"My lord Tyrion!" A muffled voice called out to him from the other side of the door, piercing the blissfulness of his dreamless sleep and getting an annoyed groan in response. "My lord!"
"Go away..." Tyrion groggily shouted back, sounding surprisingly drunk even to his own ears despite not getting shit-faced the night before. The knocking did not stop. "I said, go away!"
"But my lord!" The muffled voice, already nervous became almost pleading, panicked even. "Your lord father has requested your immediate presence at the vaults!"
The vaults? Tyrion thought as his eyes burst open, the daze of sleep vanishing as though a cold bucket of water had been thrown on him. What could he want with me there?
Encompassing most of his vision were words written on paper about dragons and hellish fire devouring the lands and he momentarily forgot what he'd been doing the night before. Oh right, The Princess and The Queen, or, The Blacks and The Greens - Being A History of the Causes, Origins, Battles, and Betrayals of that Most Tragic Bloodletting Known as the Dance of the Dragons. Atrocious tittle, captivating read.
Lifting away from the book, Tyrion noted he hadn't slobbered over it in his sleep with approval, it was a rare and fragmented tale, not one to so callously ruin. Then waddled over to the door. Upon opening it, he noticed it was a guard asking for him, not merely a servant. The man, closer to a boy really, was one of unremarkable features, someone who could and probably did fade into the masses, an effect enhanced by the shining armor worn by all guards in, out and around the Rock.
Even the lads quivering lips and almost bulging, terrified eyes were nothing remarkable, he'd seen it on plenty of men to, unfortunately, cross his father's path when he was in a wrothful mood.
"As you can see, I have awoken. Now, what is this urgent business with my father and the vaults?"
He didn't answer immediately, instead, he took frightened, almost paranoid glances at both ends of the hallway before kneeling close enough to whisper. Tyrion turned his head to one side, feeling increasingly intrigued by all of this.
"S-someone has stolen from your family, my lord," He stammered. "S-ss-some one has broken into the vaults of Casterly Rock!"
If the news that woke him felt like a cold bucket of water, then Tyrion wondered if the shock which rippled through him must've been how it felt to be struck by one of the Clegane brothers. Blinking a few times and licking his suddenly dry lips, Tyrion said the only thing he could think of. "I beg your pardon, but... could you repeat that?"
"I know not the whole tale, my lord!" The man whispered back, straining to sound respectful with his increasing worry. "Only that my fellow guards stationed near the vaults were felled during the knight and then discovered this morning with the door of the vaults wide open!"
Another moment of silence passed as Tyrion took in this information. For a moment, he considered washing and getting dressed to properly meet his father but if what the guard said was true, and somehow, he felt like it very well could be, then his father might actually kill him as Tyrion has long known he wanted to for delaying his arrival any further.
Instead, with a deliberate slowness, he said: "I believe we should make haste to the vaults, my good fellow."
"Y-yes my lord!" The man bowed respectfully and did so, striding while Tyrion waddled through the vast hallways of Casterly Rock, vast being the appropriate word. To say it could take an age to get from one side to the other was a gross understatement, even his brother Jaime, a man of normal stature, called it the Rock's single flaw. This day, however, the traversal only seemed longer, probably due to his anticipation of finding out just what all of this thievery business was about.
His families wealth was well known across the world, not simply Westeros and Tyrion had no doubt every thief would become giddy at the chance of breaking into its vaults and securing his future of growing, fat, old and content somewhere far away from his father's wrath.
An amusing fantasy, one he was sure many a man had dreamed of during the prosperous reign of his father as Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, but a fantasy nonetheless. Besides being the greatest bounty any man could hope to rob, Casterly Rock was also one of, if not the, most impregnable fortress' ever built. Being carved into the side of a gargantuan stone hill, surrounded by water, and a height thrice that of the Wall with siege walls, watchtowers, and gates all manned by an army of men dwarfing that of many petty lords across the Seven Kingdoms will do that.
Yet according to this man, and the numerous others serving his family in the Rock from servant girls to other guards he could hear whispering before and after his approach all pointed to one, increasingly likely fact: Casterly Rock was breached, and not a soul knew it until the thief had already long since escaped.
