The worst part was the waiting. Oh, Axel knew that everyone involved was moving as fast as they possibly could. Fleets could not be ready to set sail within a day. Armies could not be made to march within a week. And so he had to wait. Wait for messages to be traded back and forth, wait for everyone to get moving.
He could have gone and tried to take care of it all himself, of course. And it was very tempting to do exactly that. Just run over to the West Coast of Westeros and swim out to take down Euron Greyjoy all by himself. He was confident that he could kill the other man just as easily as he had Petyr Baelish, no matter what sort of forces Euron had on his side.
However, there were a few things that held him back from doing so. First and foremost, he'd already promised the Mountain Clans their chance at battle back in the Vale. With the majority of their warriors having come all the way to King's Landing, it would have been something of a dick move to leave them in the lurch.
Secondly, for some reason the Ironborn had only really burnt up the Westerlands at this point. There was talk of some raiding and reaving up and down the rest of the coast as well, from the Reach to the Riverlands to the North, but it was always just one ship and usually they were repelled swiftly enough.
The Westerlands had suffered the brunt of the damage so far, from losing the Lannister Fleet to Lannisport being burned down and Casterly Rock being put under siege. And maybe it was petty of Axel, but he really didn't like Tywin Lannister. There was something to be said about not moving quite as fast as Axel personally could have after how the Lannister Lord had dragged his feet during Renly's rebellion. There just wasn't a sense of urgency, truth be told.
And third and finally was the Kraken that Euron was said to command. Not that the beast's presence was keeping Axel away. Actually, he really, really wanted to fight the massive sea monster. It was said to be bigger than multiple boats put together, and strong enough to break down city walls with just its appendages after all.
The thing was… what would be the point of fighting such a thing without an audience? So yeah, Axel had his reasons for not just rushing off on his own again like he did for the Vale. But that didn't make it any easier, all this waiting.
Luckily, they were almost done. Tomorrow was the day he and his armies would depart from King's Landing. But that just made these last twenty-four hours all the more torturous.
And so Axel found himself looking for Sandor Clegane, hoping to bully the scarred knight into a bit of a spar to take his mind off all of the waiting. Only, he was having a hard time locating the reluctant Kingsguard in any of his usual haunts. In the end, Axel was forced to go all the way to the Hound's quarters just to find the man.
Marching right up to the man's door with a grin on his face, Axel doesn't bother knocking or anything like that. He just slams the door open, already shouting at the top of his lungs.
"Sandor! Get your ass up! Your King is in need of a good-!"
The word 'fight' never leaves Axel's lips however, because he finally registers just what he's walked in on. If he'd been paying better attention and not been lost in his own thoughts, he might have heard it while he was still in the hallway. But alas, he did not. And so instead, he finds himself staring for a second in incomprehension… before his eyes widen in horror as he finally, regretfully processes what's going on in the room.
As the… activities inside begin to slow down at the pace of a snail to Axel's senses, he rapidly shakes his head back and forth.
"NEVER MIND, PRETEND I WAS NEVER HERE!"
And slams the door closed again, before power-walking the fuck away before either Sandor or Brienne can get up from the bed and chase after him. Some things were never meant to be seen! Unfortunately, he'd always had a pretty good memory. His eyes were burning from the images he couldn't get out of his head!
-x-X-x-
"Princess! Your tits! Show me your tits immediately, it's an emergency!"
Arianne is lounging by herself in her quarters in one of the rare instances where she finds herself without Tyene by her side when the King comes barging in. The Dornish Princess blinks owlishly at his command, taking in his stricken face. Then, with an amused giggle, she pulls down the top of her dress, letting her voluminous dusky breasts bounce free of their confines.
Axel doesn't hesitate. The young king all but lunges forward and buries his face in her chest, causing Arianne to gasp in delight and then moan softly as he nuzzles her soft, sensitive breasts quite enthusiastically. Then, his mouth finds one of her nipples and Arianne's moans are no longer quite so soft as Axel starts to really get into things.
They eventually move from the couch to the bed and things happen as one might expect. Axel takes to her in a frenzy, and Arianne loves every last second of it, tossing her head back in ecstasy.
