Chapter 13 - The Black lion amongst Golden ones

Jon Arryn took his usual place next to the seat of the King, which remained empty, even after the Queen and her youngest children took to their seats.

The elderly man looked around and found that most Lords had already arrived.

Lord Stannis took to his seat below his niece and nephew, with Ser Davos Seaworth by his side.

Lord Tyrell, along with his older sons were already seated at the lower edge of the pavilion, no doubt excited for the joust.

The only missing people he found were the King, the Prince and Lord Tywin.

But the Lannister soon made his appearance.

"Good morning, Lord Arryn."

A tall shadow towered over the Hand of the King, and he looked up to see a pair of clear green eyes looking down upon him.

"Ah, good morning, Lord Lannister." Jon stood, but he bȧrėly reached the height of Tywin's shoulders. "How was your night in the capital?"

"Familiar."

The Hand nodded, "That is good to hear."

"I must congratulate you on your young protégé, Lord Hand. Prince Durrandon seems to have grown into a fine kid, with a sharp mind and with great aptitude for combat."

Jon offered a smile, to which Tywin replied with a stern smirk. "Actually, the Prince has mostly been tutored by both Grand Maester and Lord Commander. But I'm sure he will continue to impress us in the years to come."

"Agreed." Tywin took a brief pause before he continued. "I am, however, quite interested in the boy. It seems that he will become my ward at Casterly Rock."

"It is indeed a much-needed relationship to have blooming and prospering, between the Prince and one of his parents' Houses. Besides, I do believe I am obligated to aid in his growth." Never had Jon expected such interest from Tywin, but he merely nodded with a smile.

"Good to hear it." Jon stood tall and stared back into the lion's eyes. "It is as you said, My Lord, a much-needed relationship."

"There's no doubt about it." Tywin replied with the slightest hint of a smile before looking around. "If I may, might I speak with the Prince in person?"

"Of course, Lord Lannister, but I'm afraid he and the King have already left for the tourney." Jon said. "Probably eager for the joust, which is expected since the winner will be selected as the Prince's Sworn Shield. But as soon as it's over, I will have him speak with you at once. Is that acceptable?"

Tywin nodded. "Certainly. I look forward to our meeting."

With that, Tywin Lannister rejoined his family, and left Jon Arryn utterly confused at his intentions.

The Hand of the King rubbed his temples and as he had time to think, Lord Arryn sighed. 'I am getting too old for this.'

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CERSEI'S POV

I have been blessed with three children, two of which were Jaime's own.

As I watched my firstborn grow, I knew as soon as I found out I was going to have another child, that it would be Jaime's.

So he or she would look like either Jaime or myself, instead of looking like Robert and the rest of the Baratheon family.

Or who knows.

Perhaps even as a Targaryen, with Golden-silver hair and Purple eyes.

Very unlikely that Durrandon's appearance could be repeated.

Despite constantly reminding me of that awful imp, Durrandon's appearance eventually grew on me, even with his mismatched eyes and hair.

Durrandon had become the brother I didn't actually consider he could be.

A protector and best friend to both Lann and Joanna.

It truly was sweet.

I now hope that never changes.

Soon enough I noticed that Durrandon had the hearts of everyone he met.

Everyone from the servants to the common folk, from the Lord Commander loyal to Robert, Pycelle loyal to me and my house.

Even Stannis and my Father, the unsmiling men they were, actually became interested in my firstborn.

They may not show it, but they were always sending letters asking about his growth, both physical and mental.

From the youngest toddler to ever learn how to walk and speak properly, to the youngest child excelling in both intelligence and strength.

My oldest cub has grown up smart and ready for The Game.

And by the Gods was he tall.

The Cleganes.

Durrandon would surely grow into a very tall man, probably the tallest if Pycelle was to be believed.

It's a little poetic, I had the Halfman as my youngest brother, and possibly the giant among all as my older brother.

When Lann and Joanna were still babies, Durrandon would try to spend all the time he had available in the nursery.

Talking to them, well as much as a three year old could talk, even sleeping beside their crib sometimes.

He had been so happy to have a little brother and sister to play with, to watch over.

In the following few years, that hasn't changed.

It has only gotten stronger.

Lann and Joanna had begun to follow him everywhere they could, playing knights and princesses with each other; Durrandon even helped them learn how to read.

For every sentence that the twins read correctly, he told them a tale about adventure and fantasy, even going so far as to sing some wonderful songs.

Although, when they were all three together, Durrandon was excited while the twins were upset about it.

They didn't want to have to fight for Durrandon's attention.

