~~~ Lannisport, Casterly rock ~~~
Tywin Lannister POV
"What do you see?" I asked my dwarf son as we stood before the window of my chambers overlooking Lannisport.
I did not turn toward him. My eyes remained fixed on the city below.
"Lannisport?" Tyrion replied, raising an eyebrow.
"No," I corrected the little man without looking away.
My hands remained clasped behind my back as my gaze swept over the thousands of buildings, the ships filling the harbor, and the crimson banners bearing the golden lion that danced in the sea breeze.
"I see history," I said quietly. "Thousands of years of glory belonging to our house. And now, finally, we have a chance to create a new legacy for future generations to admire... and inherit."
"Joffrey?" Tyrion asked with a smirk, turning his gaze from the harbor to me.
"Perhaps you should pay a visit to King's Landing and see the boy before you burden him with your legacy," he added with a soft chuckle.
"I won't have to," I replied at last, turning toward him.
I rested a hand upon his small shoulder and slowly tightened my grip.
"You will help prepare the boy."
Tyrion looked up at me, masking the pain beneath that same mocking smile he always wore whenever I reminded him who his father was.
"Your uncle Kevan will accompany you on the journey," I continued, finally releasing him. "He will oversee the preparations at Harrenhal for the tourney."
"Ah... a tourney. Of course, why not?" Tyrion said, rubbing his shoulder. "Spend as lavishly as possible."
A grin spread across his face.
"Show the realm that Tywin Lannister still shits gold."
Ignoring the jab, I walked toward the large table at the center of the room where a carved map of Westeros rested.
"Father..." Tyrion followed after me. "Is it really necessary for you to do this?"
"It is," I answered simply, placing both hands upon the table as I leaned over it.
"Lords from all Seven Kingdoms will gather there to swear fealty to Joffrey."
"I heard. The entire city has been talking about it," Tyrion replied, stopping opposite me. "But why now? King Robert is still alive."
"Because of what he did."
"What did he do?"
"When Robert called his banners and seized the Iron Throne..."
My hand reached for the carved stag resting upon King's Landing.
"...he created a dangerous precedent."
I lifted the piece into my palm.
"Any man with enough power can seize the Iron Throne."
Tyrion frowned.
"Robert is the king," he replied. "Even saying something like that is treason."
"That may be true," I said, rolling the carved stag between my fingers, "but the Crown is drowning in debt. There are still Targaryen loyalists across the realm, and from what your sister tells me, the Mad King's son has begun searching for allies in the east."
Lowering myself slightly, I brought my eyes level with his.
"Renly and Stannis hold little regard for Joffrey. The Starks and Tullys are bound together through marriage. The Tyrells are as opportunistic as they have always been."
"And the Arryns?" Tyrion asked.
"Jon Arryn remains loyal to Robert," I replied, setting the stag back upon King's Landing. "And he will remain loyal to Joffrey."
I paused.
"But his son won't."
"Ah..." Tyrion chuckled, leaning back slightly. "The Young Falcon. The one who's been giving you nightmares lately."
I answered him only with a long, expressionless stare.
His smile slowly disappeared.
"The Young Falcon does not think like a Tully," I said, picking up the silver falcon and moving it away from the trout resting at Riverrun. "He has been lending enormous sums to several river lords near the Vale, investing in their lands and forging alliances of his own."
I set the falcon back upon the map.
"It has driven the old fish mad."
"You seem to know quite a lot about him," Tyrion observed, folding his arms. "That's quite a bit of attention for one young lord."
"Our house is surrounded by enemies," I replied as I lowered myself into my chair. "And that boy already has Tolos, Elyria, and Mantarys under his influence."
"But he only freed them," Tyrion argued, taking the seat opposite mine. "The governors of those cities still rule them."
He is clever.
But he still has much to learn. Its all an act.
"The boy is the reason I agreed to your sister's request," I said, resting one arm upon the table. "From what Cersei tells me, he is somewhere in Essos leading nearly twenty thousand men against a Dothraki khalasar."
"Has he won?" Tyrion asked, genuine curiosity replacing the sarcasm as he reached for the wine bottle and filled two goblets before sliding one across the table toward me.
I picked up the cup.
"Word is yet to come form east," I replied before taking a measured sip. "But that is not what matters."
I tapped the silver falcon resting upon the map.
"What matters... is that he commands twenty thousand men."
"So what?" Tyrion asked, reaching for the wine goblet. "Jon Arryn sent twenty thousand men from the Vale with his son?"
