First great thanks to my beta Andrich

More Autor's Notes at the end

I own nothing, at all

Tyrion stood in front of the imbedded golden plate, not moving. He had stood at this very same place for hours now.

The Hall of Heroes, the tomb for all members of his house, was dimly lit with flickering torches. Only the sounds of the waves, crashing against the outside of the Rock, were to hear. Tyrion was confused, his insides had knotted days ago and nothing could relax them since then. In the first days he had longed for wine and whores to distract himself from what had happened. It hadn't worked, nothing worked. He felt empty inside.

He hadn't cried, not a single tear had escaped his eyes. He had only stood there in the centre of a storm, stoic, the world flying around him without him even noticing what happened. He had been dull, he was dull. He had no idea what the future would bring now, how he would manage what lied in front of him. All the responsibilities, the duties. How would his House continue based solely on him?

He was sure this year would be seen an epochal year. It was the year 295 after Aegon's landing and Lord Tywin Lannister, the old lion was dead.

By law Tyrion was now the Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, Shield of Lannisport, and the Lion of Lannister. All had fallen on him, not only the castle but the legacy of his house as well. He was afraid, afraid he would fail. The mighty and rich house Lannister could end with the reign of him, the Imp. He was afraid that his father had been right all along, that he was nothing more than an incompetent fool.

The man in question, who now lay under the massive golden plate, who Tyrion hated most of his life, but also the man whose respect and love he had craved for, had never loved him or had wanted him to have the Rock. He had preferred Jaime be his heir, but in the end he had been dead and nobody spoke against Tyrion's lawful claim. Not the Lords or the King, certainly his sister but nobody else. Tyrion suspected they hoped for a weak Lord who would make things easier for them, and had sworn to disappoint them. He wouldn't fail his father's legacy, even if Lord Tywin surely raged at the moment in the hall of the Father.

Lord Tywin had died during a hunting trip, killed by a stag. According to his men he had ambushed it with his horse but the animal had decided to fight, attacking him and his horse. The horse stumbled and had buried his father under it. Lord Tywin seemed to have fallen very unlucky, and had broken his neck. Maybe a godly punishment? The great Lord of the Westerlands killed by a stag, an irony of history.

Tyrion had been shocked when they had brought him in the Rock, lying on a tumbrel. Tyrion had just arrived from a trip to Lannisport, drunk with wine. First he hadn't realized what had happened, then he had vomited. His so noble father had looked shattered, covered in mud and blood, like a gutter rat.

Genna had managed the funeral, while Kevan and he had sent the ravens. All had to be informed, Jaime, Cersei, the lieges. Jaime and Cersei were too far away and so hadn't been able to attend the ceremony. Cersei had sent a raven, but Jaime was on his way to the Rock, most likely riding his horse to death.

The King had sent his condolences as well, and luckily it seemed the Small Council had advised him to acknowledge Tyrion as Lord and Warden. The last thing he needed would have been to fight for his right. Many other Lords had sent their regrets not to attend too. Only the raven from Dorne had seemed convincing. But Tyrion was sure they had just wanted to see if he really was dead, maybe while dancing on his grave.

Briefly Tyrion had thought about doing the same, dancing on his father's grave, but he had decided not to. Instead he had stood guard for him, in the cold Sept of the Rock. Many Lords and knights had wanted to stand guard with him, but he had sent all of them away. Only Jaime would have been allowed to stand with him.

During the nights in the Sept, braced on a short blade, he had realized it had been the longest time he ever spent with his father. And Lord Tywin hadn't been able to talk back to his stunned dwarf son.

Creepy as it sounded Tyrion had started to talk to the corpse, first trying to persuade the dead that he was a worthy son. Later it had turned to Tyrion shooting accusations towards him. Tyrion had called his father an obstinate, old, spiteful man without eyes for his children, and that he was as worthy as his siblings, whose unnatural love for each other he had never seen.

The Sept had been overcrowded with Lords of the Westerlands in the next days. Tyrion had been tired, and had nearly fallen asleep once until Genna had kicked him discreetly. Her gaze had woken him up immediately. It had been very silent, all the Lords and Ladies had bowed their heads in front of the corpse. The grim expression on his father's dead face had been all too real.

After the ceremony, the Lords had begun renewing their pledges of fealty to House Lannister. Only a Lord of the Rock could lay a Lannister to rest in the Hall of Heroes, even if this Lannister had been the Lion of Lannister himself. So it had to be done first.

Still tired from the night, Tyrion had sunken into the golden lion throne, surrounded by gold and crimson. Lord after Lord had bent the knee in front of him, declaring him their Lord.

Normally Tyrion had enjoyed this, all these supercilious little Lords on their knees in front of him, but his father was dead and suddenly he was alone. Now all responsibilities fell onto him, nobody would come to him, lecture him, and clean up his mess.

