[Chapter Size: 3400 Words.]

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Third Person POV

Artic, 299 AC.

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Tyrion was immersed in thoughts with countless books scattered across the table before him, searching for a solution as quickly as possible to his great problem—or rather, the city’s great problem at that moment.

He only stopped noticing the important things in the history books when he saw a silhouette coming toward him with a relaxed stride, as if he were the king himself, owner of the Red Keep. He stopped writing and looked at the man approaching with a smile on his face.

“Where have you been?”, Tyrion asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Around,” he replied casually, even while standing before the Hand of the King, Tyrion’s current position.

“I need you here with me,” said Tyrion.

This was Bronn, a sellsword Tyrion had met on the road near King’s Landing. Tyrion liked him after witnessing his skill and hired him, offering gold and a castle upon seeing he would be a good ally with deadly skill with a sword—like his brother, or at least as he once was, since now he was crippled.

Jaime was not in King’s Landing, which was a dangerous problem for Tyrion. Even though he was the Hand and still held considerable influence, Bronn had proven himself a blade that protected Tyrion when necessary, especially from his sister, who could not wait to put an end to his life.

Perhaps not now, since, somehow, he had become useful to everyone when the city was about to be attacked by Stannis.

“Tell me, how can I help, my lord Hand? I’m a sellsword, am I supposed to know some war tactic?”, Bronn said, lifting an eyebrow.

And Bronn didn’t even let Tyrion answer, because he spoke in his rude manner the next moment. “How about we call them for a duel? Whoever wins walks away, whoever loses gets the city? And we should also fight over the water, a deadly duel before everyone!” Bronn was clearly mocking the situation.

Tyrion stared at him mockingly after hearing that, but he didn’t respond to the provocation; still, he continued. “I need you here with me. Even if you’re not the sharpest mind, you still have a good hand to protect me, and I’d like you at my side in battle. Knowing my sister, there’s no doubt I’ll have many swords and knives pointed at me in the dark. She can’t wait to rid herself of her ugliest brother,” he said and suddenly stopped. “I mean… the second ugliest in the Lannister family. After all, she earned that title recently,” he murmured, not missing the chance to mock her, yet still looking around for any ears nearby, ensuring no one else was there.

The sellsword raised an eyebrow. “I’d be careful if I were you saying such things, even if she were my sister. I heard she’s very sensitive about her looks. Didn’t she cut out the tongues of two maids yesterday just for mentioning her current state of beauty?”, said the mercenary.

Tyrion snorted. He certainly hadn’t liked finding the maids with their mouths bleeding and had to interfere before they were killed. His sister, the queen mother, had been screaming that she wanted them dead after having the pleasure of watching them suffer, simply because they commented on her current appearance and the wrong ears heard it.

Tyrion had to take them out of the castle for their safety and give them gold so they could at least gather their families and escape King’s Landing, since it was no longer safe for them—not with his sister roaring like a dragon, being more cruel than ever.

Tyrion didn’t know how everything had begun to go wrong, if he could even describe it that way. His family was all hurt and more insane, while the Seven Kingdoms were in chaos.

The North had unexpectedly announced its king. The Greyjoys announced their king. Renly Baratheon had declared himself king but ended up dying. Stannis also proclaimed himself king and was about to attack King’s Landing with a fleet of ships—at the same time his nephew also declared himself king. Everything had turned into chaos. And then there were them…

“I think I already know how we can stop Stannis,” said Tyrion as he thought of the other group, while Bronn raised an eyebrow.

“And how would that be? I assume it’s not the idea I suggested, right? After all, men can’t walk on water, correct?”, Bronn said, making a face.

Tyrion just snorted and didn’t even answer his second question. “No, of course not. Actually, I was thinking that perhaps we had the answer right in front of us the entire time, we just couldn’t see it. After all, there’s a dangerous group that dominated the seas with this type of weapon. Why couldn’t we do the same? Even more so when we have a depot full of them here in King’s Landing!”, Tyrion said to no one in particular.

The sellsword Bronn still stared at him. “And what would this solution be?”, he said, studying Tyrion as he watched him break into a smile.

“Well… I was thinking of using wildfire.”

