Tyrion VII

Tyrion Lannister was not fool enough to believe he was so valuable a hostage that his presence stayed the king's hand. The year had come and gone and come again while he was prisoner in Storm's End. In the morning, it would be the three hundred and fifth year since Aegon the Dragon landed at the mouth of Blackwater Bay and forged the seven kingdoms into Seven Kingdoms with dragonfire.

It's a comfortable enough cell they've given me, he ruminated. Thank the seven for small mercies.

Renly's men could not hold the king, who cut his way out within a week. Since then, one Baratheon man after another deserted for fear of Joffrey's wrath, including the man they left to guard his chamber door. At first, Tyrion feared they'd chain him to the wall to prevent another escape, but they gave him freedom of the castle, provided he took an oath not to try, which he did, obviously.

Greyjoy men walked the walls now. Hardly a crowned stag badge could be seen among the garrison. Euron Greyjoy even invited Tyrion to dine with the lords in the evening. The pirate meant it as a jape, but Tyrion found he liked the meat and mead just the same.

"Every last one of my bannermen has sworn to Joffrey and sent hostages to King's Landing, Euron! We're alone!" Renly complained openly at table, not caring a jot what Tyrion might overhear.

"Peace, beloved," Euron soothed him silkily. "We aren't alone at all. There's plenty of Ironborn to hold your hall, and we've food enough for years. My elder brother sails to our help even now."

"Yes, the 'friends across the sea' you keep mentioning," Renly bit back bitterly. "What good are they? Joff isn't bothering to besiege us because we're in the depths of winter. Come spring, he'll ride down here and lop both our heads right off. If we are very fortunate, we might be offered the wall."

"Dragonstone and the Narrow Sea are ours," Euron pointed out. He held out a dagger with a choice morsel of roast pork spitted on the end, offering to feed Renly as if he were a noble lady.

Renly batted away the peace offering in disgust. "Even the Weeping Town is lost to us. Joffrey is loved and praised in every holdfast lining the Rainroad. How would your ships even reach us? There's no safe harbor in Shipbreaker Bay. You recall the name, do you not? My mother and father died out there."

"A mischance, only. When the wind turns, it will cheer your heart, I know it."

Tyrion knew better than to insert himself into their bickering, instead taking a keen interest in his own portion of the pork. They'd soaked it in water to remove the salt it'd been preserved in, but it was still overly salty to his taste. The bread was decent, and the buttered turnips. Shame about the wine, though. Ugh, sour stuff, not Dorne's finest vintage, he feared.

Little enough news reached them, save for Euron's promises, which seemed remoter with every rising sun, until all was delivered at once!

"I didn't know they had Valyrian roads in Westeros!" said the most beautiful woman Tyrion had ever seen. She was draped in the fur of some white and black striped beast, but nothing could conceal the heavenly form underneath. Her hair was silver gold, done up in an elaborate braid, and her eyes a deep purple. She looked like how he imagined Targaryens looked.

"They don't," replied a bear of a man, a huge, bulky knight with a mane too thick to name a beard.

"The lion king wrought it," said the second most beautiful woman Tyrion had ever seen, save his sister. She was tall and red, hot where the silver lady was cold. "Your foe, son of the usurper, is cunning and must not be underestimated, Daenerys."

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Daenerys? Like the dreamer? It was like something out of a history!

Renly and Euron greeted the trio warmly, offering bread and salt.

"Come, imp!" the Greyjoy called out mockingly. "Come and see the truth!"

He'd been hiding behind a pillar. However did Euron spot him? Well, there was no point in staying where he was.

The group of guests studied him warily. "Tyrion Lannister," spat the bear, a look of disgust on his face. Tyrion was quite used to disgusting people. The bear would have to do better!

"At your service." He bowed.

"You stand, dwarf, in the presence of Her Grace, Queen Daenerys Targaryen, the first of her name," the bear spouted officiously.

Surely not! Were there not beauties in Lys who shared a look with this silver lady? "Indeed? And how did Her Grace come to be here?" he inquired politely, fighting to keep a mocking tongue restrained.

"We sailed from Volantis," the silver lady explained. "My poor Dothraki really looked green after a year at sea. Lord Victarion was good enough to secure the Weeping Town in advance with his Iron Fleet. The road took us from there to here quite speedily. My army made excellent time."

"I'll offer Joff your compliments, next time I see him."

The silver lady frowned. "Joff?"

"This creature is the uncle of the one who sits your throne, Your Grace," the bear explained.

The red woman caught his eye. Even her eyes were red. "Would my lord of Lannister care to fulfill his boyhood dream?" she asked.

"Unless there's a dragon in the bailey, I'm afraid that's quite impossible," Tyrion scoffed.

The lady in red smiled serenely. "A pity to disappoint you. There are two."

Euron Greyjoy smiled in that queer way where you could tell even the covered eye was smiling. He slapped Lord Renly on the back. "Hah! Who needs armies and castles when you have dragons? My brother brought you a bride, Renly! And she is mother to dragons!"

He sounded so...no, it couldn't be! The guests looked unsurprised. Everyone exited Storm's End's great hall, and the sight Tyrion Lannister saw took his breath away.

There were soldiers trailing spears, with pointed helms upon their heads, brown horsemen in steel, honest-to-goodness Dothraki screamers brandishing curved arahks, and just one more thing, well, two.

One beast dragged itself across the yard; the other flapped its wings. Black and green they were, just like Tyrion's mismatched eyes. Bigger than the biggest destriers, with long lizard necks and webbed wings that cast a long shadow.

Dragons! The silver lady was a real Targaryen! The very last!

The sheer romance of it had him drunk like half a cask of Arbor gold, then his heart felt fear.

She comes for Joff's throne, he realized. His nephew had plenty of knights but not one single dragon. Aegon of old proved which one weighed more in battle. These weren't huge yet, but big enough to be dangerous.

"Gods be good," he muttered witlessly.

The red woman rounded on him. "There is only one god, Tyrion Lannister: Red R'hllor, the Lord of Light! Our lady here is his champion, who has woken dragons out of stone! Behold, the prophecy fulfilled!"

Daenerys Targaryen's mismatched army cheered, and the black dragon sent a spout of flame into the air that startled Tyrion so badly it almost took him off his feet. Renly, for once, looked like a man reborn, a man who could see his salvation come at last.