With Joanna being sometimes even aggressive if she didn't have her older brother's attention for herself.

Durrandon whispered something in her ear and Joanna's whole demeanor changed in an instant.

She jumped out of her chair, ran over to Lann, and hugged him tighter than she ever did before, to his annoyance.

When I asked Durrandon what he told her, he just smiled and said he didn't know what I was talking about.

While Lann reminded me of Jaime, Joanna was my beautiful little replica.

Durrandon seemed to care and love her the moment his eyes hit her face for the first time.

Like my father was known to be to his sister.

And how Jaime was to me, before the Rebellion.

After that meeting though, I haven't allowed him to spend too much time with Joanna yet, as she was still a bit young for that.

It also didn't help that in the beginning she rarely stopped crying.

Neither Pycelle nor the wet nurses knew what was the cause of her cries.

She used to cry a lot, to her twin's annoyance.

But I was sure Durrandon hadn't cried this much even after his birth.

Back then all I wanted was silence, just for a few instants so I could think of ways to extend it even further.

Robert was also being affected by it, so at least it was one good thing that came from her wails.

"Why must she cry so much? Is her life really that difficult?" Robert asked me, as if I knew the answer.

If I knew why she cried, I would stop it.

But sadly I didn't know back then.

One day, before I could find the answer, the most beautiful sound I could ever hear hit my ears.

Silence.

Absolute silence from Joanna.

Blissful peace, if only for the next minutes.

It was truly amazing.

But by then I was really curious as to why she was so silent all of a sudden.

While I was thinking of all of the reasons that could have made her be silent, a wet nurse came to our room.

When asked why my little Anna stopped crying, she responded saying we should follow and see the reason.

Robert looked over at me and shrugged, as if he could care less about why.

I glared at him and sighed before moving to follow the wet nurse.

When I made it to the room, I peeked inside.

The sight inside the nursery almost made my heart swell and tears meet my cheeks.

There, sitting on the ground with his back against the wall, was Durrandon holding a sleeping Joanna, while Lann slept on his crib.

And it was at that moment that everything became clear to me.

In a way, she was like me in more than one way.

Joanna was an exact copy of me.

She loved her brother more than anybody else.

She only wanted to be with her brother.

Back then, I didn't know whether to be worried about this development or relieved.

Worried that they would become like me and Jaime, or relieved that he would die to protect her no matter what.

It was at that moment, while I was lost in my thoughts, a presence made itself known.

"Like mother, like daughter I suppose. You used to cry unless we were in the same room as children." Jaime said with his traditional smirk plastered on his face.

I shot him a glance, hoping he understood that this wasn't the time for this conversation.

He didn't seem to.

"Only you weren't as loud as our little Princess. Look at them, off into their own little world, completely oblivious to the people watching them."

The words he spoke were true.

Durrandon hadn't looked up while Anna was asleep.

It was truly the most adorable thing I had seen.

I just then noticed that this little scene had caused a small crowd to form.

In the crowd, there was Jaime and myself.

Some wet nurses and handmaidens had also stopped to watch what could have stopped the Princess from crying.

Nobody, aside from me and Jaime, saw anything other than a protective older brother adoring his baby sister.

I saw a problem that may or may not happen.

While Jaime saw our past.

"Make sure everyone leaves." I whispered to Jaime.

He immediately followed the order.

And for that, I was grateful.

Once we were alone, Jaime followed me into the nursery.

I walked into the room, picked Joanna up from his arms and set her in her crib besides Lann, while Jaime talked with Durrandon and began walking out of the room with him.

The two were beginning to develop a relationship similar to the one Jaime had with our monster of a brother.

Which was… nice.

Later Jaime moved next to me and put his hand on the small of my back.

And as we stared down at our sleeping twins, my mind wondered what the future held for my children and their bonds.

…

Years later, and here I was.

I used to love tournaments when I was a child.

But with the hundred or so that I've seen in my lifetime, especially since my marriage to Robert, I had no use for them anymore.

The best rider won the jousting, the best swordsman won the melee, and honestly who even cared about archery.

So here I sat, watching another tournament.

Only this one had an actual reason to be seen.

This time was different.

Some unbelievably skilled people, with ridiculous names and coming from an even more ridiculously named place, have put up quite a show on both Archery and Melee to help me with my boredom.

And it was this tournament's Joust that would decide the Crown Prince's Sworn Shield.

My little cub seemed interested in protecting everyone else, even using this as justification to learn how to fight much earlier than was common, or reasonable, it would be nice for him to have a dedicated protector.