“Wait… isn’t that the stuff those Arcticans use at sea to destroy entire ships? Not just a few ships, but entire fleets?”

“Yes… The Hightower fleet, the royal fleet… they all fell to them years ago. With only one hundred and fifty ships, they destroyed almost twice as many, without losing a single one. Later I heard they destroyed all the pirates around Essos heading to Yi-Ti with 450 ships; they were the pirate fleet we heard of later being destroyed in front of Yi-Ti… Can you believe that?”

“I can believe that very well. There are quite surreal stories. And that king—people say no blade in the world can kill that boy. That he is the greatest warrior in the world.”

“Not even the katanas of the Yi-Ti samurai, the arakhs of the Dothraki, not even the swords of the knights of Westeros can stop him. At least no one has managed to. Not even my brother, who says he didn’t even have a chance against the fifteen-year-old boy,” Tyrion replied.

Tyrion, of course, had already brought up the subject of Arctic several times with his companion there, always mentioning a different detail about those people.

“I already told you once that you could go to Arctic pretending to be one of those dwarves. I heard they’re talkative; maybe you could pass as one. Didn’t your father think of that?”, the sellsword said, mocking.

Tyrion wanted to laugh. “I’m sure he did, more than once. After all, either he could obtain information about the enemy that scares him and keeps him from sleeping well, or he could lose his insignificant son. But before he could think of anything, well… the Arcticans acted first. They entered Casterly Rock before my father could even react,” Tyrion said, laughing mockingly.

“Ah yes, they took that Lannister girl… that bastard. I heard he also took the bastard from Dorne. Seems that king of Arctic has quite a peculiar taste. Maybe he’s breeding bastards out there; after all, he was one once himself…”, Bronn said in a mocking tone.

It was obviously a joke, but Tyrion frowned for a moment, unable to stop thinking about Joy — little Joy, whom they said had been taken.

Rumors said that he married a bastard of Doran Martell and now had a Lannister bastard as well, while Bronn kept mocking that the king of Arctic was starting a collection of bastard girls from great families. Tyrion’s expression, however, grew serious. The truth had intrigued all of the Seven Kingdoms when they heard that Casterly Rock had been taken by a group of Arctican men who entered the castle as if they knew it perfectly.

They simply took Joy and then left the castle without anyone knowing, only for the guards to be found some hours later, all unconscious. There had been no deaths, but the way it happened left Tyrion deeply intrigued.

They had all fallen to extremely powerful sedatives that neither Tyrion nor the castle’s maester recognized. The Citadel received samples and data, and no one could identify what the sedative was made of—they only knew it could knock down any man within seconds of inhalation.

They also threw a type of smoke bomb after setting some rolled leaves on fire, tossing them into the rooms and knocking out anyone who breathed it in. They took Joy in total silence. If Tyrion had heard of such a thing before it happened—that they could simply enter Casterly Rock and leave in the dead of night—he would have laughed and thought it a silly fantasy.

His father had been enraged. If they had been assassins, they would be dead, and Tyrion’s aunt, Genna, might have been killed, but their objective was only Joy, as if no other legitimate Lannister mattered to them.

Twin returned to Casterly Rock believing there were spies after hearing what had happened. He found nothing to prove it, since no one had gone missing among guards, servants, or his father’s other men. The number of people in the castle remained intact. Even so, that didn’t stop him from torturing a few in search of information, but in the end, it led nowhere.

How the Arcticans had obtained all the information about the castle—knowing exactly where Joy’s room was and how to enter unseen—was a mystery to Tyrion, and to everyone else.

“You didn’t seem very worried at the time, but that changed,” the sellsword commented, seeing his silence and not failing to notice the discomfort on his face.

Tyrion agreed. “Back then, we hadn’t yet cut off Lord Stark’s head. I found it somewhat amusing even, though it harmed my family. Watching my father lose his composure was quite an interesting sight when I received the news… before the war broke out…” He paused with a serious look.

