The Imp Lord

283 AC

Tyrion is sixteen, I know wiki says he's ten cuz he's born in 273 but that screws up the timeline. So he's sixteen to make things more believable.

This means that he would be 31 instead of 25 when cannon starts in 298. It also solves the problem of Jaime being in the Westerlands to rescue Tysha after which Tyrion marries her at thirteen when Jaime is already supposed to be the kingslayer. I doubt the kingsguard could go home that often.

PS M because of vulgar language

He'd show his treacherous friend what a real dragon could do!

Aerys opened his mouth to order Rossart to burn the wildfire caches. He'd be reborn with scales and wings while Tywin would turn to ashes

He heard a faint rustling and swung his head around to spot the dagger hidden in the dark.

It was a white one. He'd almost forgotten that boy.

He'd been absolutely useless throughout. Nothing but a glorified servant that was too arrogant for his own good. He'd have killed him if he wasn't a hostage. Aerys glared at Jaime's hand resting on his pommel and became acutely aware that he'd sent out every other kingsguard to fight and none of his guard were his match.

A problem that shouldn't exist!

His servants were too treacherous to show their face, skulking in the hallways, afraid to meet his gaze, afraid that he'd see the betrayal in their hearts.

"Boy! Go speak sense to your father and be quick about it!" he shouted.

It galled him that he had to cower before a boy barely old enough to grow a beard. The incredulous gaze burned him even more but eventually the boy nodded and ran off. No doubt to join his traitor father. Better a traitor in front of his gate than at his back though.

Once he was sure that he was out of earshot he gave his real orders to Rossart. "Gather your brothers and ignite the wildfire caches on my command. You'll know it when you hear the bells ring."

"As you command my king"

Master and servant both grinned at each other for a short moment as they imagined the glorious fire that would cleanse their city from the rebel filth and give them the chance to rebuild it. It would be stronger, cleaner and more glorious than ever before!

That would be his legacy to his ancestors' city.

Aerys stood on his balcony overseeing the city, watching his old friend drive the dagger deeper into his back with every burned down house and terrified scream. The insult was unbearable. An insult he'd soon burn away. But not yet. He had to catch them all. He could only light the blaze once.

The first rats showed up at his keep. The ones that had raced ahead and taunted his men to come out. He scoffed, as if he was stupid enough to waste his men. He glanced down at the courtyard and spotted a few craven dragging their feet. He snorted in disgust after this ordeal was through he'd need to cull his ranks a bit.

He looked back at the city gate, watching for any signs of Tywin's entrance. The coward never led from the front. He wouldn't enter until he was sure of victory. But he couldn't delay any longer, the wildfire was vigorous enough to spread without all the caches needing to be lit. But it would give the lions too much time to escape the city. And if he waited too long then all the alchemists would be put to the sword before they could complete their duty.

With some regret at not being sure that Tywin died as well he drew a ornate dragonhorn from his belt and blew. The loud sound signaled the servants in the bell tower and soon the bells rung and were audible across the entire city. He listened to them and tried to imagine the awe they'd inspire in future songs before an all consuming roar drew his attention.

He saw a green flash before he was ripped from his spot and slammed into the wall behind him. He heard more than felt his bones crunch before he crumpled to the ground

He opened his eyes slowly and stared uncomprehendingly at the green light dancing across his room. Screams were everywhere. Not just from outside but also inside his own keep. It took a moment for him to realize his chest wasn't rising like it should.

He couldn't breath!

What was happening to him?

A servant barged through the door and started grabbing everything of value that he could get his grubby little hands on. He completely ignored the corpses of the servants that had been attending the king after a short moment to realize they couldn't stop him. Aerys burned with indignation to be seen and to be paid no more mind than a piddling servant. He was his rightful king! Normally he'd be quivering in fear at a mere glance but now Aerys was too weak to rattle off any orders.

He lay there as he listened to the pandemonium. Many shouted out for his guidance but even more confessed their treachery. Fleeing instead of finding their king, fleeing instead of retaking his glorious city after he'd vanquished their enemies.