It was not, however, the only strange thing to happen in the Westerlands recently. In all this confusion and anticipation, Tyrion almost slapped himself for foolishly forgetting the rest of what he'd heard of late. Firstly, of a massive, stone pillar suddenly appearing on the border between the lands of House Swyft and House Clegane some three weeks ago. It was several stories tall and when Lord Swyft's men were sent to investigate, they found it hollowed out from the inside, with stairs leading up to a section where a home might have once been.
Father and Tyrion both found it odd but nothing worth losing much sleep over. No, it was the other incident in Clegane's own lands mere days after this discovery. According to Clegane's own men, their lord liege had stopped one day at an inn to rest after a days-long hunt in the wilds.
In a lie so appalling Tyrion and his father both rolled their eyes at it, though father was far more subtle about it, Gregor Clegane had apparently arrived just in time to see a rogue of some sort trying to steal from the smallfolk, and thus, they engaged the man.
More likely it was the other way around, Tyrion thought then and now as he descended the final bit of stairs leading to the vaults. Though the man gave no description of the rogue, except pointing out how he was covered in thick, black robes from head to toe, what he did spoke volumes in Tyrion's mind. Apparently, this lone warrior, this nameless and faceless wanderer defeated The Mountain.
Not just defeated, but had apparently grabbed him mid sword swing and tossed him with such force, Clegane was thrown through the inn's wall and smashed against a nearby tree, which then proceeded to crash on top of him! Then, while the others were distracted, he leaped through the crack vanished into the woods, heading northward! Some even said he was accompanied by a strange cat of some sort.
Silence was the only answer this messenger received until his father very pointedly said he did not appreciate japes or mummery.
Thankfully, someone had enough good sense to give the man proof, from the House Clegane's own Maester in the form of a letter informing of the Mountain's condition. Though Tyrion was no healer, from the description provided by the Maester, Gregor Clegane was little more than a slobbering imbecile confined to his bed, inspiring images combining a shit-faced Robert Baratheon and his namesake, Jon Arryn's own clearly unwell son.
Father bade the man farewell then told one of his stewards to issue forth a reward for the capture of this Mountain Crusher: 500 silver stags alive, 400 dead. That was his way, if he could capture and bring this man to heel, he would gain a powerful soldier to use against his enemies. If not? An example to all those who defied House Lannister. Father would win either way.
That was what Tyrion thought then, now? After this? The ultimate insult one could throw at Casterly Rock and House Lannister? The theft of their legendary gold and their incredible fortress' reputation besmirched for all time? All under Lord Tywin's rule?
The anticipation of seeing this brazen assault only made the journey down to the vaults all the more aggravating, making him silently curse his stunted little body a hundred times over.
Though, even this burning interest was cooled considerably as they finally entered the vault hallway. How could it not? The sheer terror rolling off the men stationed there as he made his way to the scene of the crime was almost tangible in its intensity. When he actually stepped forth into the room with his father and uncle, Tyrion suppressed the urge to shiver.
Walking up slowly, Tyrion shared a glance and nod with his uncle Kevan, a more gentle sort to his father who usually smiled whenever they greeted one another. But his almost deathly pale face and grim look at Father's direction proved there would be none of that today.
Tyrion was about to speak when he froze in place. If this first news he'd heard of it was a bucket of water then the followup a Clegane fist to the skull, then this feeling of awe must've been what it was like to gaze from atop the Wall. Ten chests, ten chests amidst dozens with enough gold, silver, and copper in them to buy and sell several smaller houses were gone, as though vanishing in a puff of smoke.
Closer inspection revealed no sign of forced entry, not accounting for the knocked out guards who's heads would soon be getting intimately familiar with the spikes adorning the walls of Casterly Rock. Poor buggers, although, He glanced at his father and almost winced at the sight of his expression. They may not be wanting for company.
Yes, already news of this was spreading like wildfire amongst the servants and guards and would no doubt reach the ears of every man, woman, and child in the Realm, how could it not? Tywin Lannister, the most feared and respected man in the Kingdoms, who's keep was legendary for its impregnable qualities had been robbed right from under his nose with him being none the wiser. The sheer impossibility of, to whom it was done, alone made it something the family would most likely never hear the end of.
