The Lion who was Promised (ASOIAF SI)

[Lord_Scaggydoo]

This is inspired by The Great Lion by LargeFarva, an excellent fanfiction which unfortunately seems to have ended. It will not be the same story, however, though I will borrow to some extent from it.

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Ambrogio Spinola Doria, 1st Marquess of Balbases, stood lying in his deathbed outside of the town of Casale, a town on the banks of the Po he was besieging under the orders of his King, Philip IV. The old man - now past his sixtieth birthday - had served the Spanish monarchy three decades with undying devotion, putting his family's entire fortune on the line, and receiving nothing more than an empty title to prove it all. His most brilliant victory had come scarcely half a dozen years ago - when he broke through the Siege of Breda, bringing the crucial fortress into the realms of the Spanish Netherlands. The collapse of the finances of the realm, however, and the jealousy of the King's idiotic new favorite - the Count-Duke of Olivares - meant that he was sent south to Italy to fight for a meaningless little scrap of land.

The old man was in no position for such a harsh journey, and his health failed him, and so while his army waited to take yet another fortress before winter fell upon them, he welcomed the cold embrace of death - eagerly awaiting his invitation into the Kingdom of Heaven, for if he, the most valiant defender of the faith of his generation, didn't get past the gates, no mere man could hope to do the same. When the Marquess awoke, however, he was not in front of Saint Peter nor was he in the presence of his Lord - he was on a birthing bed, looking up at blond, broad-shouldered man thirty years his younger, his green eyes beaming with pride. He heard only the words "His name shall be Lancel. Lancel Lannister." from this portly man before falling asleep to a soft rocking motion.

*****************

The Fifth Day of the Eighth Moon of 289 AC

The last seven years had been so incredible it would be almost impossible to describe them. Spinola really was in the body and mind of a child, in a fantasy world called 'Westeros', as a member of the greatest noble house in the realm - the Lannisters. He quickly realized that they were this world's equivalents of the Habsburgs - not only did they sit on massive piles of Gold and Silver, they also had a propensity for keeping it in the family - his uncle Tywin had married his first cousin, a Lannister herself. They seemed, however, to be far more competent than their counterpart - especially his uncle. He saw as men squirmed under the Lord's withering gaze, his piercing green eyes bringing fear to the hearts of all that wronged or annoyed him. Having been educated by the Jesuits in his past life, the Genoese had a voracious appetite for learning, and quickly devoured through much of the library in Casterly Rock - the Castle which he resided in - discovering that the language of these lands was little more than a simplified bastardization of the Latin he had learned as a child in another life.

The studies which he was put to by his tutor, the Maester Volarik, were so easy as to barely require attendance, though his disobedience the few times he had attempted to not attend the classes was rewarded with birchings, so he made sure to attend the lessons. The Maester was a busy man, however, and they rarely lasted more than a few hours. While he had always considered himself an intelligent man, Spinola had never had this much ease with studying, nor the ability to read through books at this speed, in his past life, and so he assumed that whatever being had placed him here had boosted his intelligence. The same thing could be said for almost all of his attributes, as he was taller and stronger than all of the seven-year olds in the Rock, and equal to many two or three years his elder. His quick progress impressed his father, the venerable Ser Kevan Lannister, brother to Lord Tywin, who had taken to debating with him at night about what he read. Though he could in no way hope to defeat his father in a battle of wits, the young Lancel did show himself to be very advanced for a boy seven name-days old.

It was on his seventh name-day that his mother and father brought him into their room to talk with him privately, away from his mischievous younger brothers, the four name-days old twins Willem and Martyn. His mother seemed worried, but his father seemed proud, almost ecstatic. "My son, it is your seventh name-day," his father said. "Now that it has passed, you are ready to begin your formal training. I have found a Lord willing to take you on as his page." His father's eyes shone, the lights of the candles around the room reflecting in his emerald-coloured eyes, as he continued. "Your uncle, Lord Tywin."

The boy saw his gut twist as the full realisation of what was about to happen. His uncle was mayhaps the most feared man in all of Westeros, and for good reason - he had two entire houses wiped from the face of the earth following their rebellion against his father Tytos, and the grim event was still routinely celebrated in the Rock through the performance of the infamous song 'The Rains of Castamere'. The Old Lion did, however, have a reputation for being fiercely loyal to his family, and he was sure the only reason he was even being considered for this honour was that Tywin had heard, or been informed, of his… unnaturally swift progress.

As Lancel and his father walked towards Lord Tywin's solar, the usually talkative boy was as quiet as a silent sister. Even in his short time in this land, he had learnt not to mess with Tywin, and only all of his will kept his knees from buckling as his father opened the door. The room was nothing short of magnificent - lavishly decorated in great style, with intricate tapestries, opulent displays of wealth and large quantities of gold, ivory and marble. His uncle sat on a golden throne, being every part a King except for his lack of a crown. The stare which had brought men multiple times his elder to their knees soon met his eyes, causing the young Lancel to shrink at least an inch in height. He and his father both quickly bowed, before Kevan was sent back to his apartments, leaving a young boy all alone in a room with Tywin Lannister - not something he would wish on his worst enemy.

The Old Lion's stare quickly lost its intensity, however, and the boy was able to regain sure footing before his uncle started talking. "Tell me, nephew, do you know why my brother sent you here?".

"I am to be your page, my Lord," Lancel immediately replied, his tongue almost twisting from the stress, only barely not making a fool of himself in front of the all-powerful Warden of the West. Tywin fired back "and do you know what that means, boy?". His gaze seemed to slowly increase in intensity, as Lancel realised that his uncle was testing him, seeing how far he could be pushed before breaking. Having once been commander of tens of thousands of men, the victor of Breda himself, Spinola wanted to know that would never happen, but he was stuck in the body of a seven name-day old boy, after all. After thinking for a split second, Lancel replied, "I am to serve you to the best of my abilities, to do everything you require of me, my Lord. In exchange for this meagre service, I will be rewarded with lessons in combat and lordship, my Lord."

Lancel swore he could see his uncle cracking a smile - of course, that was impossible, as Tywin Lannister never smiled, but he still wanted to believe it true. His gaze did lose much of its intensity, however, as Tywin replied "It seems that the rumours of your intelligence hold some water. Your exploits in the library have reached my attention, and I know you can read. Fetch that book over there - 'The History of the Reyne-Tarbeck revolt'."

Lancel gulped, not knowing what his uncle intended, but knowing the story very well. Tywin Lannister was not yet twenty name-days old when he crushed the two most powerful houses in the Westerlands other than his own. They had risen against his weak father, Tytos, the Toothless Lion, but faced his son. Now, there were no Reynes or Tarbecks left - his uncle had made sure of that. He replied "Yes, my Lord" before moving towards the bookcase, having already located the hefty tome.

His uncle interrupted his movements, a hint of warmth present in his eyes for no more than the blink of an eye, and said "Nephew, when in private, you may call me uncle."

 

[Lord_Scaggydoo]

The Nineteenth Day of the Tenth Moon of 289 AC

The past five fortnights under his uncle's tutelage had been hard. That day where he first became his page had been spent with two hours of lecturing over what his duties, responsibilities and schedule would be. He was to be at the courtyard at dawn in order to train for two hours with the Master-at-Arms of Casterly Rock, Benedict Broom, before being granted one hour to bathe and break his fast. He would then spend five hours studying with the Maester and Septon, before being granted one hour to eat his dinner and tie any loose ends. Then, depending on the availability of Lord Tywin, the boy would either spend time with him or be free for the rest of the day. A pretty decent schedule, all things considered, and one more lenient than what he was expecting.

After the lecture, he had been released to his quarters to get started on reading the book, and Tywin was incredibly surprised to learn that the boy had read it in one day. He spent the entire afternoon grilling his page, wanting to make sure that he wasn't simply being lied to to avoid work. Tywin wasn't a forgiving man at the best of times, but he could never tolerate dishonesty or sloth, especially from his own family. Lancel had read the book, however, and was able to answer most of the questions. This surprised him - he expected his memory to have been improved as had his other characteristics - and by the end of it Tywin had ordered him to make copies of some fifty pages from the book, to have for his own perusal at any time. This taught him two lessons - never to overestimate his own capabilities, and to always read anything Lord Tywin gave to him at least twice, if not more, as it was far faster than to copy dozens of pages by hand.

His combat training had been going incredibly well. He had trained with sword and horse in his old life, and while he had never really practised with a longsword - such implements had been abandoned decades prior - he was an expert on horseback, having spent the good part of forty years of his life riding. He quickly impressed both himself as well as Ser Benedict, as he seemed born to wield a sword. His skill with the bow left less to be desired, though he was still competent at it. By the end of those five fortnights of training, he was able to defeat squires five name-days his elder - though he doubted they were the most competent Casterly Rock had to offer, and he was certainly unable of beating Jaime Lannister at that age - his cousin had won his first melee only thirteen name-days old. His father beamed with pride every time he sparred, and he quickly began hearing whispers that he, not the Imp, would be the heir to Casterly Rock. He certainly didn't know what to think of this, though like his uncle and cousin Cersei he despised the little beast, not because he killed his aunt, as she had died far before he was born, but because he was constantly drunk and sullen. He was not fit to be heir to the Old Lion, even if he hadn't been born a dwarf.

His education with the Maester and Septon continued rapidly, as he went leaps and bounds above what was provided of him. He had read the Seven Pointed Star and came to a quick realisation that it was nothing more than a misinterpretation of the Holy Bible - the Seven being a misunderstanding of the Trinity. They even had an institution parallel to His Holiness the Pope and the College of Cardinals with the High Septon and the Most Devout. He could work with this, especially as he had never memorised the scriptures and therefore could not hope to reform the faith. He continued to read everything put in front of him, and the poor Maester had to call for more books from the Citadel in order to keep up with the young man's speed at reading.

The past year had been happy, though the Greyjoy Rebellion did take place, with the Ironborn crushing the unprotected Lannister fleet at Lannisport. Though they were eventually beaten back - Balon being forced to bend the knee to Robert after the end of the siege of Pyke - it had come at a great cost, and the Lannister fleet had been wiped out of the face of the earth. Spinola had met Álvaro de Bazán - the greatest admiral in the history of the world - and had heard stories of his kinsman Andrea Doria, as well as of John of Austria, as well as experienced for himself what naval weakness could do to a campaign. He had learnt enough of naval warfare in his past life to come to the conclusion that the Westerosi were far behind his own world in this, as well as many other things, and so he decided to spend his free time drafting a proposal for the navy. He might have the brain of a sixty name-days old man, but he was still a seven name-days old boy, and so he had to make sure that everything was perfect before presenting it to his uncle. Little did he know, an opportunity to do so would soon come.

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The Eighth Day of the Second Moon of 291 AC

Almost two years had passed, and while much had changed, much remained the same still. He continued to be a page for his uncle, and he and the variety of retainers that trained me kept pushing me to my hardest. A teacher was brought from Volantis to teach Lancel High Valyrian - it was hard, though he was able to become fluent in the language - while he learned so voraciously that his Maester remarked that he could have most likely already earnt his chain if he trained to be one. He continued to read on the most varied of subjects, including seafaring, engineering, metallurgy and more, in large part aimed at producing the designs for a potential future Lannister Fleet, still in the process of rebuilding after the disaster that was Euron Greyjoy's raid on Lannisport. The Imp had attained his majority in 289, and had requested to go on a tour of the Free Cities, though uncle forbade that of him, giving him the opportunity to prove himself worthy of the name Lannister by redesigning the sewage system of Casterly Rock. Lancel was privately annoyed - having that drunken whoremonger make a joke of the Lannister name throughout Essos would further serve to make him the only reasonable candidate to the throne - but the Imp had disappointed his father yet again, limiting himself to commanding the smallfolk to widen the pipes while he whored and drank his way through Lannisport. His position as the heir presumptive was getting stronger by the day, he knew it, but he needed to make sure nothing happened to harm that.