Aerys was more certain than ever before. His subjects were unworthy of him. Disloyal and treacherous the lot of them. They couldn't understand his vision and the true danger that lurked beyond the Wall. Why they desperately needed to fulfill the prophecy. It was clear to him. This world was unworthy of being saved.

"The Others take them." He coughed out

Lannisport

Tyrion flipped a page in his book with a hint of nervousness. The gossip around him was still flying strong but there was little point in wondering. Tywin would win or he would die. Simple as that. Nothing he could do to change it. The plan was simple and treacherous, so the odds were in his favor.

He nodded to himself and then reread the same passage he'd been stuck on for the last few minutes, despite his eagerness to finally move on. He continued not-reading and holding a book for another half hour before he gave up. He was on his way to the kitchen to steal an apple for lack of anything better to do when his aunt came storming down the hallway and her eyes firmly locked on him.

"Aunt Genna to what do I owe the pleasure?" he greeted her warmly

"Tywin failed." and the world seemed to stop for a second, as Tyrion took in that simple statement. "A rider came." She stopped and snorted in derision "Deserter trying to save his skin more like. He said that Tywin entered the city and sacked it but when he was about to lay siege to the Red Keep the whole city went up in green flames"

His eyes widened "What of Jaime?" Tyrion immediately asked

A touch of anger and sorrow passed through Genna's eyes and Tyrion guessed it was about his utter disregard for his father and at the broken relationship between him and his father. But he couldn't even be bothered to pretend to care about him or his uncle when Jaime could be hurt.

"I don't know. The Red keep was still standing but the heat could be felt for miles." aunt Genna answered

Fuck!

Jaime!

He couldn't believe it. Happy carefree Jaime who had only one mean bone in his body, put there by Cersei, was dead. Cooked alive, with the Red keep as his oven.

His mind flashed back to all the fun they had together. They'd been born different, in both body and mind. But they had the same appreciation of humor. Some may boast about their best nights that were filled with booze and the embrace of women but Tyrion's were filled with quiet nights by the fire trading jokes and witty insults with his brother.

He quickly found the nearest chair to climb into. For he couldn't even crash into them like a normal distraught man. He wanted to sit there and wallow for who knows how long but his aunt was snapping her fingers in his face.

"Get up Tyrion. You can drown your sorrows in a wench's cunt later. Right now, you need to be the Lord of the Rock before your sister gets back. Or worse, allies herself with someone against you!"

The faint knowledge that Cersei had been in the baggage train of the army to wed herself to Robert Baratheon as soon as possible came trickling back to him. His aunt was right. If he didn't move now, then the Lordship would go to his future nephew and he'd be in a cell for the rest of his days. Fear and self-preservation snapped him out of his grief.

"Do the Targaryens still live?" He asked as his mind grasped at straws to bind together a plan.

Aunt Genna's nose wrinkled "Yes your father and uncle died in the fire. But luckily they probably died too fast to suffer too much, thank you for asking. And my condolences to you too Tyrion. As for the king…" She shrugged. "Probably alive if he planned this, though he'd be mad enough to think he could survive it. Elia and her children were still inside last I heard but the Queen is on Dragonstone with Viserys."

He blanched a bit at her tone but he only gave her a apologetic look before moving on "The war will continue then. The Tyrells have a daughter, she has a son, they'll have a marriage alliance."

She nodded and rested her hands on a nearby window sill. "And they'll have more eager young men to ram our doors down than we can handle. Tywin's last act won't be well received and we don't have the strength to ignore their ire."

Tyrion grimaced at how his father's clever little gambit came back to haunt them. He'd taken all the lords and heirs to share the glory of winning the war with him or to bind them in treachery should the worst happen.

None of the other noble houses could replace house Lannister now. They had neither the men, reputation or quite frankly the heirs to do it. The whole of the Westerlands was utterly devoid of knights as a matter of fact. Only the men at arms and the levies remained. A headless army. He'd need to rebuild the command structure or the best he could hope for was a giant brawl.

