The Last War

Chapter 1 : Little Dove

Tyrion raised his hand, without managing to hide a slight tremor.

But just as his fist was about to make contact with the black wooden door, he resigned himself and stopped in full motion.

For a fraction of a second, very briefly, he wanted to leave and not return.

It was not serious, they should be able to manage without Cersei's help, right? Shouldn't they?

No. They couldn't. They couldn't win without Cersei's help, or at least without her promise not to attack them while they were struggling with the White Walkers and the Army of the Dead.

So Tyrion took a deep breath. But when he raised his arm again, it was not to knock on the door.

Instead, he put his hand on the handle and, with surprising force, which he didn't think he was capable of, opened the door on the fly.

He entered the room where his sister was, with a confident and determined gait, aware that on his shoulders weighed the future of both sides for the coming war, with Stelsa trotting beside him, her head held high, too.

oOo

Cersei was sitting behind her desk when Tyrion entered her field of vision, with Aramis sitting next to her.

He would have liked to be able to say that she hadn't changed since the last time he had seen her, but, unfortunately, that wasn't the case.

She had suffered, it was visible, especially to him, who had known her practically all her life.

He knew that she had lived through the death of Myrcella and Tommen very badly, when she had worked so hard to protect them.

She had seen their deaths as a symbol of her own failure as a mother, and he knew that she blamed him for it.

He continued to move forward without really looking where he was going, obsessed with her thoughts, so that he could hardly understand what she was saying when she challenged him.

''To tell you the truth, I'm not surprised. She's your type of woman. A foreign whore who doesn't belong.''

Yes, he wanted to shout at her. Yes, I went to her, after you rejected me, after you tried to have me killed.

He didn't really know whose voice it was that answered his sister, but it certainly wasn't his own. Or at least he didn't recognize it as his own.

''A foreign whore that you can't kidnap, beat or intimidate. It must be difficult for you.''

Stung to the core, Cersei wasted no time in responding.

''You bring her here with her little Northerner dog, who has pledged his allegiance after your good advice.''

Tyrion couldn't even deny it. What was the point? She was right. The letter inviting Jon Snow to come to Dragonstone to meet Daenerys was written in his hand.

''I didn't know that he'd pledge his allegiance to him.''

It wasn't really a lie, but Tyrion himself didn't believe it, and Cersei perceived it.

''You managed to get them to roar together for the same purpose, the purpose you've always pursued relentlessly...''

''Cersei, I didn't know...''

''The destruction of this family.''

He knew it. He knew that Cersei blamed him for the deaths of most of their family members, but even though he already knew, it still hurt him to hear it.

And, inexplicably, especially coming from her mouth. She was supposed to hate him, and he hated her back, so why did having proof of her hatred hurt him so much?