Speaking of Durrandon, he might be the most bored person about this tournament.

It was no wonder why.

The tournaments were beginning to bore him also, even after he was told that the next one was for him.

He sighed after hearing it.

On the other hand, although yet too young to stay too long watching, Lann and Joanna were both excited, but for different reasons.

My little Lann wanted to see the noble Knights of the Seven Kingdoms show their skill and valor during the tournament, while my precious Joanna just wanted to see blood.

It scared me that she wished pain was brought upon just about every person, safe for her older brother.

Lann had shown he was an extremely clever boy.

Both mentally and physically, just like his older brother, if not a little less abnormal compared to Durrandon.

Lann stayed away from Joanna for the most part, as did she, both in a rare case of agreement.

The relationships between the twins have begun to become more defined for the future.

Joanna and Lana have started drifting apart even further, but they still pretend to love each other in front of Durrandon.

Everything Joanna did, she did for approval and appraisal from Don.

He happily obliged her.

Like right now, Joanna was sitting on Durrandon's ŀȧp, giggling after being tickled by him.

Back to the tournament, the jousting was just about to begin.

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The streets were already paved with life and were as crowded as the day before.

Hundreds of people were breaking bread and sharing glasses of iced milk mixed with honey.

Durrandon could smell the fresh baked muffins and fresh uncorked wine, but he ignored them while his carriage continued its way.

The Crown Prince prepared himself to spend the following hours watching the knights jousting.

Contrary to him, the audience was restless and incredibly excited.

Thankfully, most of the young men with jousting talent did not compete in the joust, having not yet recovered from their wounds during the Melee.

Men from prominent families have trained since their adolescence to perform well in such events, and even then, most of them don't even come close to becoming famous.

Ser Barristan and Jaime obviously wouldn't leave the capital to follow the Crown Prince even if they won, but that wouldn't stop them from trying their best.

Both the Clegane brothers were competing, which was surprising, since the former didn't seem to be much keen about the whole knight matter.

Also, Ser Arys Oakheart from the Reach and Ser Balon Swann from the Stormlands were interesting faces among the smaller known knights and lucky Hedge Knights that hadn't entered the Melee.

As for the Joust itself, it all seemed quite straightforward.

With the fence in between the riders, controlling the horses would be very simple, and with the wooden lance no one really had to worry that much about death, so it was somewhat safe.

Although not completely.

Overall, Durrandon thought it was quite boring.

The melee had actual dangers and threats, but the Joust was purely repetition and structure.

Sure, the mechanics behind the warlance made it the strongest and most effective medieval weapon for a Warrior to make use of.

But it didn't make it less boring.

Robert called for the first match to begin.

The Mountain against a distant Tully cousin of Lyssa.

Oh, wonder who would win?

The man bȧrėly pushing six foot tall or the monster standing at eight feet.

They may be only using blunted tourney lances, but that doesn't make Clegane any less dangerous.

Just as quickly as the Joust started, it ended.

Clegane won with a brutal move.

A broken arm and a shattered jaw was what the Tully ended with.

Quite lucky, if one might say so.

Sandor Clegane was next up against one of the many Frey's.

Steffon the Sweet.

What a horrible name for a man.

The Freys produce too many members of their horrible weasel looking family, this one didn't even look as if he saw any sort of battle, compared to the proven killer in the two Cleganes.

We will see if 'Sweet' could be anything close to deadly.

The match began with them meeting each other at full throttle.

Frey goes for a strong thrust, but Clegane blocks it with his shield and then shoulder charges Frey's shield to knock him down.

It succeeds somewhat, prompting the Frey Knight to stumble backwards, but the man doesn't fall.

In the next encounter, Clegane jumps at his opponent's weakness with an overhead strike.

At the last moment, Frey drops his lance to block it with the shield using both hands.

But as Clegane strikes the shield, it flies out of Frey's hold.

Sandor sees that and smells blood in the water.

He returns fast and wildly, trying to catch Frey in another moment of weakness, as the other man receives spare equipment in a similar hurry.

Clegane finds that moment of weakness he was looking for when his lance is blocked low by Frey's shield.

Sandor's shield meets Frey's face.

Easily a broken nose if not more.

In the following match, Clegane finishes the fight with a merciless strike on the bleeding man.

Frey was out cold, bleeding profusely from the broken nose and a giant carving on his brėȧstplate.

In a real fight, Frey would have a real war lance through his ċhėst right about now, while the Hound would be on to his next victim.

Clegane wins and advances to the next round.

Bets are being made on the victor.

