was returning, a changed man, slightly early, because of business he had with the Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, who was also Warden of the East.

After travelling around the world for close to ten years, he had developed many trading contacts, had his hands in many businesses across Essos. He had interests in trading cartels from Braavos to Yi Ti. He invested in sellsword companies providing arms and other materials in return for a share of the loot. The profits he had made along with a generous investment from his father allowed him to achieve the goal that he had most wanted, a share in the Iron Bank of Braavos for his sons.

It was because he was Westerosi that he had come on behalf of the Iron Bank to Kings Landing, because of the profligate spending of his sister, the Queen and her husband, who Lukas had privately nicknamed King Blob, for the man had grown steadily fatter as the year's wore on, according to his younger brother Tyrion. The Iron Bank was about to reach its credit limit with the Iron Throne of Westeros, and he had come to work out a payment plan with the Hand of the King, Jon Arryn.

As his ship, the Smiling Lion, sailed up the Blackwater Rush and docked, he disembarked, met by the Red Cloak guards of his house. Undoubtedly, they were in Kings Landing serving his sister, Cersei, the Queen, but they were ultimately loyal to his father, Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock. The captain of the Lannister household guard in Kings Landing, Tregar, greeted him as he made his way down the gangplank.

"I would like to have rooms prepared in the Red Keep for me," Lukas said, "and I would like to have some use of some messengers, men that father trusts." His orders were complied with right away, as the porters began to unload his cargo and personal chests. "Send a raven to my father at Casterly Rock to tell him that I've arrived in Kings Landing on business and will come to see him as soon as it is concluded." The Lannister guardsmen and servants snapped to attention and then began to disperse as ordered, headed back to the Red Keep from the harbour. Lukas fiddled with his left glove as they walked through the River Gate. He always made sure that his glove stayed on, covering a souvenir from his adventures in the far reaches of Essos, through the Temple of the First Men, one of the most foreboding and mysterious places he had travelled to. It was the place where he and Leo had grown up the most.

As they made their way through the River Gate and the streets, Lukas could not help but notice the squalor of the place as peasants and traders made their living. The last two years, he had been based in Braavos as he continued to build up enough of a war chest of gold to invest into the Iron Bank. The Living conditions there had been much better. He thought of what he had left behind in Braavos, his wife, Lady Alyna Bellerion, his violet eyed beauty, a trading princess of Braavos in her own right, and his young twins, Jaycen and Tyler Lannister, precocious green eyed blonde haired boys of one and a half. She had their seat on the Board o the Iron Bank as they would only allow those who had Braavosi blood to be officially on the Board of the Iron Bank, but their sons, being half Braavosi, would be able to sit on the Board. And she had the same sharp mind that he did. His business in Braavos was in safe hands. It was rather funny, as he reflected, that in Braavos, he would always be Lukas, the consort Bellerion, rather than Lukas Lannister, heir to Casterly Rock as he was in Westeros.

The servants and guardsmen were all around him as they passed through the gates of the Red Keep. As they made their way up to the chambers that had been set aside for him, he expected to be greeted by his elder sister, the Queen Cersei Baratheon. However, as they made their way through the Keep, most of the Court seemed to be noticeably absent from the Red Keep.

As he voiced his concern to the captain of the guard, the captain exclaimed in surprise, "Lord Arryn died a couple of days ago, and the King and Queen are on their way to Winterfell, to name Lord Eddard Stark, the Hand of the King."

"Then who has been left in charge here," Lukas enquired.

"The members of the Small Council remain," the captain replied. Lukas sighed, this meant dealing with Stannis Baratheon, the Master of Ships, who was the most inflexible man that he had ever met. And he had met a lot of people on his travels. He hated dealing with Stannis Baratheon, negotiation was next to impossible with this man. It would be impossible for Lukas to extract trade concessions for Braavosi traders as a way of repaying some of the Crown's debt.

