Rivers of Fire and Blood

Tyrion I

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Ice and Fire Novels, Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon TV shows. However, I decided to have a little play around with the characters. I do not earn any money from writing these stories, it is for my entertainment and is something I like to share.

Tyrion Lannister was sat in deep thought at his large wooden desk made of oak from The Reach. His new quarters were no longer in the old Tower of the Hand as it had been destroyed during the last sack of Kings Landing. A new one had been built, complete with a lift which was operated by only trusted servants, using the old designs for the mechanisms of the one at Castle Black provided by Grand Maester Tarly, although minor adjustments and improvements had been made for its position inside the tower.

Despite his solar being already filled with books and scrolls, many stuffed tightly into what looked like a disorganised library of shelves made of the same wood to match his desk, they were in fact cleverly organised so only Tyrion knew where to look for whatever information he, as the Hand of the King required for the day to day running of what was now six Kingdoms of Westeros. This gave the room a scholarly appearance, the only sense of indulgent decoration was the newly mosaic floor designed with a map of Westeros in the centre of the room.

The reason Tyrion was feeling a sense of sadness as few minutes earlier, he had been handed two new scrolls, which had just arrived by raven from Oldtown. Both pieces of parchment were stamped with the red waxy seal of the Citadel telling Tyrion these new scrolls were personal in nature. He had been waiting for them for some time, one was for him, the other belonged to another, a woman far away from the hustle of Kings Landing, to an icy place. Tyrion had decided he ought to hand the one belonging to her personally as he did not want anyone intercepting any ravens which he might send. He should have been happy to have received the news, but for some reason he felt empty. It was the end of a very sad chapter of his life, the last tether to it was now broken, yet deep down there was a sense of loss, maybe because once he hoped there could have been more. Yet it was never to be. Once he had returned from his journey, he could truly start anew.

The King was aware of the delicate matter to why Tyrion must leave his side for potentially three moons, to deliver the letter to the Queen in the North. To Tyrion's surprise, the King had been more than supportive of his decision to leave the capital, almost as if he wanted his Hand to leave. From Tyrion's perspective, the King's enthusiasm could have been motivated by the desire of three potential outcomes. The first to have Tyrion killed and to be replaced by another Hand who disagreed with him less, although that wasn't how the King usually worked. The second was Bran could see there was no threat to himself or Tyrion for the journey and wanted to hear from his sister. Or third and the most likely reason was that there would be some advantage to the meeting between Tyrion and the Queen for King Bran himself, something which he had not yet revealed to his hand.

A knock on the door broke Tyrion from his train of thought. "Come in." Tyrion called out as a man walked entered the room. The man, dressed in black had a swagger about him, his expensive clothes ill suited him Tyrion thought, preferring the black leathers of a sellsword which Bronn used to dress before he was made a Lord.

"The King wants to see you Lord Hand, in the small council room." Bronn told him.

"And what are you, his errand boy?" Tyrion asked sarcastically.

"Nah!" Bronn shook his head. "I just happened to be passing and he asked me to relay the message while I was on me way." he shrugged. "Saved him from asking one of his Kingsguard from putting themselves out, you know, working for a livin' and all."

"Why, where are you off to?" Tyrion frowned.

"King Bran has put me in charge of finding a new commander for the goldcloaks, then he wants me to do something else for him. So yes, I suppose I am his fucking errand boy, but as Lord of the Reach, I'm a very well rewarded one, so I've got no complaints." he grinned. "My time in charge of the goldcloaks when you were last hand shows I was better at it than that shower of shit who is in charge right now. He wants to get the streets back in some sort of order and he thinks I'm the right man for the job of picking a new one. After that I'm off to Storm's End for a little jaunt." Bronn leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms, looking smug.