He spoke confidently nonetheless he needed to show wisdom and leadership before doubt could set in. "The rebel alliance is nearly broken. Too much infighting with loyalists and Baratheon took a beating before they could link up at the Trident. Not to mention the Bloody Trident itself. Dorne and the Crownlands are spent but the Reach is still fresh and can stalemate the rebel alliance by itself. That leaves us and the Ironborn as the tie breakers."

Fuck, the Ironborn were in a better position to be kingmakers than him right now. He released a long sigh and hoped that his father's schemes would still work without him holding the strings. He'd overheard enough to know Tywin had secretly backed Balon's usurpation of his father but he doubted Balon would honor a dwarf as an ally.

Tyrion could only hope lord Balon crowned himself king and reveled in the chaos of a drawn out civil war while the Westerlands licked its wounds. He smiled grimly at the thought of actually hoping for them to raid his shores so long as they fucked everyone else up the arse too.

Aunt Genna smiled as the glimmer of hope returned to her eyes "You think you can negotiate us out of this?" She turned to look outside a nearby window and rested her hands on the windowsill.

Tyrion stood up out of his chair "Yes, it'll be tricky but they need us more than they want to admit. Our knights may be gone but we can still field thirty thousand peasants if we want to. Enough to tip the balance, though not enough to dictate terms like father wanted."

"Tywin got us into this mess." Aunt Genna said succinctly. Her hands gripping the stone tight enough to turn white

"The Ironborn though" mused Tyrion "They've been waiting too. We're all wounded prey to them now and we happen to be closest. We better prepare a welcoming feast for them." Whatever agreement father had with Balon is worth sheep shit now.

"We still have our fleet" She gestured to the imposing fleet still lying at anchor in the harbor.

He nodded "True and we've had it here in the harbor for months. The men crewing it are blushing virgins and soon to be salt wives. We won't win on the open seas. Better to use them as fishing boats and trading vessels to get some of our gold back"

Genna glared at him "And how will you beat them then?"

Tyrion shrugged "Like a thieving whore. I'll lure them into the city and then shut the door and whack them from behind when they aren't looking. Best to stick to what I know best" He said with a self deprecating smile.

Aunt Genna rolled her eyes in fond exasperation and softened her stance a bit though her hawk like stare remained firmly fixed on him, demanding answers.

No doubt she was grieving for her brothers and was taking some frustration out on him but he wasn't here to be anyone's whipping boy anymore. Father was dead and only Cersei could stop him.

"The Lords?" aunt Genna prompted to get the conversation going again.

"Cersei holds more loyalty for now" He admitted candidly but when he spotted doubt in his aunt's eye he quickly followed with "They think they can rule through her but fools do foolish things and you can only rein in so much stupidity. Unless of course you bind her in matrimony."

"A bidding war" Genna grimly concluded.

Whoever could bring her the Rock would claim the right to plow the field between her legs.

Tyrion shrugged " All the lesser lords know that her cunt is drier than the sands of Dorne for them." He mumbled as an afterthought "And just as likely to doom entire armies."

"Perhaps" admitted Genna "But you've no cunt to sell and you're not as beloved." She eyed him up and down, her eye lingering on his deformities

He snorted "The realm knows me for the dwarf I am. But my coin is still good enough for the smallfolk and they hold more power now than highborn lords that are insulted by my mere existence."

Gemma grimaced at that "Careful Tyrion, coins stacks are a poor foundation for true loyalty. A bigger stack will knock yours down."

Tyrion stamped his foot down upon the floor for emphasis. "I hold the Casterly mines, my stack is the biggest in all the Seven kingdoms. And I won't rely solely on that. I intend to rally them with my sewers!"

Aunt Genna just stared at him uncomprehendingly for a long while before he sighed "Take a deep breath and tell me what you smell. Whatever it is, it isn't shit. And that's a damn nose full better than their parents had and they know it. I promise results and I deliver them. I may be reviled but I'm a known quantity. Cersei however, is unpredictable and uncaring of their plight."

