Disclaimer: ASOIAF rights belong to George R. R. Martin. This is Fan Fiction. I own nothing but the character I have created.

Hear Me Roar

Tywin Lannister, Lord of the Westerlands and King of the Rock, looked out upon the sea of men that were camped outside the gates of Casterly Rock from the window of his solar. One year ago he had declared himself the King of the Rock, as his forebears had been known before Aegon's Conquest; but he, the great Tywin Lannister, had underestimated King Robert Baratheon and his appetite for war, and his forces had been killed, captured or pushed back to the ancestral seat of the Lannisters and he was slowly becoming more and more convinced that the only way to save the lives and reputation of his family was to surrender to the host amassed before him. If he did that, then maybe the Strong Stag would stay his hand and allow the Lannisters to survive.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by the appearance of his youngest son, Tybolt. Tybolt was tall for a boy of six years, with the emerald green eyes and brilliant golden hair of the Lannisters. His handsome face, framed by his wavy, shoulder-length, mess of golden hair, lit up when he saw his father. Running over to him, Tybolt embraced his father, nuzzling his head into the older man's chest once Tywin bent down.

"Tybolt." he said, resting his head upon his son's head. "What brings you up here?"

"I came to see the bad men Father." he replied innocently as he looked up at his father's face. "Are they going to hurt us?" he continued, a worried look spreading across his face. Tywin hesitated a moment before answering his son.

"Not if I can stop them my son. Not if I can stop them." he said, his expression betraying his fear.

Tywin stood, turning to the guards stationed at the door. "Send a herald to the leader of their army. Tell them that I am willing to discuss terms for our surrender."

"At once, Your Grace." the guard said, turning to carry out his master's orders.

At his father's words, Tybolt's worried look turned to one of indignation. "But Father! We must not surrender to them! We are Lions and Lions do not bend the knee to lesser men! You told me that!" he cried, tears welling up in his eyes.

"I know. And it is true. Lions do not bend the knee to lesser men. But we must also ensure that our pride survives, and if we continue to fight then our pride will die. And the Lions will be no more. So you must understand why I do this my son...my heir. You must understand that surrendering to Robert Baratheon will allow our family to survive and hopefully flourish." he said seriously, looking his young son in the eyes. Tywin could net help but notice how similar in temperament Tybolt was to Joanna, his wife. "Joanna...beautiful Joanna. My wife. My love. Oh how I wish you were not taken from us...from me. From our children." he thought wistfully. She had died four years ago, when Tybolt was two, from a fever that had torn through her body and left her as a dried husk of her former self. "That is why I must surrender. For our children Joanna, you must understand that what I do, I do for our children." Tywin thought, begging his dead wife's memory to understand.

As he talked to his wife in his head, the guard burst into the room having come as fast as he could, bearing news for his King.

"Your Grace. Robert Baratheon says that he will meet you." he panted, gasping for breath.

"Very well." Tywin muttered, before turning to his son. "Tybolt, you must accompany me. You must be there to learn what it is like to taste defeat. I hope that by seeing the dishonour it brings, you will learn never to underestimate your enemies." he said to his son. Then Tywin knelt next to his son, comforting him. "Tybolt you must be strong in front of them," he said as he wiped the tears from Tybolt's face, "and you cannot show any fear. You will rule the Westerlands one day and no one can be allowed to doubt you. Least of all your banner-men, and they will all be there to witness the surrender. Do you understand?"

Tybolt sniffed, straightening his back. "Yes Father. I will be strong."

"Good boy. And know this my son...you may be taken from me as a hostage, to ensure my good conduct if they accept my surrender and allow me to keep my head. If you are, then you must not cry and you must not look weak. You must accept it, as I too must accept it, with grace and display no sadness. You are a Lion and no one can think that you are weak." Tywin said, gathering his son into a hug.

"I will do as you say Father..." Tybolt said with a sob.

"I know you will." Tywin said sadly. "Now then. Let us go and meet the famous Strong Stag." he said as he stood, taking his son's hand in his own and walking out the door.

Lord Eddard Stark stood in the Great Hall of Casterly Rock waiting for Tywin Lannister, the self-styled King of the Rock. Although he was surrounded by his guards and the guards of his closest friend and King, he could still not help but feel vulnerable; after all, Tywin Lannister was not known for his honour. But it appeared that he would be unharmed for the time being, as the Lord of Casterly Rock strode through the doors to his hall, followed closely by someone that could only be his son. The boy had the famous Lannister features, with golden hair and dazzlingly green eyes, and a proud and regal look upon his face. Eddard noticed how similar the boy looked to his father, and how proudly he carried himself. Yet despite the boy's behaviour, Eddard could see that the boy had been crying; that is if the puffy eyes were anything to go by.

"Tywin Lannister." Robert Baratheon said in a voice filled with loathing. "You are a traitor. Tell me now why I should not take your head. Or your son Jaime's head. Or even this one's head!" Robert shouted furiously, the famed Baratheon fury surfacing.

To his credit, the defeated Lannister did not look away, nor did he appear fazed by the outburst. Instead he stayed calm and collected. "Because the West can only be ruled by a Lannister. A Lannister male. And the Lords would never accept my other son Tyrion." he said, in an iron and emotionless voice. Despite his own reputation as a cold man, Eddard shivered at the cold reply.

Robert grunted, wanting it to be bravado, but deep down he knew it to be true.

"Very well. I will not kill you. I'll even let you remain Lord of Casterly Rock. But your rebellion will not go unpunished. You will pay the crown three million golden dragons or I will mount your head on the walls of the Red Keep. Do you understand?" Robert commanded.

Tywin was relieved that he only had to pay recompense; three million dragons was a small amount compared to the wealth of the Westerlands and he would keep his son. Tywin moved to kneel before Robert, but Robert opened his mouth to continue.

"Your son here, will also be taken as a hostage to ensure your compliance until he has his eighteenth name-day. Lord Stark will foster him at Winterfell." At those words, Tywin's hopes were dashed. His son would be taken from him after all.

"Very well." he whispered. He knelt in front of Robert and hung his head in shame. "I, Tywin of the House Lannister do accept these terms and accept you as my King." Once Tywin had finished his oath, he stood and turned to his son, betraying no emotion. Robert turned and walked out of the hall, followed by his Kingsguard. Eddard remained, watching the former King and his son.

"Remember, you are a Lion and the Lion does not concern himself with lesser men." Tywin said before walking away. He stopped for a moment however and turned to face his son once more. "Farewell, my son." Tywin said before finally walking out of his hall, defeated and alone.

Eddard went over to the boy to lead him away from his home, and perhaps to comfort him if he needed to. He reached out his arm to hold the young child's shoulder, but was violently pushed away by the boy.

"Do not touch me Lord Stark." Tybolt spat, with hate that was unbecoming for a child of his age. But then again he was being taken away from his home. "I am a Lion and as such do not need your help." he said. At that, Tybolt straightened his back and, with his head held high, walked out of the Great Hall and towards his future. As he watched him go, one thought was prevalent in his mind. "He's going to be trouble."

Hi guys, a new story here. If you like it leave a review, and if you think that I could make improvements then just let me know.

Don't worry I haven't abandoned "A True Baratheon", I just got writer's block and this helped me get over it. The next chapter for both stories should hopefully be out by the end of the week.

Thanks for reading guys, I really hope you enjoyed it!