(Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones, all works and characters are owned by George R R Martin. Please note that a large portion of this is directly quoted from the TV show, I own none of these quotes)

Tyrion walked down the dim hallways of the Red Keep, dragging the loading mechanism of his crossbow against the floor. Time seemed to slow, made slower still by the short length that his legs strode as his boots clicked across the stone floor. He turned the corner and stood before the door of the privy.

The door seemed to protest with a long high pitched creak as Tyrion pulled it to the side. His eyes met those of a surprised Tywin. A second passed and Tywin spoke in a low, cautious voice.

"Tyrion, put down the crossbow..."

Tyrion gently lifted the crossbow to point at his father's chest, a movement that would have been less intimidating in his hands if not for the current circumstances.

"Who released you?" Tywin's voice seemed more fierce than cautious after the slight movement of the weapon.

"Your brother I expect? He always had a soft spot for you..." a moment passed and his father continued, "Hm, we'll talk in my chambers."

Tywin made to stand but Tyrion did not yield an inch. Tywin slowly lowered himself back onto the seat after catching an ironclad glare from Tyrion.

"This is how you want to speak to me, hm? Shaming your father has always given you pleasure hasn't it..."

Tyrion interrupted, "All my life you've wanted me dead."

A chill crawled up Tyrion's spine as Tywin's glare hardened. "Yes." he answered.

"But you refused to die," Tywin continued, "I respect that, you fight for what is yours. I'd never let you be executed, I wouldn't let Illyn Payne take your head. You are my blood."

"You had no right to treat me as you did all those years. I am your son, you may hate me, but that makes that no less true. I wish that you could feel even a sliver of the pain I have endured for this house in your cold heart." Tyrion finished with his lungs gasping for air after his short rant.

"Pain? You speak of your life as if I whipped you every day and night for the entirety of your time in this world. No, I made sure that you were given all the gold you could ever want, I stood by as you wasted your pathetic life whoring and drinking yourself into in early grave like our late king Robert. Do you really think you could live with being responsible for both your parents deaths?"

Something in Tyrion snapped and his body rebelled against his mind, loosing a bolt into Tywin's gut. Tywin let out a grunt of pain as his body slammed against the wall.

"You're no son of mine..." Tywin was cut off by Tyrion's low whisper.

"I have always been your son." Tyrion turned to leave, but he could swear he could make out another voice, no, the voice of his father again.

A ragged whisper pierced the air behind him, a growl from his father in his last moments, but the words were likely the strangest thing Tyrion had ever heard.

"Dragon Spawn."