"Kevan Lannister...never underestimate a second son, Your Grace. He has been Tywin Lannister's right-hand man for decades. Tywin was the hammer, Kevan the anvil."

-Jorah Mormont to Viserys Targaryen

THE LESSER LION

Kevan Lannister hated Summerhall.

He had been in worse places before. The campaign against the Blackfyres where he had won his knighthood alongside Tywin, the marches against the robber knights and bandit outlaws that had plagued the Westerlands during their father's rule. The fight against the Reynes and the Tarbecks, where he had received a nasty wound during the battle of Tarbeck Hall, something that still haunted him.

I will never forget those screams, he thought as Castamere crossed his mind. His brother was ruthless, but it had all been necessary to restore the Lannister name. Even it had meant wiping two ancient houses off the face of Westeros.

Summerhall was was hot as Dorne, wet as the Stormlands and as miserable as both. He had never liked either place and longed for the comforts of Casterly Rock. But his brother had commanded him to finish Edward's education. To make him and his children worthy of Casterly Rock.

Why wouldn't he just hand over Casterly Rock to me and my children? It was a thought that had crossed his mind before. His children were full Lannisters; Lancel was squire to the king, his twin sons Martyn and Willem were with him and he had a newborn daughter, Janei. Plenty of blood, Lannister blood, to continue their dominion over the Westerlands.

Edward was a good man and would be a fine lord. But there was just something that rubbed him the wrong way of giving Casterly Rock and the Westerlands to someone who didn't even have the traditional Lannister looks. He knew he was being hypocritical. Tommen and Myrcella

He understood that Tywin would never give the Rock to Tyrion. There was too much bad blood between them, too much animosity. Tyrion had killed Joanna with his birth and Tywin had never smiled again. He refused to speak to Genna for a year after she suggested that Tyrion was most like Tywin. A shame really, because Tyrion was a bright man. If he had been born taller or even had not killed Joanna, he might have inherited…

"Great-uncle?" Kevan looked from the papers in his desk to see Edward, the black haired prince. While Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella had the golden hair of their mother, Edward was a younger version of Robert in both build and look. It was strange to him, but the Gods were fickle.

"I was just looking at the matters of your wedding with Lady Jordayne. She seems dead set on Oldtown, despite the historical tensions between the Dornish and the Reachmen," Kevan said, exasperated. "That woman wants to get married in the Starry Sept. 'The Lannisters are paying for my wedding, it might as well be the grandest marriage in the entire kingdom.' You do realize that your grandfather doesn't shit gold, correct?"

Edward chuckled. "Myria's family will pay for a part of it. I've already discussed it with her. And Uncle Renly has offered to pay for a part of it as well."

Kevan was surprised at that. "The crown. What of your father?"

Edward's face darkened. "My father is borrowing from grandfather. Even if the crown did offer to finance the wedding, House Lannister would still be paying for it fully."

The boy is sharp. He had to thank Tyrion and Stannis for that. Edward was still a bit careless when it came to running his own lands, leaving Kevan and Ser Cortnay to handle the bulk of it, but he wasn't mindless nor ignorant of his duties. Unlike his father.

"You're right," Kevan admitted. "It seems that House Lannister will be paying over half, but it won't be as expensive as I thought it would be."

"Great-uncle, I am not my father. He is a great warrior but not a very attentive king," Edward said. "I have no doubt that I have inherited some of his tendencies to ignore the ruling part of running a kingdom, but uncle Stannis has taught me well. So has uncle Tyrion."

"Good," Kevan replied. "What are your plans for tomorrow?"

"A ride with my betrothed through the villages, going to see the blacksmith for repairs to my armor and writing letters to the Lords of the Marches inviting them to the wedding," Edward spouted. Then the boy groaned. "Do I have to write by hand? Why can't the maester do it himself? Or you, for that matter?"

Kevan sighed. "I am not your scribe nor your maester, great-nephew. It speaks well of you that you would take the time and effort from other activities to write to these lords," Kevan said, having taken Tyrion's old chambers and had not been prepared for the nightly sounds that emitted from Edward's rooms. "You will write to these lords, no matter how bad your handwriting is."

Edward's face was sullen, reminding the aging knight that his great-nephew was still young. Kevan sighed again and Edward was defeated.

"Aye, great-uncle, I'll write to them," Edward conceded, though not without making it seem as if Kevan was expecting him to execute someone. "We'll send out ravens within a sennight."