“But now we have a serious problem. Jon Arctic, enemy or not, is a man that—I must say—I admire. How did someone like that rise from a nobody to one of the most famous men in the world? If not the most. And very rich… richer than my father, from what I’ve heard. He had captured my brother many years ago, holding him hostage and even demanding ransom from the Lannisters, then going to Lannisport afterward. Less than a year ago, his men cut the sword hand of my older brother. And everything indicates that Arya Stark sent a bird to cut my sister’s face using that animal-controlling sorcery. My sister lost her beauty, my brother lost his skill with the sword. I’ve said it before: those Arcticans know exactly where to strike.”

Combined with the rescue of Joy, this put them in a difficult situation. After all, they knew the Arcticans wanted Joy. They intended to exchange a sword that should belong to House Lannister—still, a Valyrian steel sword—for her, and now they were at their mercy since they no longer had Joy.

“Think with me, Bronn… if they’ve done all this before, imagine what they’ll do now that my nephew and my sister killed Lord Stark. And even if they weren’t a united family, just observing Arya was enough to see that Jon had a good relationship with his uncle after the childhood troubles…”

“Not to mention he’s a prince now…” Bronn commented.

“Yes, let me put it better, the heir… Lord Stark dropped that bomb on all Seven Kingdoms,” Tyrion said, starting to laugh, though without any humor in his voice. “Rhaegar’s son, hidden as a bastard in Winterfell. Honestly? I believe that story.”

“But you still call him a bastard… didn’t you say he’s the heir?”, the sellsword noted.

“I was saying that because he started at the lowest position someone could have, Bronn. You understand that. He and his people may have done me all the harm possible, may have ruined my family, but I can’t simply let my anger cloud my thoughts and my judgment. That boy is incredible. He founded a kingdom where no one else succeeded. Turned wild men into soldiers. Mastered giants, and they follow him and go to war on the other side of the sea for him. Built a city like no one has ever seen. Acquired a great amount of gold—which I still don’t know how—to the point of becoming one of the owners of the Iron Bank, at least one of the thirteen keyholders. Made trade agreements with the entire world. Won battles without precedent. Married princesses. He may have stolen a bastard here and there… But he has a harem of women, very beautiful ones from what I’ve heard.” Tyrion said simply.

“A man anyone would want to be… Beautiful women, military power, and incomparable wealth… A dream to be achieved…” Bronn commented, also accepting Jon’s accomplishments.

“Can you understand how future historians will treat Jon Arctic over the next hundreds of years?”, he said, not hiding his admiration.

“And now he’s your main enemy,” the sellsword said, drinking a bit of wine as he served himself.

“…Stannis may kill us, but honestly, I’m still more worried about what comes after this battle. Wherever they are, fighting their war against the dead,” Tyrion said cautiously, showing a hint of disbelief at the word dead. “At some point they’ll come South. And with Arya Stark whispering for vengeance in the king’s ear, we’ll face a horde of ships with wildfire… and giants.”

Tyrion took the cup Bronn offered him and drank more forcefully than he intended. Thinking about it only made him more nervous.

“I was very clear… we had agreed that I wouldn’t fight against them, right? I can leave…?”, Bronn said, emphasizing the fact. Tyrion wanted to be angry, but he couldn’t. He didn’t even know for sure what they would face coming from the North when retaliation began.

“It wouldn’t be so bad, Bronn. The game is a bit different now… The North declared its own king. If they had declared loyalty to Arctic, even though no one can contact them, it would be more dangerous. But it seems the lords of the Riverlands and the North declared for another king. That gives us a chance. We don’t have as much attention as we could have had with the North rebelling… since everyone knows now that Jon Arctic is also the heir to the Seven Kingdoms… or at least that’s what Lord Stark declared: Aegon Targaryen.”

The door opened at that moment, before Bronn could comment. He saw a woman with her face bandaged and blond hair walk in, with white-cloaked guards following her.

“Leave,” she simply ordered Bronn, in a sharp tone.

Tyrion raised an eyebrow and saw Bronn look at him. The dwarf merely nodded for him to go.

“He will leave if you also dismiss your two dogs,” Tyrion said to Cersei.

She looked at the Kingsguard and nodded as well. Soon, all three soldiers left the room. Only Tyrion and his sister remained.

“Have you found any solution for dealing with that traitor?” she asked, referring to Stannis, while Tyrion enjoyed another sip of wine.

