You Are Addressing Winterfell

King's Landing, The Crownlands

"During the battle. Your sister sent the Kettleblacks to fetch the king back to the Red Keep, the way I hear it. When the gold cloaks saw him leavin' half of them decided they'd leave with him. Ironhand put himself in their path and tried to order them back to the walls. They say Bywater was blistering them good and almost had 'em ready to turn when someone put an arrow through his neck. He didn't seem so fearsome then, so they dragged him off his horse and killed him." Bronn told Tyrion.

'Another debt to lay at Cersei's door.' "My nephew," he said, "Joffrey. Was he in any danger?"

"No more'n some, and less than most."

"Had he suffered any harm? Taken a wound? Mussed his hair, stubbed his toe, cracked a nail?"

"Not as I heard."

"I warned Cersei what would happen. Who commands the gold cloaks now?"

"Your lord father's given them to one of his westermen, some knight named Addam Marbrand."

In most cases the gold cloaks would have resented having an outsider placed over them, but Ser Addam Marbrand was a shrewd choice. Like Jaime, he was the sort of man other men liked to follow. Tyrion knows that he lost the City Watch.

~

"Why are you here in the city, Father?" he asked. "Shouldn't you be off fighting Lord Stannis or Harrold Arryn or someone?"

"Until Lord Redwyne brings his fleet up, we lack the ships to assail Dragonstone. It makes no matter. Stannis Baratheon's sun set on the Blackwater. As for Arryn, the boy is still in the west, but a large force of valement under Luceon Hersy and Symond Templeton are descending toward Duskendale. I've sent Lord Tarly to meet them, while Ser Gregor drives up the kingsroad to cut off their retreat. Hersy and Templeton will be caught between them, with a third of Arryn's strength."

"Duskendale?" 'There was nothing at Duskendale worth such a risk. Had the Young Falcon finally blundered?'

"It's nothing you need trouble yourself with. Your face is pale as death, and there's blood seeping through your dressings. Say what you want and take yourself back to bed."

"What I want... Pod tells me that Littlefinger's been made Lord of Harrenhal."

"An empty title, so long as Lyn Corbray holds the castle for Harrold Arryn, yet Lord Baelish was desirous of the honor. He did us good service in the matter of the Tyrell marriage. A Lannister pays his debts."

The Tyrell marriage had been Tyrion's notion, in point of fact, but it would seem churlish to try to claim that now. "That title may not be as empty as you think," he warned. "Littlefinger does nothing without good reason. But be that as it may. You said something about paying debts, I believe?"

"And you want your own reward, is that it? Very well. What is it you would have of me? Lands, castle, some office?"

"A little bloody gratitude would make a nice start."

Lord Tywin stared at him, unblinking. "Mummers and monkeys require applause. So did Aerys, for that matter. You did as you were commanded, and I am sure it was to the best of your ability. No one denies the part you played."

"The part I played?" What nostrils Tyrion had left must surely have flared. "I saved your bloody city, it seems to me."

"Most people seem to feel that it was my attack on Lord Stannis's flank that turned the tide of battle. Lords Tyrell, Rowan, Redwyne, and Tarly fought nobly as well, and I'm told it was your sister Cersei who set the pyromancers to making the wildfire that destroyed the Baratheon fleet."

"While all I did was get my nosehairs trimmed, is that it?" Tyrion could not keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"Your chain was a clever stroke, and crucial to our victory. Is that what you wanted to hear? I am told we have you to thank for our Dornish alliance as well. You may be pleased to learn that Myrcella has arrived safely at Sunspear. Ser Arys Oakheart writes that she has taken a great liking to Princess Arianne, and that Prince Trystane is enchanted with her. I mislike giving House Martell a hostage, but I suppose that could not be helped."

"We'll have our own hostage," Tyrion said. "A council seat was also part of the bargain. Unless Prince Doran brings an army when he comes to claim it, he'll be putting himself in our power."

"Would that a council seat were all Martell came to claim," Lord Tywin said. "You promised him vengeance as well."

"I promised him justice."

"Call it what you will. It still comes down to blood."

"Not an item in short supply, surely? I splashed through lakes of it during the battle." Tyrion saw no reason not to cut to the heart of the matter. "Or have you grown so fond of Gregor Clegane that you cannot bear to part with him?"

"Ser Gregor has his uses, as did his brother. Every lord has need of a beast from time to time... Did you want me to recall what Stark did to the Ironborn, the Sisters, Myr, The Twins and at Bhorash?"

"The woods are full of beasts," he reminded his father. "The alleyways as well."

"True. Perhaps other dogs would hunt as well. I shall think on it. If there is nothing else..."

"You have important letters, yes." Tyrion rose on unsteady legs, closed his eyes for an instant as a wave of dizziness washed over him, and took a shaky step toward the door. Later, he would reflect that he should have taken a second, and then a third. Instead he turned. "What do I want, you ask? I'll tell you what I want. I want what is mine by rights. I want Casterly Rock."

His father's mouth grew hard. "Your brother's birthright?"