He continued to train with Ser Benedict and the other pages, though he towered over everyone his own age, being almost five feet tall and seven stone in weight - the average size of a young man of three-and-ten. He was quickly put to train with the squires, though he still easily dominated boys three or four name-days his senior, not only due to his previous life's experience with sword fighting, but also the fact that he was just a natural, perhaps even more so than his uncle had been at his age. He barely had to exert any effort in order to bring his foes to his feet, and, much to his consternation, Ser Benedict recognized this. Wanting to put the boy, not even ten name-days old yet, back in his place, called Sandor Clegane, better known as the Hound. While his brother Gregor was the better fighter, he was also dumb as a door and would almost certainly kill the little prick, which Tywin would have both of their heads for. Sandor was given strict orders to humiliate, but not severely harm, the Young Lion, as he was starting to be known around the Rock.

The following morning Lancel arrived expecting another easy day of running circles around squires. He was stupefied when Ser Benedict ordered him to spar against this man, more than twice as old as him, huge and heavily muscled. He steeled himself against the enemy, knowing that he was going to lose but not wanting to go out without a fight. While his brother was entirely brute force, Sandor was incredibly skilled, as well as being incredibly strong. The duel was never in question, and within a minute the Young Lion was lying on the floor bent over his stomach. The Young Lion then rose, and challenged the Hound to another duel, before being brought to the ground once again, though he held his ground for a bit longer at this point. So it continued onwards for an hour, with the last sparring match lasting over five minutes, but still ending with the Young Lion lying on the floor, bathed in his own sweat and with blood pooling in his mouth. Lancel pulled himself up by the Hound's arm, before limping to the maester.

Ser Benedict couldn't help but smile - the kid had been put in his place, but he had shown the determination to, after being kicked to the ground eleven times, come back to a twelfth. He would be a great Lord of Casterly Rock, though he dared say no such thing. Tywin had started to crack down on such ideas - still holding out hope for his golden boy Jaime - and the Master-at-Arms had no interest in making an enemy of his Lord Paramount.

 

[Lord_Scaggydoo]

The Tenth Day of the Third Moon of 291 AC

It took quite a while for Lancel to recover the injuries the Hound had unleashed upon him - though he healed quickly, to the surprise of the Maester - they were still heavy, and so he was only just returning to sparring at full strength when his uncle Gerion - his favourite by far - announced that he would be travelling to old Valyria in order to find and return with Brightroar, the lost ancestral Valyrian Steel sword of House Lannister. Everyone thought he was suicidal - none had ever gone into the Smoking Sea and survived, not even Aurion with his Dragons. Gerion, however, would hear none of it, and made it clear that he would be going, with or without the support of his family. Tywin reluctantly agreed, but Lancel would do everything in his power to make sure his favourite uncle survived this coming trial. Thankfully, his research over the past two years into naval matters had proven itself more than useful.

He requested a meeting with both Tywin and Gerion, and carried a large amount of drawings, designs, scrolls and other paperwork to Tywin's solar, where the meeting would take place. In order to do it in one trip, he had his two little brothers - Willem and Martyn - help him carry them. Tywin and Gerion were surprised at the amount of work he had done, and, when asked about it, he said that he was working on solutions for the Westerland's naval problems ever since the burning of the fleet at Lannisport. Tywin accepted his explanation, and motioned for him to explain everything which he had prepared. Much of it he had brought from his own experience on Earth, but he had also learnt a lot from the books which he read. He showed drawings and plans for compasses, hull copper plating as well as other modifications to Laughing Lion in order to make it more seaworthy, faster and capable of carrying more cargo. He had seen his fair share of Galleons, and these ignorant Westerosi used Galleys on the open sea. He spoke at length, explaining his designs and the justifications for them, not being interrupted other than for the odd question, primarily from Tywin.

Bringing his explanation to an end, he said that, if given a few weeks, he could work out an actual plan for Valyria, to make sure that Gerion did not die like every single other man that had gone to Valyria since the Century of Blood. Tywin was still apprehensive, but Gerion was thoroughly impressed, and agreed with his nephew. Tywin conceded, and offered him the necessary resources to make his plans a reality. Lancel met his father on the way back, the man brimming with pride at his son. If only he knew the truth.

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Lancel went to the library and got to work almost immediately. He had made sure to get an exemption from training from Tywin for the duration of this program - he was already far better than any boy nine name-days old in recorded history, even his own cousin the Kingslayer. Going to Valyria proper was a death sentence - even before the Doom it was impossible to move from one building to another without a Dragon in most of the city, as rivers of lava from the Fourteen Fires. There were no maps of Valyria after the Doom - hard to map something impossible to go to - but there were plenty of maps prior to the Doom. Getting to Valyria proper by boat was impossible even prior to the Doom - there were multiple waterfalls between the sea and the Lake that served as the source of the river that passed closest to Valyria, and that's without ignoring the steep uphill climb by boat, through the water. Not exactly the best case scenario.

He quickly located Noros, a ruined city on the far southern shore of the Sea of Sighs, as the best target. The trading hub for the crops and other products grown in the Lands of the Long Summer, Noros was the focal point for the majority of the food trade in the Peninsula, and therefore overflowing with wealth. Five hundred miles north of Valyria, it probably survived the Doom relatively unscathed, though the presence of large layers of volcanic ash three hundred miles to the north of Noros meant that little survive, and, unlike other cities in the region such as Oros and Tyria, as far as anyone knew there wasn't any local population to worry about. The best part? One could sail, even with extreme care, from Volantis to Noros within a week, if one braved to sail through the Sea of Sighs. Of course, the Sea of Sighs was the least of the threats faced by the expedition, so we could ignore such a thing.

It's not the glorious story that Gerion was hoping for, but it was survivable, and even if he went to the safest of the Valyrian Cities, he would still be the first man in almost four centuries to go there and back. Lancel was confident that he could convince Gerion to take the safer path, if only because he loved his infant baseborn daughter, Joy Hill. With a realistic goal to prepare for, the hard work actually started. Lancel needed to provide his uncle with the best chance of survival possible, which meant preparing for everything. The land expedition would be the most dangerous. He created or adapted designs for navigation equipment, devices to prevent them falling to the noxious gases which infested the Smoking Sea and protective clothing. He wrote a series of recommended procedures within the city, the best ways to move between the buildings, how to handle anything of value and the like.

It was done two fortnights later - the Laughing Lion rebuilt, a series of compasses built and the entire plan written down to an inordinate level of detail. On the Tenth Day of the Fourth Moon of 291 AC, his uncle Gerion set sail aboard his ship, a crew of Westermen at his back, towards what everyone thought was his impending doom. Lancel was a bit more confident, though not by much, as he knew that, while his efforts would probably help, no other expedition had ever been successful. He bade his uncle farewell from the Rock itself - being prohibited from leaving it to go to Lannisport by Tywin - as the ship slipped out of port. His cousin, the Imp, had asked his father to go, but Tywin had wisely declined the halfman's request - he would be nothing but an anchor dragging down his uncle Gerion, and if the voyage succeeded it would grant him much undeserved and unwanted attention and prestige. Lancel hoped that Gerion would come back victorious, wielding Brightroar, but he knew that most likely he would die, like all others that came before him.

As he turned backwards, he looked at the face of Ser Benedict, a twisted smile strewn across his face, and Lancel's stomach dropped. He would be punished for not attending classes for the past two fortnights, independently of Lord Tywin himself having given him permission to do so. That night, he stumbled back to his family's apartments, barely able to go up the few flights of stairs separating it from the courtyard, and falling fast asleep before even reaching the bed. It appeared that the intensity of his training would continue to increase as time went on, until his limit was reached. He just hoped that he grew fast enough that he would always be one step ahead of his training, though it seemed less likely as every day went on.

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The Fifth Day of the Eight Moon of 292 AC

The past year-and-a-half had been incredibly busy. For the first few months after Gerion's mission to Valyria we received semi-regular updates from Volantis, but it has been a year since the last message from him has arrived. By this point, we all believed he was dead, but Tywin refused to hold a funeral, still sure that his brother was alive somewhere else. Maybe he had some information we didn't, but there was nothing to suggest it - though there was nothing to suggest what the Old Lion knew or thought at any time. His bastard daughter, Joy Hill, continued to be treated as a member of the family, though she was still a child, no more than four name-days old. His brothers Martyn and Willem had been taken as Tywin's pages, and he spent many hours sparring and training with them - the twins almost enamoured with their older brother.

Lancel's studies proceeded at a much slower pace as much of what he read now was in High Valyrian, a tough language if there ever was one, and he spent more time than ever training for combat and, to some extent, rulership. His naval reforms had been implemented, funded with an influx of dragons from his uncle's coffers, and they were incredibly successful, allowing the Lannisters to compete with the Redwynes and the Ironborn with regards to fleet strength, though in quality, not numbers. The new ships, with their larger holds, longer longevity and better seaworthiness, were far more suitable to trading than their competitors and far more profitable in that activity, over time transforming Lannisport's merchant fleet into a strong competitor with that of the Arbor. Tywin received all the praise - he never specifically claimed it, but neither did anyone else, and nobody would believe a boy, not even nine name-days old, would have come up with those ideas.

His combat training was gruelling, tough and exhausting, as he routinely sparred against anointed knights and grown men, and lost almost every match. Though he was far stronger and more skilled than any boy his age ever seen previously, he was still in no way skilled enough to win against men twice his own age. Ser Benedict himself refrained from sparring with him - his primary sparring partner was the Hound, Sandor Clegane himself, and while Lancel was able to give him a good fight, there hadn't yet been a single sparring match that didn't end with the Young Lion on the floor, his adversary's hand extended for him to pull himself up. His skill with the bow still lagged behind - he considered it a peasant's weapon, not suitable for a man of his stature - but he continued to prove his skill with the horse, being known as one of the finest riders in the Rock, though there was little to improve - his natural skill and otherworldly experience meaning that only his young age limited his skill with the beasts. He was fascinated by Dragons in specific, as he initially considered them nothing more than a myth like back on Earth, he was surprised when the Maester himself - no friend of magic - said that not only there were once Dragons, but that their skulls resided deep in the Red Keep. He swore that he would go see them, but Tywin had refused to allow him to go to King's Landing, so that would have to wait.

The night of his tenth name-day celebrations he was called to his uncle Tywin's solar once more, his father behind him. He felt his stomach twist as it had for the first time three years prior - even though he was quickly growing to be almost as tall as the Old Lion, he still inspired utter fear in the boy, as he did in everyone in the Rock, and, as far as Lancel knew, everyone in Westeros.

 

[Lord_Scaggydoo]

As I walked up Tywin's solar, my father had his customary face of worry and pride at the same time - the one he sported when I was confirmed as uncle Tywin's page. I had only rarely met my uncle other than in passing since then, and never with my father by my side, so I had no idea what to expect. I had heard the whispers and the rumours - that I would be a far better heir to Casterly Rock than the Imp - but I doubted Tywin would make that choice. He had never taken a squire before, and to do so for me would be an admission that I was his heir, though not directly. I continued to mull over the implications of each possible decision, completely zoned out from the world and almost tripping over a step before coming back to my senses. As my father opened the door and directed me in, I saw Tywin sat on his throne, Ser Benedict to his right and Maester Volarik to his left.

As we - me and my father - bowed before him, Tywin spoke; "Ser Benedict Broom and Maester Volarik here have been informing me of your progress. Both say that you are an impressive student," Tywin looked to his right, and then to his left, before continuing, "Didn't you?". Ser Benedict cleared his throat, before responding, "Yes, my Lord. Lancel is very tall, strong and skilled for his age, able to defeat squires many name-days his elder and competently spar against grown men." Maester Volarik soon followed after Tywin, my father and I all looked at him. "Uh, yes, my Lord. Lancel is, uh, a, uh, joy to teach, my Lord." The Maester seemed to stumble over his words, his tongue tied, and Tywin glared at him with a gaze that could melt steel. My Uncle then turned his sights on me and my father, before speaking; "I have arranged for you to squire with Ser Addam Marbrand, the son and heir of Lord Damon Marbrand of Ashemark, at their castle. I have also arranged for his betrothal to my goodniece Cerenna, and both of you shall be escorted by Sers Stafford and Daven Lannister, her father and brother, respectively. They shall return as soon as the wedding occurs in one moon, but you shall remain."

