Game of Thrones || The Sword of the Morning

The Green Fork

~~Tyrion Lannister~~

Bronn, son of...well..no one really cares. Bronn, son of a bitch, lugs some armor through the busy camp, making his way to his destination.

He opens the tent flap, seeing the Imp and his newfound fuck laying in bed fast asleep.

"Get up."

Bronn throws the armor on the ground, startling Tyrion and Shae awake.

"What is it? What do you want?"

Tyrion asks in a tired and surprised voice.

"You're sleeping through the war."

Bronn replies simply. The men in the camp are preparing for war whilst the little man sleeps.

"What?"

"They stole a night's march on us. They're a mile north."

Bronn turns to leave, a bit frustrated with having to wake up the little Lord.

"Get my squire!"

"You don't have a squire."

He responds curtly and leaves, leaving Tyrion to get up, feeling sore and tired.

"If I die, weep for me."

He says to Shae, who just rolls her eyes and snuggles back in the pillow.

"You'll be dead. How will you know?"

"I'll know."

He says, staring down at the Lannister helmet on the floor. Getting up, he dresses slowly, struggling with the straps of his armor a bit.

Finally, Tyrion leaves the tent, fully armoured.

"Watch out! Move!"

"Out of the way! Move aside!"

Men on horses and on foot rush through the narrow pass ways around the tents, some knocking into the Lord without a care as he make his way forward.

"Stay low."

Bronn reappears and Tyrion looks up at him, scoffing at his joke.

"Stay low?"

"If you're lucky, no one will notice you."

"I was born lucky."

He and Bronn now stand near the center of the camp.

"Tribesmen of the Vale, gather round! Stone Crows! Black Ears! Burned Men! Moon Brothers! And Painted Dogs! Your dominion over the Vale begins now! Onward, to claim what is yours!"

He speaks to them with tired emotion and the Tribesmen cheer for the little Lord.

"Half man! Half man! Half man! Half man! Half man! Half man!"

"To battle!"

Tyrion rides to battle with the rest, but turns around quickly after and is hit with a mace from one of the Tribesmen. The Lord is knocked out cold and is sent face first into the mud whilst the Tribesmen trample over him to face the Stark forces.

~~~~~

Dead bodies and swords pile on the ground. Tyrion wakes up to find Bronn talking to him as he’s carried on a wheelbarrow.

"You're a shit warrior."

Bronn says, wiping the blood from his sword.

"I'm alive?"

"You're alive."

"Did we win?"

Tyrion asks in confusion and slight pain.

"We wouldn't be having this conversation if we didn't."

The wheelbarrow stops and Tyrion sits up, looking around at the battlefield of corpses.

"How did our tribesmen do?"

Several Tribesmen torture Stark bannermen while their still alive, cutting pieces of flesh off or clubbing them to death with massive clubs.

"Yeah, good."

"It's nice to see them getting along."

Tywin shows up next to them, fully armoured and on white horse.

"You're wounded."

"Good of you to notice. I hear we won."

"Huh! The scouts were wrong. There were 2,000 Stark bannermen, not 20."

Tywin states and Tyrion looks confused.

"Did we get the Stark boy, at least?"

Tywin starts to move away, still thinking about the battle and of the Young Wolf's latest move.

"He wasn't here."

"Where was he?"

"With his other 18,000 men."

Tyrion watches in confusion as Tywin rides off.

"And where are they?"

~~~~~
A/N

I know this chapter is kinda short and I'm sorry for that. Some chapters will be longer than others. Hopefully next chapter is going to be a long on because I'm pretty sure you all know what's gonna happen.

Thank you so much for reading!