Eventually though, things come to their natural conclusion. The Princess finds herself laying back against her pillows, her body pleasantly sore, while Axel rests his head on her chest, the young King just relaxing as she runs a hand along his scalp and across his still-short hair.
His hair is certainly growing back swiftly, and his stubble is beginning to form a proper beard on his face, but the wildfire was still so recent and the marks from its passage remain… and not just physically. Arianne never thought she would be saying this, but… she's a little worried about Axel.
Physically, besides the hair still growing back, he was completely fine. But what about emotionally? Killing Petyr Baelish and Lysa Arryn might have given him some closure, but the wound they'd dealt with their actions had to be so fresh still.
"… How are you feeling, my King?"
The words slip from her lips before she can really consider if it's a good idea or not. But then… why shouldn't she ask? She's to be his Queen soon enough after all, once this war with the Iron Islands is done with. She and Sansa Stark both.
Looking up at her, Axel smiles somewhat cheekily.
"Heh, better now. I saw something that no man is meant to see. Something truly horrible…"
But Arianne rolls her eyes, able to tell that he's only acting horrified as a lark at this point. Or perhaps as a diversion tactic. Before he can continue with his little jest, she shakes her head.
"That's not what I'm talking about. I mean… with everything that's happened. How are you holding up? Jon Arryn was like a father to you. His loss… it's okay to not be doing alright you know."
Axel's smile drops and his expression closes off.
"I'm fine."
He doesn't pull away from her though. Arianne stays quiet, continuing to run her fingers along his scalp. If all he wants from her is to lay here silently, then that's what she'll do. Funny, it's not the kind of thing she would have ever done for any other man throughout her life. But Axel is different… special. She can't even imagine living without him at this point.
"… I'm not fine."
Arianne lets out a soft exhale as Axel breaks the silence to admit the truth. Sighing, he shifts against her bosom for a moment before continuing on.
"His death still doesn't feel entirely real. And killing the people who killed him didn't make it miraculously better. I don't think even killing Euron will make it entirely right."
Humming, Arianne nods along, just listening. That seems to be what he needs right now. Someone to listen.
"It's just… he was old right? So I shouldn't be hurting this badly. He was always closer to death than anything…"
Callous words, but she can tell that they come from a place of hurt, not heartlessness. Axel's face scrunches up and tears well up in the corner of his eyes. She's never seen him like this before. So vulnerable. Still, she remains quiet.
"… I wanted him to be able to give up the position of Hand peacefully, of his own accord. Just a couple more years and I would have sent him back to the Vale so he could live out the rest of his life in his own lands, raising his son. I just needed his help for a little while longer. But I can't help feeling like, in my selfishness, I killed him."
That brings a frown to Arianne's face. No longer can she remain silent. Sure, she may not have known Jon Arryn very well personally, but she knew quite a lot of the man all the same. In the end, the words that spill forth from her lips feel right. She just hopes Axel is ready to hear them.
"Even if you'd sent him back to the Vale… his traitorous wife would have gone with him and who knows what she would have done on Baelish's orders. Besides, would he have even gone? He loved you Axel, he cared for you like his own son. He wanted to help you, to be there for you."
Silence falls again. Axel is quiet and Arianne… Arianne just rests and lets him think. Her fingers continue to glide across his scalp, the back of his head pressed up against her bared breasts. Setting aside the sex they'd already had, this has to be one of the least debauched things she's ever done in bed with a man, really. Another point in Axel's favor.
But then, the differences between Axel Baratheon and any other man in Arianne's 'history' were too numerous to count. He was just so much… more than all of them. She could never go back to how she'd been before. Not after tasting what he had to offer and knowing that nobody else could ever live up to her experiences at his hands.
"… He wouldn't have approved of me marrying both you and Sansa, you know. Am I spitting on his memory by doing this when I know he would try to vehemently talk me out of it?"
That causes Arianne to wince. Axel's voice is quiet and… thoughtful. Haaah, in trying to help him feel better and come to terms with all that had happened, had she just sunk her chances of being Queen? Because really, the Dornish Princess was under no misconceptions about that.