Kevan smiled and slapped Edward on the shoulder. "Good. Now, we'll have to go over-"

That was interrupted when one of the Lannister men at arms that Kevan had brought with him. Most of the other Lannister guardsmen had departed with Tyrion just before Kevan had arrived, no doubt a move orchestrated by Edward in order to not increase the Lannister presence in the Stormlands.

"My lords! My lords! The village...the village was attacked!" the men at arms was panting, his voice hoarse. "Bandits...at least two dozen. Killed and kidnapped half the villagers!"

"WHAT?" Edward roared. "What happened? Tell us man!"

Kevan inserted himself between Edward and the men at arms, who was still breathing hard.

"Give him some room Edward," Kevan advised and Edward stepped back, allowing the man some room to breathe. "Tell us, what in Seven Hells happened."

"Your Grace, the village was attacked. At least three dozen men, most of them mounted. Killed the village headman, kidnapped most of the women and stole most of their crops," the man at arms explained, still breathing erratically. "The survivors said they headed north."

Edward began to curse loudly. Ser Kevan turned to the man at arms. "Go get something to eat and drink. Send word to Ser Rolland and Ser Penrose that we need their presence."

The man at arms bowed and left in a hurry, leaving the old knight with his charge. "Damnit! Damnit, damnit, damnit. I fucking knew that something would happen," Edward started to shout, though mostly at himself. "I fucking knew it and I should have seen it. What the fuck is wrong with me! I'm going to kill those men and I'm going hang their bodies from the fucking battlements when I get my hands on them, string them along for all the Stormlands to see!"

Kevan sighed. Edward's bloodlust was getting the better of him. This is what lead to the Joffrey incident. He remembered that well and the shame it had brought upon his family for failing to prevent it.

"Calm yourself lad," he counseled but Edward was heading towards Kevan's desk.

"Calm myself? My village was attacked right under my nose. I will not calm myself when those murdering bastards are out there!" Edward thundered, before slamming his fist onto Kevan's desk.

Kevan had enough. "ENOUGH!"

Edward reacted to that.

"I understand that you want vengeance, but shouting and cursing will not solve anything here," Kevan reminded his great-nephew. "You need a clear mind. Angry men are stupid men and you are acting like one!"

Edward huffed but Kevan knew he had him.

"Good. It's okay to be angry, but not when it clouds your mind. We need time to think, to organize a response, and hunt down these vermin," Kevan said. "Ser Rolland and Ser Penrose should be here soon."

As soon as he said that, the two weathered veteran knights entered the room. Both of them had sweat on their faces and grim looks.

"You called my lord?" Ser Rolland said in his usual gruff voice. Penrose removed his helm and placed it under his arm. Loyal men to Edward. Good men to have. They were Stormlanders, loyal to the Baratheons only, but they were strong in their devotion to their lord.

"Yes. I presume you have heard the news?" and the two knights nodded. "Then we need to ride to the village and figure out what happened and how many of these murderers are there. If they're able to kidnap most of the women, it means they have numbers or a silver tongue."

"How many men shall we take from the garrison?" Ser Rolland asked. Edward was silent as he listened to the three men talk about how to respond. Good. Learn.

"Two dozen. All mounted. Ser Cortnay will stay here with the rest of the garrison and remain on watch," Kevan decided. "Ser Rolland, pick your best riders. Ser Cortnay, inform Ser Richard."

"Aye, my lord," Ser Rolland responded and bowed. So did Ser Cortnay. Edward was still silent. Kevan didn't know what was going through the young man's head, but he had stayed quiet when Kevan had been doling out orders.

"What are you thinking about?" Kevan asked, curious.

"These men...they attacked the village knowing that it was a royal fief. They know Summerhall is under construction, they know that we will ride out with a response. They want something. I do not know what it is, but they're goading us," Edward observed. "I can...feel it, great-uncle. We must ride carefully."

Kevan smiled.

"Good. Always trust that feeling, Edward. It will save your life. Your grandfather's instinct saved our lives many times," Kevan patted his young charge on the back. "Get your arms and armor. It's time to ride out."

Hello! Here's the newest chapter. Sorry for the delays, school and stuff is getting to me. Don't expect another chapter out of me for a while, however, as finals are coming up and I'm working a lot, but don't worry, this story is not abandoned.

-DeathBladeVI