"Perhaps" She sighed and after a moment of silence said "I tried teaching that girl some sense. That women could be more than broodmares but…" she trailed off and Tyrion wasn't going to stop this revelation. It might explain a lot.

"I was angry when I got sold off to the Freys" She admitted "Even if I've grown to appreciate my husband. I thought Cersei might have the power to change things- she was always destined for great things, Tywin would see to it,- but as she grew older I realized that she would be a shining beacon of idiocy to be used against anyone that argued for women in power. I can't let her win. For all our sakes"

Tyrion could understand that somewhat. Even if he didn't fully understand what women went through just as aunt Genna couldn't understand the universal scorn for a dwarf. Cersei was definitely going to undermine the Lannister name and apparently she was contagious to just about anything associated with her. Probably blondes as well.

He briefly wondered if there would be more blonde whores in the future who were denied other trades?

Tyrion hummed considering that "Making her less than a footnote in history may just be the most grievous insult I can ever deliver."

"Anything less than her own song and a maester to quill her biography would have her ride off to take the Black in an attempt to be memorable." aunt Genna commented dryly

The thought of Cersei freezing her cunt shut at the wall put a smile on his face "I'll do my part. But I can't say the same for those adventurous little scamps down at the Trident. They might part with their common sense and marry her if she promised the Westerlands to their cause."

"I'll start writing a letter then to remind the good lords paramount that a brother comes before a sister." She snorted in disgust "First time the Dance of the Dragon was actually good for something"

"I promise I'll put women into some high positions to balance out this horrible precedent" Tyrion compromised readily

Aunt Genna rolled her eyes "Yes and if those women happen to be young and willing then that's a happy coincidence. I know you nephew and I don't care if they bounce up and down all night, so long as they are just as skilled and enthusiastic at their day jobs as well. The Seven know that will be more than the lords ever did."

Tyrion gave her a charming smile that got distorted into a lecherous one as he thought of all the changes he needed to make to his household. So many were loyal to Cersei before him, so many openings to fill.

Aunt Genna gave him a hard stare and said dryly "The realm would be a paradise straight out of a song if all that threatened it were dicks. You can fuck till all the whores in the West walk bowlegged Tyrion, just fix our problems while you wait for your second head to rise again." She flexed her little pinky at him with a crooked smile

Tyrion laughed out loud at the request. "I promise not to visit a brothel for three turns of the moon if that would set your mind at ease, things will have calmed down by then.`

Genna rolled her eyes "What a magnanimous and generous sacrifice Tyrion I'm positive every noble lady from here to the wall would swoon at the mere mention of it. Perhaps you should inform them personally while you shop for a new lady of the Rock?"

Tyrion almost grimaced as he was reminded of the disgust and despair the low ranked ladies showed him whenever the mere possibility was implied. The hunt for a wife may be harder than Gerion's quest to reclaim Brightroar. Possible alliances however, would dictate whom it would be. Gold and swords, not love.

He put on a showman like smile "I'll get right to it after I see a girl about making my bald man cry. I feel a proper mourning is in order to remember my father." Tyrion smirked at her, despite her show of loyalty he didn't fully trust her with his plans yet and telling her his wish list was too risky for now. Luckily repulsing people into leaving him alone with his whoring was a finely honed skill.

Gemma rolled her eyes again "Pissing on his grave would be quicker but we all must make do with what we have. Even if it is less than what we've wished for." She cast a gimlet eye at him before striding away. She called back to him "I'll relay your orders to the fleet and send that raven since you're occupied by pressing business"

Tyrion blinked and took a moment to properly admire her parting remark. As he mused he briefly considered grabbing some gold and following through with his lewd suggestions if only to take his mind of things. But sadly he really had little time to get things done so he would have to limit himself to half a cask of Arbor gold.