She might have made a pact with Sansa Stark and agreed to work with her going forward no matter who Axel chose… but deep down inside, Arianne knew that if he actually had to make a decision, Sansa would be his Queen. She was just… better than Arianne in pretty much every meaningful way aside from the size of her tits.
"I… don't think you're spitting on his memory, no. Nobody is perfect, Axel. We can both love and disagree with people, even if they're gone."
Axel frowns and Arianne worries for a moment that she's failed to convince him. But then…
"Sometimes I think about his decisions. About his mistakes. It feels wrong. He's gone and he's never coming back so I should honor his memory, right? But… he let Petyr Baelish play him like a fool for so long. He let Robert run roughshod over him for more than twenty years. And he was so certain that I had to hide my abilities and restrain myself as well during Renly's rebellion. But there were ways I could have handled Renly earlier without revealing too much. Things I could have done to end things so much sooner."
Huffing, Axel wipes his eyes. Technically, he still hasn't shed a tear… but they had grown quite watery all the same.
"I just don't know what to think. I miss him so much. I want him back so badly. But there's a selfish part of me that is a little glad he's gone. I can do things my way now. I can do things he wouldn't have approved of. But what if my way is wrong? What if he had good reason for not approving of those things? Am I just a fool walking straight down the path of ruin now that I no longer have anyone to tell me otherwise?"
Arianne bites her lower lip, feeling a little out of her depth at this point. Still…
"You have me. And Sansa."
As he looks up at her, Arianne smiles sheepishly.
"Mostly Sansa, really. She seems to have a better head on her shoulders than I ever have. Still… we'll do our best to advise you. And so will others, like Lord Stannis."
Taking a deep breath, Arianne finds herself walking what she perceives to be a very thin line.
"Jon Arryn was a good man… who helped lesser men seem greater than they truly were. This was not always a good thing, as we now know. His good nature let him be taken advantage of by many. There is much you can take away from what he taught you, I'm sure… but there's much to be taken away from his mistakes as well."
Staring into Axel's eyes, Arianne bites her lower lip for a moment before continuing.
"More than anything though, if he were here with us right now, I think he would say he was proud of you no matter what decisions you make going forward… and that ultimately, he would want you to be your own man and your own King above all else."
Again, Axel falls quiet for a time. Again, Arianne simply stews in the silence, only able to hope that her words are having the intended impact. Until finally, the King mutters something under his breath.
"…"
Even as close as she is to him, Arianne doesn't quite catch it though.
"I'm sorry… what did you say?"
Blinking, he looks up at her and huffs, smiling somewhat ruefully.
"I said… I decide what is proper. Don't I?"
Well, he's not wrong about that. Arianne grins as she glides her fingers across his scalp for the thousandth time.
"Indeed, my King. And apparently what you consider proper is barging into my chambers, demanding I show you my tits, and then having your way with me before nuzzling them for as long as you like. Not that I'm complaining~"
Axel's smile turns into a grin of his own as he finally lifts his head off of her chest and turns over, climbing on top of her.
"Mm. You're not wrong, but you're missing the final step. After all of that… and an unexpected heartfelt conversation to boot, what is truly proper is me fucking you again. This time doing so until you can't see straight or walk in the morning."
Arianne blushes… but nevertheless spreads her legs for her King.
"Well… if the King says that's what's proper, who am I to disagree?"
He makes good on his promise too. Tyene has to help her to the balcony in the morning, where she waves goodbye to Axel as he leaves the Red Keep and heads for the city gates. She's too sore for anything else after the night of pleasure he winds up giving her…
-x-X-x-
A/N: Truly, Axel has seen horrors that no man should have to witness. Fortunately, Arianne's big, beautiful tits were enough to wash away the memory of Sandor and Brienne… mostly, anyways.
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Tyrion Lannister had many, many regrets about life. For instance, he regretted not being in King's Landing when his brother-in-law the King had gotten himself and both of Tyrion's nephews blown the fuck up by wildfire. Maybe if he had been in the city at the time, he could have been a shoulder for Jaime to lean on and his brother wouldn't have taken his own life.
He also regretted coming home to the Westerlands from where he'd been visiting the Citadel in Old Town when his father had sent a letter recalling him months ago. With Jaime's suicide and Cersei apparently going insane, Tywin had decided Tyrion was better off close by where the Old Lion could see him.