I was stupefied. Ser Addam Marbrand was a personal friend of Jaime Lannister, yes, and had served as a page at Casterly Rock in his youth, but it couldn't have been orchestrated as an alliance - the Marbrands were one of the smaller of the Houses of the Westerlands, and that aforementioned friendship meant that their loyalty was never in question. It wasn't exactly a good omen with regards to my chances as Tywin's heir - it seemed like honours appropriate of the Lord Paramount's nephew, but he wouldn't have even remotely considered Ashemark as fit for Jaime, or even Tyrion - if uncle had chosen to foster him. Together with the marriage to a distant member of the family, it seemed like it was engineered to put an end to the rumours and whispers raging around the Rock that I, not the Kingslayer or the Imp, would be heir to Casterly Rock. I looked over at my father, who seemed in no way surprised - he must have been told prior to the fact - and then back at my uncle. Tywin was looking right at me, clearly expecting an answer, so I cleared my throat before responding; "Thank you for this opportunity, my Lord." I lied, doing my best to hold down my disappointment. Tywin's eyebrows tightened, his gaze growing with intensity, trying to pick out any hint of dishonesty. "Very well", he said, "Brother and Nephew, you may both return to your quarters."

*****************

Nineteenth Day of the Eighth Moon of 292 AC

The past fortnight passed in a haze. Ashemark wasn't famous for its library, to say the least, so I got permission from uncle Tywin to spend my time studying. I found my memories from my past life as a Genoese general in the service of the King of Spain to be slipping from me as every day passed by, and I truly became Lancel Lannister. I started to work compiling what little I still remembered, though it had become very basic, lacking crucial details and with significant gaps in knowledge. The instinctive bit - how to ride a horse, read Latin, among others, remained, but the memory of what I once knew by rote - crucial details with regards to the organisation, supply and complement of my armies, for example - had all but evaporated. My knowledge of my past life was condensed to no more than one hundred pages - that is what sixty years of adventure, command, happiness and tragedy had been reduced to. I ordered copies to be made of dozens of books which I had found important or were on my reading list - some of which were ready by the time I departed, but most would have to be delivered later.

I spent most of my time, however, with my family. Neither father nor mother wanted to watch me go - even Jaime had only been fostered at one-and-ten - but they realised that they didn't have a choice. Martyn and Willem, however, were a different story. Only six name-days old, the boys had grown to idolise their older brother, and were not yet mature enough to understand that none of us really had a choice in the whole thing. It took a stern disciplining session from father, as well as a promise from me that I would visit, to get them to calm down. Outside of that event, however, the time spent was pleasant, as they had started to replace his own family, which had been dead for decades and of whom he remembered less and less as time went by. Both Martyn and Willem promised me that they'd be as strong as me when I came back, to which I responded saying that I know they'll be stronger. When the day came, I bade farewell to my family before meeting with Sers Daven and Stafford, as well as Cerenna, who was a sight for sore eyes, and one of the fairest women I had ever seen. She was six years my elder and looked the part - Ser Addam Marbrand was a lucky man.

As I rode next to Ser Daven, I couldn't help but be impressed with the man. He was the complete opposite of his father - a blunt, outspoken and jovial man, incredibly capable with a sword and sporting a gigantic beard that reached all the way down to his chest. I couldn't stop observing him, and after a few minutes - we were well out of the gate by then - he noticed, and barked; "What are you looking at, boy?". I was pulled from my train of thought, coming to my senses before responding; "Nothing, Ser, it's just that you have a beard bigger than the Maester's." The Knight roared with laughter, before settling back down and answering; "Aye, it is. Haven't cut it in three years!". "Why?", I blurted, unable to prevent the question burning in my mind from jumping out that rashly. "I know you're expecting a good reason," he responded, "but I just like it this way. It gives me something to talk about, and I like cleaning it. Also, I look far older than six-and-ten, and the men take me seriously." Taking advantage that he was talking about his age, I inquired; "You are young for a Knight - even Jaime Lannister had only been Knighted for a year by your age. May I ask what you did to receive such an honour?". "Same as Daemon Blackfyre, I guess," the man responded, "won a Squire's tourney at Casterly Rock a year ago, and I was knighted by none other than Ser Lyle Crakehall, who I had been squiring for at the time. The big oaf probably got tired of my superior intellect, though compared to the Strongboar a door could become a Maester." He let out another roaring laugh, clearly having found his own joke supremely funny. If this guy makes the Strongboar look like an idiot, Lancel thought to himself, I can't even imagine how slow he must be.

*****************

As we rode through the gates of the Castle of Ashemark, we found Lord Damon and Ser Addam awaiting us. I, Ser Daven and Ser Stafford all dismounted, while Cerenna was helped by her handmaidens. Lord Damon Marbrand was an old man with white hair, while his son Addam was tall, with a mane of dark copper hair in the manner of House Marbrand. Both sported armour of bronze covered by a fur cloak - a way of honouring their First Men ancestry - while a household knight held a banner with their sigil just behind them. The greetings were swift and simple and it seemed that the Marbrands didn't have a propensity for formality, not that he was expecting it - none of them were directly related to Tywin, and the Marbrands were family friends, so they could get away with it. After a welcome feast far sparser than the ones I had experienced in Casterly Rock - Ashemark wasn't known for being a wealthy holding - I followed Ser Addam to my quarters. It consisted of a single room, sparsely furnished, attached to the armoury. "It seems that taking you as a squire is the cost for getting to wed and bed Cerenna," he grunted. "You will have all the responsibilities of a squire - you'll carry and take care of my equipment, help me put on and take off my armour, etcetera - and in exchange I'll make you worthy of Knighthood. From what I've heard, you're well along that path already. Lord Tywin has given you an allowance far greater than you need - it seems that he really does shit gold - but you are not to spend a single penny without my permission."

"Sleep", he commanded. "We'll start tomorrow."

 

[Lord_Scaggydoo]

First Day of the Third Moon of 293 AC

About six moons had passed since I arrived at Ashemark, and it was nothing like Casterly Rock. I had effectively no time dedicated to my studies, and, outside of what little free time I had, all of my days were spent training with or helping Ser Addam Marbrand with whatever it was that was required of him. The wedding of Ser Addam Marbrand and Cerenna Lannister had happened on 5/9/292 - a relatively austere event, though he had not witnessed any weddings before. The feast that followed it was also nothing too expensive - and he had seen his share of grand feasts back at the Rock. He found the bedding ceremony very similar to what he remembered from Europe, and Cerenna seemed almost infatuated with her new husband, and, so far at least, it has been a happy marriage.

Maester Criston, the one resident at Ashemark, was a very young fellow - no more than ten name-days my elder - and had just earned his chain a few moons ago, Ashemark being his first assignment. I thought that made sense - it wasn't exactly a seat that many Maesters would fight for, and competition would therefore be limited to those either young or with a bad reputation. The Maester was far more open to debate than Volarik had been, and had far more free time - other than sending and receiving letters, maintaining a small library and treating the odd wound or illness, there wasn't much for him to do. That was especially so after the books I had ordered from Casterly Rock started to arrive - they brought a lot of value to the Castle's library, and the Maester was supremely grateful. I quickly found it beneficial to stay in his good graces - he was intelligent, friendly and hadn't yet grown sullen as a result of age, and was therefore a pleasant person to be around, all things constant. I was also one of the very few people who respected his intelligence outside of when he was immediately useful, and as a result ended up quickly gaining the man's trust.

My uncle had given me an allowance far greater than what I could ever hope to expend on myself - even not counting the fact that wards don't receive allowances from home, as their new guardian is expected to take care of all their expenses. I quickly understood that there was yet another reason why I was sent to this little Castle in the middle of nowhere - to be able to experiment outside of the gaze of prying eyes. In the two weeks between the announcement that I would be coming to Ashemark and my departure, I had heard the whispers evaporate, and I could only assume that uncle Tywin thought it enough to allow me a bit of freedom - to allow me to grow into my own man. That time I spent in thought, mulling over the meaning of such a large amount of gold entering into my possession, ended up with a realization that this wasn't a statement that I would not be his heir, just that I needed to prove myself. I quickly understood as well that Ser Addam's queer statement about not spending from my allowance without his permission was less to prevent me from hiring servants to do my duties and more to prevent me from turning into yet another drunken whoremonger like Tyrion - it was evidently clear that uncle Tywin would not support another one of the vile creatures, especially one that was not his son.

I grew a fondness for hunting - unlike the grand, structured and thoroughly boring excursions practiced by the higher nobility, the hunts at Ashemark were far simpler, without large parties and sometimes alone. Ser Addam likes to hunt, and always takes me with him, but there are many times, whenever I am free and not in the mood for a spar of the wits with Maester Criston, when I simply saddle up and jump on my horse, canter out the gates of the castle and ride through the woods, rolling hills and valleys of the Western Mountains, hunting stags and other animals. While most hunts are done on foot, I have to say I have become quite competent at firing a bow on horseback - certainly not as good as the Dothraki or the Mongols of ages past, but competent enough to hit any stationary target, as well as slower beasts, like boars, if they are moving.

I had, over the past moons, grown a small fortune with the allowance provided to me by uncle Tywin. Prohibited from buying most things by Ser Addam, I instead made a few shrewd investments with excellent returns - finding out I had nuncle's mind for money - and my pile of gold grew steadily and exponentially. I was sure, however, that unless I used it to do something useful Tywin would stop giving it to me, and I couldn't allow that to happen. It's simply that I hadn't really had an opportunity - my knight still treats me like a child, which, in all fairness, I am, though that doesn't make it sting any less.

The real reason I am writing today, however, is that Addam has called me to his quarters - something he only does when there is something crucially important to discuss. I passed by Cerenna on the way there - the Maester confirmed that she was with child only a few days prior, and she was glowing - and exchanged pleasantries, before continuing on to meet the knight. I knocked on the door, requesting entry, and he waved me in, before speaking; "Lancel, you have served me loyally and faithfully for the past six moons. I was expecting a brat when I was 'offered' you as a ward during my negotiations to marry my wife, but you have proved yourself to be hard-working, competent and willing to get your hands dirty. You deserve a reward for your efforts, and as there is nothing material that I could give you which you cannot afford on your own, I instead give you freedom. You are hereby released from my service for a fortnight, but I expect you to return by the next half-moon." I had been waiting for an opportunity to go out into the wilderness and test my mettle against the beasts of the land and profusely thanked him, before asking; "Ser, am I still limited in my expenditures?". He smiled, before responding, "Lancel, for the next fortnight, in my eyes, you are a man grown. You may do as you wish. Do remember, however, that you will return at the end of that fortnight, and I will know what you spent that money on." It was a statement that stated in simple terms that he trusted me, though not completely. I was touched, but before I could thank him I was told to begone, as he had business to see to.

I immediately got to preparing my horse and baggage for the voyage to come, grinning from ear to ear. By this time, though I still had not yet had my eleventh name day, I was already the height of many men grown, had an extensive experience in hunting, and, in Ser Addam's words, was the finest fighter he had ever seen at my age - even better than my cousin Jaime. Now, there couldn't be a bigger compliment than that, especially from one of his personal friends. It had come right after an especially embarassing defeat on the sparring grounds against him, though, so it might have just been said to lift my spirits. I went to bed, and before the sun had dawned the following morning I was already out of the gates. There was no way I could have expected what was about to happen, however.

*****************

Thirteenth Day of the Third Moon of 293 AC

My time in the country surrounding Ashemark has been fantastic, almost similar to a dream. There is nothing my freeing, in my opinion, than to ride alone through the countryside upon your trusted steed, to sleep in a tent under the stars and to eat what you hunt yourself. Uncle Tywin had trained me to skin, treat and remove the pelt of animals - it was one of his favourite hobbies - and after eating them and disposing of their bones, I ordered and paid for the creation of a variety of fur products- cloaks, coats and the like - both for myself as well as to gift to Ser Addam, Cerenna and their unborn child. I wasn't an impressive hunter by any means - I had found a man only half a dozen name-days my elder who claimed, and then proved, that he could hit and kill a running deer with one shot from one hundred paces. I was quite the celebrity wherever I went - a clearly highborn boy, travelling through the woods alone, stopping at local markets to sell meat and buy food, as tall as a man but not yet eleven name-days old, was quite the sight - as well as the target for a few criminals, though they quickly learnt to avoid me after I sent a few to the stranger.