Perhaps he could indulge if someone helpfully reminded Robert that Cersei was Rhaegar's wannabe bribe and that he was getting the prince's unwanted leavings. Hopefully he would smash her head in with a cry of "DragonFucker!"

With those pleasant thoughts he went off in search of his captain of the guards. He needed some muscle to look imposing and a place to find some mercenaries. Ranks and hands needed filling.

Later that night

Tyrion laughed as loud as he could at the lame joke. The mercenaries around him didn't seem to notice or were used to fake laughing. Either way it didn't matter. Some false compliments and a chuckle to sweeten the pile of gold was more than worth it to hire these louts.

Tyrion looked around him. They weren't the youngest or the most skilled but they were scarred by pretty songs. These were veterans of the Nine Penny war. The men skilled enough to fight in this war but disillusioned enough not to.

War was a bottomless void that always craved more wide eyed idiots. Tywin had promised riches for any who could keep up with the forced march to the capital.

Few had kept up and those that did were survivors were still trickling back home, poorer than they started. These men however, instantly knew Tywin's promise to be empty air and proceeded to just drink and whore until a better offer came along when he got defeated or won and needed more men to consolidate his holdings.

Many scorned them as cowards but Tyrion saw common sense instead of wobbly knees. He'd befriended them before Tywin had even left the West, certain that the time spent would pay off eventually. Sadly, it had happened sooner than he thought. He'd avenge Jaime though and these men were going to help him.

Tyrion needed commanders not bannermen. These men wouldn't be fooled by a pretty song sung by Cersei's tits. They wouldn't ask for more when they were satisfied with a reliable whore. Reality not fantasy drove them. They weren't loyal to his name nor to each other. He could replace their leader and they'd accept it with only minor grumbling. As long as he kept the gold flowing they'd stay loyal and their leaders couldn't extort him for their support.

Tywin may have alienated Westeros with how he dealt with the Reynes of Castamere but the man had a point. Fucking nobles were unreliable cunts. Tywin scared them into obedience, Tytos tried bribing them but Tyrion had a unique opportunity to just replace them. He'd give the lord's responsibilities to the steward and let the situation fester until people just accepted it. If the steward got uppity then he'd be replaced.

It made his position more vulnerable to hostile takeovers but overall it would be less of a headache than balancing the needs of dozens of spoilt nobles who all looked down on him. He had no desire to be the Nanny of the West for the rest of his life.

"Birds could have nested in the bastard's mouth by the time he found his wits to reply!" a mercenary roared in laughter

Tyrion gave out another chuckle but it was getting a little tedious. It was time to wrap things up. This had been the ninth bar of the evening and by his calculations he had enough men to start forming a new command structure. He'd weed out the incompetent and disloyal later but for now it was enough.

He grabbed a nearby whore "I think I'll put my head to use before I'm too drunk to keep it up!" He said loudly to the laughing room. A few men guffawed and drank deeply while another replied loudly "The girl will praise your cock as if it was sculpted by the Smith himself. She'll gasp at it in wide eyed awe and you'll be so impressed with yourself that you won't even notice the cum stains on her dress that the last dozen men left behind."

"I don't doubt it" He shouted loudly "But this time she'll put some real effort into it after my purse thuds on the ground. She'll transform into the maiden herself, all pure and innocent. She'll be looking eagerly but nervously at the sight of my cock, but when she starts moaning the whore next door will look longingly at the wall wishing it was me instead of you that was fucking her!" He said to raucous laughter

The Truth when stated boldly was powerful. But a lie stated boldly wasn't far behind and was easier to come by. The easy admission followed by a boast disarmed the insult better than any red faced defense. It even earned him some points and had his whore fake blushing.

Yes words had power and he was going to prove it. He'd prove it to the West and then he'd prove it to whomever wanted to sit in the chair that was more uncomfortable than a dry buggering.

Robert Baratheon

Rebel leader outside the remains of King's landing

Robert grunted in satisfaction as he came. He wasn't mounting the whore like an old workhorse and riding her till she passed out like he used to, but it was a start.