And the Master of Coin, Petyr Baelish, Lukas thought, he was too clever by half and didn't trust the man at all. Lukas knew that Baelish had bought quite a few people in positions of power within the city with his promises of gold, but, with the Lannister name and gold, Lukas would work to have him replaced.

Negotiations would be hard until the new Hand of the King and the King arrived back in Kings Landing. Lukas preferred dealing one on one with Lord Arryn, who had been easy to work with. There was not much he could do now, but inform the small Council that the Iron Bank was losing patience with the amount of debt that the Iron Throne was racking up with them. And Lukas knew that the Crown also owed his father a lot as well. King Robert apparently only knew how to spend money. He had no doubt that Queen Cersei, his sister, also spent a lot of money as well.

The rooms that he had been given were luxurious and decorated in the gold and red of the house of Lannister. He settled down and asked the page that had been summoned to attend him to get him parchment and quill. After he had removed his right handed glove, he began to right a longer letter to his father that would be hand delivered by one of the Lannister messengers.

It had been long since he had seen his family, and he missed his two brothers, Jaime, who had disappeared after having his soul stripped bare at his sister's wedding feast. Even the years he had spent on Essos, he could never find a trace of where his brother had ended up. It was why their house was equally loved and reviled. For when the wildfire caches had been found hidden all over Kings Landing, everyone knew that Jaime had spoken the truth in anger, that the Mad King Aerys was going to burn down Kings Landing and everyone in it, and that was why he had killed Aerys. And Jaime had become a folk hero but he had already gone missing. His father's gold had paid a good amount of singers and bards to compose songs that demonised Aerys and glorified Jaime for sacrificing everything to save the people of Kings Landing. Yet, they were equally reviled for his father's ruthlessness. He missed his younger brother Tyrion, who was a dwarf, deformed, reviled by their father for killing their mother in childbirth.

Tregar had stated that he didn't know how long until the Royal Court returned to Kings Landing so Lukas could do nothing but wait and meet with those of the Small Council that were still here. He shot off a message to be carried back to Braavos informing them of the death of Jon Arryn, and that he would await the new Hand of the King.

The next morning, he was awakened by the servants, who had prepared a bath for him. He sent the servants out of the room as he dipped himself into the hot water. He began to scrub off the dirt that had accumulated from his travels from Braavos. Once he was done, he dried himself off, and put on his breeches and his left glove, slipping it on. Exiting the bath chambers, he saw that the servants had laid out some clothes from his trunk, a gold doublet with black pants and boots. His gold trimmed cloak was then thrown over his shoulders. He picked up his right handed glove as he exited the room to break fast.

After breaking fast, he went to meet with the small council, Ser Barristan the Bold, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Renly Baratheon, the Master of Laws, Varys, the Master of Whispers, Petyr Baelish the Master of Coin. It looked like Grand Maester Pycelle was missing in action today. It seemed that Lord Stannis had set sail for Dragonstone yesterday and was due to return within a week. "Thank the Seven," Lukas thought.

Lukas strode into the Council Room with Lannister guards flanking him as he sat down at the empty chair at the table. "My Lords," Lukas stated, "I am here on behalf of the Iron Bank of Braavos. And I have to say, the Board is not happy. The Iron Throne is reaching its credit limit and the Bank needs to see a credible repayment plan. The Iron Bank won't lend any more gold if it can't see a way to recover the gold in good time." As Lukas looked at the reaction of the men around the room, it didn't seem to be a surprise to them.

It was Lord Baelish who answered, "Everyone knows that the Kings spends money on feasts and tourneys, alcohol and whores. It's up to the Small Council to find the money to pay for it."

"Then perhaps you should do so," Lukas replied, "before the Iron Bank loses patience." It was times like this that Lukas wondered what the realm would have been like under Rhaegar had he won.

"Is that a threat?" Renly interjected.