Today, however, I knew was different. I had woken up with a queer feeling - something that I had never felt before - almost ordering me to go in a very specific direction. Curious and finding it hard to disobey, I followed the voice deeper and deeper into the western hills, further and further away from the nearest settlements, before I reached the summit of one of the hills and, as I looked over the surrounding countryside, I found something that almost made me fell off my horse - a lion! Even the ones in captivity in the bowels of Casterly Rock had died out, and nobody still alive had ever seen one, but you couldn't mistake it for anything else - Its glorious mane and golden cloak were unique among all other animals. I judged the distance and found out I was too far to shoot accurately, and so decided to move to another hilltop which I felt was close enough. I rode slowly, deliberately and carefully, making sure to not alert the beast to my presence. I arrived at the hilltop, and got a clearer view at the Lion - he was lazily lying down under the shade of a tree, almost asleep - the sun was high and it was hot, and during the middle of the day lions liked to rest in the dark whenever possible. I dismounted, calmed my horse and then took out my bow, notched an arrow and aimed it at the magnificent animal, uttering a prayer under my breath, and let loose. The arrow flew, cutting through the air as it rushed towards its target, and struck true. The lion let out a bellowing roar that made my horse quite nervous, but was dead within seconds - I had struck its heart, even though I was not aiming for it.

I mounted my horse in one swift movement and galloped down the hillside, stopping just a few paces in front of the lion. I dismounted, sword in hand just in case he was still alive, but quickly confirmed that the beast was in fact dead. It seemed like this lion did not have a pride - otherwise the cubs would have been left behind - but I took no chances, and, after removing the beast's claws, hoisted it upon my horse's back, mounted myself and rode out of there, only stopping once I had found an isolated cabin. I was starving and had not hunted anything other than the lion, nor did I have any food, so I wanted to buy some food before going on my journey. I bid my horse to a stop a few paces away from its door, and found it to be far nicer than I had expected. It was not a hovel of any kind, probably just an isolated farmstead, perhaps once property of a priory. The family resident quickly ran out - it consisted of a father, a mother and five children, the eldest perhaps eight name-days old and the youngest still had not been weaned. I announced in a loud, clear voice; "I am Lancel of House Lannister, squire to Ser Addam Marbrand and nephew of Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock." "You are most welcome, m'lord. To what do we owe this honour?" The father of the family, his voice almost trembling, replied. "I have been hunting for the past dozen or so days in the wilderness, but today I have not been able to hunt anything that I can eat, and so I came to ask if you had any food you could sell me", I replied. The eldest of the children grew enough courage to open his mouth, asking; "M'lord, how did you spend a whole day hunting without hunting anything?". His mother quickly swatted him, but I smiled and replied - "Oh, I have hunted an animal, it's just that I can't eat it." The boy's burning curiosity to know what overpowered his fear of his mother - "What did you hunt that cannot be eaten, m'lord?", he inquired.

I jumped off my saddle and removed the lion's carcass from the back of my horse and showed it to them, though even before I had finished the movement their jaws had dropped. They might have heard stories, but as far as they knew lions had been extinct for a long time. The father was the first to come back to his senses, and went for it - "Of course, m'lord, we would be honoured to give you food. I would, however, humbly ask you to eat with us - we are just about to have dinner". The man gulped, not knowing what to expect, as it was understood that noblemen were not supposed to eat at the same table with the smallfolk. I couldn't bring myself to disappoint those little boys, who looked at me as if I was the warrior in human form, and the hunger must have messed with my mind, because I agreed. The food was simple - though I had been eating nothing more than bread and wildgame for over a week, so I was accustomed to it - but very well made. Initially the atmosphere was very tense - nobody wanted to do anything to slight such a powerful man - but as the meal went on they started to relax. They seemed like a happy, well adjusted family, and I found the oldest son, a boy named Gregor, to have a very sharp wit, though he was not very strong. After the meal, they helped me in skinning and preparing the animal's coat to be worn as a cape, and I gave them what remained of the carcass to cook and eat - dozens of pounds of meat which should set them for moons to come. I took a mental note to come back once I had become a man grown and to take Gregor with me - he would be useful. I had to return within one or two days to Ashemark anyway, and my quest for the lion had driven me well off my planned course, so I jumped up on my horse wearing the lion's coat and rode back to the castle. I would have a great story to tell.

 

[Lord_Scaggydoo]

Fifteenth Day of the Third Moon of 293 AC

As I rode through the gates of the castle of Ashemark, on the morning of the fifteenth day of the third moon, I found Ser Addam Marbrand awaiting me. He had heard the stories of a man riding through the countryside wearing the pelt of a lion like Hercules, and quickly understood that it had to be me. Wanting to see for himself, as well as make sure of the veracity of the statements before sending word to Casterly Rock, he was standing at the top of the steps to the keep, looking at me as I entered the castle. I galloped to within half a dozen paces of the stairs, brought my steed to a stop and then dismounted in a single motion. I walked to the bottom of the steps and bowed. "Get up, boy, I'm not knighting you yet.", he said. I followed his order and stared at the knight, before he continued; "I cannot deny, however, that this is mighty impressive. Not only did you spend a fortnight on your own, you did what no man has done in decades and slayed a lion."

I went back to my horse, and retrieved a sack with the clothes I had ordered as gifts, before turning back to the knight. "You are most kind, Ser," I responded, before continuing, "I ordered these clothes, made from the furs of beasts I slayed myself, as gifts for you, your lady wife and your unborn child." Addam seemed visibly touched, took the gift and then ordered me back to my quarters. The first thing I did was take a very long bath - I hadn't had the opportunity for a fortnight, and was deeply in need of one - and then lay down. I hadn't slept on a bed in a fortnight, and I had no idea how much I missed that simple comfort. I quickly drifted to sleep, dozing through dinner and only awakening a few hours before supper, famished and a bit dizzy. I quickly returned to my senses, and looked at my new lion's pelt strewn over a chair, before getting dressed and going to the kitchen, where I ate a truly gigantic meal, and then moved to return to my quarters and get the first good night's sleep I'd had since the new moon. On the way there, however, I passed by Maester Criston, who stopped and said, "Welcome back, Lancel." He smiled, and I responded; "Thank you, Maester. If there's nothing else, I'd hope to be able to return to my quarters." The Maester took a letter from his pocket, and, as I opened it, spoke, "Lord Tywin, your uncle, has declared that a tourney will be held in honour of your slaying of the lion on your name day in five moons. It appears that His Grace the King's interest in meeting the first person to kill a Lion in decades was great enough to allow Her Grace the Queen to convince him to come to Casterly Rock." I was not too surprised with the tourney - nuncle had always been fond of honouring his family members, and through us the name Lannister - but I couldn't believe that the King himself was coming. That shock roused me out of my drowsiness, as did the realisation that I was in no shape to present myself before His Grace, or to impress him. Facing the lion had gained his attention, but it would not be enough to gain his respect.

I immediately raced towards Ser Addam's solar, knocking on the door before being welcomed in. I walked within a few paces of the sitting knight, before asking; "Ser, I have heard of Lord Tywin's tourney on my name-day, and I humbly request to be allowed leave to prepare for it. I wish to participate in it as a mystery knight, and request permission for such as well." My guardian raised his gaze and smiled, before responding; "Now, who am I to refuse the Young Lion? I accept your request, and the focus of your training is going to be to prepare for the joust henceforth. You'll have to use your own wealth." I was over the moon, and profusely thanked him, agreeing to the condition and then being ordered to leave.

*****************

Fifth Day of the Eighth Moon of 293 AC

The past six moons had been very eventful. I trained almost daily with Ser Addam Marbrand in the art of the joust, and proved immediately adept at it. It is said that jousting is three-quarters horsemanship, and I was a prodigy - thirty years of experience will do that to a man. It took a while for me to get used to the heavy armour and lance, as well as the impact, but when that was over I was able to routinely unhorse my guardian in only a few tilts. Eventually, Ser Addam needed to return to his duties, and even though it was incredibly boring to practise jousting, I continued. After having mastered the joust, I saw fit to purchase a new horse purely for the tourney, finding an obscenely expensive, well-bred and hotheaded stallion in his prime. It took weeks before I was able to bend the animal to my will completely, but once I had jousting with Ser Addam stopped being a competition, and he eventually stopped because it became a waste of both of our time. As the days, weeks and moons went by I spent less and less time practising the joust proper and instead focused on honing the individual skills and attributes that play a part in the competition - horsemanship, balance, fitness, etcetera. I also sent for a professional in Lannisport to treat my lion's pelt, aiming to prevent it from rotting or being damaged, to make it more lifelike and to allow me to use it as a cape, like Hercules did with the Nemean Lion's pelt. Ser Addam and Cerenna had their first child, a boy which they named Denys, healthy and strong, but doted on excessively by his mother, and, to some extent, his father.

By the beginning of the seventh moon of the year, I was almost ready to begin jousting. I had hit my growth spurt in stride, having grown four inches in the past few moons, getting ever closer to six feet and well on my way to overtaking even uncle Tywin who was known far and wide for his height. I will never get even remotely close to the mountain, however, who is said to be eight feet tall. I can't even imagine how ginormous such a man must be. Anyway, I had my measurements taken and sent to the finest armorsmith in King's Landing, ordering two suits of armour - one for combat and one for jousting - worthy of the heir to Casterly Rock, which I was not. I continued to train, though only to maintain my skill, until my new suits of armour arrived. They were truly magnificent - though only barely worth the fortune I spent on them - but it took until the new moon for me to completely adjust to the new armour, especially the one for jousting. When the morning of the first day of the eighth moon arrived we - Ser Addam, Cerenna, Denys, the servants and I - left for Casterly Rock. I spoke to no one during the trip, going well ahead of the caravan and mulling over the implications of what I was about to do. I had to do well - if I didn't at least get to the semi-finals, nobody would care who this mystery knight was, and so I needed to excel. I was tall enough to pass for a grown man, so if I didn't, I would probably be considered just another hedge knight. Showing myself would only serve to crush the myth that has been built around me, or at least so I think.

We arrived at Casterly Rock just before nightfall, and, having sent ravens in the morning, my father, mother and two brothers were there to greet me at the entrance. As soon as I dismounted Martyn and Willem ran at me, each hugging a leg - being in the middle of my growth spurt, I towered over the two, and was almost as tall as my father, who was significantly shorter than his brother. I looked at Ser Addam, and he gave me leave to be with my family - I hadn't seen them in a year, and missed them deeply, as did they. Martyn and Willem immediately demanded to see the lion pelt, and I gave it to them as soon as we arrived at our parent's apartments. They played with it for what seemed like hours as I talked with my parents, both extremely proud of their young lion. I went to bed in a room which hadn't changed one bit since I left and quickly dozed to sleep, dreaming of my childhood, which would soon be coming to an end.

I met uncle Tywin the next day - he had his customary stony demeanour but I swore I could see a flicker of pride in his eyes. I walked into his solar, and he motioned for me to sit, before starting; "It seems that His Grace is interested in you and your lion, at least enough to allow Cersei to convince him to come here. You will meet the King after the tournament." I was shocked - why would he not want me to see the King until after the joust? - until the realisation hit me. 'He knows that I want to joust!', I thought to myself, before remembering that this was Tywin Lannister I'm talking about - he knows everything. I tried my best to sound disappointed, though I doubt I concealed my excitement; "I understand, my Lord", I said. He motioned for me to leave, and I went back to my family's apartments. My parents were out, and a servant was keeping Willem and Martyn entertained. I asked her to leave us alone for a little while, and then I crouched, looking each of my brothers in the eye, before speaking in a hushed, faux-secretive tone; "I have a very important job for you two, but you can't tell this to anyone. Can you keep a secret?". Their eyes lit up, and they both said "Yes!" at the same time. I smiled and patted them both on the head, before telling them of my plan. "You've heard of the tournament, right?" - they nodded - "I'm going to join as a mystery knight. I want you two to serve as my squires and help me in the joust. Can you do that?" Eager to impress their older brother, they both nodded emphatically, and I talked them through everything that they would need to do, step by step.

