Tyrion sat alone in his office, thinking long and hard about the king's final words the day before. 'I will do what I must to protect the realm'. Those had been his words and they had both worried and amazed the Hand. They were words Tyrion would expect from his father before the old lion sent the Mountain to "hand deliver" a message to whatever lord had caught Tywin's ire. They were also words Tyrion would expect from Ned Stark before he committed political suicide.
But Robb Stark wasn't his father, nor was he Tyrion's. He was something of both, with more sophisticated political skills than his father and much more of a heart than Tywin. What worried Tyrion so about Robb's words was that the young king, under the pressure of the Long Night, could go so far as to commit what would undoubtedly be his Castamere.
Destroying the Reynes and Tarbecks had given Tyrion's father the respect that he had been craving after years of ineptitude under Tyrion's grandfather, Tytos. But it had also given House Lannister a fearsome reputation of killers and murderers. To say that it cast a shadow on the reputation of House Lannister would be putting it lightly.
Tyrion worried that Robb would cast a similar shadow over his own sterling reputation.
The door to Tyrion's office banged open as the Red Viper strode in, his black eyes burning. To his credit, the Hand met the prince's gaze with a curious expression of his own, showing absolutely no fear in the face of a man who was undoubtedly one of the deadliest warriors in all of Westeros.
"Has some of your burning sand made its way into your boots, Prince Oberyn?" Tyrion asked curiously, pouring himself and the angry-looking dornishman goblets of wine.
"Why have I received a raven from Sunspear stating that my brother is currently on his way here?" Oberyn demanded, flinging the raven scroll on Tyrion's desk.
Tyrion blinked before shaking his head, mentally cursing himself out. He had been so absorbed in the king's affairs that he had forgotten about the queen's orders to summon the dornish lords, including Prince Doran himself, to the capitol. During a council meeting, Lord Tarly had suggested that we save even more time by summoning the rest of the southern lords instead of having Benjen Stark travel further south than he had to. The queen had put his plan into action and Tyrion had completely forgotten about informing Oberyn Martell.
"Please, sit, my prince." Tyrion offered, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk. "I am sorry for not notifying you earlier about this."
Oberyn glared at Tyrion before doing as the Hand suggested and sitting down. "Speak quickly."
"Benjen Stark is heading here after his short stay in Highgarden…." Tyrion explained, getting straight to the point, but was soon cut off by Oberyn.
"Yes yes, I've heard about that." the prince said with a wave of his hand. "He's recruiting for the Watch."
"No," Tyrion answered, speaking carefully. "He is carrying something of great importance and the reason for which he carries it is rather time-sensitive…."
"Enough games, Lannister!" Oberyn snarled, slamming his hand on the desk and rising from his seat. "I have not been blind to the ongoings of the Red Keep. The king and Daenerys Targaryen went north. More and more lords of the Vale and the Stormlands have been arriving by the day. A Green Man from the Isle of Faces has taken up residency in the godswood. The queen was attacked by Euron bloody Greyjoy. Something is happening, and now that my brother is being involved, I am tired of waiting for an answer. Tell me or the Iron Throne loses all ties to Dorne."
Tyrion sat back in his chair, glaring back at the dornishman. "First, you will call me by my title. I am Hand of the King and will be treated as such, especially in my own damn office," he growled. "Second, just because you are your brother's voice in the capital does not mean that you are privy to the discussions that happen between the crown and its council, a council I'm a member of. You want an answer?"
"I demand it!" Oberyn shouted.
"Then wait a week more like all the others!" Tyrion snapped back, raising his voice as well. "Benjen Stark will be here in a week, if not a few days after that. When he arrives, everyone will be told the truth. But myself, the crown, and the rest of the council have been working ourselves to the bone in preparation for what's coming. Some of us have almost died in the process, including the king, queen, and Prince Torehnn, who is no more than a fucking babe!" Tyrion felt his chest heaving, the adrenaline of the argument and the tension in the room having a violent effect on the small man. He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, snatching his goblet and taking a deep draft from it as he did. When he spoke again, it was in a much calmer tone.
"You are not the only one who is in the dark, Prince Oberyn, but, what's coming, it will take all of Westeros fighting side by side to defeat it."
