I'm back. Not dead. Lot's of stuff over the summer and when I came back to do this chapter in Sept. I just couldn't finish it. It's still not finished really. But I decided to break the chapter up into a couple of smaller ones so I can give you all an update while I try and figure out how to finish the rest of the stuff that was meant to be in this chapter.

Harry was meant to be in this chapter but about three thousand or four thousand words of his part in this chapter got wiped about twenty minutes before I posted this. I'm too pissed off to rewrite it right now so I removed his entire segment; I'm sorry but it looked crap half finished and I wanted to give you something. So, next chapter should go Harry, then Robb, then Harry. The one after that will be three Harry sections, broken up by scenes with Stannis and Renly.

Disclaimer: I do not own either Harry Potter or Game of Thrones.

Chapter 9

William

King's Landing

Will sighed quietly as he stood stock still beneath the sweltering sun, and tried to discretely shift his weight to alleviate his stiff muscle's. Chainmail wasn't the heaviest armour in the world, but it still weighed heavily on those not used to it. His shoulders and back ached from the wearing the metal links and his legs had begun to cramp due to his lack of movement over the last few hours. Will would have found his task far more comfortable if he had been wearing a plain set of thin cloth clothes rather than the thick leather gambeson and mail hauberk he was currently dressed in, but if the armour helped him to protect the Prince and Princess then it was a price he was willing to pay.

He had been standing behind Prince Tommen for nearly two hours now as the young royal sat beneath King Joffrey's pavillion of red silk. The King himself was lounging arrogantly in a wing backed chair, his leg kicked up on a soft cushioned stool in front of him. Large ornate rings decorated his hands and his crimson tunic had been delicately embroidered with golden patterns. The golden crown that sat upon his head was fashioned into the likeness of a stags antlers. Tommen was sitting on a far smaller, far simpler seat to his right, while Myrcella sat to his left, with Ser Arys standing behind her left shoulder much as Will did over Tommen's right. One of the remaining King's Guard stood in front of the pavillion; Ser Meryn had half a dozen Lannister men around him, three on either side. Ser Boros and Ser Preston were, to William's knowledge, sleeping off their night duty from the previous night while Mandon Moore stood guard over the Small Council. Lannister guardsmen, a mix of Cersei's Red Lions and William's White, surrounded all entrances to the yard and the walls were manned by men of the City Watch.

The courtiers of King's Landing were arrayed to either side of the pavillion and had not been fortunate enough to have seats provided for them. They had gathered at the King's invitation to watch the tourney he had ordered be held for his nameday. In truth it wasn't much of a tourney. The Queen Regent, with the backing of the small council, had refused to allow the King beyond the city walls to the tourney grounds and the yard wasn't large enough for an archery event or a mass melee. As such, the only event taking place was a tournament of one on one melee fights. Further degrading the spectacle was the fact nearly all of those who had competed in the Hands Tourney were no longer in Kings Landing. Lord Beric Dondarion and Ser Raymun Darry had perished in the Riverlands, and a number of others; like Thoros of Myr, Ser Gladden Wylde and Lord Lothar Mallery; may have perished with them. The Frey's and Mallisters now fought beneath the banner of Robb Stark. Yohn Royce and his sons had returned to the Vale while Ser Loras and the Knights of the Reach had joined Renly in his rebellion. With the exception of the Hound, even the Kingsguard were not competing. Instead of the famous knights and smallfolk heroes and high lords that had travelled leagues to ride in the lists of the Hand's Tourney, this tourney had attracted only freeriders like Lothar Brune, disgraced or landless knights from minor houses and a ragged band of others like Jalabhar Xho. The only competitor with enough prestige and birth to be worthy of note was Ser Balon Swann, a talented second son from a house in the Dornish Marches; one that was officially sworn to Renly.

It was the Hound. The hulking Kingsguard was armoured in a thick leather gambeson that fell to his knees and was covered with long strips of studded steel beneath which the man wore a chainmail cuirass. Thick pieces of plate armour were securely fastened around his arms from hand to shoulder, gorget was worn around his neck and greaves covered his legs as high as the knee. The terrifying vissage of a snarling hounds head sat formed Clegane's helmet. He was fighting far smaller oponent, some freerider in service to Lady Tanda Stokeworth, an elderly woman who was among the assembled spectators with her two grown daughters. The freerider was poorly matched, and Will watched with some mix of fascination and pity as the Hound relentlessly hamered blow after blow onto the man with a spiked morningstar, staggering him completely. When the Hound ripped the freerider's shield from his arm, he knew it was over. Sure enough, with one massive strike the freerider was sent flying to the ground, blood already pouring from his badly sized greathelm.

At the sight of the death, Joffrey leapt from his seat and leaned over the edge of the platform to peer down at his sworn sword and the dead freerider "Well struck," he muttered "Well struck, dog!"

The Hound gave no reaction, only removing his helm and making his way back up to the pavillion

Joffrey turned to his brother, and Will involuntarily tensed "What did you think, brother? Did you like it," he sneered cruelly "Or was it too bloody for your taste?"

