Author's Note 16.09.2012:

Here applies the same like in chapter one

I own nothing

Tyrion Lannister, appointed Lord of Casterly Rock, Hand of the might Queen Daenerys Targaryen, dragon rider of Viserion the white, stood on deck of his flagship, the Valyrian Invincible Heritage, supervising the landing operation. The great warship made out of black oak and the dragon with the lion head on its stems were only part of the first wave of the Queen's long planned and now finally executed intend to take back her throne and Tyrion's intend to take what is his by right. And this wave would be the deadliest of all.

While he stood on his platform at the railing, observing how the Unsullied and Dothraki landed on the shore he couldn't avoid a devilish grin forming on his face. Finally he would get what is his, making his enemies pay. He wasn't sure yet how, not a year ago he would have wanted to kill the all as brutal and agonising as possible but by now he wasn't so sure anymore. He had lost his lust for blood, started to see reason instead of hate. There was no use in dwelling in hate when there were other possibilities. It had been too long, his journey too hard and while he was watching the Dothraki trying not to touch the 'poisoned water' wading childishly through it his thoughts wandered to his task, away from his plans for the future.

Queen Daenerys, his liege Lady and friend, like he could say now, had made him commander of this first wave of the invasion. She wanted somebody she could trust at the top, and Tyrion was this man. Since he had met the girl, more than a year ago he had been nothing but loyal to her. For once, she was his chance to become what he had been born to be, Lord of Casterly Rock but on the other hand her entire appearance her aura had demanded obedience from him.

And she was just a girl, nine years his junior but he couldn't avoid it. Tyrion had become one of her most trusted adviser, against the advice of Ser Barristan who still didn't trust him. But the Queen was smart enough to understand that he was the one who need her and so his loyalty was ensured. But to be honest Tyrion would have been loyal to her even without that. She had dragons, three dragons, the dreams of Tyrion's lonely childhood and one of them had chosen him to be his rider.

The Queen, his dragon's mother, had accepted it, she treated him like family because of her dragon's decision. She didn't care if he was malformed, his father's killer she trusted her dragon.

Tyrion was loyal alone for that and he enjoyed her company. At first he had his problems with her, her way of being, she was as arrogant as Cersei sometimes, but she had a good heart, caring for all her subjects and all who suffered, not like his sister.

For her he was a cousin, she could joke with but she also listened to what he had to say, his warnings, like her court did. He had become her hand, she had chosen him because his knowledge of Westeros and not to mention his talent.

Tyrion had changed over the course of last years, when he had fed Westeros he was full of darkness, hate, now he saw the world a bit brighter. But he had never lost the darkness, he only became carefully with what he did and how he commanded. But there were more things changed in him or became more prominent, things he didn't like.

On the mast above him flied Daenerys' flag a red three headed dragon on black ground, beneath it his own the golden lion of Lannister on crimson. Tyrion had thought to add wings to his lion, showing what he was now but had decided not to, this would have been too much. Right beside his own fag were also the flags of House Greyjoy. Victarion, the Queen's new grand admiral and to Tyrion's never ending disgust paramour was also with him. He had no idea what the Queen saw in this rough and in Tyrion's view sour halfwit.

Sometimes she was nothing more than a teenage girl in heat, it bewildered him because of the contrast to her otherwise very noble behaviour. And he actually wished Jorah her love, his unlikely friend might deny it but he wanted her.

But on the other hand Tyrion was glad for Victarion being with him during this first attack. He was a much more skilled battle commander than Tyrion. His men loved him and he was the type of man storming right in the fight, with his axe. Tyrion had done this once, losing his nose, he wouldn't do that again.

The Queen intended to bring all her "children" with her to Westeros, a nearly impossible task considering how many, thousands and ten thousands of people they were. But she had made up her mind and even Tyrion couldn't persuade her to change it. So they had decided there would be two waves of the invasion. They hadn't enough ships to bring all in one tour, by the gods not even in four but so they had to improvise.

The first wave would secure a safe landing area for the rest, containing the Queen's Dothraki, the infamous iron fleet, Tyrion's own men, the second son, although they called themselves 'Lion's Guard' now, the Unsullied and forty thousand additional soldiers recruited out of the Queen's children.