The smart gamble would be Gregor Clegane or the competing Kingsguard, since they had won the previous tournament's jousts.

While everyone else was watching the Mountain, Durrandon watched the younger Clegane.

The Hound was almost as deadly as the Mountain, just less experienced.

Sandor had the best chance to beat the three previous champions out of everyone.

He was close, if not already over 7 feet.

The scars just added to his menacing look.

So there they all sat, watching the Joust.

Everyone marveled at the sight of knights being dismounted and thrown to the ground, reacting enthusiastically while seeing their heroes shatter their lances against their opponents.

The Joust, in Arianne's opinion, was not as exciting as the melee or the Archery, and it dragged on for a long time.

The only reason the Dornish Princess was still awake was because her lover was there as well.

She began to appreciate his rare complexion; it reminded her a little of her cousin, Rhaenys, who had grown quite healthy despite still being a prisoner of the Crown.

It was equally amazing and surprising to Arianne that someone she'd just met one day ago could become so important to her so quickly.

The Dornish Princess smiled.

The mere thought of the young man made her happy and warm, and the memory of their night together made her hot and bothered.

People had told Arianne that a woman would always remember her first, and she believes they are right.

Arianne doesn't think she would ever forget how gentle and sweet Durrandon had been to her, and how he made her cry out in unbelievable pŀėȧsurė.

She'd never known that sėx felt so incredible; she would blush when she though back to how ȯbsċėnė and sultry her mȯȧns must have been.

Though Durrandon seemed to have enjoyed hearing her mȯȧn; she saw it in his eyes, how he would stare into her eyes as his thrusts made her loins burn.

Not to mention he was capable of performing actual magic, and that would be a secret she would have to keep from everyone else.

Thunderous applause shook the city as thousands of common folk cheered for Ser Jaime, their voices chanting his name over and over again as the young Kingsguard circled the track, waving his hand at the crowd with his helm hiding his bright smile.

"This is quite amazing." Said Jon Arryn as he moved to take a seat next to the King. "I don't recall any other tourneys with such enthusiastic crowds."

The King seemed to take stride in the crowd's hype.

Such a reaction and atmosphere was precisely what the King had wanted to see and feel when he first ordered the tourney to celebrate his firstborn name day.

It was almost like the scene they all had experienced during the final moments of the Battle of Trident, when all the soldiers cried out and cheered for their victory and their leader.

At that moment, looking over at the King while he cheered on the competing knights, Jon noticed that Robert looked much happier than he had been for a long time.

"This is what a tourney should be like." Said the King loudly as he turned to his mentor and Hand. "Men besting each other for fame, money and glory; allowing all of us to release our primal animalistic selves!" Robert filled his glass with more wine as he chuckled. "If not for the damn winter every year, tourneys could be more frequent."

Jon lightly sipped on his wine, having half a mind to switch to his usual iced milk.

"It's been a chaotic time, Jon, and the transition of powers have caused the common folk to live stable, but not quite satisfying lives; any sight of excitement will allow them to vent their suppressed animosity."

Jon Arryn smiled and raised his glass to his King, sometimes forgetting he was more bright than he appeared to be.

Robert finished his wine and leaned forward to watch the matches.

One after another, the joust went down to only sixteen knights, all of which had proven themselves better than the other hundred and twelve.

The waiting area had become quite spacious as most of the knights who lost had left the field, leaving the remaining sixteen to prepare for the final few rounds.

Everyone in the audience had become even more focused and excited.

And soon enough, there were only two men left.

Barristan the Bold, who had unhorsed the Mountain that Rides, versus Sandor Clegane, The Hound.

Sandor's disappointment when Ser Barristan had unhorsed his brother, the Mountain, was clear for those paying attention.

And perhaps the Hound was also lucky that Barristan had also unhorsed his fellow Kingsguard, Jaime Lannister, as well.

The fight that has been brewing for years, ever since the toy incident if rumors were true, had just been postponed.

Further down the pavilion and off to the right, Robert chuckled as he looked over at Prince Oberyn, who looked less than happy at the hype.

It was clear that the cheering and hollering boosted the spirits and momentum of everyone, but the Dornish Prince's gold dragons were becoming less and less secure.

Despite losing the bet, Tyrion shook his head and continued to enjoy his summer wine; he wouldn't bother to bet against either of the finalists, he had already lost his whoring money for the entire month.

By the time both Barristan and Sandor entered the yard riding their horses, everyone was already on their feet.

Waiting in anticipation.

The two men rode before the royal pavilion and bowed to the King, parting ways with a wave from Robert, and set their horses ready in their positions.