I spent the next few days mostly around my brothers, teaching them what they would need to do, and practising it until they became suitably confident. The day before the tourney - and my name-day - right before nightfall, the King and his entourage arrived, being the last. I had been unseen by the Lords since they started to arrive, and both uncle Tywin and Ser Addam had to give a coordinated bullshit reason why I wasn't able to greet them. My little brothers and I watched as the King arrived, hidden, and I could see the King become visibly disappointed once he realised he would have to wait until the end of the tourney to see the lion-slayer. We slept in the quarters close to the stables in order to be able to get ready where none of the other knights would be able to see me, and I had my little brothers dressed in squire's attire in order to pass unnoticed. I had registered under the moniker 'Knight of the Hills' and I was up first against an irrelevant hedge knight. Martyn and Willem helped me get ready, putting on my armour, polishing my shield, collecting my lances and helping me get on my horse, as the announcer called on my name. Even though the slit was tiny I could see perfectly - it was truly a work of art - and facing me was nothing more than a joke - a stout fellow, barely fitting into his armour, on a poor horse and without a squire. We got to our positions, the horn was blown and we charged at one another. When we made contact, I hit centre mass, my lance shattering into a thousand pieces, while his slid off my shield. He flew backwards off his horse, falling with his back on the ground on the very first tilt. I returned whence I came and waited for my next chance.

My primary competitors were Sers Jaime Lannister and Barristan Selmy - perhaps the two finest jousters in the Seven Kingdoms. As I looked at the list of competitors and who would joust against whom, it appeared that they were both on the same side, and would meet in the semi-finals. It seemed like nuncle had all but made sure I reached the final. The jousts went as expected - I easily defeated the nobodies that were put against me, if not in one then in two tilts, as did Jaime and Barristan. After I defeated my semi-final competitor, the best of the dregs nuncle had put me up against, I was completely devoted to the match between those two greats. It was really something special - they were perhaps the two greatest living knights in Westeros, and it was always a pleasure to watch whenever they jousted. The first tilt came and went, both knights being thrown backwards until they almost laid horizontally upon their horses, before getting back up, both lances having shattered. The second tilt was much the same, but on the third and last tilt Barristan's horse lost a miniscule amount of balance right before the two knights met, but it was enough - the Lord Commander was lying flat on the ground, Jaime victorious. I would meet the Kingslayer in the final.

I could see Jaime smiling as we readied for our first tilt - the arrogant bastard was completely convinced that he would have no challenge for the victor's purse. The first tilt was nothing to scoff at - Jaime barely made an offensive effort, and I held my ground. On the second tilt, I was almost sent flying, only caught by my stirrups, but my stallion - the Seven bless his soul - came to an almost immediate stop, allowing me to get back up with little issue. I could see Jaime's overconfidence come back, and I readied my lance for what would be the tilt that would make it or break it. As soon as the horn was blown our horses ran at each other and I removed everything but the joust from my mind. I leaned slightly to my right just before impact, adding just that little bit more strength to my hit. I said a silent prayer, and we met in the middle of the field. I heard a collective gasp from the audience, and looked back to find Ser Jaime Lannister lying on the ground. I immediately dismounted and offered him a hand to hold on to - he wouldn't have taken it under any other circumstance, but he was in front of many of the lords of the Seven Kingdoms, and couldn't afford to be seen putting his pride over his honour. As soon as my cousin was on his feet, I looked at uncle Tywin, who seemed to be sporting the faintest smile. As I removed my helmet, Martyn ran in holding my lion pelt, and everything clicked for the audience. I climbed back up onto my horse, laying the pelt on its shoulders, and grabbed the crown of love and beauty. I had thought of giving it to my mother, but decided to instead get on the Queen's good graces, and, after bowing, offered it to her. I had just won my first tourney, at age one-and-ten.

 

[Lord_Scaggydoo]

Ser Barristan quickly moved from the side of the jousting field, grabbing me by the shoulder and telling me; "Come, boy, His Grace is anxious to see you." With a nod of my head, I grabbed my horse by the reins and moved towards the viewing area, and we both bowed in the direction of King Robert. He got up and came down the stairs, where Ser Barristan took his sword out of the scabbard, held it by the blade and offered it to him, pommel first. The King took the sword from the Lord Commander's outstretched hand and turned towards me, grunting "Kneel, Lancel of House Lannister". I followed the order, and he laid his blade on my right pauldron. With a solemn voice, devoid of all humour, he began to speak, "In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave." The sword moved from my right shoulder and laid on my left. "In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just." The sword steadily moved back to my right. "In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the young and innocent." The left shoulder. "In the name of the Maid, I charge you to protect all women." The right shoulder. "In the name of the Smith, I charge you to maintain your strength." The left. "In the name of the Crone, I charge you to accept wise counsel." When he placed the sword on my right shoulder for the last time, he pressed down heavily on the blade. I bore the weight without complaint. "In the name of the Stranger, I charge you to uphold your honour till the end of your days." He lifted the sword from my shoulder, giving it back, pommel first, to Ser Barristan, and bellowed with a voice that could be heard all the way in Lannisport; "Arise, Lancel Lannister, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms!"

*****************

I found myself in a Lannister tent, Martyn and Willem helping me get out of my armour, both incredibly proud of themselves. I was now Ser Lancel Lannister, the youngest knight in the history of Westeros, having unhorsed the Kingslayer himself at one-and-ten. I allowed my mind to wander as to the implications of this. My victory in the joust, followed by being knighted by the King himself, would certainly change things with regards to the succession to Casterly Rock. I was the first man to slay a lion in decades, the youngest knight in the history of Westeros and had unhorsed Jaime Lannister in my first joust while my only real challenger - my cousin the Imp - was in no way respected either by nuncle or by the Lords of the Westerlands. Being a dwarf did not help his chances, of course, but, at least in my opinion, the primary reason was that he was a drunken whoremonger and a spiteful little creature incapable of putting in any effort on anything. If he ever came to sit on nuncle's throne, his reign would certainly be more disastrous than that of grandfather Tytos, and the memory of Castamere would no longer linger in the collective memory. When they had gotten me out of my armour, we walked back to our apartments, engaging in meaningless small-talk on the way. My parents were extremely proud of me, though I noticed that they - especially my father - started to treat me as an adult instead of a child. It was to be expected, of course, but, having done what no one else in the history of mankind had the opportunity to and relived my childhood, I was saddened that it had come to an end so soon.

I was fully ready well before the feast was due to start, so I decided to pace the gardens of the Rock in order to clear my mind and enjoy some privacy - I love my brothers, but they can be a bit much, especially as there are two of them. However, my alone time was cut short when I saw an elderly woman, already in her sixties, who I quickly determined was Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns and mother of Lord Mace of the Reach. Even though she is a small woman, barely taller than my brothers, and walks with a cane, she emanated an aura of confidence and authority almost as great as that of uncle Tywin. I made sure to slow down to allow her to come to my side, and then spoke; "Lady Olenna, it is a pleasure to meet you." "And why do you think I came to talk to you, boy?" she snapped, and I felt a smile forming at the corner of my mouth - she lived up to her reputation. "I'm sure you know who I am, My Lady", I responded. "Yes, yes, I know your name. Other than that, I know no more than rumours." "Then I'm afraid you might need some better sources, my Lady."

She tugged on my arm, forcing me to stop, before sitting at a nearby bench. Casterly Rock had those everywhere, especially these gardens, built in large part for notables to clear their heads and enjoy the cool winds and soft vegetation. I remained standing, and she responded; "Now, I was surprised to see Tywin sending you to Ashemark. I would have assumed he would keep the heir to Casterly Rock under his fingertips." I almost scoffed at the audacity of the woman - I was third in line as of now, at least officially, and I doubted uncle Tywin would be happy to hear his golden boy so blatantly thrown under the bus. "My Lady, I am not the heir to anything, much less Casterly Rock. I fear you may have me confused with my cousin the Imp." It felt good to spar with her, but the Queen of Thorns was thoroughly unamused. "Yes, yes, we all know that your uncle is leaving his throne to a dwarf. We're alone here, so speak plainly." I wasn't in the mood to continue this for too long, so I relented; "Very well, My Lady. Let's assume that what you are saying is in fact correct, and I am the heir to Casterly Rock, hypothetically, of course. What then?" The Queen of Thorns showed a slight smile and said "What do you think, my boy?".

"House Tyrell is the youngest of the Great Houses." I responded "Your house earned Highgarden because you were the ones who surrendered it to Aegon the Conqueror, not because you had the best claim." I could see her annoyance at this attack on the honour of her house, but continued, "House Hightower is wealthier while House Tarly has the best commander in all the Seven Kingdoms. Your house needs to prove to its bannermen that it is above them, and the way to do that is with a marriage alliance with one of the other Great Houses." "You are a clever boy, I'll say that." she responded, "Why do you spend so much time practising for these… games?" I wrinkled my nose in disapproval at her tone, but then quickly returned to a more stony demeanour, and responded "Tournaments and Jousts are the only way for a young man such as myself to gain respect and notoriety in this world of ours. Your son, Lord Mace, understands as such, it's why Willas and Garlan entered the field at a young age, and, correct me if I'm wrong, Loras will as well." She seemed hurt at my mentioning of her firstborn son and, indirectly, the accident that crippled him. "Very well" she said "Now, even if you are correct, why do you think I would be talking with you?". I waited a few seconds before responding, and ended up saying "The Martells are an impossibility for obvious reasons, the Baratheons still feel slighted at your support, even if only nominal, of the Targaryens during the Rebellion, while the others are either too weak - House Tully - too far away - House Stark - or have no candidates - House Arryn. House Lannister is the only potential candidate, even without considering that we are the wealthiest and most powerful House in Westeros, as well as the one closest and therefore most able to support you in case of a threat to your position as Lords Paramount of the Reach and Wardens of the South."

Lady Olenna smiled and got up, offering her arm. I complied, and as we walked down the paths, chattering along, she said "Now, tell me dear, have you met my granddaughter?"

*****************

{Tyrion I}

To say I was angry at my cousin would be an understatement. I thought him being packed up and sent to the middle of nowhere was going to put him in his place, but apparently the little shit had to go out of his way to humiliate me. He had never liked me - though I was not surprised as only Jaime had ever given even me an ounce of respect since the date of my birth - but I never expected that the son of Kevan Lannister of all people would become a challenger for the position of heir. I always knew I wasn't father's first choice - that had to be the Golden Boy - but I always assumed that, as my father would not remarry, I would be safe in my position as heir. Apparently not.

It was just my luck that he had not only found the first wild lion in generations, but was also able to kill it, Robert was weak enough to allow my dear sister to convince him to come to Casterly Rock, there was a tourney, he was allowed to enter, he got to the final and, by some miracle, won against the best jouster in all the Seven Kingdoms. As I paced from one side of my room to the other, I decided: I would not let my birthright get stolen by anyone, much less fucking Lancel Lannister. I looked at the pitcher of wine and the glass on my desk, and almost instinctively moved to have a drink, before I stopped myself. No matter how much I hated the thought of it, I would need to be sober for this to work. My first task: finding why the hell he was talking with Olenna Tyrell.

 

[Lord_Scaggydoo]

The feast, and the preparation for it, were exhausting. I was immediately the hit of the party, and decided to wear my lion's pelt over my shoulder just to allow people to spot me more easily. I was sought out primarily by the Lords of the Westerlands, or those in their stead, who had come to the conclusion that after becoming the youngest knight in the history of the Westerlands and being the first man to kill a wild lion in a very long time I would be the new heir. I couldn't blame them - my competition was the Imp and my deeds were very impressive - but it was still tiring, dealing with dozens upon dozens of the most distinguished men in the Kingdom, all of which wanted to get in my good graces. All of them were courteous and pleasant to be around and all made some sort of commitment to supporting me as heir - the more intelligent of them hid it under innuendo but many outright said that they were a part of the 'Party of the Young Lion', as it had come to be known. I made sure to keep the façade that I was not the heir, though to those intelligent enough to not openly support me I made sure to thank them indirectly.

Not many of the Lords Paramount had come - though most of the major houses had sent representatives of their own, with the notable exception of the Starks, the Arryns and the Martells. The first two simply didn't have any adults other than their lords, and instead sent representatives, while the Dornish would rather die than set foot in Casterly Rock after what happened to Elia. Before I could transition from my uncle's bannermen to the Great Houses of Westeros, I was quickly whisked away by a guard, who led me towards the Lord of Casterly Rock. As I entered the room, I could see that he was incredibly displeased - angry, even - with me, though with what exactly I did not know. His gaze would have made lesser men squirm, but I remained unmoving, having learnt to keep my cool and a stony demeanour even if inside I wanted to roll up into a ball and sob. "Who told you to negotiate with Olenna Tyrell?" he said, not raising his tone but still striking fear. "She sought me out, my Lord. I was just going for a walk in the gardens when she came to talk to me, my Lord." I tried to hide the fact that I was somewhat terrified, entirely failing at the endeavour.