Tommen glared at the older boy "I rather found it a little boring," he snarked.

Too bold, Will thought as Joffrey's gaze turned vicious. Far too bold. Will could see Harry's influence all over this and while that may usually be a good thing, in this instance it very much wasn't.

"Boring," he nearly snarled "Is my name day boring you, dearest brother. Perhaps you should like to face the Hound next? Would that be exciting enough for you?"

"Prince Tommen misspoke, your grace," Will interjected, making sure to keep his tone as one of deference "I'm certain he only meant that the Hound is a warrior of great strength and skill. That freerider was no fair match for such a formidable fighter. I'm sure you will agree, my King, that it would be far more interesting to see the Hound fight a similarly skilled champion instead,"

Joffrey smiled, but it wasn't pleasant in the slightest "Perhaps you're right," he said, turning his gaze to Will, "What about you then? Would you give my dog a good fight?"

Fighting hard to keep his face blank, Will replied "Give me thirty paces and one good arrow, and I'll give you a dog's head for your nameday, Your Grace,"

Fortunately, Joffrey seemed to accept that answer for he simply smirked before catching the herald's attention "Who's next?" he called, and Will sighed in relief. Already Joffrey was becoming more and more difficult and unpredictable. On some days the slightest provocation would send him into a violent fury and other times he was a little calmer, a little less likely to order someone killed for an ill-timed jape. Thankfully, that day seemed to be the latter.

The body of the freerider was already being removed by a pair of gold cloaks and the Hound already standing beside the pavillion when the herald read from his scroll "Ser Lothor Brune, freerider in the service of Lord Baelish," he announced.

Will couldn't fully contain the snarl that escaped when he heard the name of the weasely little traitor. While Will's loyalty was and would always be to Harry and Tommen; and gods help him if the two ever found themselves at odds; he had deeply respected Eddard Stark. More than that though, the second Harry and Lord Renly were out of the city, the snake had instantly begun to corrupt the City Watch again. His ability to pay them off during Lord Stark's coup was proof enough of that. Despite his efforts, Will alone was not enough to curb the man's influence.

"Ser Dontos the Red, of House Hollard," the herald called after Brune had stepped out. But no one emerged from the crowd at the call. Louder, the herald called again "Ser Dontos the Red of House Hollard!"

"Here I am!" a voice called, and from the direction the herald had not gestured towards came a portly, balding and red faced man awkwardly trying to carry both his helm and weapon. He was wearing a thick, padded doublet, a pair of steel vambraces around his wrists and a steel breastplate. In comparrison to the tall and stocky frame of Ser Lothor, clad in dark steel plate from the waste up and holding a warhammer in both hands, Ser Dontos looks even more feeble than he might have done ordinarily "Here I am! Sorry Your Grace. Deepest apologies," he rambled, first dropping his helmet and then; after chasing it across the ground for a time, putting it on backwards.

"Are you drunk?" Joffrey asked, incredulous and though his tone may have been light, his expression showed a different story. A story that Ser Dontos failed to notice, but Will did. It seemed one 'insult' too many had pushed Joffrey too far; Will was simply glad he wasn't taking it out on Tommen.

"No," he said, stumbling over his words a little "No, Your Grace. I had...I had two cups of wine, Your Grace,"

"Two cups? That's not much at all," Joffrey smiled, trying to come across as charming as possible, gesturing to the flaggon of wine on the small table in front of him "Please, have another cup,"

Ser Dontos, the fool, looked pleased by the King's words but still hesitant "Are you sure, Your Grace?"

"Yes, to celebrate my nameday. Have two, have as many as you like," When Dontos bowed, the blonde turned to Ser Meryn with a wormy smile on his lips "Ser Meryn, help Ser Dontos celebrate my nameday. Make sure he drinks his fill,"

Without a slither of hesitation, Trant strode away from the line of Lannister guardsmen and, with the help of a pair of Cersei's men, hauled Dontos away from the pavillion somewhat. While one man held the knight's head back by his hair with one hand and Trant forced a drinking horn into his mouth; the two men holding Ser Dontos on his knees the whole time; the third man picked up a barrell of wine and began to pour it through the horn, into Dontos' throat. Within minutes he was sputtering and struggling and trying to escape their grasp. The onlookers were looking away with gaps and exclamations of shock. Tommen began to stand but Will clamped a hand on his shoulder and forced him back into his seat. When the Prince looked up at him in shock, he simply shook his head slightly. This one they couldn't save.

But then a cold and chilling voice rang out around the courtyard "What is the meaning of this, grandson?"