The fucking present that blasted dragon left him was fading and soon so would his memory. But to do that he'd have to wipe out his legacy and his cursed dynasty. Everyone knew the Targs were obsessed with their ancestors, if even one survived then they'd be singing Rhaegar's song until the Seven gave up hope on mankind and started from scratch.

He pushed the whore away so he could get a better view out the window despite the good job she'd been doing fondling his cock.

The city looked like shit. Or the shit looked like a burned out hollow of a city. Almost every house had been burnt to ash and the scattering of stone houses had sagged more than a ninety year old whore. Only the Red keep was still standing and even that was blackened. It had taken days for the ash to cool down enough so that his men could enter without being cooked alive in their armor. Thus it came to no surprise to find the castle empty save a few corpses and in danger of collapsing. There had been nothing to loot except the iron throne that Jon had insisted on taking, to the misery of the dozen men carrying it.

It was a right nightmare. For him and everyone else. Even the whore in his room hadn't been a whore until the twice cursed wildfire took her family away. Almost half a million had died in the fire and more died of starvation afterwards. Southern traders were blockaded by the Tyrells and those from the Riverlands had fled at the sight of the clashing armies. Not even the greedy essosi merchants were willing to supply the refugees without coin. Coin Jon said they didn't have. If they supported them on their own purse they'd be chewing on wood themselves within a fortnight.

In short a lot of people sitting on their ass looking at him for solutions instead of doing it them-bloody-selves.

He had none to give and time was running out. Ned had wanted to press on to relieve Storm's end and then hunt down leads for Lyanna but with this disaster they couldn't leave. Jon was adamant that they help or else none would believe in his kingship.

It wasn't his kind of fight though. Give him a battlefield and a hammer and he'd be…. Well, him in a whorehouse. But numbers and whining and he'd rather cut his own damn cock off than listen to it.

Damn thing wasn't going away though despite this little pressure reliever. Unfortunately, even he couldn't fuck enough whores to single-handedly stimulate the economy. Nor was his plan of letting his army do it for him well received.

With another grunt he pulled up his breeches and walked out of the room after throwing some coin at the girl's feet. The lack of yelling assured him it was enough.

"Your grace, lord Arryn has requested your presence." a guard informed him as soon as he stepped five feet from the door. Bloody vultures, not a moment's rest.

He sighed but nodded and followed despite his own misgivings. It wasn't long before he was led into another little room in the little village that no one had ever heard of before. It was kinda pathetic that this was were he was going to be crowned if things kept up. But it would be even worse if his army was crushed when the Red keep came down on their heads. Proper ceremony took a backseat when it gave Aerys another chance to take down a second army. Robert was not going down in the books as the king that got crushed by his own bleeding castle!

He walked inside and roared "What's it now Jon!" He wanted to give some examples of other pointless little things he had wanted to discuss before but his mind couldn't grasp one in time.

The old man sighed "Relax Robert it's about the war"

His eyebrows jumped up in surprise and a smile cracked wide open "Well, why didn't you say so!" He shouted triumphantly as he imagined the glorious battle to come for Storm's end and the hunt for the Sand whore and her Dragonspawn. He'd even swim across the Black bay to Dragonstone if he had to for the Dragon queen and her clutch.

Ned shook his head as usual but he could spot that faint little smile of his a mile away. The stoic little bugger.

He truly pitied his Tully wife. The man would probably come with a face made out of stone and a few heartfelt words of gratitude. Almost made him want to give the poor girl a pity fuck so she'd know what a true fucking was there wasn't any time to do it nor did he want to offend his friend who actually cared about maidenheads.

Jon interrupted his thoughts "The food from the Riverlands has arrived and distributed to the small folk." the lord paused a moment to collect his thoughts "I've assigned men to oversee the resettlement effort. Most will be living somewhere else within a few short months allowing us to use our resources against the Reach and Dorn."