"Very well. What did you talk about?" he said, apparently uninterested in punishing me for my apparent boldness. I cleared my throat, before replying "I guessed, correctly, that the Tyrells are looking for a marriage with one of the Great Houses to shore up their control of the Reach." Tywin sighed, before continuing "It's logical from their perspective. What I don't understand is why you would even consider such a thing - they need us far more than we need them." Annoyed at my uncle for immediately disregarding such an option - at least in some part because I had become a bit smitten with Margaery - I fired back; "Then who am I to marry, uncle? There are no Arryns or Tullys, Stark would rather die than give his daughter to a Lannister, and His Grace is unlikely to want to give even more privileges to us over his dear friends in the Eyrie or Winterfell by marrying me to Myrcella. Margaery is the correct age and stock, and the Reach is the most populous of the Seven Kingdoms, with the largest army, not to mention that they are the realm's breadbasket."

Tywin glared at me, clearly unamused with my little rebellion, but, for reasons I can only guess, he relented. "Then go ahead. Negotiate this little alliance of yours." he said "Don't sign off on anything passing it by me first. Now go, entertain our guests." I left the room radiant, but with a pang of worry deep in my abdomen - this was not in character for the Old Lion. I pushed it down and went back into the fray - the feast had started, and I was expected to sit at the High Table with the Royal Family. A great honour, but one I would have rather done without.

The company at that notable table was poor, to say the least. I was able to entertain the King with the story of me hunting the lion for a bit, but I was never one very good at telling stories and captivating audiences, and he quickly got bored and went right back to messing around. Uncle Tywin had made sure there were no serving wenches or other women for the King to play with, at least not in public - though his extramarital activities were well known, Tywin would not have his daughter dishonoured in such a way under his own roof. Joffrey was wealthy, craven and a spoiled brat - Cersei had enabled him straight onto a path to psychopathy. Myrcella and Tommen, on the other hand, seemed like perfectly sweet and good natured children, though they were still very young. I had seen paintings of Cersei as a girl, and Myrcella looked almost identical to her mother at her age. I was four years Joffrey's elder, six Myrcella's and seven Tommen's. I only really talked at length with Tommen - Jaime was polite, but his pride had been wounded by his defeat, Cersei was incredibly annoying, Robert was boorish and I had nothing in common with Myrcella, but Tommen quickly started looking to me as an older brother of some sorts, craving some sort of male figure to look up to, with Robert barely knowing the boy's name and Joffrey being an asshole. By the time the feast had come to an end, I made a vow - I would not let Joffrey be King, no matter the cost.

*****************

Tenth Day of the Eighth Moon of 293 AC

As I watched the entourage of Lords and Ladies leaving the gates of Casterly Rock back to their own castles and keeps, I lost myself in thought. My negotiations with Olenna Tyrell had been successful - it had taken a lot of convincing, but the Queen of Thorns had agreed to an unofficial betrothal between me and Margaery, and for me to take Loras Tyrell as a squire. He wanted to be a knight, Olenna wanted to see how I behaved myself in private and the Lord Oaf of Highgarden agreed to everything his mother put in front of him. So, as I bade Margaery farewell, I looked back to see her brother behind me, eagerly awaiting his training with the Lion-slayer, the youngest Knight in the history of the Seven Kingdoms. He was effectively the male version of his sister, just one year her elder and taller, though still a number of inches shorter than me. My brothers had been immensely disappointed at this turn of events, as they would have very much preferred to squire for me, but they eventually understood that you can't squire for your own brother - it's why Loras didn't squire for Garlan. After talking with my parents, I had arranged for Willem to be sent to squire for Lord Randyll Tarly and for Martyn to Lord Paxter Redwyne once they turned eleven, as part of the arrangement with the Queen of Thorns. Nuncle was apparently pleased - Randyll Tarly was the finest commander in the Seven Kingdoms while the Redwyne Fleet was the Realm's largest by far, and both would be crucial allies if the Tyrells got uppity. It would also, hopefully, make Martyn a competent commander and Willem a good sailor.

The day after they left, I awoke Loras at dawn - I had been given my own quarters, and his were attached to mine - and took him to the sparring field before he broke his fast - something which I had been forced to do both at Casterly Rock and Ashemark and found very useful. On the way there I stopped Loras, who was still half asleep. The brisk movement woke him up, and I said; "Now, Loras, I'm going to turn you into a man worthy of the honour of Knighthood, independently if you cooperate or not. I hope you inherited at least a tiny bit of your grandmother's intelligence, and you understand that, even though I have my own reasons, I only want what is best for you." He nodded, and we walked towards the courtyard. As I sparred with him, I quickly found that, while he was a natural, he had not received any significant training up to now, and therefore was woefully unskilled. I decided to work on the assumption that he was at the same level that I was on my seventh name-day, when I was made Lord Tywin's squire, and that it would take him some four years to become ready for Knighthood. His increased age would make up for the fact that he didn't have thirty years of previous life experience to rely on. I had very little to do - being a Knight meant you didn't have a master to whom you had responsibilities - so I spent most of my time with Loras. Initially it was almost entirely training, but I quickly became friends with the man - the only person in King's Landing my age, as well as perfectly pleasant to be around.

One night, however, as I was talking with Loras after supper, planning the following day's training, a servant called me, telling me that Tywin wanted to talk with me. I was confused - ever since I had run the agreement with the Tyrells through him, I had barely seen him - but complied, and walked up to his solar. I came down about a half-hour later, my squire looking curiously at me. I simply said; "Pack your bags - we're going to Castamere."

 

[Lord_Scaggydoo]

First Day of the First Moon of 295 AC

As I looked at the sunset over the namesake sea, my hair flowing in the wind, I reflected over my time at Castamere. After that fateful meeting with uncle Tywin, I had been appointed Castellan over the ruins, bringing with me a fortune - both of my own and in the form of loans from Casterly Rock - and a relatively small group of servants and other followers, including my squire, Loras Tyrell. After the Reyne-Tarbeck revolt, Castamere was wiped out - its heart was underground and suffered the flooding, while what remained above ground was put to the torch. Uncle had done some reconstruction prior to my arrival, so it was at a state where it could be considered inhabitable, but it paled in comparison to what it must have looked like before they decided to test how far they could tug the leash. Castamere still had large revenues - both from its lands as well as from mines which had not suffered the same treatment - and I could, therefore, do what I had been brought here to do and return it to its rightful place as second only to Casterly Rock.

On the way there, I passed by the cabin where I had met Gregor and his family, and brought the boy with me to serve as my page and cupbearer. There were two things that needed to be done immediately - rebuild what had been put to the torch above ground, and pump the water out from inside the castle. The former would be easy - taking no more than a moon, not counting the fortifications - but the latter would be a hellish, laborious endeavour and would take a year of constant work. The good thing is that the upper levels would be cleared first, meaning that the living spaces would be ready far sooner - it was the dungeons and mines that would take far longer to clear. It was a good thing that I had spent years reading anything and everything that was put in front of him, as I now knew quite a bit about engineering. As I dedicated myself fully to the reconstruction of the once-great castle, I had less time to spar and train with Loras, but still found that it cleared my mind, so I still spent around two hours daily, spread throughout the day, training my squire in the arts of war. I tried to make him study, but books weren't Loras' thing, and within a few days I had all but given up, and allowed him to spend his free time training with a household knight named Ser Tyland who had a reputation for gallantry and being flamboyant, though he wasn't very skilled as a knight or jouster.

The construction proceeded quickly - the absence of a lordly house in Castamere had harmed the administration of its lands and taxes, and I was floored by just how wealthy the region was after I had put them in order. With increased resources came faster work, and before the new year not only were the above-ground portions of the castle completely rebuilt - sans fortifications, of course - the upper levels had been cleared of water, and proceeded to be cleaned. I hadn't imagined how filthy it would be down there, though I guess thirty years of thousands of bodies left to fester in a wet, humid place did its job. Thankfully, as it was carved out of a mountain, the structure and walls were perfectly fine, but everything else had to be thrown out and replaced. I tried to burn them, but found it far too wet to catch alight, and, without wildfire or dragonflame, was resigned to simply burying it in a great big pit. I had also ordered some infrastructure to be built to prevent the Castle from being flooded again, just as a precaution. As the moons came and went, more and more levels and rooms were first pumped dry of water, then were cleaned and the moss, dirt and grime removed, and then the rooms themselves remodelled to better serve the needs of his new court. I did not buy any new furniture, not yet at least, dedicating all resources to the ever more expensive job of drying, cleaning and clearing the rooms, as well as taking away the bodies of the dead, now no more than rotted corpses or, in many cases, bones. After almost throwing up after seeing what was once a bedroom, I decided to not visit any of the rooms until after the bodies had been removed.

On the first day of the Seventh moon of the year 294, I was visiting a room which had just been cleared of the three bodies which had been there. It was a small room and I could not see its purpose until, after looking at a corner, I noticed a bump in the grime. I moved towards it, and as I dragged my glove over it to clean, I found that it was a plaque of some sort, made of a metal. After cleaning the plaque, I was able to read it, and found that it said "Vault". Not knowing exactly what was in that 'vault' but curious nonetheless, I ordered the men to clear the thick layer of moss that covered the wall next to it, and, as they did, behind it lay hinges - it was a door! I bid them to work faster, and they did so, until the wall was clear, a pile of moss on the ground, and I saw an iron door, plated in silver. Before the servants could understand what was going on, I ordered them to fetch Loras and told them to leave the room. They did so, and a few minutes later my squire arrived. "Help me open this door," I said with a smirk "You'll like what's behind it." As we both did, we found a room, saved in its entirety from the flooding by the stout vault door, and rows of large chests. We closed the door, and each opened up our own chest, the door room only dimly lit by the two torches we brought with us. My suspicions were confirmed when we both saw at the same time the inside of those chests, which were filled to the brim with gold dragons and silver stags. I did some calculations in my mind to find the scale of our findings - millions of dragons, certainly. I remembered asking Maester Volarik where all the gold which we mined went, and he said that, as so much gold was mined, most of it was saved. I had forgotten about that lesson - it had easily been five years ago - but it came roaring back to me, as I came to the conclusion that this was the lost wealth of the Reynes - once the second greatest house of the Westerlands, almost as rich as the Lannisters themselves. And this wealth, a fortune beyond counting, was all mine.

*****************

I had Loras swear an oath to keep it a secret, and told the servants when they asked that it was a room that I wished to remain private, and that none were to enter without my presence, and then I ordered the vault doors bolted. I'm sure myths and stories about what was behind it were circulating around the castle, but the servants were smart enough to not try to get in. I left two guards in the room in front of it - which was the perfect size for that many - and made it clear that it was not a topic worthy of discussion. I decided that I would act as if that discovery hadn't happened - I didn't need anyone to know that I had found a fortune, as it would only make trouble. I did decide, however, to open up my purse strings a little bit, and started to plan the decoration of the rooms which I had already cleared. It was the core of the castle - the levels further down were most likely dungeons and stores and so forth, as we had already gone a significant distance underground and the vault would be at a lower level. I brought in a group of architects and other specialists from Lannisport and had them work on a few proposals. My remodelling had opened up a lot of new space and fashion had progressed since the revolt, so the new design ended up being nothing like what Castamere was like prior to the revolt. I very much despised the tackiness of all the lions in Casterly Rock - you didn't find even remotely as many eagles in the Hofburg - and so decided, against the best intentions of the designers, to very much limit their presence. After the design was decided upon I left the pumping and cleaning and clearing to subordinates and directed my attention towards transforming this empty shell of a castle into an actual inhabitable and comfortable area.