There was no anger in the tone; only a chillingly calm chastisement; but at the sound of the voice, the two Lannister men involved in drowning Dontos backed so quickly it seemed they thought him a White Walker. The barrell was quickly dropped to the floor. Hollard took the opportunity to break free of Trant's grasp and roll away from the men, throwing up a mixture of wine and blood. Around them, the Lannister guards; red or white; stiffened and the courtiers around them had begun to mutter and murmur as the tall, imposing man with the frosty green eyes made his way past them. Will had never met the man before. But the old man with thinning and greying blonde hair who strode into King's Landing as though he owned it could only be one man. Wearing a red steel breastplate, with a pair of golden lion heads for shoulders, and lion paws of the same material being used as cloak clasps he certainly looked the part.

By contrast, the armour currently donned by Lord Tyrion was far worse for wear. It was clearly old and well worn armour and didn't really fit Tyrion's frame very well. Both sets of armour, however, were covered in travelling dust that suggested they had moved with haste to get to the city.

In a long column behind the two men came two distinct groups of people. There were perhaps five score of them in total. Half of them were clad in strong but unadorned and plain looking plate armour and chainmail and each had an array of weapons on their person. They were big men and savage looking, with tangled beards and long matted hair. Some were missing ears while others had ears on strings around their necks and one man had a horrible burn scar in his empty eye socket. They were a complete contrast with the other half, who seemed to be a mix of Lannister men-at-arms proudly bearing their liege lords Lion sigil on their shields and a collection of landed and unlanded knights from a range of other house's, their surcoats displaying a variety of emblem's and bright colours.

The procesion came to a stop next to the pavillion, Lord Tywin's company coming to a halt just to their right. The Lords Tywin and Tyrion were the only ones to step up onto the raised platform. While his dwarf son immediately filled the spare chalice with wine, Lord Tywin stood straight backed and unmoving as he stared down at Joffrey with an impassive face but a cool rage simmering in his eyes.

Joffrey had shifted in unease when Tywin had first made his presence known and now, under the weight of his stare, he slowly sat back into his seat, trying to seem unaffected. His usual arrogance was still there but he had clearly been caught off guard.

Glancing around as though looking for support, the King hesitantly replied "I'm ruling the kingdoms,"

"And what a fine job you've been doing," Tyrion said condecendingly as he finished pouring his drink, "Having one of your own subjects drowned in wine while four of your kingdoms are in open rebellion is, after all, the mark of a brilliant ruler,"

Joffrey bristled "This man is being punished for the insult he dealt me,"

Lord Tywin's facial expression barely changed "And what heinous insult is Ser Dontos supposed to have done you?"

Joffrey flushed and Will, with some pleasure, noted his eyes flickering around nervously. He looked down without answering. Lord Lannister was evidently not pleased with this answer and, after a final icy glare at the young King, he turned and ordered Ser Dontos released and calling an end to the farce of a tourney, completely ignoring Joffrey's petulant glare.

Tyrion smirked at this before turning to Myrcella and pretending to gasp in shock "Look at you! You're more beautiful than ever!" he exclaimed as he leaned over to kiss her cheek, before turning to Tommen "And you! You're going to be bigger than the Hound, but much better looking," he grinned, making Tommen and Myrcella laugh. Tyrion paused for a moment before gesturing to the Hound with his cup "This one doesn't like me,"

The man who stood at the front of the gruff looking soldiers; a sharkish looking man with dark hair, clad in leather and ringmail; smiled wryly as he looked the huge man up and down "Can't imagine why,"

"We heard you were dead," Joffrey interjected suddenly.

"Reports of Tyrion's demise were unfounded," Lord Tywin said dryly "He won his freedom with a trail by combat,"

"I heard his head was bashed in on the Green Fork," the disappointment that this was not the case wasn't hidden in the slightest.

"Terribly sorry to disappoint you, beloved nephew. Just a small knock from an overzealous clansmen," Tyrion smirked

"I'm glad you're not dead," Myrcella told him and Will fought back a smile at her innocence and kindness.

"Me, too, dear. Death is so boring, especially now with so much excitement in the world," he replied, before looking over at William "Young William! So good to see you again; Harry speaks of you often and with some pride," inadvertantly drawing Lord Tywin's attention to the young archer.

"So this is the boy who my grandson has trusted with half his men," he inquired, not needing nor expecting an answer "I look forward to seeing if his trust was well placed. The details of the Prince and Princess' guard?"

Will responding instantly, voice flat "I have a guard outside each of their rooms every night, another at each end of the corridor. A dozen men patrolling the Keep every day and night, eight more split between walking the walls and guarding the gates. During the day they go nowhere without at least two men as protection. The men are switched out every day and night."

For a moment Lord Tywin simply observed him "Suitable enough. What of the remainder of your men? When they are not guardind the Prince and Princess, where are they?"

"Training or resting,"

Lord Tywin nodded sharply and turned to the steward "Assemble the Small Council. I intend to begin preparing the city for a siege at once,"

"The Small Council is already in session, my Lord," he responded nervously.

"Very well," Lord Twin drawled "I assume the council chambers are still the same?"

