Tyrion, of House Lannister.
~After The Trident RP Blog~

ooc

Uhm, hey, my name’s Jorge, I’m a friend of Rob’s. His parents have blocked tumblr to make him revise, so he says he’s sorry but he won’t be able to get on till next week. Ta.

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Breakfast at Casterly’s | Open to everyone in Casterly Rock

lioness-of-the-rock:

halfalannister:

Morning sunlight suffused the air and flowed in through the windows. Tyrion blinked a few times as he wandered in to the private dining room, set into one of the higher towers, which provided a stunning view of the Sunset Sea, and an equally blinding view of the sun itself. He noted with mild displeasure that the table was already set - he’d woken up early a week ago, and since then had been in silent competition with the serving staff to see who could get up earlier. Come now, how old are you? he scolded silently. Arriving at the table, he climbed up into a seat and served himself a grapefruit half to start, dusting it lightly with sugar using a small golden sugar spoon engraved with a lion. Moving mechanically, he dissects the grapefruit, turning over details in his mind. 

Tyrell visits Bear Island. Jorah Mormont has his lordship restored for unknown reasons. The Starks are even more silent than usual, Hoster Tully is dying, Walder Frey marries off an inconsequential daughter to Lord Tully’s heir, meaning that he spreads his seed ever further, and now Stannis Baratheon is marrying Mormont.

That was the bit that niggled at him. What could Stannis Baratheon, lord of Storm’s End, want with some daughter from the freezing North? True, the Mormont women were famously fecund, but something stuck in his throat about it. Well, nothing for it but to wait. Soon, he decided, maybe even today, he’d suggest that he, or maybe all the House, moved down to King’s Landing. If they were to have any hope of regaining their former standing, they had to start shoring up connections, forging new alliances. Jaime must marry, surely he sees that? He sighed, pushing aside the empty grapefruit hemisphere and pulling over a small capon. No, he won’t. Perhaps, if I persuade to Genna and Kevan to help, we’ll be able to convince him.

Her husband asleep and Jaime sated, Cersei marvelled at the magnificence of Casterly Rock as she made her way to the Dinning Hall. The familiar stone corridors lead to alcoves so full of memories they seemed to leap out at her, places were she and her twin used to play, back when they were barely interchangeable, when one could pass as the other. In days before moonblood and battles, before Robert Baratheon and his rebellion.

Cersei’s gut twisted. She’d been sat in her chambers, waiting for any news of her brother or her father in Kings Landing, when the raven arrived briefly explaining how her brother was now a Kingslayer and how her father was an enemy of the crown. The Rebellion had been crushed and she had lost everything—her promised crown, her promised husband and her promised throne; instead she had Hightower, although thankfully her children were nothing less than pure Lannister.

It seemed she had been musing for long enough that she’d barely noticed how she’d arrived at their private dinning room. Pushing open the door, Cersei was faced with the pensive face of her youngest brother, deep in thought.

Painting her face with a smile that was faker than her marriage, she sat down across from him, picking up some of the fruit laid out by the servants. “Good morning, brother. What plans are you scheming yet?”

Well, there goes my peaceful breakfast. He pauses for a moment, wandering if Cersei fixes that smile in place with pins or if it’s painted on. “Well, once I’ve finished this breakfast, I thought that I would ride to the Twins and steal all of Lord Frey’s gold, and perhaps a couple of fertile Frey daughters. Thus funded, I shall head to the Vale and take command of the hill-men by defeating their leader in single combat, and then conquer the Eyre. By this point, it shall be time for lunch, the demands of which I shall fulfill. After that, I intend to conquer a Free City or two, after which I shall have a delightful afternoon snack fed to me by the beautiful concubines I shall gain as a result of my position there. Having sated any small pangs of hunger, I shall conquer King’s Landing from the back of a dragon, the pleasant irony of which should whet my appetite in time to eat a reasonably sized victory supper perched on the Iron Throne.” He stretches, shaking out a small cramp in his leg, and leans back in his chair.

He’d never understood Cersei’s hate for him, and he’d never sought explanation; it was just a fact of life, the same as his father’s disgust for him, or the pity or revulsion he saw in the eyes of other men. They had all, however, contributed to making Tyrion a wary man; there were very few people he trusted, and his dear sister was most certainly not one of them. For a brief, wild moment he considered mentioning that she should perhaps try to persuade Jaime to take a wife, but then dismissed it almost instantly, out of hand. “And how do you intend to spend your day, sister?” he inquired, noting suddenly the rosey tint to her cheeks and sighing internally. Not a hope.

(via lioness-of-the-rock-deactivated)

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Breakfast at Casterly’s | Open to everyone in Casterly Rock

Morning sunlight suffused the air and flowed in through the windows. Tyrion blinked a few times as he wandered in to the private dining room, set into one of the higher towers, which provided a stunning view of the Sunset Sea, and an equally blinding view of the sun itself. He noted with mild displeasure that the table was already set - he’d woken up early a week ago, and since then had been in silent competition with the serving staff to see who could get up earlier. Come now, how old are you? he scolded silently. Arriving at the table, he climbed up into a seat and served himself a grapefruit half to start, dusting it lightly with sugar using a small golden sugar spoon engraved with a lion. Moving mechanically, he dissects the grapefruit, turning over details in his mind. 

Tyrell visits Bear Island. Jorah Mormont has his lordship restored for unknown reasons. The Starks are even more silent than usual, Hoster Tully is dying, Walder Frey marries off an inconsequential daughter to Lord Tully’s heir, meaning that he spreads his seed ever further, and now Stannis Baratheon is marrying Mormont.