"The Iron Bank will have its due," Lukas replied, "you should know that." Ser Barristan remained silent. Lukas could see the honourable man's reaction of caution and he saw the frown cross the Lord Commander's face. As a Kingsguard he was supposed to guard the King. Of course, Lukas thought, that Ser Barristan disliked him merely for being related to Jaime, and for being a Lannister, and therefore, having shit for honour. He was one of those that reviled Jaime for what he had done, even after the truth had come out. "I am here to deliver the message, I implore you to find a way to start paying down the debt. Our patience is not unlimited."

Renly drawled, "I suppose that we should be borrowing more gold from Lord Tywin," a bored inflection was in his tone as if this was something that had happened before.

"Isn't the Crown already in debt to my father something in the multitude of three million gold dragons," Lukas blurted out, "if I were my father, I wouldn't lend the Crown another copper. Luckily for you, my father is probably more amenable than I am to lending money to the Crown. I shall see myself out. I expect to see a payment plan from my esteemed Lords soon. Thank you for your time."

With that, Lukas exited the room, leaving the Small Council behind to deliberate. He was pretty sure that his father would lend the Crown more gold, but three million gold dragons already was overexposed in Lukas's opinion. But he supposed that his father saw it as a way to buy more power. Not that he wasn't already the most powerful man in Westeros. Lukas liked to hedge his bets. He had thought about spruiking and on-selling some of the Iron Throne's debt to the Lannisters to some of the trading cartels of the Free Cities and beyond through the Iron Bank if needed. Especially since those two last Targaryens were still ensconced within that Pentoshi cheesemonger's manse. That was one conundrum he had yet to solve, to make the new dynasty secure.

Returning to his guest quarters, sitting at the desk in his chambers, he began to compose a letter to be flown by raven to his father back at Casterly Rock advising caution. He composed another missive to his wife, Alyna to be taken by ship to Braavos. As the servants brought the dinner into his room, he sat musing what he would do when he received his answer from the Small Council.

Ned Stark was riding on the Kingsroad towards Kings Landing. He rode in silence, not talking, away from the King and the Queen and their children not since the incident on the Kingsroad with Prince Joffrey, Sansa, Arya and the butcher's boy, slain by the Hound. The death of Lady, Sansa's direwolf saddened him. She was being carried back north now, to be buried rather than being used as a pelt for the Queen.

Yes, Queen Cersei was a conniving woman. A Lannister, the family was equally loved and reviled by the realm. He remembered himself, fifteen years or so ago, at Robert and Cersei's wedding. The bombshell that Ser Jaime Lannister, the Queen's twin brother, the Kingslayer, had dropped in anger at the wedding feast. When they had subsequently discovered the wildfire caches stored all over the city, the horror of what Aerys had attempted to do had been made known to all and sundry. That was something that King Robert, at the behest of Jon Arryn and possibly even Tywin Lannister made known to all. To turn all the Lords and peasants alike against the Targaryen's. It was why the Lannister's were loved and reviled in Kings Landing at the same time. Yes, they were hated for the Sack of Kings Landing, but loved for killing mad Aerys who was going to burn the whole city. Fickle was the opinion of the smallfolk.

Ned observed that an expression of disdain was perpetually on Cersei's face, at everyone and everything, except for her children. Prince Joffrey preferred spending time with his mother, though no one could doubt that he was Baratheon in looks and build. He was large-built, muscled, with the black hair and blue eyes so common to the Baratheon bloodline. But the boy's character, that was all Cersei. He had no doubt that Arya had been telling the truth about the encounter with Joffrey and Sansa, but he also had no doubt that Nymeria did bite the Prince, even if it was his fault.

He knew that Sansa sat crying, angry at her sister for ruining her time with the Crown Prince Joffrey. It was also clear to him that Joffrey had been embarrassed by the encounter with Arya. He would never look at her the same again. The betrothal would not end well, but he could not refuse Robert, not when he needed to find out who had murdered Jon Arryn.