Yes, he had Kevan and Genna, but even his father's siblings wouldn't free him of this burden.

After the second ceremony of the day, Tyrion had led the cortege down the steps, through the heart of the Rock, to the Hall of Heroes. In the cold dark room, carved out of the stone, his father had been laid to rest beside his wife.

Her grave was covered by a marble statue of her, lying peacefully with closed eyes and folded hands on the golden gravestone. Her hair golden, she was the image of beauty and at the same moment a mirror of Tyrion's sister, Cersei.

Soon his father would receive his own statue, grim and noble. It would remind Tyrion of his ruthlessness every time he would go down here.

One after one, the guests had left for the funeral feast until only he remained. Tyrion wasn't hungry, nor did he wish to be with all these men at the moment. He preferred the solitude of the hall over those hypocrites who feasted because his father was dead.

He would feast in his own way tonight. He had sent out servants to bring him beautiful whores of all kinds together with the sweetest wine they could find. He also ordered them to lay furs out in the old throne room. Tyrion intended to turn his new seat, and the room, into his personal temple for the night. He hoped that all of the debauchery would distract him from his father and the consequences that had followed after his death.

Tywin Lannister wouldn't have approved of his plan, so maybe it would be Tyrion's last act of disobedience against him, of making a mockery out of him. He would see it from the afterlife and would rage.

Time passed, and Tyrion suddenly heard two pairs of shoes echoing through the hall, coming towards him. He also heard a gown moving over the stone floor.

Tyrion didn't move, or turn his head, he had a pretty good suspicion who it was. The two persons stopped behind him, Tyrion could feel their gazes upon him but they kept silent for a while.

"We have to talk." His uncle Kevan made himself heard from behind him. He sounded sad, after all his brother lie dead in a hole in front of him, a golden plate covering his remains. Tyrion had never heard him so sad, so weak, but also so determined at the same time. Tyrion thought about how he would sound were it Jaime lying in front of him. How he would speak to Joffrey, Myrcella or Tommen? Not that he ever would, it would be too awkward.

"It is important." Genna, the second one, urged him. She didn't sound sad or weak. On a different occasion Tyrion would have smirked. His aunt was a true lioness, strong when needed, cunning, and proud. She was what Cersei thought herself to be. Tyrion was glad she was there, glad that somebody was strong, because he didn't feel strong at the moment.

"Of course we can speak. I always have an ear for my beloved family." Tyrion replied, not moving his gaze from the golden plate.

Tywin Lannister

Lord of Casterly Rock

Shield of Lannisport

Warden of the West

The great Lion

242 – 295

Beloved husband father and brother

Great Lord

Hand of the King

May the Father give him rest

Hear me roar

'Beloved father' Tyrion nearly choked when he read that line, he had read it over and over again, and he still couldn't believe it.

"You are the Lord now, and that means things are expected of you." Kevan continued, sounding a bit like a lecturer. "Things your father would have expected from you, things expected of you by the rest of Westeros, expected of Tywin Lannister's son."

Tyrion had suggested adding the words his father had told him on his sixteenth Nameday to the inscription: "No man is free. Only children and fools think elsewise." But Genna had objected, although Tyrion found it perfect for the situation. Back then he had thought he would be free. He had been wrong and now he still wasn't free, his father's shadow would always be over him.

"And what might that be uncle?" Tyrion asked absently. He had only listened with one ear, all his mind was focused on the gravestone in front of him.

"Listen Tyrion you…" Kevan started, but was interrupted.

"For gods sake Kevan get to the point!" Genna shouted loudly, startling Tyrion out of his stiffness. She sounded annoyed and frustrated. Finally Tyrion turned away from the golden plate to face his aunt and uncle.

Kevan looked even more sunken than he had during the day, he might have stood beside him when the Lords pledged their fealty, but Tyrion had already known that Kevan was at the end of his power, like had had been and was. Genna on the other hand didn't let anybody see how she felt in the inside, she stood high and proud like the Rock itself in front of him. Maybe she had the size of it as well.

"It is time you stopped living like a whore monger from Lys or the Summer Islands and start acting like a Lord." Genna stated stringently, fixing her eyes on him. She was the only one he knew who could stare in his mismatched eyes without blinking, except for his father of course.

"And what would you have me do?" Tyrion was not sure what exactly she wanted, nor had he known that she shared his father's attitude towards his whoring or drinking. She had always amused by it. Tyrion liked his whores and wasn't willing to give them up so easily. Yes, it gave him a certain reputation, but who cared?

"From now on all your doings will fall back onto our House. Everything will be seen as a weakness. A weakness they can use against you, against our House." Kevan explained quietly, but still made his point. He gestured around with his hand. "See where you stand. In front of all your, our, ancestors. It's not only you now. You are now responsible for all of us. Not only the dead, but also the living."