Silence filled the yard, not a word was said as shields and lances were wielded.

The two knights were ready and silent, waiting for the signal.

Right as Robert yelled for it to begin, the silence was broken, and the two men's horses sprinted at each other.

Then, the familiar tune of the royal trumpet blared and the horses were sent rampant.

Ser Barristan held his lance tightly and pointed it out, aiming for Sandor's ċhėst as he did with his previous opponents.

The speed of his horse was becoming faster as the steed was very accustomed to his commands, and soon he was within the range of Sandor.

Barristan managed to tilt his body to the side in a sudden motion and disorientated Sandor's aim, but it wasn't enough.

It seemed that his movements had caused him to lose a little bit of control of his own aim, and his lance struck Sandor's shield instead of his ċhėst.

Disregarding the slight push on his shield, Sandor's lance maintained its form and struck Barristan's shield.

The young Clegane made sure to put more strength into his lance, almost enough to bash the horn off a rhino, and shattered his opponent's shield.

However, the Kingsguard's skill and might proved true as he resisted from being unhorsed.

They almost murder each other once.

Twice.

Three times, before Barristan spoke dutifully. "I forfeit."

As soon as the legendary Kingsguard said that, everyone else was shocked.

Nobody knew what just happened, so they were all silent.

Until someone broke it.

"So he's my sworn shield?" Durrandon whispered, more to himself than to anyone else.

But he broke Robert out of his stupor.

"People of King's Landing, may I present to you your champion."

People clapped and cheered for the young Clegane.

It may not have ended the way they wanted but they'll get over it.

As the Lord Commander, Barristan had a responsibility to not get hurt enough to hinder his duties of protecting the King.

And since unhorsing Sandor wouldn't change things, it was just an unnecessary risk for him.

Good thing someone had manipulated the Jousts in a way that this outcome would be most certain.

It wasn't a pretty and elegant victory, but Sandor would gladly accept it.

"Sandor Clegane, I Robert of House Baratheon, First of my name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms do hereby name you… Sworn Shield of my eldest son and Crown Prince, Durrandon."

And now Durrandon had a protector, a secret keeper, and perhaps even a mentor, a friend in this Hound.

He just needed to make him a loyal one.

That day had been another good day for Durrandon.

Sandor clearly didn't enter the joust to become a babysitter, but after recalling some convincing words he heard before the joust, the Hound bowed down and made his vows.

A Sworn Shield or Sworn Sword were both Knights, or similar warriors, who made an oath to serve an individual, often as a bodyguard, soldier or champion.

Many lords and lordlings kept a retinue of Knights and Sworn Swords in their service, including at court, and even fought in their host during wartime.

The Kingsguard were a specialized and most prestigious type of Sworn Shield, Sworn to the King of the Seven Kingdoms.

However, an individual Kingsguard may be appointed the Sworn Shield of another member of the royal family, as Sandor was to the original Joffrey, and a non-Kingsguard may also serve as the King's Sworn Shield.

A hedge knight could ride bȧrė nȧkėd if he chose; he had no one to shame but himself.

It was different when his Sword was Sworn though.

When he accepts a Lord's meat and mead, all he does reflects on this Lord image as well.

They should always do more than what was expected of them, never less.

Never flinch at any task or hardship.

And above all, never shame the Lord they served.

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Tywin POV

A few days early, Prince Durrandon Baratheon had been officially, and publicly, invited to Casterly Rock, to become my ward.

But when the boy entered my office, I examined him rather blatantly.

Starting by staring at him to see what type of man he would become.

A weak man like my father, a foolish one like his or something more.

To the boy's credit, he never faltered under my stare.

That should say something at least.

No servants, I noticed.

Interesting.

Was it a statement or a precaution?

The boy was apparently too smart for me to consider as a lack of caution.

Regardless of that, Durrandon Baratheon was not what I expected.

The reports I got spoke of a skilled and gifted, yet naive, young boy.

But the way he carried himself reminded me of… myself.

At some point in the not too distant future, I intended to speak firmly with some of my informants about that.

For now, however, I needed to deal with a Prince who clearly had a brain that was good for something more than keeping his ears from touching each other.

"Thank you for seeing me, your grace." I said.

"I'm sorry it couldn't be earlier, my Lord?" He stood by the chair on the opposite side of my desk, waiting for it to be offered to him.

Respectful and well mannered... How is this Robert's child?

"Please, sit down, Your Grace. I know you must be busy setting things up before our departure towards the Westerlands, so I will keep this short so as not to waste both of our time. You were asked here for one simple reason, the future."