The other two children, though, were both blonde haired and green eyed, Lannister in looks. Princess Myrcella, and young Prince Tommen. Myrcella was every inch a young lady, demure, beautiful for a girl of her age. A perfect southron lady. No doubt in time, she would grow to become a beauty, a woman worthy of any man if her character was good. King Robert had hinted that along with Joffrey and Sansa's marriage, Myrcella may well be wed to Robb, in time. Prince Tommen, was the youngest, plump, with the baby fat still gracing his body. But he would grow out of it, Ned thought to himself. Tommen was still too young to have shown any sort of definite character yet.

He thought of his own children, Robb, now acting Lord of Winterfell in his place whilst he moved south. Bran, the thought gave him pause, Bran had fallen whilst climbing a tower in Winterfell. He had never fallen before, but perhaps, this once, he had fallen. The poor boy had had his back broken and Ned had had to leave before the boy had woken up. He hoped that his wife Catelyn, had everything in hand along with Maester Luwin.

He rode into the city of Kings Landing, tired, hungry and irritable. Yet he knew that the Small Council would meet soon. It seemed as if the Grand Maester had convened a meeting of the Small Council to discuss the Crown's debts to the Iron Bank. The king's steward had appeared to summon him. As he walked into the council chambers, he was greeted by the members of the Small Council, the eunuch Varys, Lord Renly Baratheon, Littlefinger, and Maester Pycelle. The King and Ser Barristan of course, were still riding through the city. The Queen and the children were escorted by another member of the Kingsguard, Ser Lyonel Hill. Ned took the seat at the table besides what would have been Robert's seat.

He remembered what Robert had told him in Winterfell, that the Council was full of flatterers and fools. He wondered which ones were the flatterers and which ones were the fools and which ones were both. "We are only five," he pointed out.

"Lord Stannis has sailed back to Dragonstone and will return in a week or so," Varys said, "something about his daughter, his wife and a woman in red needed his attention."

"Perhaps it is best that we wait for Ser Barristan and the King," Ned suggested.

Renly laughed out loud, "it would be a long wait if we waited for Robert to come. The business of numbers, coins and crops bores my royal brother to tears. It falls to us to actually do the work of governing the realm. Although the King does send us a command from time to time." He drew a tightly rolled paper from his sleeve and laid it on the table. "This morning, he commanded me to ride ahead with all haste and ask Grand Maester Pycelle to convene this council at once. He has an urgent task for us."

Ned broke the letter with the royal seal on it and read the words with mounting disbelief. "Gods be good." King Robert wanted to stage a tourney in honour of his appointment as the Hand of the King. Was that all he did in ruling the realm? Feast and hold tourney's? Ned knew that ruling a part of the kingdom was more than just that. "King Robert wants to stage a tourney, forty thousand golden dragons to the champion, twenty thousand to the man who comes second. Twenty thousand again, to the winner of the melee and ten thousand to the victor of the archery competition.

"Ninety thousand gold pieces," Littlefinger, the Master of Coin sighed, "And there will be other costs. We will need to have a prodigious feast for Robert will want it."

"Will the treasury bear the expense?" Grand Maester Pycelle interjected.

"What treasury is that?" Littlefinger replied with a twist of his mouth, "Spare us the foolishness, Maester. You know as well as I that the treasury has been empty for years. I shall have to borrow the money. No doubt Lord Tywin will be accommodating. We owe him three million dragons at present, what is the matter of another one hundred thousand?"

Ned was stunned. "Are you claiming that the Crown is three million gold pieces in debt?"

"The Crown is more than six million gold pieces in debt, Lord Stark. The Lannisters are the biggest part of it, but we have also borrowed from Lord Tyrell, the Iron Bank of Braavos, and several Tyroshi trading cartels. Of late, I've had to turn to the Faith. The High Septon haggles worse than a Dornish Fishmonger."

Lord Renly interjected, "And the representative of the Iron Bank is here in Kings Landing to ask for us to start our repayments. Their patience is limited."