By the coming of the new year, the reconstruction of Castamere was effectively finished. I had moved underground a moon ago, the mines had been cleared and had already started working, though at a very small capacity, and the first real fortifications had been rebuilt above ground. As I looked at the sunset over the namesake sea, my hair flowing in the wind, the Maester - a young man from the Riverlands called Brynden - brought me a message from Casterly Rock. It said:

To
Ser Lancel Lannister, Castellan of Castamere,

My brother Ser Gerion Lannister's ship the 'Laughing Lion' has been sighted at Volantis, having returned safely from his voyage to Old Valyria. He will be arriving at Lannisport within five moons, and a feast shall be held in his honour on the first day of the seventh moon of this year, the two hundred and ninety fifth since Aegon's Conquest, and you are hereby invited to it.

From
Lord Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport and Warden of the West​

 

[Lord_Scaggydoo]

First Day of the Seventh Moon of 295 AC

I can't overstate my excitement as I read that letter six moons ago. Not only was Gerion - my favourite uncle - returning home - it was also almost certainly at least in part because of me. Now, I knew he was going to be impressed with me nonetheless - I was the first man to kill a lion in decades and the youngest knight in history - but I still wanted that extra showing to make absolutely obvious that I, not the Imp or anyone else, am the rightful heir to Casterly Rock, and to secure for myself an independent base of power in the process. I set my sights on the creation of a professional military force, similar to those I had commanded in my past life. I had jotted down notes of all of the basics and many of the specifics of the Tercios which I commanded and, together with studying historical military units in this world such as the Lockstep Legions of Old Ghis, I was able to come to a military force consisting of four thousand five hundred men. Of these, three thousand would be infantry, organised in one brigade of ten companies. This unit would have a total of one hundred and thirty two officers and staff, two thousand one hundred and ninety pikemen and six hundred and seventy eight crossbowmen. A further twelve hundred would be cavalry, organised into two companies, each of one hundred lances, each lance with three men-at-arms and three horse archers, for a total of six hundred men-at-arms and the same number of horse archers. Finally, the remaining three hundred would be in a unit of artillery and engineers, to aid with sieges, crossing rivers and so on.

This would be a very expensive endeavour, but as the mines under Castamere proper entered into operation, and those outside of it continually increased production, financing should not be an issue. The Castamere was truly scandalously wealthy, especially when its wealth wasn't being wasted making allies to challenge Casterly Rock. With the remodelling finished and the other activities delegates I could focus my attention entirely upon the military - something which Loras participated in extensively and found very well to his taste. The pike and crossbow are about the easiest weapons around, especially the former when utilised in group, so the training for the infantry after the very beginning was on discipline. The military in general but the infantry especially needs to work in conjunction without fail for hours on end, without flinching in the face of everything from barrages of arrows from enemy archers to charges from enemy horsemen. The split between crossbowmen and pikemen limits the damage doable significantly - it is impossible to flank a tercio, and even if you don't charge headlong into its pikes you are still going to have a tough time with the crossbow bolts it is firing at you. There already were six hundred men-at-arms lying around, so it took little more than reorganising and training them how to work in conjunction with two others, and one hundred units of the same size. However, the artillerymen/engineers and the horse archers proved incredibly difficult to train. The former simply because the skills involved take a very long time to learn but the latter not only had that same problem, it also didn't help that there weren't any horse archers in Westeros to learn from. I was eventually forced to pay a small fortune for a group of rogue Dothraki - those who were willing to abandon pillaging for a more settled life - so they could teach our men how to competently act as archers from horseback. The initial goal was to teach them the Parthian Shot, but I quickly came to the conclusion that it would take years for them to gain any proficiency, and therefore they would have to be left behind when I took this force to Casterly Rock.

I worried about the men not taking me seriously - after all, I was only barely one-and-two - but the reputation of my house's name and my own exploits apparently won me a lot of respect with the men of the Westerlands, even those much older than me. Training the men was a happy reprieve from the boring nature of rebuilding the castle and it proceeded rapidly, especially with the first company - the one that was going to follow me to Casterly Rock, where, apparently, much of the nobility of the realm would be arriving soon. I guess that the first successful voyage to Valyria since the Doom is more impressive than a boy not yet one-and-ten slaying a lion. The thing that was gnawing at me is that it had been almost three years since we last heard from Gerion - how could he still be alive? I brooded over it alone for days until the logical explanation hit me like an auroch - uncle Tywin must have stopped sharing the information as soon as Gerion first successfully returned from Noros, in order to prevent it from spreading and ending our monopoly on Valyria before it even began.

By the sixth full moon of the year, the training was complete, and we set a march for Casterly Rock, three hundred men at our back, with riders carrying the Lannister banners throughout the length of our force. I had gone all in on the equipment and armour of the men under my command, and this was the finest infantry unit in the history of Westeros. Normally, they would march, but, as I wanted to arrive earlier, I put every one of those three hundred men on a horse. I'm sure we raised eyebrows throughout the way - the last time an armed force marched on Casterly Rock from the old seat of the Reynes the Rains of Castamere had been penned - and this time I decided not to send a raven to Casterly Rock, though I was sure Tywin already knew. As we rode through the gates of Casterly Rock a few days later, I could see all eyes were on me and my men. I quickly got them ready to serve as an honour guard to welcome the guests to Casterly Rock, including the royal family and the entirety of the Tyrell clan, and then went upstairs to meet my family. Martyn and Willem had matured significantly in my absence, though they were still not yet ten name-days old, and were by far the best performing of my uncle's pages, though they did not benefit from whatever gave me my superior abilities.

Uncle Gerion's fleet - it seemed that he had bought a group of ships in the east - arrived at Lannisport three days before the feast was due to start, and I got the honour of greeting him, Loras by my side and the guard behind me. He was the first off his ship, and I was beyond excited to see it, though it was tempered a bit when we found that his leg had been crippled, almost identically to that of Willas Tyrell. He was still able to walk, though it was more like Tyrion's waddling than his previous strides, but he would never fight again. As his now-free crew unloaded the wealth of his voyage, I was floored. It seemed like an unending stream of chests, carried by men who seemed to come from all over Essos. I swore I could see some Yi-Tish. As my jaw hung so low I was afraid it would hit the floor, uncle Gerion grabbed me by the shoulder and said "Well, Valyria was all well and good, but I got bored." before giving me a roaring laugh. I gave a weak chuckle, before coming back to my senses and ordering the men - who were even more surprised than me - to escort my uncle and his entourage to Casterly Rock. I then followed them, riding at the side of my uncle, impossibly curious at what stories he had to tell, but Gerion only smiled, before saying that they were too long to tell twice, and that he would wait until the feast. He seemed actively curious as to my exploits - apparently uncle Tywin had written to him about them - and I happily talked about them. They were certainly incredibly boring compared to his own, but there was a reason he was the favourite uncle to everyone of my generation, and he paid attention to all the details. Uncle Tywin was there to welcome uncle Gerion, and he told me that the Tyrells were just arriving, and that I needed to go to welcome them. He wanted some time alone with his brother, and I couldn't blame him.

*****************

Both Loras and I were excited to see the Tyrells again, though certainly for different reasons. I had remained in contact with Margaery ever since she left after the tourney, and the infatuation had only grown. As they trotted down the Sea Road, Mace Tyrell at the front and his two sons Willas and Garlan at his side, I am sure they saw the impressive display that were my men at the side of the road. I had prepared for this, and so they were holding an equal number of Tyrell and Lannister banners, something that I was sure would please the Lord Oaf of Highgarden. I quickly got a sense of the scale, and it seemed like every single House of the Reach had sent representatives. I spotted Lord Randyll Tarly, as well as Sers Baelor Hightower and Horas Redwyne, representing their respective houses. As soon as I saw the Lord of Horn Hill, I knew I wanted to spar with him before his visit was over, and decided to request it as soon as the feast was over. My eyes quickly fell upon the carriage in the middle, however, which I could only assume carried Margaery and the Queen of Thorns. My suspicions were confirmed when I saw them get out, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw my betrothed. I couldn't wait to get married.

The Reachmen were directed towards their quarters, while Loras and I led the Tyrells to theirs ourselves. Knowing that Olenna would like to talk to her grandson alone, I went up to Lord Mace and said "My Lord, if it isn't an inconvenience, I'd like to take Margaery for a walk in the gardens." Both of them knew of the arrangement, but he was still very protective of his only daughter, and so responded, "Yes, Lancel, you may." before turning to his only knighted son and saying "Garlan, escort them." He grunted in agreement and looked inquisitively at me, as if to guess my intentions with his sister. He was a frightening figure, taller than me by multiple inches and bulkier, too - already a man grown - as well as one of the finest swordsmen alive. I had no such intentions, and so I did my best to try and ignore him. He shadowed us, just a few paces behind, while I walked with Margaery through the gardens of the Rock. The conversation was pleasant, but it was impossible to not notice the giant behind me, and so there was an atmosphere of tension. We returned after around an hour, just as the conversation between the Queen of Thorns and my squire was coming to an end. I decided not to ask if Loras had told Olenna about our discovery - if he didn't there was nothing to worry about and if he did the Tyrells would be even more interested in the marriage.

I had been able to keep the agreement with the Tyrells a relatively well kept secret up until now, though I was sure that my walk with Margaery would start the gossip machine working overtime, and they would soon come to the logical conclusion that there was some sort of secret betrothal between me and Margaery. I wasn't too afraid - after all, the only reason I had been able to convince Tywin to allow me to work towards this alliance is that there was nobody else who I could marry - but I would have preferred if it remained secret for a little while longer. However, before I was even able to debrief Loras, a servant came telling me that uncle Tywin wanted to talk to me. I was expecting it to have come earlier, but apparently the man was very busy and only was able to scrounge enough time for me right now. Or he simply wanted to do a power move and make me wait for the privilege of his attention - you never knew.

{Continues}

 

[Lord_Scaggydoo]

As I entered Uncle Tywin's solar, I found him sitting on his throne, somewhat tired from the day. "I see that you've built yourself quite the army." he said, "Explain your logic to me." "It's simple." I replied, "It's a fully self-contained combined-arms force of four thousand five hundred men, with horse, foot and artillery. It has a core of infantry - pikemen and crossbowmen - whose formation makes it impossible to outflank, supported by cavalry, both men-at-arms and horse archers, and with its own unit of engineers and artillerymen, it is able to hold a siege or cross a wide river on its own." Tywin looked away, deep in thought, before grabbing a book and passing it to me. Caught off guard, I almost let it fall, but ended up being able to catch it and open it. "Those are rough estimates of our income and men, both direct and from our bannermen. Look them over." As I skimmed through them, I was not especially surprised, closing the book and putting it on the desk. "We can afford ten of these, two in active duty and the remainder in reserve." I said, "It'll stretch our resources, though." Tywin looked almost carefree, but responded "Not with Castamere and Tarbeck Hall returned to their former glory. Convince the Lords and I'll let you do it." I thanked him, bowed and exited.

*****************

The Royal family's arrival seemed a repeat of what happened two days prior with the Tyrells. They were the last to arrive, as was customary, and once again I was there awaiting them, Loras at my side and the infantry company surrounding the Goldroad, a guard of honour once more. Unlike Mace, Robert was not at the head of the column, but behind the royal wheelhouse which I assumed held the Queen and the Princes. The entire Kingsguard had come as escorts, but it was clear to all that the only two Knights worthy of the white cloak in that institution were Jaime and Barristan. The Royal Family was escorted by knights holding both Lannister and Baratheon banners, as did my honour guard. I was doing this almost entirely out of duty, very much unlike greeting the Tyrells, primarily because the only person I had any interest in seeing was Tommen. I was angered at seeing how the boy cowered from his idiot brother, and decided that I had to get him out from under Joffrey's thumb if he was to grow into anything even remotely resembling a monarch. Returning to reality, I dismounted and greeted King Robert with a firm handshake, and I saw Tommen's face light up when he saw me, though Cersei prevented him from running in my direction. I once again escorted the primary guests to their apartments - certainly smaller than those in the Red Keep, though no less luxurious.

The last guests had arrived, so my guard was no longer needed, and I released them until after the feast, throwing a bag of coin to their captain to buy something to drink or whatever else they did - I didn't stay long enough to find out. I then returned to my family's apartments for the remainder of the day - I would need the rest before the feast the next morning.