He raised an eyebrow at that. "The future, my Lord?"

"Yes, the future. Your father has Jon Arryn as his hand, with the Stark's army backing him up. But what do you have? When the time comes and you take over, you will notice that Dorne rarely comes out of their deserts, and when they do it's never out of respect or duty. Northerners never come South unless for war, which all in itself isn't bad nor good. The Iron Islands wish to be nothing more than raiders. While the other Kingdoms wish for more power. When you ȧssume the throne, I can help you keep it and help you keep the Kingdoms aligned to you and only you. All you need to do is ask."

It is a good offer.

I have experience in politics and war.

Much more than he does.

"Forgive me, Lord Grandfather, but I will have to put your offer to the side for right now. As I am nowhere close to ascending to the throne, I do not wish to make alliances for the future that one side may never see. My father has the possibility to live for another fifty years or more, while you on the other hand, I'm not so sure. No offense. So if it pleases you Grandfather, I have a counteroffer of my own that I believe is of your interest."

Is that so?

Perhaps it might be even better than the alliance I had planned, depending on how I manage to take advantage of it.

If he gets in debt with me, I may be able to do things that I otherwise wouldn't try.

"Of course, your Grace. And what might that offer of yours be?"

It helps that I'm genuinely curious, as well.

"I will be offering you a chance to save your house."

"Save my house?" I repeat incredulously, not grasping the meaning behind his words.

"My mother, your daughter has cheated on my father. Normally I wouldn't even bat an eye, since my father does exactly the same thing almost every night. However, since mother has presented her bastards as trueborns, it's not something I would allow without anything in return."

I was shocked.

How dared this little… prince threaten me and my house?

"And who might be this traitor you claim that my daughter, your mother, has cheated the King with?" I questioned coldly.

"The father of my half-siblings is my uncle, your precious son, Jaime Lannister." Durandon replied, matching my serious tone and staring at me without flinching.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Nonsense." I rebutted, obviously unable to believe nor consider that my children had engaged in a ɨnċėstuos relationship. "You clearly are delusional, child. And you expect to have me fostering you at my house? Do you even have proof of this atrocious claim of yours?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." The Crown Prince gave a faint smirk, saying yes to both questions. "Pycelle himself can attest to the betrayal." The Crown Prince quickly replied, not stuttering at all while maintaining his serious expression, facing mine. "I know he's more loyal to you than anyone else, but even he can't deny that any offspring between Baratheon and Lannister should only have black hair and blue eyes. Safe for rare exceptions, of course." He brushed his mismatched hair aside to display his eyes. "Of course, that's not to say that someone like Varys doesn't already know it. But the master of whispers can't be either bought or reasoned with."

I was at a loss for words, for the first time in quite a long time.

Unable to believe that I was actually debating with a child, much less losing the argument.

Before I had the chance to come up with anything, he spoke again.

"Surely, after the embarrassing matter with Lord Arryn and his previous wife, you wouldn't want it to happen to your own house and sully it's pristine reputation. And…" He added as I continued to think about all my options. "Neither would I. After all, such stains would be hard to wash away, as the Tullys can clearly attest to. "

I stared back at him, trying to think of some weakness in this child that I could exploit.

"The offer I was meaning to give you was to avoid such scandal, and if someone even brings it up in the future, as the trueborn Baratheon, both mother and my siblings will have my full support. Better yet, I will even make Lann the Crown Prince when I have enough authority to forfeit my birthright."

That was another shock that ruined any semblance of logical line of thought or argument I was coming up with.

A Crown Prince forfeiting the crown and willingly passing it down to a known bastard brother?

"And what will you expect in return?" I finally managed to ask the big question.

Durrandon actually smirked before replying. "You offered me your advice, I ask instead for your complete and undying fidelity."

I raised an eyebrow at that.

"You see, although I will be your ward for the next few years, I want you to understand that I will be the one giving orders." Durrandon said. "Serve me well and as soon as I have the necessary authority, I will be relieving uncle Jaime from his vows as a Kingsguard."

Caughting me off guard again, Durrandon made a pause, shifting his smirk back into a more smug one.

"That's right, I will be returning you the son you wanted so badly to inherit Casterly Rock and become the next Warden of the West, while also separating him from my mother. If you don't agree with my terms, without my siblings and uncle Jaime, I believe the next in line should be uncle Tyrion. If I'm not mistaken, he once mentioned that he wished to own a Brothel, and gold certainly won't be a problem for the next Warden of the West."