Pycelle nodded, "Ah, yes, the I had heard that the Iron Bank had sent its representative to Kings Landing. You will have to meet with him soon."

"Lukas, the consort Bellerion," Renly interjected, laughing, his blue eyes twinkling, "or as you should know him, Lukas Lannister, the heir to Lord Tywin. We are lucky that Lord Tywin is healthy, and unlikely to die soon, and not like his son, otherwise we would have no gold. The man would refuse to lend to any more until he had reassurances of repayment, he intimated as such."

Ned was aghast. Lukas Lannister, or the Absent Lion as the unflattering called him, had returned, and as an emissary of the Iron Bank. Even in the isolated north, word had come that after the Greyjoy Rebellion, that the heir to Casterly Rock had embarked on a long journey travelling, some said to find his lost elder brother, others gave other reasons, but in the last two years, word had filtered through that Lukas Lannister, had married into a Braavosi trading family and that he was independently wealthy. When Lord Tywin passed on, Lukas Lannister would be an extremely wealthy man. And the Crown was three million gold dragons in debt to the father of this man. Not to mention the part of the debt that was owed to the Iron Bank. They were also another three million gold dragons in debt to various other parties. This was worse than Ned feared.

"Aerys Targaryen left a treasury overflowing with gold. Surely, Lord Arryn would not have let things get this bad." he voiced.

Grand Maester Pycelle answered, "Lord Arryn was a prudent man, but even then, his Grace would not always listen to wise counsel.

"I will speak to His Grace," Ned said. "This tourney is an extravagance the realm cannot afford."

"Speak to him as you will," Renly said, "we had best still make plans. His Grace will refuse you. I can tell you that now."

"Another day," Ned replied. "I am tired. Let us call a half for today and resume when we are fresher." He stood abruptly and headed out the door.

He would have to send Vayon Poole with a message to Lukas Lannister, for undoubtedly, now that the man had heard that Ned was in the city, he would be clamouring for a meeting soon. And even Ned knew he must not insult an emissary of the Iron Bank that was also a Lannister, no matter what he thought of the family.

As he was leaving the castle towards what was to be the Tower of the Hand, he was accosted by Littlefinger. "You're going the wrong way, Stark. Come with me."

Hesitantly, Ned followed. Littlefinger led him into a tower, down a stair, across a small sunken courtyard and through deserted corridors, relics of the Targaryen era lined the walls, dusty and forgotten. "This is not the way to my chambers," Ned said.

"Did I say it was? There is no time for this, I am leading you to your wife."

"What are you playing at?" Ned asked, "My wife is in Winterfell, hundreds of leagues from here."

"Oh," Littlefinger's grey-green eyes glittered with amusement, "then it seems someone has managed an astonishing impersonation. For the last time, come. Or don't come and I'll keep her for myself."

Ned followed him warily, wondering if this day would ever end. He had no taste for these intrigues, but he was beginning to realise they were meat mad mead to a man like Littlefinger. He followed Littlefinger all the way out of the city, to a ramshackle building, three stories high. The sound of raucous laughter drifted out and floated over the water. Beside the door swung an ornate oil lamp on a heavy chain, with a globe of leaded red glass.

Ned was furious. "A brothel," he said, as he seized Littlefinger by the shoulder and spun him around. "You've brought me all this way to take me to a brothel."

"Your wife is inside," Littlefinger said.

It was the final insult. "Brandon was too kind to you," Ned said as he slammed the small man back against a wall and shoved his dagger up under the little pointed chin beard.

"My lord, no," an urgent voice called out. "He speaks the truth."

Ned spun to the knife in hand, as an old white-haired man hurried towards them. He was dressed in brown rough-spun, and the soft flesh under his chin wobbled as he ran. "This is no business of yours," Ned began; then suddenly recognition came. He lowered the dagger astonished. "Ser Rodrik?"

A/N: Tell me what you think.