Tyrion would have told his father where he could stick his summons but seeing as he was rather reliant on Lannister gold, he hadn't felt like he had much of a choice. In hindsight, he almost wishes he'd done it anyways… would have been better to be penniless down in Old Town than to be up here in the middle of all this.
The dwarf further regretted being down in Lannisport the day of the Ironborn attack. In his defense, his favorite whore in all of the Westerlands worked out of a brothel in Lannisport. Also in his defense, while everyone knew that the Ironborn were likely about to make some sort of play for the Lannister Fleet any day now, nobody actually thought that Lannisport itself would fall in less than an hour.
Even back during the first Greyjoy Rebellion when the Lannister Fleet was burnt while still at anchor, Lannisport had managed to batten down the hatches and ride out the assault from sea until reinforcements could arrive.
Not this time though. Not this fucking time. Tyrion had been lucky that he made it back to Casterly Rock, all things considered. Not everyone with the Lannister Name had been so lucky. Their cadet branch, House Lannister of Lannisport, was said to be gutted. Meanwhile, Tyrion's uncle, Ser Kevan Lannister, had died leading the doomed defense of the city.
But of all of Tyrion's regrets, his greatest regret of all had to also be his oldest regret. Namely, that he'd been born with this fucking pathetic, stumpy legged, big headed dwarf body in the first place… and worst still, he'd been born to the family with the most vertical fucking Ancestral Seat in all of the Seven Kingdoms to boot.
See, not even the Eyrie had anything on the number of staircases in Casterly Rock. The ringfort that sat atop the massive stone hill Casterly Rock was built into was nothing but a crown for the true stronghold that lay underneath. Everything from the winding staircases to dungeons, storerooms, grand halls, courtyards, gardens, armories, bed chambers, and a sept… all of it lay down within the Rock itself.
There was no denying that Casterly Rock was the strongest, most impregnable seat in all of Westeros. Even Euron Greyjoy and his 'super kraken' couldn't possibly do anything to them once they'd turtled up in here. But poor Tyrion had spent his entire life in the Rock, traversing its halls… and ascending its staircases on legs that were far too little for them.
Huffing and puffing, Tyrion finally makes it up the stairs and down the hall to his father's study. Reaching up, he knocks for a moment before listening intently. After a moment…
"Come in."
Straightening his tunic as best as possible, Tyrion pries open the heavy wooden door and moves inside. He gets all of three feet past the door before a dry look from Tywin sends him scurrying back to close it back up. Then and only then does he approach his father's desk, where the Lord of House Lannister has turned back to the papers he's working on.
Hesitantly, half-expecting Tywin to order him to stand, Tyrion nevertheless takes the risk of leveraging himself up into a chair and sitting down. When the other man neither tells him off for doing so, nor so much as acknowledges his presence, Tyrion waits a moment… and then breaks the silence.
"You wished to see me, father?"
Silence falls as Tywin ignores him for a time. Seconds drag on into minutes while he sits there, waiting for his father to acknowledge his presence. Then again, this is nothing new. Tyrion had never had the best relationship with Tywin Lannister.
Mostly on account of the aforementioned regrettable dwarfism and the fact that he'd killed his own mother in childbirth. From what some had told Tyrion, mostly his spiteful sister, Tywin had actually loved his wife, Joanna Lannister. Before Tyrion, Cersei even liked to claim that Tywin smiled from time to time.
And then Tyrion had come along, killed Lady Joanna in the birthing bed, and ruined everything. At least if Cersei was to be believed anyways. Jaime, on the other hand, had never seemed to blame Tyrion for their mother's death. Unfortunately, Jaime had been alone in that because while their father wasn't quite so overtly sadistic about it, he clearly hewed closer to Cersei's view of Tyrion than Jaime's.
This was all to say that Tyrion had long been the black sheep of House Lannister. Physically deformed, hated by his father, barely tolerated because of the Lannister blood that flowed through his stunted body. Most other noble houses would have probably done away with him, but Tywin had too much pride for that.