*****************

As the guests settled themselves in the Great Hall - this time, thankfully, I hadn't been given the honour of sitting next to the Royal Family, and was therefore in the Lannister Table just to their right, together with my family. Loras was sitting with the Tyrells on the opposite side, though in no way was the company unpleasant. It was as the last few guests were sitting down that the doors opened and my uncle Gerion came walking, doing his best to maintain his composure in spite of his wounded leg, followed by what seemed like a hundred servants from the farthest reaches of this world, two to a chest. My uncle walked up to the bottom of the stairs, before speaking;

"I left over four years ago to go to Old Valyria and recover our ancestral sword Brightroar, lost by my kinsman King Tommen II of the Rock almost four hundred years ago, who was also, incidentally, the last Lannister to ever travel there. Ever since the Doom, no man has gone there and returned, until today, as I stand before you." A wave of applause thundered through the hall, as the first row of six chests were laid at his sides and opened by the servants, showing piles of gold, silver and gems. He continued, "I present to you, brother, the wealth of my voyage. The Valyrians had great wealth prior to the doom, and much of it was preserved over the centuries. Much of that is here, now, presented to you." As the servants closed and removed the chests to be removed by others, whose numbers seemed uncountable, Gerion continued. "After having scoured the remains of the peninsula, I moved further east, to Qarth, Yi-Ti and even the fabled lands of Asshai-by-the-Shadow. What you see here is the great wealth of my voyages there - the first since those of Corlys Velaryon - which is now yours." As the procession of chests filled with gold, gems and exotic goods from the further east, they were replaced by three smaller, though more valuable, chests. Gerion looked at the Imp, before saying, "I remember, Tyrion, a decade ago when, on your name-day, you asked for a Dragon. Those, unfortunately, died out over a century ago, but here I have the next best thing." The chest on the left opened to reveal three large, scaly eggs, green, blue and red. "Three dragon eggs!" he said "I'll leave the hatching to you, nephew." He then looked towards me, and I felt butterflies on my stomach as he spoke. "Lancel, my nephew, if not for you I would most likely not be here - I can only hope to protect you as you did me." He pointed at his leg "An accident has left me unable to do it myself, so I can only hope that this will do." He removed a sword - Valyrian steel - from the chest on the right, and handed it to me. I was almost unable to form words, but was able to croak out "Thank you, uncle. You cannot imagine how grateful I am." I cleared my throat, before continuing. "I name you Lionheart.".

Gerion smiled, and returned to where the last chest was. "I was unable to go to Old Valyria, brother, but it was not all in vain." He spoke, removing another sword from the central chest, "I present to you, Brightroar!"

*****************

Uncle Gerion spent hours regaling the royal family with his stories, speaking without interruptions and completely captivating them. Everyone else did their best to pay attention, and at times it seemed that he was the only person speaking in the entire hall. He was always an excellent storyteller - completely unlike me - and his stories were easily the most impressive and interesting of anyone alive. I couldn't even know if he was exaggerating anything because his accomplishments were so mind boggling that even the grandest of myths almost seemed to pale in comparison. It was well past nightfall when his story came to an end, and all the children were already asleep or almost there, and uncle Gerion seemed so exhausted he might pass out there and then. After he finished, it seemed like the entire hall got up and left at once, so late that it was. King Robert was so entertained he didn't even try to mess around with any of the serving wenches, which is a gigantic achievement if there ever was any.

I awoke the next morning eager to train with my new sword. I had experimented with it a bit the day before, but I didn't really understand how different Valyrian steel was to regular steel until then. It was lighter than an equivalent blade and so balanced that it seemed to guide my arm towards the target, not the other way around. It also cut better than I even thought possible and had an edge that went through steel armour as if it was butter. That, incidentally, made it incredibly hard to train and impossible to spar with. As I finished getting accustomed with my new blade, I saw Tommen and Ser Boros Blount coming towards me. I smiled at the prince - he had only recently had his sixth name-day, and, while he was relatively tall for his age, I was still almost twice his height. He pointed at my sword and asked "Can I?", and I nodded in affirmative, giving it to him by the pommel and saying "Be careful, it's very sharp." He had to use two hands and was only barely able to keep it up, but laughed with glee as it embedded itself in the straw mannequin. I removed it and put it back in its scabbard, and then said "I can teach you how to use a sword, if you'd like." He nodded emphatically, almost jumping up and down, and I messed with his hair, before telling him that we'll go ask the King later. I left him with Ser Boros, and went to a slightly smaller hall where a meeting had been arranged with the Lords of the Westerlands. They were all more than willing to hear out who appeared to be the heir apparent to Casterly Rock, one who they considered a potential equal of Tywin Lannister. His three hundred guardsmen surrounded the hall, both as a show of strength as well as to keep any prying eyes away from the meeting. As I went up the steps and came to my place, I spoke;

"A wise man once said that if you want peace, prepare for war. While it has been six years since the last war, others are bound to happen, and if we are to maintain the strength of the Westerlands, if not even transform it into the undisputed greatest of the Seven Kingdoms, we must do so. You may have heard reports of the military force I created in Castamere, and you have certainly seen the guard I brought with me. I propose that an united army of the Westerlands, forty five thousand men strong, is created, based on its organisation - thirty thousand foot, twelve thousand horse and three thousand engineers and artillerymen in ten divisions. Of these, two divisions would remain in active duty, paid for in their entirety by House Lannister, while the remainder would stay in reserve and paid for, in peacetime, by you, deducted out of your current taxes. In wartime, all expenses shall be burdened upon all of the Lords of the Westerlands. You will not pay any more taxes to Casterly Rock, nor will you lose the right to maintain your own military force outside of this. We can only achieve peace through strength."

My speech was met with a round of polite applause - nothing like the thunderous reaction to uncle Gerion's arrival, but mine was admittedly much more boring. I doubt that such a proposal would even remotely be considered in any of the other of the seven Kingdoms, but the great wealth in gold of the Westerlands and the iron fist of uncle Tywin meant that the Lords were very cautious in opposing Casterly Rock in any way. After it became clear that this had the Lord Paramount's support, a consensus in favour of the proposal was reached, without any real compromise necessary. I was surprised with the result, though I guess I shouldn't have been. I'm pretty sure that if uncle Tywin told them to jump off the Rock they'd fight amongst themselves to see who goes first. As the meeting came to an end and I left the hall, I only had one more task before the Royal Family left the following day.

 

[Lord_Scaggydoo]

I found Tommen walking the gardens with his sister, Myrcella, and with Ser Boros Blount escorting them. He was very excited to see me - certainly remembering my promise earlier that day - and it took nothing more than putting my hand on Lionheart's pommel to have Ser Boros leave with Myrcella. I then walked, with Tommen by my side, towards the Great Hall, where King Robert was being treated to a smaller feast to celebrate his return to King's Landing the following day. He was sitting on a platform atop the stairs on a throne, and so we went up them, stopping a few paces in front of him. I bowed and Tommen quickly followed, and after being motioned to rise, I spoke; "Your Grace, it seems that Prince Tommen is quite interested in becoming a knight." Tommen nodded emphatically, confirming my statement, and I continued. "I believe that, as he is not in line to inherit the throne, the Prince would be best served as the ward of a notable fighter and commander. I would suggest Lord Randyll Tarly." Tommen's face immediately sank, and he glared at me with a betrayed look on his face, so I feigned surprise. Robert bellowed "It seems that he'd rather train under you, Ser." Cersei was shocked at her husband's apparent acceptance of the proposal, saying "But he is only a child!". Robert told her to be quiet, and I responded "Your Grace, Aegon V was travelling throughout Westeros with a Hedge Knight, Ser Duncan the Tall, before his ninth name-day, and I would say that the Stag is stronger than the Dragon." Robert seemed pleased, remembering his glorious victory against Rhaegar Targaryen, and responded "Very well, Ser. I will allow you to take on Prince Tommen as your ward." and bid me away. Tommen shone with joy - he would no longer be under Joffrey's thumb - while Cersei fumed. I had made an enemy for life, that I was sure of.

*****************

Fifth Day of the Eighth Moon of 296 AC

The past year and a bit had been smooth sailing. I took on Prince Tommen as a page, and though Loras was the one who did his weapons training most of the time - I was just too strong for him - I did my best to turn him into a competent ruler. Away from his overbearing mother and sadistic brother, he quickly blossomed into a strong-willed young man, though six years of coddling left him physically weak. He was very eager to please, however, and quickly took to his lessons, actively participating and putting in a respectable effort. He didn't do any of the normal tasks of a page as we had servants, but I did try - and fail - to bring him out of his comfort zone. It was to my great consternation when I found he thoroughly disliked hunting, though I was pleasantly surprised that he adored the water and spent much of his free time swimming in the ocean or in the blue lake that gave Castamere its name.

The creation of the Army of the Westerlands was effectively finished by now, having been the focus of my activities since arriving back from Casterly Rock. Apparently uncles Gerion and Tywin hid just how much Valyrian Steel was found at Noros, as an entire chest of the stuff was kept in Casterly Rock's vaults. I decided to only make two swords out of it, though I could probably have made more than a dozen, one to give to Lord Mace Tyrell as a wedding gift - the Tyrells were one of the few large houses in the Reach not to have one - and one to give to Tommen as soon as he took the throne, which I would make sure happened sooner rather than later. Earlier in the year both Martyn and Willem were sent to be fostered, one at Horn Hill and the other at the Arbor, and as far as I knew they were being treated well and thriving under the tutelage of those great men.

Uncle Tywin put that business mind of his to work and quickly began selling information to Valyria to the highest bidder. The successful voyage created a veritable rush of people from all over the world - pirates, magisters, sellswords and everything in between - looking to make a fortune from the region once though inaccessible. Of course, he never sold enough to guarantee success - not that such was even possible - and so he was really just extorting gigantic sums from groups of people heading towards their deaths. All in all, a great business model. I kept tabs on it, and when a group of Lyseni adventurers were unable to pay the steep price for the information, I decided to contact them, offering to pay for the gold in exchange for solving a problem of mine. They accepted, and I promised them the information as soon as they had done the deed.

Around the middle of the new year, a raven arrived from Highgarden, and I opened it excitedly. I had remained in contact with Margaery and initially thought it was a message from her, but it didn't bear her seal. Curious, I opened it, my smile widening as I read it. It said;

Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, Lord Paramount of the Mander, Defender of the Marches, High Marshal of the Reach and Warden of the South, and Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport and Warden of the West, hereby announce the betrothal of Lady Margaery Tyrell and Ser Lancel Lannister, Castellan of Castamere.​

I had been expecting this for a while, but it was still surprising to see it in writing, officially. The Imp must be livid - if this isn't a declaration that I am Tywin's heir, I don't know what is. It wasn't clear where the wedding would be held as there were a variety of potential options - Casterly Rock, Castamere, Highgarden or perhaps even the Starry Sept in Oldtown. I decided not to worry about it - Olenna would make sure that her granddaughter's wedding was the grandest the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen. I wondered what the agreed upon dowry had been - not because I needed the money, but simply because I wanted to know how much Tywin had been able to extort from the Queen of Thorns. I held a small feast in celebration - not because I was being frugal, but simply because I didn't really have a significant court, nor was I planning on having one any time soon.

The reason that I wrote today, however, is that, on my fourteenth name-day, those Lyseni adventurers came back with a chest in tow. As I welcomed them into my solar, they put the chest on the floor in front of them. The leader, a strong man with Valyrian features, spoke; "You drove a hard bargain, heir Lannister. It was not easy, but, like you, we always pay our debts." Outsiders now commonly assumed that, and treated me as if, I was the heir to Casterly Rock, though uncle Tywin had made no such statement. Work of the Tyrells, almost certainly. As they opened the chest, I saw two heads lying on a bed of straw, one of a man and one of a girl, both with silver-golden hair, skin as pale as snow and violet eyes. "Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen, pretenders to the Iron Throne." the man said. I smiled, and called a servant, ordering him to send the gold to Casterly Rock. "I must thank you for your service. A Lannister always pays his debts, but you will have to wait a bit while I get a pen and paper. This will take around an hour." A smile formed in my face as I gave them a veritable treasure trove of information - some true, some false, some useful and some outright dangerous. I sincerely doubted they would be coming back from Valyria alive, but that wasn't my problem. The last Targaryens were dead, and King Robert would be very pleased. After having finished explaining it to the Lyseni, I called another servant, and ordered him to send the chest together with a message explaining it to King's Landing.

{This one is a bit shorter.}