Robert blinked "Wait what? You mean we have to wait months or can we march now?" He asked in confusion

Ned spoke up "We're going to negotiate with the Reach to end this. Dorne has no more men to give and Tywin is dead. The Westerlands are in a succession crisis but won't be for long. Tywin's second son has been hiring sellswords to help consolidate his rule and banishing those loyal to his sister but for now his sister holds more loyalty."

Jon took over "If we support her claim then we can end this war with the Westerland's support. The Reach will be fighting a war on two fronts. " Jon spread his hands far apart before slowly bringing them together as if squeezing the very life out of the Reach "Even Mace Tyrell knows that he can't win that."

Robert snorted "Never underestimate what Mace doesn't know."

Jon rolled his eyes, no doubt blaming his opinion on his losses against the Reach "Be that as it may. We still need them. Our men are tired and wounded while the Reach men are fresh. We're in no shape to force an end to this. Heck we'll most likely be playing defense until our men heal up." Jon's eyes darted towards his own bloody wounds.

He stifled a glare as he knew the man meant well. It still left him irritable though to be reminded of that dragon's little fuck-you-gift "What do you want Jon, spit it out!" Did they want him to sign some piece of paper or chat up some stupid jumped up lordling?

Jon looked to Eddard, as if pleading him to say it with his eyes. Robert already feared he wasn't going to like this but when Ned hesitated he knew for sure. Ned never fucking hesitated unless it was a pile of steaming shit or a woman. He swallowed reflexively.

Ned took a deep breath before he turned to him "You need to marry Cersei Lannister for the good of the Realm." He said bluntly, closely followed by Jon slapping his own face.

Robert flinched as if his best friend told him he had to stick his dick in a viper's nest.

Heck, going off house symbols that would be a whole lot better despite them being dragon fuckers. He'd met Cersei before. The memory wasn't pleasant to say the least. He doubted the conceited little cunt remembered him since she was stalking Rhaegar like Jon Connington at the time but her razor sharp tongue and arrogance had made an impression.

It was part of the reason why he was so fixated on marrying Lyanna. The thought of accidentally marrying a bitch like that had made Lyanna's honesty and open disgust with his whoring positively endearing to him. Cersei was all honeyed words and golden tresses, absolutely divine to look at from a distance. Her personality however, bore close resemblance to the swamplands of the Neck.

Lyanna in contrast had been beautiful and direct. No hidden pitfalls to be wary off, no hidden meanings or insults, or false courtesies. It was simple and honest. If he fucked up then she told him and how he could fix it. He could still ignore her if he wanted to but at least he wouldn't be pulling out his hair trying to figure out what she wanted. It also didn't hurt that she could hold a conversation about tourneys and warhorses till the point he thought she was his best friend with tits.

"I think I'll try using a bees' nest as protection before I'll dip my sword in that…" he trailed off as he couldn't find something suitably vile enough to call Cersei.

Jon rolled his eyes again "As much as we all appreciate you pioneering new ways to… ah.. protect ourselves. The facts remain. We need an army. Ours is beat up, so we need a new one. The Lannisters have one. We can choose between the Imp or the girl. The girl is faster and easier. You are unmarried. The girl is unmarried. The imp is a boy. Do I need to go on or do you want to confess to something?" Jon raised an questioning eyebrow

Robert blinked twice before he laughed so hard that people actually took a step back in surprise "I might actually start sword swallowing before I'll marry that shrew" he chortled

Ned, who off course hadn't even let out a little smile, said hesitatingly "I know you want to marry my sister but she may be…" He choked up, as if the words themselves pained him.

Robert was quick to reassure him wordlessly that he knew what he meant but then the noble fool tried to push past it to say it anyway. So Robert shouted over him to spare him the grief "I know Ned. Blasted I know. But there's a chance and until I see her either dead or alive. I won't set her aside for anyone. Besides why the fuck should I make her queen, when she comes to us on fucking bended knee? I say we ask her to turn around and flip up her skirt!" He shouted triumphantly half expecting a boisterous roar to greet him in approval.