"They are, My Lord,"

"Good. Tyrion, we have work to do," he turned and briskly started off in the direction of the Throne Room. Tyrion drained his goblet before smiling pleasantly at them "Well, you heard my father. Work to be done. Do enjoy your nameday, your grace," was all he said before he hastily followed after his father.

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Tyrion

The Red Keep

"Well?" Tyrion asked as he drew level with his father after hurrying to catch up to the larger man's strides. Lord Tywin never was one to slow his pace for those who couldn't keep up. Not even his own son.

"Well what?"

"Buckwell. Are you disappointed? Or impressed?" Tyrion questioned, curious about his father's measure on the boy. Tyrion had always found the boy to be rather dull company, if he was honest. With all but Harry he was brusque in conversation, often not speaking unless directly spoken too and keeping his responses as short and concise as possible. The boy had never made a joke in Tyrion's hearing and his smiles were barely there at all. Fortunately for the boy, Lord Tywin cared not a white for any of that.

"He exceeds my expectations," came the short answer "His guard detail for Tommen and Myrcella is solid and he has the brains to keep his men sharp. He is competent enough. Whether Harry's measure of the boy's loyalty is yet to be seen,"

Tyrion smiled wryly but before he could retort they had made it to the Council Chambers. A tall figure clad in shining white plate, trimmed in gold, stood in front of the door. Of all the Kingsguard Ser Mandon Moore unnerved Tyrion the most. His eyes and face were completely expressionless and his voice a flat monotone. With stangely flat and lifeless eyes and the palest skin Tyrion had ever seen, the white garb of the Kingsguard made the man look like a shrouded corpse. The knight did not move an inch as the now much smaller procesion approaced. Most of Tyrion's clansmen were already scouring the city. Those who had accompanied him to the Red Keep were waiting outside the fortress with the majority of his fathers men. Only Bronn, Timett and a pair of Burned Men remained behind him, while Lord Tywin's only guards were Ser Burton Crakehall and one of Casterly Rock's men at arms.

"Good day, Ser," Tyrion called cheerfully as they approached "A fine day, is it not. I'm afraid my father and I have business with the Small Council. Be a good man and step aside,"

Ser Mandon's face showed no reaction "The Queen gave orders that she was not to be disturbed," he responded in his dead voice.

"Your dedication to your duty is admirable, but unnecessary, Ser," his father said politely yet almost as coldly "The King himself appointed me as Hand of the King with the support of the Small Council, including the Queen Mother. If you would pardon us, Ser, we have urgent business with the council."

Ser Mandon only repeated his beloved Queen's orders and Tyrion saw his father's eyes harden. His voice dropped to nearly a whisper and with no small amount of venom in it, the Lord of the Rock once more ordered the knight aside "We have business inside that room, Ser Mandon. As the King's Hand, I order you to stand aside,"

When the knight made no move to obey, Tyrion once more spoke "You are from the Vale, are you not?" A slow, shallow nod was his answer "Then do you perchance recall Ser Vardis Egen, Captain of the Guard for the late Lord Arryn?"

"I know him,"

"Knew him," Bronn corrected with a shrug and a small grin.

Moore showed no reaction, and Tyrion recalled his brother saying that after himself, Ser Mandon was the most dangerous of all the current Kingsguard. While skilled with both blade and lance, it was the fact that Ser Mandon's body, face and eyes gave nothing away that made him so dangerous.

Just as Tyrion was prepared to resort to trying to force his way through, Ser Mandon tilted his head at Tywin "You may enter. No other,"

"Tyrion is here at my behest. I have bestowed upon him the title Master of Ships," Tywin informed him.

Moore hesitated a moment before stepping aside "These men remain," he said in the same tone he had been using for the whole conversation.

"Very well," and with that, Tywin and Tyrion Lannister entered the Small Council chambers.

They found the councillers assembled around the long wooden table. The King's ornate golden seat in the middle of the far side sat unoccupied with Lord Varys seated to one side of it and a short and squat frog faced man, clearly balding, sat at the other. That was Janos Slynt, Tyrion presumed, a butcher's son and Commander of the City Watch now made Lord of Harrenhal. Tyrion, mentally, snorted. It was so like his sister to give away a castle they didn't even have. It would seem no one considered that Shella Whent still held the castle with a strong garrison when they 'gave' the castle to Slynt.

Opposite of Slynt sat Grand Maester Pycelle, bent-backed and frail. There was a cage sat atop the table in front of the old Maester, housing a white raven from the Citadel. Summer had finally ended it seemed. On Pycelle's right the Master of Coin, Petyr Baelish, sat proudly. The rabbity man, known more commonly as Littlefinger, was perhaps the man Tyrion trusted least of all those seated at this table. Which was saying something, considering he trusted the others about as far as his stunted little body could throw the Mountain. Or whatever remains of him at least, Tyrion thought. Regardless, it was Baelish's lies and deceit that had caused his abduction at the Crossroads Inn, and Tyrion was very much looking forward to paying him back in turn for that bit of treachery.