"He didn't," I replied, taking the cup he had slid toward me.
The answer made Tyrion pause halfway through lifting his own goblet. He lowered it again, surprise flickering across his face.
"So how did the boy manage to gather twenty thousand men?" he asked, leaning forward. "Mercenaries?"
"Many mercenary companies," I answered before taking a slow sip of wine. "And a large part was raised from those two cities."
"Oh..."
Realization spread across Tyrion's face.
"So the rumors of his wealth are true," he murmured. "Hiring that many sellswords is not cheap."
I lowered my cup and looked back at the carved map before us.
The lion piece stood proudly in the west, facing King's Landing.
Around it stood wolves, roses, falcons, stags, and suns.
"The Tyrells are opportunists," I said, nudging the carved rose with a finger. "The Dornish hate us. The new Lord of Storm's End does not hold us in high regard, and the heir to Highgarden counts Renly Baratheon among his closest friends."
I paused before moving the falcon.
"And Artys's hatred toward Joffrey is well known."
"Thank you for enlightening me, Father," Tyrion said with a crooked smile. "Cersei seems to send you quite a lot of information."
"I already know all of this," I replied, picking up the golden lion. "We are surrounded by enemies and lack true friends."
I placed the lion beside the Iron Throne carved into the map.
"This tournament is not merely about lords swearing fealty."
Sliding the lion toward the falcon, I continued,
"It is about securing alliances."
I rested the lion beside the silver falcon.
"First... Myrcella and Artys Arryn."
My fingers moved to the rose.
"Joffrey and the Tyrell girl."
Then the wolf.
"And Tommen to one of Ned Stark's daughters."
"Cersei won't like that," Tyrion observed, swirling the wine inside his cup.
"It does not matter what she thinks," I replied coldly. "I am done allowing your little siblings to play games."
My eyes met his.
"If Robert dies, war may begin. Especially if that little bird in the east decides to seize the opportunity."
"I get it."
Tyrion suddenly clapped his hands together.
"So that's it."
A grin spread across his face.
"The rumors of House Arryn becoming richer bruised your pride, and you're using this tournament as an excuse to remind the realm that Tywin Lannister is still the richest man in Westeros."
"And do you believe we are?" I asked, watching him carefully.
Tyrion rolled the goblet between his fingers before answering.
"I doubt that."
He shrugged.
"We have the gold mines and taxes of the Westerlands."
He began counting on his fingers.
"The Arryns have their silver mines—dozens of them, from what I've heard. Their ships trade beyond the Iron Isles to distant lands. Their Iron Circle weapons are famous throughout the world and fetch outrageous prices."
He chuckled.
"The list goes on."
"So?" I asked.
A sly smile crept across Tyrion's face.
"House Lannister is the richest house." He raised the goblet.
"And always will be. "With that, he emptied it in a single swallow.
"After all..." He smiled.
"We sit upon a mountain of gold."
Not anymore.
The thought remained buried behind my face.
The mines were running dry.
To silence the truth, I had ordered hundreds of miners sealed alive within the very tunnels they had dug.
Dead men told no tales. The illusion of power must be kept until joffrey sit firmly on throne.
I needed Artys to marry Myrcella.
Through her, his wealth would become ours.
The same with the Tyrells.
Once children were born from Artys and Myrcella...
The boy would die. Along with the rest of his family.
The same fate awaits the rose of the Reach and House Tyrell. Power belonged to those willing to take it.
POV ends
Unknown to Tywin and Tyrion Lannister, a bird had been listening to their entire conversation.
A small sparrow sat upon the stone windowsill outside, tilting its head from one side to the other as it listened through the half-open window.
"There will be no war," the little sparrow chirped, puffing out its tiny chest proudly. "Only the slaughter of men like you."
"Chirp. Chirp."
With a happy flap of its wings, it launched itself into the afternoon sky.
"I'll get a promotion for this. Chirp chirp," it sang as it soared over the rooftops of Lannisport, beating its wings even faster.
The little bird darted toward the forest beyond the city, where the western headquarters of the FBI intelligence network lay hidden.
As it flew, its imagination ran wild.
Roasted rabbits.
A massive sack of salted peanuts.
And, of course...
The two cute sparrows he met at headquarters yesterday.
"Long live the Emperor!" it chirped proudly, soaring over Lannisport with its chest puffed out once more.
Peanuts.
Promotion.
The two cute sparrow girls.
Those were the only things occupying its tiny little mind.