"The knights of the Kingsguard are forbidden to marry, to father children, and to hold land, you know that as well as I. The day Jaime put on that white cloak, he gave up his claim to Casterly Rock, but never once have you acknowledged it. It's past time. I want you to stand up before the realm and proclaim that I am your son and your lawful heir."

Lord Tywin's eyes were a pale green flecked with gold, as luminous as they were merciless. "Casterly Rock," he declared in a flat cold dead tone. And then, "Never."

The word hung between them, huge, sharp, poisoned.

'I knew the answer before I asked.' Tyrion thought. 'Eighteen years since Jaime joined the Kingsguard, and I never once raised the issue. I must have known. I must always have known.' "Why?" he made himself ask, though he knew he would rue the question.

"You ask that? You, who killed your mother to come into the world? You are an ill-made, devious, disobedient, spiteful little creature full of envy, lust, and low cunning. Men's laws give you the right to bear my name and display my colors, since I cannot prove that you are not mine. To teach me humility, the gods have condemned me to watch you waddle about wearing that proud lion that was my father's sigil and his father's before him. But neither gods nor men shall ever compel me to let you turn Casterly Rock into your whorehouse."

"My whorehouse?" The dawn broke; Tyrion understood all at once where this bile had come from. He ground his teeth together and said, "Cersei told you about Alayaya."

"Is that her name? I confess, I cannot remember the names of all your whores. Who was the one you married as a boy?"

"Tysha." He spat out the answer, defiant.

"And that camp follower on the Green Fork?"

"Why do you care?" he asked, unwilling even to speak Shae's name in his presence.

"To save a whore's virtue, you threatened your own House, your own kin? Is that the way of it?"

"You were the one who taught me that a good threat is often more telling than a blow. Not that Joffrey hasn't tempted me sore a few hundred times. If you're so anxious to whip people, start with him. But Tommen . . . why would I harm Tommen? He's a good lad, and mine own blood."

"As was your mother." Lord Tywin rose abruptly, to tower over his dwarf son. "Go back to your bed, Tyrion, and speak to me no more of your rights to Casterly Rock. You shall have your reward, but it shall be one I deem appropriate to your service and station. And make no mistake-this was the last time I will suffer you to bring shame onto House Lannister. You are done with whores. The next one I find in your bed, I'll hang."

~

Fairmarket, The Northern Realms

Robin Flint came in the hall to warn him of the arrival of an envoy from Volantis. Aryan was sitting and eating with Robb, the Greatjon, Torrhen Karstark, Rodrik Forrester, William Dustin, Brynden Blackwood, Daryn Hornwood and Roose Ryswell. Being curious, he welcomed the envoy and his companions.

"Announcing, the honorable Qova Maegyr, the envoy of the First Daughter of Valyria, Old Volantis!"

"Lord Stark, I am sent here by the orders of Malaquo Maegyr, triarch of Volantis, to discuss a potential alliance between Lys and Volantis." the man spoke out politely, but firmly.

Aryan raised his eyebrows "Malaquo Maegyr? Wasn't he killed a couple of years ago?"

Qova smiled "You are mistaken, his cousin died, his magnificence Malaquo Maegyr is always safely guarded and hidden during election time."

Aryan laughed on the inside thinking that he killed the wrong man but he reckoned that the victim didn't matter "Well, what sort alliance are you speaking about and why are you talking to me instead of my goodfather?"

"Well, we wish to join our blood, we want to unify your goodbrother with the eldest daughter of the triarch, Talisa."

"You still didn't answer the question, Valyrian. Why are you talking to our Lord?" Asked Daryn Hornwood.

Qova frowned and said "Well, the Lady Talisa is in Westeros. She works as a healer in the battlefield around the Riverlands. We wish for your aid to bring her back home. Where she would be safe."

Aryan thought about it and shrugged his shoulders before nodding.

But Qova continued "We will like forthe ten thousand youths in the Disputed Lands to come to Volantis."

Aryan looked at him and said "Don't think so."

Qova frowned "May I remind you of the fleet of three thousand ships that belong to Volantis and that could surround your entire coast? It would be unwise to displease us." Qova himself knew that the threats was without any substance and if Volantis didn't have the Black Wall, never would he have uttered those words.

The northeners frowned about the threats but Aryan stopped them while raising his hand. He looked at him in boredom and said "Sorry."

Qova smiled and said "We are prepared to extend a deadline to three moons."

Aryan said "No.." and stood up and faced the Volantene "I mean I'm sorry that you misunderstood who you are talking to. You are not dealing with Lysandro Rogare or an Elephant. You are addressing Winterfell. And all the subjects under his Lord's protection."

He stood in front of Qova and his companions while the Northeners were glaring at them.

He looked the Volantenes in the eye "So you have a choice. You can either kneel while adressing the Magnar of the First Men. Or you can refuse and return to Volantis and the next we'll meet, you shall see The Bloody Wolf and the Ever-Victorious Northern Army in their natural element."

Qova chuckled nervously and looked around to find support but the northeners didn't even blink or move while the Volantenes were sweating are shaking. He got on his knees and his companions followed.

Aryan nodded and said "Good choice. Now, come, let's eat." he returned to the tables and told his lords "Why have enemies when you can have friends?"