Well, for what's worth, that was nicely played.

"That is inarguable." I frowned in thought before admitting defeat. "I will serve your orders, your grace, under the circumstances that you described yourself. However, I would ask you a question… Your request for my service strikes me as natural for someone seeking power. But why would you forfeit the crown?"

Durrandon snapped his fingers and…out of nowhere, his father, the King, appeared right behind him.

In full plate armor, wielding his Warhammer and laughing ready for battle.

I could not believe it.

Have I just witnessed…

"Magic." Durrandon spoke, completing my line of thought as if he could read my mind.

Snapping his finger again, my older son, Jaime, appeared beside Robert.

However, instead of his Kingsguard armor, Jaime now wore my clothes and had a serious expression on his face.

"You really think a crown gives you power?" The Crown Prince finally replies to my previous question. "Power is power."

Letting the weight behind the fact he could cast magic like a wizard sink in, he continued.

"And with time…" He rose from his seat and shifted into the image of the champion of the melee, the fearsome Warrior. "…There won't be anyone more powerful than me in the entire world." Turning into the form of the champion of the Archery, Bard, he smiled down on me before sitting down again. "Serve me well, and House Lannister won't be like the Targaryens were, but like the powerful Dragonlords that ruled before the Doom."

That certainly was too much to process.

I needed to cut my losses short as soon as I could.

Since I couldn't find a proper reason to deny the child, I simply accepted his offer.

If he speaks the truth, our deal will certainly be benefited me.

If not, I will find a way to make it so.

"Very well …your Grace. Yours is indeed the fury." I conceded, making a mental note not to draw that fury upon myself in the future if I could help.

It was far colder than I had thought, having dealt with his father right after he won his rebellion.

"Of course, and like you, I pay my debts."

With that, Durrandon moved to leave, stopping for a brief moment to say one final thing. "If you reveal my secret, you and all your house will hear my furious roar and learn that before the rain comes the storm."

I nodded respectfully, prompting him to walk away.

That boy was already extremely dangerous in the Game, to consider that he had the might and magic to back it up was just too much.

I will have to earn his loyalty.

That might prove to be tricky, though.

But then again…

By the Gods…

Magic?!

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DURRANDON'S POV

I can't believe it!

I've actually managed to strongarm Tywin fuċkɨnġ Lannister into accepting to serve me.

The idea of his children being into a ɨnċėstuos relationship helped startling him enough to prevent him from rationalizing at full capacity.

The prospect of Tyrion inheriting Casterly Rock was perhaps what struck most fear into the man's heart.

And the fact that I was capable of performing magic will definitely make him reconsider any ideas of betraying me.

I wasn't a fool to believe he would remain loyal forever.

But I only really required his services until the Greyjoy Rebellion was dealt with, anything after that would be a bonus.

And since I was being fostered by the Lannisters, Lann would be expected to become Stannis ward when he comes of age.

As for Joanna, she had once mentioned to me that she wanted to become a Septa.

But I didn't buy it for a second.

It seems she believes this path will prevent mother and father from marrying her off to some Lord's son.

But I told her she was too young for them even considering that.

Now, having got acquainted with my Sworn Shield, the Tsundere Clegane, I proceeded to recruit my crew.

The Alchemists have finally begun working with Tobho Mott to produce my Infusions.

Besides, I wanted them to also recruit my bastard siblings that father had conceived, like Gendry.

And since I had taken all their stock of Wildfire into my Inventory, they had plenty of secure space to use for their experiments.

[10,000 x JAR OF WILDFIRE ACQUIRED!]

Each one was capable of producing an inextinguishable blaze that would burn for hours within a 20 meters range.

And that was in unfavorable conditions like burning over a stone floor, just imagine if I threw one of them onto a grass field, or even in a forest.

Complete and utter chaos, I ȧssure you.

As for Chataya and her business, besides having her watch carefully which women Robert made pregnant, I had Alysse secretly help manage the Tavern's finances.

It would be her first step into becoming a suitable candidate for the position of Master of Coin.

With time, I would be sending money so she could buy other establishments and exercise even more her skills.

Meanwhile, Rhaenys would continue what I began, constantly hunting for more criminals in this population of half a million people.

Though for the future, I had instructed her to help Alysse get rid of certain obstacles in her way, while Alysse in return would help her with raising her own thieves guild.

Perhaps even keep tabs on the High Sparrow.

Neither of them had my magic, but the System would be more than enough to give them the necessary tools to succeed in my long term missions for them.