“The gods must be shocked… my sister asking for my help,” he mocked.

“You are the Hand of the King!” she exclaimed, the bandages on her face shifting with the expression of anger she made.

“You should wear a mask already. I heard that in Essos, it is quite common,” Tyrion said, unconcerned. His sister needed him, and he would mock her as much as he could. But he didn’t fail to notice the hateful eyes glowing through the gaps of her bruised and covered face.

“Watch what you say, brother. You may be important now, but you won’t always be,” she growled.

Tyrion wasn’t surprised by the threat.

“Well… in any case, you need me to deal with Stannis. And you will also need me to deal with the Arcticans,” Tyrion mocked, watching his sister’s expression darken even more.

“Do not mention those savages. They died before even reaching King’s Landing,” she snarled.

Tyrion raised an eyebrow. “Speaking like that, you seem to forget they have five hundred ships in the middle of the sea, giants, and an entire army. Not to mention the weapons that destroyed several fleets. Tell me, my sister… have you forgotten that? Because I hope not…” Tyrion said.

His sister had the decency to avert her gaze, frustrated. “We will defeat them,” was all she said — and Tyrion wondered where she found such courage.

“Then tell me how we can defeat them,” Tyrion insisted.

“Our father can defeat them.”

“Many have said that, but I don’t remember the Arcticans losing to anyone. Not even to Westerosi or foreign fleets. I also remember that your late husband, the king himself, was spared by the Targaryen after being defeated near King’s Landing…”

“Bastard!” Cersei corrected Tyrion immediately, growling. She refused to accept that Jon Arctic was a Targaryen, that he had more right to the throne than her beloved Joffrey.

“But everyone calls him a Targaryen now, at least that’s what the man you executed said. He declared to the Seven Kingdoms not only that the boy was a Targaryen, but called him Aegon Targaryen… The common folk are whispering his name through the streets… they are hungry and very displeased with the crown…” Tyrion said in a more serious tone. He didn’t doubt they would want a Targaryen on the throne soon.

“Watch your tongue, Tyrion. If you say that one more time, I don’t care if you’re the Hand of the King or if you’re here to save the city under our father’s orders. Your tongue will be cut out,” his sister growled with all the hatred she could muster.

Tyrion was unfazed. “Very well. But don’t forget that Stannis is only the first phase of the problems we’re facing. We have the North. We also have the Greyjoys. And lastly, nothing less than the Arcticans.”

“I already said: Father can defeat them when they come South. Whatever fantasies they’re fighting in the North, the Seven Kingdoms will already be pacified. Joffrey will be the king who unites everyone, and when the time comes, all Seven Kingdoms will stand together against Arctic,” she said.

Tyrion had to admit that her confident tone almost impressed him. “Well, that’s what you say. But we still have an army to face. They remain powerful, even with the Seven Kingdoms united against them.”

“He only has, at most, fifty thousand men,” she said.

“That’s what we heard: that he landed in the Dothraki desert with more than forty thousand Arctican soldiers. But don’t forget that fifty thousand men is still the force of a powerful kingdom. Not even our father has that number of troops. And they have five thousand giants. You heard the stories about those five thousand giants destroying all the Dothraki forces with ease before the enemy cavalry could even reach their main army…”

“That Targaryen — or bastard, as you prefer to call him — conquered the entire Dothraki desert and did it out of sheer whim in just a few moons. He won a war in Yi Ti and also took over the Slave Bay. We’re not dealing with just anyone, sister. He even has more experience than our father.”

“We can win,” she spat.

“I hope you’re right. Because at some point, we’ll have white banners with a blue-painted snowflake coming toward us — whether by land or by sea. I only hope we’ll be strong enough to deal with them,” Tyrion said.

“Father will deal with them,” was all she said. Tyrion wanted to mock her; she still held on to her hatred, and that hatred seemed to blind her in some way.

“Anyway, what did you want with me, sister? I imagine it wasn’t just to talk about the Arcticans now, was it?”

“No. I want to know what you’re planning to deal with Stannis. That’s what I asked in the beginning, and I want to know,” she said with her usual arrogance.

Tyrion simply sighed, already tired of dealing with his lovely sister.

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