The plan had been Tyrion's, coming out of one of this dark traits of his. They would attack the Vale of Arryn securing a safe port. Then, after the cost was theirs and they would begin to conquer in the Queen's name Tyrion planned to ally them with the mountain clans, these savages he still owed a debt to, to shut down all routes and passes over the mountains, cutting all ways out of the Vale.

As soon as they had control over the routes the army would take castle after castle, securing the food supplies out of the. By the last war untouched magazines. This was very ruthless, the people of the Vale would starve during the winter, Tyrion knew that but the children of the Queen needed food. Ser Barristan accused him of being like his father, he had hurt him but it was true, and Tyrion didn't like it, but it was necessary.

He and the army would secure the Vale, punishing all who wouldn't obey and bend the knee while Victarion would take the fleet back to Essos to bring the Queen and the next shipment of her children to Westeros. Or so was the plan, of course what plan could hold the first day of battle? None.

Tyrion would prepare everything for the great showdown during the time Victarion was away, playing ferryman for his mistress and her children. How great it had to be for the great new Lord of the Iron Island, he fearless admiral to sail back and forth. But on the other hand the Queen opened her legs for him, he couldn't really complaining.

Gagging slightly at the image forming in his head Tyrion turned back to the shore, now seeing how a group of men, coated in fur arrived and were brought to a boat. The mountain clans had arrived.

Smiling Tyrion though that finally he would be able to pay what he had promised, the Vale. He had already talked with the Queen and if they would join her cause and bend the knee to her they would be the Lords of the Vale. A Lannister paid his debt.

By the sight Tyrion had to think at all the debts he had to repay now that he was back. There were the once he had to repay in steel and blood, the kind of where no mercy was to give. Then there were the once he had planned to repay with steel but now. He wouldn't kill his sister, no he had made his mind up against this.

But then there were the kind of debts that made him feel a pang in his heart, the once he had to repay because he had been the cause of sorrow. He reminded a dark skinned girl that just had learned to read, whipped to tears because he had thought he could use her as a decoy. The boy, so loyal to him that by now Tyrion could punch himself for not treating him better and of course she.

He would never forget her, the child so hurt by his family and then there was he, scattering her world by marrying her. How could he have been so cruel? No matter how good he had tried to be, how much he had done he had still be the bane of her existence. His heart became heavy when he thought of her, averted eyes, trying to cover her nudity and he? He had desired her, only in the last moment coming to his senses and now? Tyrion had no idea where his wife were, he had failed her, he couldn't be angry with her for fleeing. He was determined to find her, after all this was over and offering as much as he could.

He wasn't sure if their marriage still stood, and if yes he would free her from him, he also would make sure the Queen would give her back what was hers, her home and rights and honours. Then maybe he would have repaid his debts.

But there was something else deep in him, the constant desire and something else, a voice: He shouldn't think about it, remembering what he was and even if not how could he trust her? Tyrion locked this part of him out, always.

His eyes wandering over to the little keep near the shore that was attacked by the soldiers. He banned his thoughts again and went back to the plan, a good plan, a very good plan, his plan, he acknowledged with a grin to himself.

Viserion noticed his thoughts, his companion always knew what he thought. Their bond was strong, very strong, both were two parts of one medal a golden medal out of fire. Tyrion looked over his shoulder at the large cream and gold friend he had, a giant, a deadly one. The mighty dragon lied on enormous deck of the large ship, build after valyrian construction plans and waited patiently for his commands. Even if Tyrion knew he would prefer being lazy all the night.

When it came to battles Tyrion was very much like his father, Ser Barristan had pointed that out, the only time Tyrion hadn't taken offence in a comparison to his most famous victim. He preferred overlooking the battlefield from behind the lines, not really eager to lose another part of his face. Tyrion preferred to overlook and supervise, Victarion and the Dothraki, not to mention the Unsullied were much more warriors than he would ever been.