That was the bit that niggled at him. What could Stannis Baratheon, lord of Storm’s End, want with some daughter from the freezing North? True, the Mormont women were famously fecund, but something stuck in his throat about it. Well, nothing for it but to wait. Soon, he decided, maybe even today, he’d suggest that he, or maybe all the House, moved down to King’s Landing. If they were to have any hope of regaining their former standing, they had to start shoring up connections, forging new alliances. Jaime must marry, surely he sees that? He sighed, pushing aside the empty grapefruit hemisphere and pulling over a small capon. No, he won’t. Perhaps, if I persuade to Genna and Kevan to help, we’ll be able to convince him.

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lioness-of-the-rock replied to your post: ~

do you want to start a thread? (cersei and her husband arrived at casterly rock recently) breakfast, maybe?

[Definitely. :) Perhaps start off with us two and leave it open to Garth and the others at Casterly? I’ll start writing it and we can change open-ness at a later point if you want. Thanks!]

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~

[Happy to interact with anyone in Casterly Rock. Or just the general geographical area. Please?]

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OOC; Plotting.

This is mainly aimed at Lannisters, but the more the merrier; I’m open to pretty much any idea you name, and I had a few that my fellow Kasterly Rok Krew might want to discuss. My main idea was for the Lannisters as a whole, or at least Tyrion, to travel down to King’s Landing to attempt to start repairing the relationship with the crown, and make a few new friends. So feel free to hit me up if you feel like some wholesome Tyrion flavoured goodness.

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Looking through doorways ~drabble~

Tyrion yawned. He didn’t usually stay up this late, but he’d found a particularly interesting treatise on the training of dragons, and he wanted all the ammunition he could get for when he made his appearance at court. The king was notorious for his academic brilliance as well as his military acumen, and he hoped that some expertise on a subject that the king was presumably deeply interested in would help his standing. As he began the walk back to his chambers, waddling down the flagstone covered hallways, passing through arches of silver moonlight, he took care, as always, to look in on each doorway. He always found that one never knew what one might find if you took the time to pause at an open door. Jaime was sprawled on his bed, a bottle on the floor. Oh brother, he thought. Lordship did not suit Jaime. He was cooped up in the Rock, like a bird in a cage that was too small. Or a lion.

Kevan was lying on his bed with military precision. Uncle. Lacking in imagination, making up for it with dogged determination. Kevan had been, essentially, a father figure. Without Tywin to order him around, Kevan had become, if not soft, then at least less hard.

And then Cersei. Sweet, wretched, Cersei. She was visiting the Rock, briefly. She and Jaime had managed to keep their affair secret from most everyone, but not Tyrion. Sometimes he wondered how no-one else saw, but then he told himself, men see what they want to see, and nothing more.

He sighed, shrugged, and finished his little midnight meander, pushing in the door to his room. Wall to wall bookcases, and a luxurious Myrish rug. As was his habit, he slipped off his shoes when he entered the room, and curled his toes in the thick shag, before walking over to his bed and pulling himself onto it. Settling himself down under the covers, he sighed happily. Soon, everything would come together. Westeros would hear the Lion roar again.

2 notes

afterthetrident:

Taken —> Tyrion Lannister
For Tyrion, life is hard. The reduced status of House Lannister and the absence of his father means that there is no reputation to protect him from jibes and sneers and stares, and consequently he’s spent most of his life hardening himself against anyone who isn’t a Lannister. At the heart of Tyrion is a huge conflict, because while he resents the reduced status of his House, his common sense tells him to just accept it, and starting rebuilding the family’s old glory.
He still remembers, on the one day that Father was allowed to stop at the Rock on his way to the Wall, the words he spoke. They were said to Jaime, behind a closed door. “You are my son. And you must make sure that our roar is heard again at every corner of Westeros.”
Father didn’t talk to Tyrion. But Tyrion understands things, far better than Jaime does. Because Tyrion knows that he is more Tywin’s son than Jaime, and he knows that what is more important than mere power, infinitely more important, is control. Influence is what they need, and so Tyrion waits, and bides his time. The journey he took to the Free Cities when he was sixteen has given him a different perspective on life than most in Westeros.
And so he makes his plans.

afterthetrident:

Taken —> Tyrion Lannister

For Tyrion, life is hard. The reduced status of House Lannister and the absence of his father means that there is no reputation to protect him from jibes and sneers and stares, and consequently he’s spent most of his life hardening himself against anyone who isn’t a Lannister. At the heart of Tyrion is a huge conflict, because while he resents the reduced status of his House, his common sense tells him to just accept it, and starting rebuilding the family’s old glory.

He still remembers, on the one day that Father was allowed to stop at the Rock on his way to the Wall, the words he spoke. They were said to Jaime, behind a closed door. “You are my son. And you must make sure that our roar is heard again at every corner of Westeros.”

Father didn’t talk to Tyrion. But Tyrion understands things, far better than Jaime does. Because Tyrion knows that he is more Tywin’s son than Jaime, and he knows that what is more important than mere power, infinitely more important, is control. Influence is what they need, and so Tyrion waits, and bides his time. The journey he took to the Free Cities when he was sixteen has given him a different perspective on life than most in Westeros.

And so he makes his plans.

3 notes

OOC Contact information

robinquinn@hotmail.co.uk (not checked frequently), laststopbeforereality.tumblr.com (recommended). Skype is robin_quinn1

Y’all can call me Rob.

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