Already Tyrion could hear the japes. Someone finally impregnated the impregnable lioness, eh?! What's Tywin Lannister angry about? He'll make all the money back after a fortnight or two on the privy! That's what Tywin Lannister gets for not keeping his bowels in-che-
"What do you make of this?" Father asked with a voice harder than the Rock's stones, his cold eyes never moving from the vault though Tyrion could practically feel his scrutinizing gaze regardless. Tyrion glanced at him, then back to the chests and instantly saw what his father no doubt immediately recognized.
"They knew which ones to pick," He whispered as the realization dawned on him. Contrary to what most people thought, Tywin Lannister did not simply hoard gold then toss it into an unruly pile.
No, everything, no matter its worth, was carefully placed into chests, all properly organized and written into the families financial books. There was not a single copper, stag or dragon merely brushed or tossed aside, all had its place, and Tywin Lannister knew all the places. Which made the sight of not one, not two, but ten chests worth of money missing amidst a usually organized collective send Tyrion's mind into a whirl unlike any he'd felt in a very, very long time.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Tyrion saw his father's cold gaze momentarily glimmer with something he thought might've been actual approval. Any more surprises like this and I'll need a barrel of wine this instant.
"They knew," Father repeated in a whisper of his own, then he turned around and snarled in such a way it would make actual lions proud: "THEY KNEW!"
Tyrion could hear the nearby guards almost recoil as if struck, he and uncle Kevan just exchanged glances and very slowly gulped. Kevan decided to take a chance. "But, Tywin," He began with a cooler voice. "How can that be? Only your financial books document where precisely everything is. Those documents are guarded more than anything in the Rock!"
"I am aware of this, Kevan," Father ground out, doing the best impersonation of Stannis Baratheon Tyrion had ever seen. "Yet no other explanation remains, only by seeing those records could one possibly know precisely which chest contained what to steal!"
Tyrion was well aware of how impossible that actually was, uncle Kevan wasn't japing when he said those were most carefully guarded things in the Rock, even more so than his fathers own bedchambers. To try even gazing at them without his permission, much less using them to steal from him... Well, you'd be better off calling Lyanna Stark a dragon cock loving whore in-front of Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon.
"No one is to leave this castle, I want every single man, woman and child interrogated as to the events of the past few weeks. If there is even a hint of treason-"
"Heads. Spikes. Walls." Tyrion's said matter of factly then almost shit himself when he received yet another approving glimmer in his father's eye.
"There is no other possibility Kevan," Father continued. "Ten chests, each specifically chosen with knowledge only I am fully privy to were carried out in the hour of the wolf from my vault, from MY CASTLE!"
Uncle Kevan visibly winced then recovered and gave a very curt nod, all but fleeing out of the room. Tyrion awkwardly looked about, wondering if it was a good time to excuse himself or not when his fathers gaze fell upon him. For a moment, he seemed not to know what to say to him before simply walking away, ordering: "You are coming with me."
Tyrion blinked a few times then waddled after him in a daze.
"You will assist me in searching through the records, I want to know every piece of gold, silver, and copper to have left this castle before midday. Am I understood?"
With a tone that brokered no argument, Tyrion answered the only thing he could. So mad were the event of this day that even the bloody stairs back up didn't bother him. Father well and truly fucked up the arse, giving me approving scowls and now something of actual worth to do? My good thieves, wherever you are, you were worth absolutely every single piece of gold.
South of Casterly Rock
"I told you we could pull it off."
"I never doubted you for a second, my lord!"
He gave his best friend a wry look. "Really? Because I distinctly remember you panicking about shapeshifting next to the old man."
"And for good reason! If you spent as much time around him as I did, you'd want to run the other way too!"
"Eh, don't worry about it, just imagine the look on his face right now and he won't be so scary."
His pal did so, scratching his chin with a furry paw before giggling. "You're right, it is pretty funny!"
"But seriously," He gave a friendly pat on the back. "You did good, Pu'ar."
"Well, it was your idea, Yamcha!"
"Which I wouldn't have pulled off without you! Now, how about you stop being modest and help me decide how to spend all this money we've got in the capsule, eh?"
"If what that nice man back in town said is true, Kings Landing seems like a good place as any, then again, Dorne sounds like it could be fun too!"
"I got it," He pulled out a single golden dragon out of his pocket, and grinned. "What do you say we flip Tywin's coin for it?"
Pu'ar grinned back. "You're on!"
A/N: Some people thought a DB/ASOIAF cross over could never work, well, hopefully I proved that you can ;)