There were more than seven hundred ships, one hundred Longships of the Ironborn, three hundred ships of the former slavers of Slavery Bay which now lied in ruins and three hundred valyrian ships and of course the troops, they all needed somebody to look over them and Tyrion was this man.

But still, Tyrion touched his axe letting his hand slide over the valyrian steel, valyrian steal forged for him, nobody else. The furnace had been heated by Viserion's fire and his blood had gone in the steel. His armour was made out of the same steel, but emailed with gold and crimson with a roaring lion head as helm, the lion's teeth constantly being in Tyrion's eyesight.

He remembered their trip to Old Valyria as it would have been yesterday. How they had discovered the ruins of the long lost, old, great empire not to mention the secrets they had discovered at so much costs.

Absently Tyrion let his tongue slide over his teeth, feeling his artificial once. He had lost a few during his journey and later, when he had stumbled through the black ruins of the great valyrian towers he had somehow triggered an old trap, costing him four teeth and nearly his green eye. He had looked even worse than ever but to his luck there had been an old slave in the Queen's entourage who had made him new. Not some spare teeth out of gold, he had no intention looking even more than an Imp out of a nightmare than before no, out of ivory. They looked good, nearly naturally and now you needed to be very close to see the different. They would hold for ever, at least the man had promised that.

The trip to Valyria, had been very successful in all matters, now they had an army armed in valyrian armours and with the mightiest weapons of all time in their hands. The knowledge Maester Marwyn had freed out of the deep vaults of the city was amazing. Tyrion himself had spent the journey back to Westeros with reading, so many new books so much to learn, not to mention the knowledge about dragons that came in handy so often already.

Tyrion's attention returned back to the battle drawn by the screams, he couldn't really call it a battle, it was more a massacre. The Dothraki slaughtered and rapped their way to the surprized Westerosi not caring for their own lives. The Unsullied were more had more discipline, the Ironborn were still on their ships and his Lion's guard didn't care, they weren't needed and so didn't care to fight.

The army attacked Runestone, a little castle on the shore, the stronghold was already completely burned down to the ground and the Dothraki riders were on their way deeper in the land, sacking some villages. And now also the Ironborn started to plunder and raping, what else would they do for fun?

Tyrion was supposed to prevent something like that but he would only punish them later. The Queen didn't approve of such behaviour but Tyrion didn't care much, this was the way war was going and as long as the Queen wasn't there, he wouldn't do more.

He looked at the ships, mustering the boats, the troops still weren't all at the coast, but they would be at the morning. This took longer than expected, they attacked at sundown, a few hours ago and took the shore without much casualties, surprising their enemies.

"You look too self-pleasing, Imp-dragon" A voice with a heavy accent commented behind him.

"Ah, H'karo, how are you? I mean the water must frighten you, are you all right?" Tyrion teased the tall Dothraki, turning to him with a smile. Ignoring his nickname, he hated so much. He would like to punch the responsible but sadly he was a child of three and so he wouldn't do it. The Dothraki behind him smiled smug tilting his head. They were friends, H'karo was his translator and contact man to Khal Rioda, the Dothraki commander of the army and Tyrion liked him. H'karo never cared for his look and had a certain talent to make him see things he ignored.

"When will we attack the spear-mountain?" He gesture with his finger towards the small shape of the Eyrie at the horizon. Cringing Tyrion remembered his last visit when he turned around and followed his translator's finger, he hated the place. He still had nightmares about the horrors of the sky cells. How he had nearly fallen in the sky and Lysa Arryn's stupid brat. Suddenly an idea formed in his head and he could feel his grin at his ears.

"What so funny?" H'karo asked him obviously confused.

"I just thought about symbols, my friend. Did you know there is a song about my father, he just had to send a bard and everybody feared him. A perfect incarnation of the words of our House: Hear me roar."

"Dragons don't roar, they growl." H'karo reminded him.

"Maybe, but I am a lion and I think Westeros should know the Queen is coming. A great torch, a light everybody can see" With this words he walked past the confused looking Dothraki and climbed into Viserion's saddle. Without words needed his dragon unfold his wings and jumped in the air. Leaving H'karo standing at the deck without an idea what he just had planned.

I will come to the Imp-dragon thing later