At the head of the table, Tyrions sister sat. With Slynt on her left and Pycelle on her right, the Queen Mother looked particularly ravishing.

Tyrion began to whistle jauntily as he approached, drawing the attention of the councillors to himself. Those whose backs faced the door turned to stare at him for his interuption.

Smirking slightly, Tyrion approached Cersei "Please, don't get up. More ravishing than ever big sister. War agrees with. Carry on, don't mind me,"

"Tyrion," came the warning from his father as he sat at the other head of the table "Enough of your mockery, we have work to do,"

Still smiling at the outrage that adorned his sister's face, Tyrion turned and took one of the only two remaining seats. Ideally, he would have liked to be as far from his father as possible, but given the choice between sitting directly next to Littlefinger or his father, he would choose the latter every time.

"Lord Tywin," Varys said with clearly feigned surprise "It is heartening to have you back with us on the Small Council. And Lord Tyrion how I rejoiced to hear of your continued well being after that nasty business in the Vale," the Spider flattered shamelessly. I'm sure you did, Tyrion thought sarcastically.

"Indeed," the snake agreed with a rogue grin "I'm sure your intelligence, skill and years of experience shall prove invaluable in helping us resolve some matters of importance that have arisen since King's Roberts death," Matters that arose due to the council's ineptitude you mean? Or perhaps your own machinations?

"It is an honour, my Lord," the frog simpered. Honour? You don't know the meaning of the word. "I fear we did not expect you for several more days, My Lord. I would have prepared an honour guard through the city had I known..."

"We travelled swiftly and made good time," father said in return "An honour guard would hardly have been necessary. Grand Maester Pycelle," he greeted.

"My, My Lord Hand; it is an...honour to receive you...My Lord," the old man stammerred before removing a small wrapped item from the insides of his robe and slowly handing it over Baelish who in turn passed it on to Tyrions father "I...believe this now...rightfully...belongs with you, My Lord,"

Tywin gracefully unwrapped the iten and placing it on the table in front of him, revealing the item to be the golden badge that marked him as the Hand of the King.

"Father," Cersei greeted carefully, before turning to Tyrion with nothing but scorn on her face "What are you doing here?"

"I'm glad you asked, sweet sister. It's been a remarkable journey," he began while he reached for a pitcher of wine, which was firmly moved out of his reach by his father. Grumbling, he continued "I pissed off the edge of the Wall, I slept in a sky cell. I fought with the hill tribes. So many adventures, so much to be thankful for,"

"Why are you here?" she demanded angrily "This is the Small Council,"

"And I do believe the Master of Ships is part of the Council," he shot back with a victorius grin.

"What? Master of..." Cersei stuttered in shock and confusion.

"Tyrion is here at my behest," Tywin stated firmly, shutting Cersei down before she could even begin to verbalise a response and the decree he had written in preparation stating such was handed over to Pycelle, "He is to serve as Master of Ships in Harry's stead,"

"Then it seems contragulations are in order, Lord Tyrion," Slynt said jovially.

"My thanks, Lord Janos," Tyrion smiled pleasantly at him, carefully concealing his true thoughts on the man behind a facade of amicability.

"If my...memory serves; Lord Tyrion; then I believe Ser Harrold...your young nephew...was working on plans to...to expand the harbour while he served our...our good King Robert...as Master of Ships," Pycelle informed him, piquing his interest. He had often wondered what Harry had begun to arrange during his short term as Master of Ships.

"Is that so?" he asked casually.

"Yes, I do recall him speaking with Lord Stark on a few occasion's, discussing such plans. I hear he also wanted to build a score of new warships for the Royal Fleet," Baelish sighed "Alas, we have no way to fund either endevour, as you well know Lord Tywin,"

Tyrion turned to the man "Neverthelless, I should like to see these plans. I know my nephew; he would have made a written copy,"

"I imagine such plans would have fallen into the possesion of William Buckwell upon Ser Harrold's departure from the city," Varys mentioned

"Most likely," Tyrion mused. It seemed he would have to speak with the young hunter.

"It matters not," his father spoke suddenly "The state of the harbour and fleet is not an issue we can work on now whether we had the coin or not. I would turn our attention to other matters," his gaze zoned in on Slynt "The City was in a deplorable state when we rode through it earlier. The city is vastly overcrowded, there is chaos in the streets and of every market stall we passed precious few were selling food. From what I have seen the worst is in Flea Bottom, but the rest of the City is little better,"

Slynt grimaced "Refugee's from the war. They've been fleeing from north, south and west since word of war first reached us," he explained "As per the Queen's orders, the city gates will be shut to such people from this day forward,"

Tyrion frowned at that. They didn't really have any option at this point, but doing so would almost certainly turn the smallfolk against them "Regrettable though it is, my sister may be right. We can't even feed the people we have now, let alone hundreds more,"

"Indeed," Baelish commented "Food in the city is running low. Here in the granaries, we have five years worth of grain put aside for Winter, but besides that..." he shrugged "We have enough food to feed the court for the next year or so, perhaps with a little left over that could be sold to the wealthier peasants. In the city, though, they have gotten despearte,"

"People have already been stabbed over crusts of burned bread in Flea Bottom. Bodies have a mysterious habit of disappearing in that area and whenever they do those 'Bowls of Brown' suddenly have meat in them again," Slynt reported a look of disgust on his face.