Although… given recent events, Tyrion had to admit, part of him was glad that he'd never had their father's love. After what had happened with Cersei, it seemed far better to start off hated by their father, rather than have his love and then lose it in truly spectacular fashion.
His sister's fate-
"An opportunity presents itself."
Tyrion jolts as Tywin finally breaks the silence and in doing so cuts off his own internal monologue. Blinking at his father, Tyrion's brow furrows in confusion. Opportunity? Casterly Rock was under siege, Lannisport was in ruins, and there was a damn sea monster bigger than any Tyrion had ever read about lurking in the bay! And Tywin was talking about opportunities. Or maybe he misunderstood.
"An opportunity to… break the siege, father?"
The look Tywin gives him makes Tyrion feel smaller than he already is, which is no mean feat. Sneering at him, the Old Lion shakes his head.
"Don't be ridiculous. What use are you in a war? If this were about the siege, why would I call for you?"
Tyrion flushes. So his first instinct had been right, Tywin was talking about something else. Of course, he couldn't very well say that was what he'd originally thought now, he would just look like even more of a fool in his father's eyes. Instead, the dwarf simply sits and stews until Tywin decides he's been humiliated long enough and finally continues on.
"No, this opportunity is singular to you. A chance for you to finally be useful to both our House and the Realm."
Straightening up, Tyrion nevertheless is just more confused than before. What exactly is his father talking about? Not marriage, surely. There isn't a woman in the Seven Kingdoms who wants to marry a dwarf. But then… what?
"I'm sure by now you've heard about the most recent wildfire explosion in King's Landing. We now know the perpetrator was one Petyr Baelish… the former Master of Coin."
Blinking rapidly as he tries to catch up, Tyrion opens his mouth and then closes it again. Yes, he'd heard that someone bombed the Small Council in King's Landing. The rumors regarding the situation had been rather wild.
For a time, nobody had been sure whether the King had died or not. Now, nobody could say for certain whether he'd been in the chambers and somehow lived anyways, or just not inside the room when the wildfire pots had gone off.
The most outlandish tale that Tyrion had heard at this point was that the King had supposedly walked from the Small Council Chambers to the Great Sept of Baelor while covered in green flames. There he'd apparently burned for seven days and seven nights before being reborn anew with not a single blemish on him.
A load of bullshit, probably… but even the Septons and Septas holed up here in Casterly Rock were preaching the story as the truth now. But his father wasn't even talking about the explosion. He was talking about the aftermath. From the sound of things, Littlefinger was dead, probably executed by the King for his crimes.
Good riddance if he was actually guilty, though it came as a surprise to Tyrion, who had thought that Baelish was Jon Arryn's man through and through. The Hand had given Petyr Baelish everything. Why would the Master of Coin conspire to kill him and the rest of the Small Council?
"You will be the next Master of Coin, Tyrion."
Pulled from his thoughts once more by his father's words, Tyrion's eyes widen as he fully comprehends them.
"Me? Surely not. There's no way the King would accept me for the position. Not after everything Cersei tried to do."
Tywin scoffs at that, waving a hand dismissively.
"Cersei's actions aren't relevant to this situation. SHE is not relevant to this situation. Her… madness has been dealt with. She won't be causing anyone problems again."
A shiver runs down Tyrion's spine at that. Best not to think about it. Even if he hated Cersei… well, she'd made her bed he supposed. Now she had to lie in it.
"You know your numbers, don't you?"
Tyrion flushes a bit at what had to be the most backhanded compliment he'd ever been given. He knew more than just his numbers, but he wasn't expecting his father to acknowledge that fact.
"Yes, but-!"
"Then it is settled. The Seven Kingdoms assemble even now to deal with the Ironborn threat. The King and his armies will be making for the Westerlands soon. Our own armies continue to hold the roads to the East. With their pet limited to the coast, the Ironborn have no way of taking the Rock from us."
Tywin scoffs.
"If they were smarter, they would have moved on already. At this point, they will be too late to stop the Royal Fleet from convening with the Redwyne Fleet at the Arbor. The Ironborn are just as foolish and poorly led as they were the last time this happened."