Besides, after thoroughly scavenging the Keep's vault, I had found two Valyrian steel daggers, and given one for each of them.

It was to my understanding that very few problems couldn't be resolved by a conjured out of nowhere Valyrian steel blade.

Even less were capable of immediately endangering their lives.

But enough of those who would remain.

As for those I would be taking with me…

Sandor Clegane, obviously.

Nowadays he was the first person who actually made me feel small.

Thoros of Myr was a surprisingly easy man to recruit, which made me wonder if he had seen something in the flames that made the work for me.

Jalabhar Xho had spent quite a lot to subscribe for the Archery contest, so he gladly accepted to help guard me on the Westerlands, having nowhere else to be.

Since he wouldn't be much use to me here, I invited Syrio Forel to also come.

And surprisingly, the fifth member of my retinue was someone I didn't seek to join me.

Lothor Brune, a freerider related to the Brunes of Brownhollow in the Crackclaw Point, a region in the Crownlands.

He was a small man with a stocky build and a square jaw. He had a squashed nose, a mat of woolly grey hair, with a rough voice but spoke seldomly.

Apparently, he saw an opportunity to make a name for himself in the Westerlands, and found I was his best option.

It was too soon for me to have a precise opinion about the man, but from what I recalled from the books, he was at least honest.

And since his stats weren't shit, the slightly inconsequential character was welcomed into my unofficial party.

The last person in the equation would be my uncle.

Tyrion Lannister.

"Look at you, already taller than me by your sixth name day!" The imp joked. "At this pace you are going to be bigger than the Hound, but much better looking."

Speaking of him.

Sandor stared at Tyrion, but refrained from any sort of reply.

"This one doesn't like me." Tyrion chuckled, turning to look at me.

"Must be because you've just insulted him without reason. As my Sworn Shield, any insult to me is an insult to him, and vice-versa." I told him rather seriously.

"Oh, then I believe apologies are in order." Tyrion quickly replied, showing he meant no disrespect towards the Hound. "I'm sorry Clegane."

Even though Sandor shrugged at the dwarfs' words, I noticed he appreciated the gesture.

Clegane was a simple man to read once you understood his backstory.

"Ha! C'mon now boys, stop it now before Clegane here blushes." Thoros barged in laughing before sipping from his wineskin.

"It is not wise to disturb the quiet ones." Syrio warned with his Bravossi accent while sheathing his sword that resembled a Rapier.

"A worthy Prince must always take into consideration everyone serving under him." Jalabhar pointed out with his Summer Islander accent while strapping his quiver. "After all, every man counts."

Like Sandor, Brune remained silent, merely showing that he was hearing their conversation.

"My my, dear nephew, that's quite the menagerie of capable swords… and arrows. Are we going to war or something?" Tyrion asked me with a smile.

"Not exactly, uncle." I replied with an amused smile. "Since I found no books that could be of help, I decided to get acquainted with leading men by starting small."

"Good thinking." Tyrion admitted while looking at everyone else bantering amongst themselves, noticing Shadow passing between his legs and jumping into my shoulder. "So, shall we? My Lord father has decided to take an alternative route towards Casterly Rock."

I nodded, already aware that we would be taking the tourist route under my command.

Imagine Tyrion's surprise if he knew how I dealt with the mighty Tywin Lannister.

…

Instead of the Golden Road, Lord Tywin's retinue opted for traveling through the King's Road past Harrenhal up until the Crossroad Inn.

Then we would switch to the River Road, pass by Stony Sept and leave the Riverlands through Riverrun.

After that, it wouldn't take long for us to reach Casterly Rock, arriving just before the next Winter.

The trip would take a little longer than it usually would because of some stops I had decided to make along the way.

Leaving King's Landing was almost as another tourney took place, everyone wishing me safe travels.

I said goodbye to my family, hugging my crying half-siblings, and close friends, wishing good luck for both Alysse and Rhaenys on their long term missions.

Thanked both Pycelle and Barristan for all of their support and training.

And also bid farewell to the Dornish Princess, who seemed very sad to not have another night alone with him.

On a side note, both Ser Ranger and Ser Knight were also seen leaving the city on the same day.

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(12/10/2021)

*Hope this chapter is of your liking.

Anything you wish to ask, feel free to do so.

Check out my auxiliary chapter if you still haven't.

Thanks as always for your attention and please be safe.

Any problems with my writing, just point them out and I will correct them as soon as possible.

** Sorry if this chapter felt rushed, especially with the meeting between the MC and Tywin Lannister. ????

As I come up with new ideas to flesh it out, I will be updating the chapter. ????????