"What can we do?" Tyrion asked

"Very little," Littlefinger answered "The Lords of the Crownlands are no friends of ours. They have already gathered their harvests and stockpiled their granaries. Anything spare they have given out to their smallfolk, and while they are trying to produce another harvest before Winter truly arrives you can bet good money that we will see very little of that either,"

"We could always seize it forcefully," Cersei pointed out.

"All that would do is turn them against us even more," Tyrion rebuted instantly "Uncle Kevan is going to have a difficult enough time raising a host from them without our interference. Could we try to buy food?"

"With what?" Littlefinger asked bitterly, rubbing his beard irately "Our treasury is empty and our Lord Hand's gold reserves are trapped in the West. Even if we had the coin where would we buy from? As you discovered, the Vale harbours no good will for us. The Riverlords south of the Trident lost much of their last harvest to Ser Gregor and Ser Armory's raids. The North and the Iron Islands barely produces enough of a harvest to feed its own people and even if that were not the case neither would willingly sell to us. The Reach doubtlessly has a huge surplus but they've already cast their lot in with Renly. Dorne I suppose would be open to trade. If we had any coin I suppose we could buy some lemon's,"

Tyrion winced and he noticed his father's eyes narrow in frustration.

Cersei perked up "Father, you had the Riverlords raided!" she said "Surely we could use the grain you took to feed the city for a time,"

"Many of the fields between the Red Fork and Harrenhal were set aflame," Tywin responded, a hint of irration in his voice "Harry tried to convince me to leave them be but to my annoyance I did not listen. Even so, we did seize a good supply of grain from Lady Whent and Lords Darry and Mooton. Unfortunately that grain remains with the rest of the army and they will surely need it now, with out supply lines stretched so thin,"

Tyrion absently noticed Cersei's eyes narrow when their father made mention of 'the rest of the army'.

"What of the Free Cities?" Slynt offered "Could we try to increase trade with them?"

"Once again we encounter the issue of our empty treasury," Baelish replied "And Stannis will surely have the Gullet blockaded before long,"

Lord Tywin frowned thoughtfully for a moment "Offer to lower taxes in the Crownlands for all Lords who donate a portion of their last harvest to us. The more they give, the less they have to pay,"

"That will make it quite a challenge to make returns on our gold," Littlefinger warned

"A necessary sacrifice," the Lord Hand retorted "I would have out attention diverted to the defence of the city. How go our preparations?"

Slynt perked up "At Her Grace's command I have trebled the size of the City Watch," he smiled "I have six thousand men at my command,"

"Are they disciplined?" the Lord of Lannister asked

"They will be, I assure you," Slynt nodded "As of right now they can barely hold a spear straight but Ser Aron, myself and the more experienced officers are drilling them daily. Their training, I am told, is modelled after that of your grandson's personal guard,"

"Good," was the simple response.

"Hundreds of engineers have been put to work building scorpions and catapults throughout the city. Woodworkers and stone masons have been brought in to make repairs all along the walls and every Blacksmith in the City has been ordered to produce arms and armour for the new City Watch troops and any other forces that need outfitting," Varys reported.

"We are also hiring sellswords and freeriders with what little coin I've been able to scrape together," Baelish told them

"How many can we afford?" Tyrion asked

"Well we won't be hiring the Golden Company," Littlefinger smirked "Or the Second Sons for that matter. We can perhaps afford to hire some five hundred men,"

"I'll have my man Bronn go recruiting. He's from here and knows how Sellswords work. He may be able to hire some cheaper," Tyrion offerred

"I will also give you access to what little gold we took from the castles we captured in the Riverlands. Double your estimates on the sellswords," Tywin ordered "Divert the builders to reinforcing each of the gates; focus on the River Gate and the Old Gate. I want both of them fully fortified and banded with iron within a moons turn. All the scorpions in the world won't make a difference if Renly or Stannis breaches the gate. What news of our enemies Lord Varys?"

"Little enough my Lord," he said, frowning "I do know that Lord Renly's host is nearer to a eighty thousand than it is to fifty, and has recently set out marching from Highgarden. More and more join him every day, though his pace is slow. You know as much as I as to the movements of the North, my Lord, though I did receive word that Lady Sansa and Lady Arya arrived safely back in the North and on the Iron Islands I hear that Balon Greyjoy is amassing his fleet,"

"He wouldn't dare attack the West, would he?" Cersei wondered.

"With his son as a ward of the Starks, he may feel he has no other choice," Tyrion pointed out but his concerns were waved by his father.