As much as he hates agreeing with his father, Tyrion can't help but feel like the Old Lion is right. The enemy's tactics really don't really make much sense. The kraken that destroyed the Lannister Fleet and allowed them to pillage and burn Lannisport was a massive asset in any naval battle to be sure, but the way the Ironborn were using it so far was… lackluster, to say the least.
If Euron Greyjoy were smarter, he would have immediately gone South after smashing their fleet and razing Lannisport, to take down the Arbor and the Redwyne Fleet. While the Redwyne Fleet was technically bigger than the Ironborn Fleet, they didn't have a kraken on their side.
With that kraken on side, the Ironborn could have destroyed the Lannister Fleet, destroyed the Redwyne Fleet, and then swept all the way around the southern coast of Westeros and smashed the Royal Fleet as well. Just like that, they would have been in control of all of Westeros' waters.
And sure, maybe going all the way to King's Landing would have stretched their supplies too thin, especially since the Ironborn were notoriously bad at such things like 'supply chains' and 'staying adequately provisioned', but at the very least they could have taken the Arbor by this point.
That they hadn't, that they were still here trying to take Casterly Rock… it was the height of foolishness in Tyrion's learned opinion.
"When the King and his armies arrive, you will ingratiate yourself with him. You will befriend him and do your best to make him like you. The Crown still owes a considerable sum of golden dragons to our House. If I have to, I will even forgive some of that debt to get you into the position of Master of Coin."
Tyrion gapes at that. Truly?
"What… what do you even want me to do if I become Master of Coin? What are you planning?"
Tywin narrows his eyes and shakes his head.
"Your job, what else? This is not some grand scheme, Tyrion. Our blood was set to sit upon the Iron Throne before this whole mess began. Now, our power and influence have both waned dramatically. You will be the first step to regaining some amount of what we lost. You will not embezzle; you will not allow corruption to take root. In fact, I want you to be everything Petyr Baelish wasn't."
For a long moment, Tyrion just stares at his father. No grand scheme? No big plan? Just… a small maneuver to try to regain lost influence? Was this truly his father? Had Tywin Lannister truly been so diminished by the events of the last several months?
No… it abruptly dawns on Tyrion what's not being said. What Tywin is really getting out of this.
"You… this is just another way for you to sideline me as your heir, isn't it? You're getting rid of me."
His father scoffs.
"Getting rid of you? I'm going to ensure you become Master of Coin. What more could you possibly want?"
What more indeed? Tyrion scowls, squirming in his chair.
"But I-!"
WHAM!
Tywin's hand comes down on the desk, causing Tyrion to jolt and fall quiet. For a moment, the dwarf sees his father's true face beneath the façade. He sees the tremble in Tywin Lannister's hand and realizes that for all he puts on a proud and implacable act, everything that has happened has truly shaken him. The loss of their fleet, Lannisport, and Kevan… all of it had only added to Tywin's growing frailty.
"Your sister is pregnant."
The news hits Tyrion like a rock to the head. And he knows exactly how that feels, Cersei and her friends had loved throwing them at him when he was younger.
"You will never be my heir. You will never inherit Casterly Rock. Even if Cersei doesn't give birth to a son, I would sooner name Lancel as my heir than allow you to become Lord of House Lannister. Do I make myself clear?"
Tyrion's mouth goes dry. He'd always known his father hated him. And deep down he'd always known that Tywin didn't intend to let him inherit. He'd just… always thought that the Old Lion wouldn't have a choice in the end. First because Jaime was a Kingsguard and sworn to serve for life, and then more recently because Jaime was dead and Tyrion was Tywin's last living son.
Only now is he given a glimpse of just how deep Tywin's hatred for him truly runs. Only now does he realize why Tywin gave up so much gold to get Cersei back to Casterly Rock after everything she'd done.
"I said, 'do I make myself clear'?"
"I… yes, father."
"Good. Then get out of my sight. Focus on preparing for the King's arrival and figuring out ways to impress him. If you're not able to secure the position of Master of Coin… then you truly are worthless to this family."
Tyrion hops down from the chair and makes his way out of his father's office on short legs that feel laden down with extra weight.
He really, really regrets being born a dwarf. But more than that… he thinks he regrets being born to House Lannister most of all.
-x-X-x-