A Vow Without Honor

The Refuge

(shout out to my fellow essential workers - good luck to us all)

Tyrion

Life had a funny way of changing at a moment's notice.

At one point, he, Tyrion Lannister, the Imp, had been in the most prominent position of power. He had the gold cloaks in one hand and soldiers in the other; he had the pyromancers and the smiths working day and night for him. Varys and Littlefinger telling him secrets while Maester Pycelle was locked away. He had destroyed a fleet and led men to war against Stannis Baratheon himself.

And in the span of one evening, it had been taken away. He was once more just the dwarf with only a name to keep him afloat, ignored by the highborns and his family and anyone else who may have mattered.

Really, he should have laughed at the whole ordeal, it was so ridiculous, but that had been one of his many failings: he cared too much, and in the end, he knew it would cost him in the game, one way or the other.

What he didn't expect was for it to happen to his father.

One moment, Tywin Lannister had been riding on the aftermath of his greatest victory: securing his legacy, and now he looked more terrifying than Tyrion had seen him in some time.

Precisely the time when Jaime had more or less threatened Joffrey...

Oh.

Seven hells, Jaime, what did you do now?

Their father was a cunning man, feared and obeyed by nearly everyone, but Jaime had always been that outlier. Cersei had been too, but it had been easier for their brother. No one could predict him, no one could intimidate him, and no one could stop him once he set his mind to something. It seemed their father was finally learning that lesson.

"Your brother is a fool."

Tywin was looking out the window, his back to Tyrion, a scroll clutched tightly in his hands. He could not quite make out the wax seal on it, but he was certain he would find out soon enough.

"I'm glad we've finally found something to agree upon," Tyrion started. He always did like to joke when nervous. "Although I imagine you're aware of something that I am not."

His father turned back to him, fury undeniable, but Tyrion did not feel the brunt of it. For once, it was not focused on him, and for whatever reason, he found that more terrifying.

He tossed the scroll onto the desk between them. The broken seal was of two towers connected by a bridge – the Twins – and the handwriting inside was a childlike scrawl.

Tyrion had just begun to reach for it when his father tossed another one down, this one bearing a sun pierced by a spear.

House Nymeros Martell.

"Against my orders, your brother has fled to Dorne with Myra Stark," Tywin stated, sitting down in his chair. "He is now an 'honored guest' of Prince Doran, or so they would have us believe."

His brother had wanted to take the girl to her sister. It was obvious, wasn't it? The only family she had left, and after everything she had been through, that was most likely the only thing that could help.

But Tyrion didn't want to believe his brother was that foolish. Oh he certainly was, but giving his brother the benefit of the doubt was what family was for.

"Perhaps it's a trick. Something to lure our focus away," Tyrion replied with a shrug. "Although pretending to have Jaime's dreadful handwriting is far too clever for most of our enemies."