"The reputation of your House affects more people than you Tyrion." Genna took over, gazing him down. Tyrion felt like a lectured boy. He felt bad too, because they were right. "Marriage prospects, knighthoods, life, safety, positions, honours in the seven Kingdoms, all depend on reputation, the house you are born in." She made a pause and took a deep breath before continuing. "Tywin made sure that we were one of the richest and most powerful houses, made sure we would prosper, would be respected. You will have to take over from now on, to continue his work and add what he lacked."

"What he lacked?" Tyrion asked, curious of what exactly she meant. His father had lacked many things, he couldn't cover them all.

"Your father was more, eh, respected than loved, eh" Kevan tried to answer but couldn't find the right words.

"He was feared, but this is not enough. A lord should be loved or at least liked by his people. Tywin was too stubborn for this." Genna had no problems, apparently. "You now have the duty to keep our House's power and respect and your men's loyalty, and gain there love."

"Oh, the vile dwarf loved by the Westermen, shall I rescue the maid next?" Tyrion mocked, nearly laughing at Genna's words. But then he noticed that Kevan looked uncomfortable, while his aunt stomped her foot on the ground, crossing her arms over her chest. Her glare silenced him in the blink of an eye.

"I think it's also time you stopped whining and pitying yourself. Get a grip and become the man you are supposed to be, the man your mother wanted you to be." With her words, her stern and hard words, all blood left his head. His mother had had a vision of him, what was this?

"What was it?" He wanted to know who he was supposed to be. He felt like a hammer had hid him, sick, cracked.

"Tyrion, you must understand" Kevan spoke, low, his eyes averted. "After your mother died, Tywin changed, he…"

"Hush!" Genna interrupted him, stepping nearer to Tyrion. She took another breath and started to tell him: "Joanna loved your father, as much as he loved her, despite his faults. She thought he would be better. He was better back then, softer. Your mother saw that Jaime wouldn't be the heir he deserved. Your brother was born a knight, not a Lord. When she became pregnant, she prayed for a son worthy of his father, as intelligent and astute as him. A Lannister to continue his legacy." An odd smile appeared on her face. "Some time ago I told your father that you were indeed what your mother hoped you to be, his true son. He didn't speak to me for a long time because of it, but that doesn't make it less true. You are his son, you are like him, but less ruthless, kinder. You are what your mother wanted him to be."

Tyrion gulped by her words, he had never imagined to receive such a speech from her, from anyone in his family. Even Jaime wouldn't have said something like that. Was he really what she stated him to be, what his mother, the woman he had killed, wanted him to be? Lord Tywin's true heir? His mind was swirling, he couldn't catch all the thoughts he had at the moment, and the two in front of him didn't lend him time.

"You must stop with the whores and the excessive drinking of wine. You have to behave like a Lord should." Kevan made clear, he sounded stronger now. Tyrion didn't like the prospect, he had always enjoyed himself. But then he suddenly felt the urge to be the man his mother had wanted him to be. He turned around, facing the marble image of his mother. He stared at it for some time, in silence. She had given her life for him, the least he could do was to be what she had intended him to be.

Tyrion gave a clear nod, still too confused to speak, and looked back.

"You also will have to marry." Genna threw in with a wink. "If you want your line to continue you are in need of an heir."

"Me? Who would want to marry his daughter to me?" Tyrion asked sceptically. He once was married, and it had ended poorly.

Suddenly he felt a wave of satisfaction, quickly glancing at his father's grave.

Tyrion had never relinquished the idea of marrying one day, but who would want to marry him, the ugliest man in the seven Kingdoms? The man who is known to be so vicious like him?

"You are a powerful Lord now, don't forget that. Whoever you marry will be the long needed Lady of the Westerlands." Kevan explained to him, folding his hands behind his back, like Tyrion's father had done. It made Tyrion uncomfortable. But then something came in Tyrion's mind.

"I heard the Westerlings search a match for their daughter." One of them had ambushed Tyrion on his way from the Sept, asking if he would plan to marry soon.

"Are you nuts?" Genna exhaled in her usual tone. "They are just a minor, impoverished House, nothing more. You need somebody suitable for your position. Let alone because you are the son of one of the great Houses of Westeros."

Tyrion was a bit dumbfounded, how could he turn down a bride, even from a lesser House when he was, according to Genna, in need of one. He gazed questioningly at Kevan, who let a confident smile appear on his face.

"Don't worry. I have already found a wife for you. And her family is more than willing to marry her to you."

Who was he talking about?

I know I killed Tywin again, but otherwise this fic wouldn't work - does it help when I say that I actually like him (most of the times)

Before anybody asks I aged up the Stark-children three years, only them nobody else born after the rebellion

This fic is supposed to be something to enjoy, you will see in later chapters

Read and review (I depend on it (I mean it))