Obery n's gaze took in the tired form before him. For the first time in months, Tyrion was feeling the strain from helping both the king and queen rule the kingdom. He had thought that ruling in Joffrey's stead was hard but filling in for not one, but two monarchs who were actively trying to better the realm was taking everything out of Tyrion and it was beginning to show.
"Very well," Oberyn said finally, a warning tone in his voice. "My brother will be here in a week, as will many dornish lords. If Benjen Stark is not here within three days of their arrival, we will return to Dorne, taking our trust and friendship with us."
"Ten days." Tyrion agreed.
Oberyn turned on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving a very drained Tyrion behind to drink his stress away.
Line Break
"You look like shit," Jaime said, entering the room and waking Tyrion up.
The Hand's brother was carrying a small platter of food and had a large tankard in one hand. Tyrion shook his head and quickly moved the parchment that littered his desk to the side so that his brother had a place to put the food and drink.
"How kind of you," Tyrion muttered, immediately digging into the food. It was warm and the drink was water mixed with lemon juice, a concoction that helped wake the Hand up with every drink. The effects of Tyrion's hangover were still very present, but he was experienced in handling them and Jaime was experienced in helping him get rid of them.
"I haven't seen you hungover in some time," Jaime commented, lounging across from Tyrion. "What happened?"
"I had a….disagreement with the Red Viper," Tyrion grumbled, his mouth half-filled with bread and meat.
"You're not dead, so it couldn't have been that bad." Jaime joked. "What did he want?"
"Information," Tyrion answered. "I told him he can wait for Benjen Stark like all the rest."
Jaime nodded slowly. "I see. Why did he want an answer now? Things have been different for months now."
"Because his brother has been summoned to the capital," Tyrion explained before shaking his head and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "He started yelling, then I started yelling, and when he left I started drinking."
Jaime raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't joking when I said you look like shit, Tyrion. You don't look like you've had a proper night's sleep in days."
Tyrion rolled his eyes and took another drink of his lemon water, smacking his lips as the tartness fought against the sour taste of old wine. He shoved more bread and meat in his mouth, chewing slowly and savoring the flavor and warmth of the food before eventually swallowing.
"In case you haven't noticed, it's not exactly easy ruling in the place of both a king or queen," Tyrion mumbled.
Jaime frowned. "Why not call upon others to help you. Royce, Mallister, Tarly?"
Tyrion shook his head. "Margaery and Robb put me in charge, Jaime."
"Why is this so important for you?" Jaime asked after a short pause. "You've run yourself ragged, brother, for what?"
"For what?" Tyrion asked angrily. "The queen and her child were almost killed, Jaime! The king is trying to prepare the realm for a war with an enemy who's supposed to be a bloody myth! They both had tasked me with ensuring that the realm doesn't fall into absolute chaos and I am barely holding up my end of the bargain."
"You're human, Tyrion," Jaime said, trying to calm his brother. "They would understand if you can't do it by yourself."
"I can!" Tyrion snapped. "I have been given one chance, Jaime, one chance to prove myself. A chance Father never gave me."
Jaime's frown disappeared as he realized why his Tyrion was taking all this so seriously. He nodded.
"So that's what this is about." he sighed. "Tyrion, you have nothing to prove to Robb or Margaery or anyone. They trust you. The rest of the council trusts you. The king wouldn't have made you Hand if he didn't think you wouldn't be capable of it."
"What do you know about the weight of expectation?" Tyrion grumbled, regretting the words the moment they left his lips.
Jaime immediately sat in his chair, glaring at his brother. "I know all too well the weight, Tyrion," he said, his voice dangerously low. "I committed terrible sins because of the strain of meeting everyone's expectations. You're smarter than I have ever been or ever will be. I expected you to be better than me."
Jaime rose from his seat and went to leave. Tyrion immediately called after him.
"Jaime, wait, forgive me…."
"It's fine." Jaime snapped, stopping and turning to look over his shoulder at Tyrion. "You're not thinking straight. You didn't know what you were saying. You have an hour before the council meets and I already lied for you once this morning. Finish eating and taking a bath, you stink of wine."
With that, Jaime strode out, slamming the door as he did.