Ned's maiden like virtue however, caused him to blush and the old man looked exasperated again. But Robert spotted that gleam in his eyes that told him he was considering it despite his coarse language. Yes! He may just avoid that harpy and marry his dream girl yet.

Jon slowly turned to Ned. He didn't speak right away but he stared. No one interrupted him as he weighed the possibilities. Ned stared right back and Robert grabbed a flagon of wine to pass the time. He was on his second cup when Jon finally spoke.

"If we offered her young Edmure then it could work." He finished quietly with a mumbled "Their ages aren't far apart."

Robert heard it just fine though "True they were practically born on the same day compared to your fish, you cradle fucker!" He laughed again to lighten the mood and to prevent any dissent from Ned. He'd be so distracted by his jest that he'd forget to protest even if he wanted to and then accept it later on as the momentum shifted against him. It always worked like a charm.

Jon grimaced at the thought and Ned seemed grimmer at the reminder of his own nuptials. Robert could only silently commiserate with them though. Neither man was prone to a heart to heart over some booze or a fight. Whether honor or duty kept their lips sealed tighter than a septa's cunt he didn't know or care. He just knew they'd feel better if they parted them.

Robert broke the awkward silence before the stoic duo stalled until evening fall. "Write Hoster, see if he will agree."

Jon snapped his attention back to him and jumped onto the order like a beggar in flea bottom on a gold dragon "I'm sure he will. He once tried to set up my wife with Jaime only for Tywin to refuse him. The thought of his son being heir to the Westerlands would please him and make Tywin roll in his grave."

Robert nodded happily. Edmure got a hot wife who'd hopefully die of childbirth and get two lord paramountships and he got an army and hopefully his Lyanna. Everybody wins

"That's a lot of land for one boy to rule, Jon. Are we sure he can hold the Westerlands together? Wouldn't his uncle be a better choice?" asked Ned

Robert's smile dropped off his face as the unassailable reason threw mud on his party. Blasted, Ned was supposed to be too distracted to protest.

Jon nodded "Normally I'd agree with you but I overheard a fight between lord Brynden and Lord Hoster. Words were exchanged and I highly doubt after hearing them that we can force Lord Brynden to marry anyone."

The old man let that sink in for a moment before he continued "Besides we need to bribe them with something. We may not be weak but we do not have them over a barrel either Robert. We can't demand anything, only ask. And you know Cersei will have trouble enough marrying a future lord paramount let alone a second son old enough to be her father."

Robert snorted "Her head scrapes more clouds than the Eyrie does. You'd think marrying the prince was her birthright."

"Shall I write our father in law or will you?" asked Ned with a small smile directed at Jon.

Robert felt a little stab in his heart at the paltry display of gallows' humor. He was going to miss the bastard. No doubt his new wife would suck what little fun Ned had out of him and display his balls on the mantelpiece.

He barely heard who would write Hoster and then things muddled onto logistics again and he tuned out. He only looked up when a maester entered with a raven, something about Tyrion offering to take the refugees of their hands and that his ships would arrive in a few months. He noted the happy smile on Jon´s face and took it as a sign that he could doze off again. He wasn't asked any questions so he didn't bother asking any either. He was busy daydreaming about Rose or was it Mary? When both of them stood up and were shaking hands he jumped out of his seat as well.

"Wait what about the war? Are we marching or not?" he asked bluntly.

Both of them looked at him in confusion. No doubt wondering how he missed it during their conversation but dammit he wasn't built for these kinds of things.

"We're going to hold position until our wounded are healed and we'll court the Westerlands to pressure the Reach into surrendering Robert. You were still with us for that." Jon reminded with another roll of his eyes.

Robert nodded sheepishly and slowly got up as well to shake hands. After pleasantries were done with and both of them declined invitations to go drink with him. Robert retired back to the inn and called up another whore and a flagon of wine. The sun soon set and the ugly reminder of dragon rule disappeared from the horizon and with it all the problems that it brought with it. For one bloody night at least.

This ruling business is thirsty work Robert thought just before shouting "That's right bitch, take it all!"