"Balon Greyjoy is a proud and bitter old man. He cared not for his son ten years ago, he will care less now. He will target the weaker country," Tywin said "What of Dragonstone, Varys? Speak to me of Stannis?"

Varys shrugged "I'm afraid there my little birds have failed me, My Lord. I hear only rumours; Stannis is hiring Sellswords, Stannis is building ships, a Red Woman from Asshai has entered Stannis' service," he told them before his voice lowered in pitch and turned serious "If such a thing is true then I fear Stannis may be a far greater threat than we already know, my Lords,"

His tone and words had successfully impressed the situation upon the other councillors. Not even Littlefinger dared mock Varys' warnings and Pycelle; being a Maester; quite firmly agreed with him, even if the decrepit fool did despise the Spider. Even Tyrion found himself slightly concerned at the thought of this Red Woman and all he had heard so far was that she may exist.

There was silence for a moment, before Lord Tywin stood "My Lords, I thank you for your wise, honest and good counsel. If you would excuse us, I have private business to discuss with my children,"

Tyrion watched as one by one the councillor's left until only his father and Cersei remained in the room with him. Tyrion found a reason to distrust each of them. He had heard of Slynt's corruption and recent betrayal of Ned Stark and found himself profoundly uncomfortable having such a man on the council as Master of Laws and in command of the City Watch. As for the other three, well those he had never particularly liked nor trusted. Varys simply knew too much and Pycelle had always professed himself to be Lord Tywin's man. And as for Littlefinger; well a certain Valyrian Steel dagger came to mind whenever his thoughts turned to the Valeman.

Cersei sat completely still, her face a perfectly composed mask of indifference and her body held regally in a pale blue dress with delicately embroidered patterns winding up her sleeves. A silver pendent embossed with the shape of a lion head hung from a thin chain around her neck. His father, on the other hand, was still standing in front of his seat in his expensive and shining set red and gold armour. His eyes were set firmly on Cersei. While his face was completely blank his eyes had never lost that touch of ice cold fury they'd held since first encountering Joffrey in the yard. The silence streched on for a few moments after the door had closed after Pycelle. Eventually, the weight of their father's disappointment got to her, and Cersei shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

Seemingly satisfied with his small victory, Tywin picked up the pitcher of wine and filled a goblet halfway, before placing the half empty glass in front of Tyrion, much to his surprise. He gave half a glass to mock me, most like Tyrion thought. A pity then, he mused, that I only care to quench my thirst and not give said mockery another thought.

"I see Harry was right," the Lord said finally, remaining standing.

"Right about what, exactly?" Cersei asked angrily "What slander has the little bastard been telling about me?"

"It's not slander if it's true," Tyrion pointed out, earning him a glare from his father "And he's not so little anymore. When last I saw him he was almost as tall as Jaime,"

Cersei couldn't quite suppress her flinch at the mention of their brothers name.

"Enough, Tyrion," their father ordered, though it lacked the hate that was usually present "I have spent the last half a year fighting a war to try and keep my grandson seated on the throne and what do I discover when I return to the City?" Cersei didn't answer, looking down in shame "A foolish and cruel boy, hosting a farce of a tourney, wasting valuable soldiers lives for his own amusement and ordering his own subjects drowned in wine for minor slights!" the tall Lord leaned down slightly and glared at Cersei "I did not work for six decades to make my House the strongest in the realm only to sit another Aerys on the Throne. What folly have you been teaching that boy?"

"How dare you," Cersei snapped back "Joffrey is nothing like Aerys and..."

"How would you know? You never saw him at his worst. How he would order men mutilated for the smallest of offences. How he would sulk whenever he didn't get his way or how he would create ludicrous projects only to abandon the idea a week later," Tyrion smirked. His father had pretty much just described Joffrey. From the way, she hung her head slumped back slightly, Cersei recognized it too.

"Joffrey is a..." she paused and trailed off, considering her words "Willful child. I thought I could control him,"

"Did you? You failed," Tyrion pointed out simply "And that failure sent two of our kingdoms into open rebellion,"

Their father shook his head "I had half a mind to send Harry here to reel the boy in and act as Hand in my stead. He told me to come and judge Joffrey's worth myself; I'm glad he did. I can already see I'll have a difficult time ahead if I'm to mold him into a King with any degree of competence,"

Cersei sunk even lower into her seat.

Their father continued "That revolting display in the yard was bad enough. But this business with Eddard Stark..."

"We had nothing to do with that," Cersei interjected suddenly "He was already injured when he was sent to the Black Cells and the gaolers beat him badly. He died of his injuries,"

"Are you truly foolish enough to believe that the gaolers beat him of their own accord?" Tyrion asked.

"I suspected Joffrey had a hand in it. He denied it, of course, but I was never sure," she answered hesitantly

"He died without witnesses?" their father asked as Tyrion drained his glass and made to get more, only to find the pitcher had been moved out of his reach once more.

"He did,"

"Then how did word get out? The entire kingdom already knows that honourable Ned Stark died while in our captivity, did you not have the sense to keep this hidden?"

"I would have, but the by the time I found out..." she stumbled to a stop.

Tyrion sighed "Let me guess: Joffrey was told first,"

"He had the man's head placed on a spike. A sympathizer within the castle must have sent word out," at her answer, the Lord of the West sighed heavily at hearing more of Joffrey's foolishness.

"I suppose Joffrey is to blame for the foolishness of dismissing Barristan Selmy from the Kingsguard, as well?"

Shifting uncomfortably once more, Cersei answered "We needed a scapegoat to blame for Roberts death and Joffrey wanted to reward his Hound. The council agreed,"

"You fools!" Tywin snapped "Barristan Selmy is a living legend in Westeros, even now. The smallfolk still cheer at his name and treat him like a hero from the songs. What damage do you think our cause will be dealt if he swears to Renly or Stannis or Robb Stark?" he sighed again "Because of yours and your son's foolishness we have enemies on all sides, a smallfolk legend may swear his sword to one of our rivals, we have no chance at achieving peace with the North and the entire court knows of Joffrey's...tendencies."

"Stannis isn't a threat surely?" Cersei asked "He has only a handful of small rocks to call upon; we have the strength of the walls and your army numbers twenty-five thousand men. Even Renly with the might of the Reach would struggle against such numbers,"

"Do not pretend to understand warfare, daughter. You have led no armies, fought no battles and won no victories. And with the blunder you've made of things here, perhaps it is for the best that you will never command an army in the field," Tyrion's mouth ached at how wide he smiled at that, and Cersei bristled at the dressing down she'd just received "My army numbered twenty thousand men when I engaged the Stark force on the Green Fork; I retreated to the Ruby Ford with thirteen thousand and was then bolstered by the five thousand I left under my brother's command. But of those men, I have only three thousand with me here in the city,"

"Three thousand!" Cersei shrieked in outrage "You expect to hold the city with three thousand men! Even Stannis and his desolate islands have you numbered!"

"You will mind your tone!" Tywin boomed and Tyrion allowed the grin to fall from his face at his father's tone "Have you forgotten that there are two Stark armies and a rapidly regrouping force of Riverlords to our North? Has it slipped your mind that because of your son they would like nothing more than to mount all our heads on spikes?"

"We need those men here!" Cersei continued, undeterred.

"Do you want Robb Stark to siege us from the North? Because that is what will happen the moment I have Harry march his army here!"

"You left that impudent boy in charge of our army!"

"Enough!" Tywin yelled, louder and more visibly angry than Tyrion had ever seen him, disgust and bitter disappointment lining his every word "Is this what my legacy has fallen to? You? Will only Jaime's line bring me any pride?"

These words, Tyrion noticed with a cruel sense of satisfaction, bit deeply into Cersei and finally she seemed to realize that she had said too much.

"Out of respect for your relation to me, I had considered allowing you to remain on the council," Tywin stated "You have soundly confirmed to me that such an action would be foolish. I will inform you of any important developments from now on and Joffrey will attend me for two hours every afternoon and an hour of an evening. Do be sure to inform him of his new lessons.

"Tyrion, I want you to investigate our wise council. Varys, Pycelle, Baelish and this new man, Slynt. Find out everything and if any of them are false..."

"Heads. Spikes. Walls." He quipped.

"In the meantime, begin work on a way to ensure our victory over both Renly and Stannis. I will do the same," with that, Tywin turned and strode from the room.

Looking over at his downcast sister, Tyrion found it much too hard to resist a parting jab "It must be hard for you, to be the disappointing child for once,"

The glare she gave him promised pain. Tyrion simply smiled.

Tom2011: That was supposed to be hinted at this chapter. It will be hinted at next chapter instead. But the army does have a leader and Harry won't lose any cred over his visit to the Isle of Faces.

antithought: close, but not quite.

The Defenestrated Typewriter: No time travel. Might do some messing around with time on the isle of faces but not outright time travel. There's another solution. On an unrelated note aren't rubies great? Melisandre has some great taste in jewels.

Hoegh: The person is a Green Man. But not Addam. Close though.

falseproffitt: Not a dragon animagus no.

Gtopia: He will, eventually.

WhiteElfElder: Yep, this chapter was supposed to contain a 'meeting' with the Old Gods, a connection to Bloodraven and introduction to the Green Men and the Children of the Forest they have with them and the beginning of Harry's training. It was also supposed to hint at how Harry will maintain his command despite not being there.

Gremlin Jack: Yeah, there's an explanation. With the magic of the GoT/ASoIaF world, Harry would have extreme difficulty learning on his own. That said, the Green Men are just going to get him started.

DBZ Stargate Ninjawars: Harry's not on a break and he will get a chance to be his own man.

Everyone Else: Thank you so much for you're reviews, I'm glad you're enjoying it, if you are.

To Everyone: I'm so, so, so sorry about not having Harry in this chapter. I promise I will try and get the next one out post haste to make up for it.