Chapter 83: The black cells
The black cells
Tyrion POV
I was getting annoyed with the darkness. How many days passed? At this point, it could be two or ten. I barely slept; if I did, I never thought I slept long enough. At least it wasn't hot in these black cells, but that was the only good thing I could say about it. I have heard of the prison cells in Eyrie, how they were built on the cliffside, and people would fall from them while sleeping. I think I would like those cells more.
I was a fucking Lannister, yet I get the cells that even the worse criminals don't deserve. But what did my name matter when I killed the King? Once the word spreads, I will probably get much favor from various people because I apparently killed the most vicious and hated king. So, at least, I had that going for me. Yet I knew I wouldn't live long enough to use them.
All I had to do in this cell was to think. But no matter what I thought, it wouldn't matter. I will only live to the trial anyway. I will be judged guilty and executed, probably on the spot. What is the point of me thinking about who was the one who killed Joffrey? It could be the servant who gave me the wine, probably holding a grudge for whatever horrible thing Joffrey has done.
Well, someone had to provide the poison. Two families were powerful enough to get it and talk the servant into doing so. House Tyrell and House Lannister. Even though I would bet on the Tyrells, I couldn't dismiss it as my father's plan. Joffrey was getting harder to control as the days went on, and he got to get rid of me. I don't think my father would not take such an opportunity.
Whoever did this was for the same reason. To better control the Iron Throne. Tywin will have an easier way to mold Tommen the way he wants, while Margaery will have a sweet boy to charm and do her bidding. Everyone wins but me. No, I am the one who has to pay the price for making the lives of others easier. It always has been that way.
I sat, leaning by the wall in this dark cell where no light comes in, and thought of meaningless things. But what else should I do in this situation? All I had going for me was, pissing and shitting in the corner before eating and sleeping with the smell. Before I could get more deranged, I heard footsteps echoing through the stone halls. And burning light coming from a torch.
"Father," I was surprised to see Tywin's face in these dungeons. "I thought it would be beneath you to come here."
"Is that all you have to say to your father?" Tywin asked.
"My apologies," I replied. "Ah, Father, how touching to see you finally visit me. It's quite a rare occasion for a man who's always claimed to be too busy ruling the Seven Kingdoms. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"You dare mock me while you are accused of regicide and kinslaying? You've disgraced our name; worse, you've killed your nephew, the king."
"You're welcome," I replied with a smile. "But it is a surprise that you would consider Joffrey's death worse than a disgrace of your name."
"Your actions have disgraced our house and made us a laughingstock in the eyes of the realm," Tywin said coldly. "And yet you laugh at my face. Have you no shame? No decency?"
"What do you want to hear?" I asked. "Me begging for forgiveness? Growling to your feet while crying for mercy?"
"Confess your crimes in tomorrow's trial, and I will send you to the Wall," Tywin answered.
"And if I will not?" I asked. "Will you kill me personally? No, you wouldn't dirty your hands even if you wanted to strangle me. That's why you have hounds to do your bidding. You don't need to answer. I know what will happen. You will stage a mummer's show and spend the little gold you have left to buy people to say horrible things about me. Then you will judge me guilty without any evidence and be done with it."
"There is no need for evidence," Tywin replied. "You were seen pouring the wine to the King. Many will attest to that."
"If only that were enough," I said, laughing. "If it were, you wouldn't be here asking me to give up all hope to prove my innocence. I know I will die, but everyone will know that the trial was a farce. You won't be seen as a great and just lord but a heartless father who would condemn his son to his death on the words of the sheep. Oh, wasn't it you who would always say that we shouldn't concern ourselves with the words of the sheep? Such an irony."
"You speak of things you don't understand, boy."
"Oh, but I know them," I said. It was enormous entertainment to see my father not able to rebuke me or threaten me. What can he do to me that wouldn't be done already? I had no reason to fear him anymore, nor a reason to care about him. "I have never lived up to the expectations set for a Lannister. My antics have been a source of embarrassment to the family. Isn't that what you wish to say? How much of a shame I am to you and your legacy."
"Spare me your self-pity, Tyrion. You brought this upon yourself with your incessant desire for revenge and your insatiable thirst for power."
"My thirst for power?" I couldn't stop laughing at how ridiculous it sounded. "Let's not fool around. It's all about your thirst for power. It is never enough for you. To be the wealthiest house in Westeros was just a stepping stone for you. You always wanted more. You wanted to have it all. Most gold, best armies, and last but not least, the Iron Throne. The world in your palm. Yet, where did all of your desires bring you, father? The Westerlands are wastelands. No one fears you anymore, nor do they respect you. The only thing people feel is hatred toward us."
"Tyrion, you might say what you want and do what you want. But you will not be my undoing," Tywin shook his head. Was he disappointed in me or mad hearing the truth?
"I will not be," I agreed. "But Theon Greyjoy will. If not him, there is Robb Stark, and let's not forget the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, Stannis Baratheon. You will not win, father. You will soon understand that apart from me, you had no one to help you, and now I will die by your hands."
"I don't need you. I never did, nor ever will," Tywin replied. "You were given opportunities to prove your worth, to serve the family honorably. Instead, you chose to murder your kin and betray everything you were born into."
"You know very well that I am innocent, so why are you even trying?" I asked. "To convince yourself or me of this farce? Just say it, say how monstrous I am. Say it! But remember, I am your monster. I'm the blood of House Lannister, whether you like it or not."
"You are no son of mine," His words were almost as cold as the stone wall I was leaning on.
"And you are no father of mine," I replied with the same cold. "You never were and never will be. Go, prepare your execution. I will wait. The rats will keep me company."
I felt so good to see my father storm off. For the first time, I could tell him off and didn't need to care for the consequences. I was a dead man anyway. So, I refuse to dance to someone else's music. I have nothing to lose, no friends or family that could be used against me. My life was already worthless. What was the worst that could happen?
…
I could smell despair and hopelessness in the musty air of the black cells. My good mood from rebuking my father was gone now. Once again, I was left with my thoughts. And all I could think about was my death. It was the end of the line for me. No matter how much I tried to fight this fate, there was no escaping it.
Even Ser Nibbles, the rat trying to eat me, have left me be. The rat probably thought I would die soon anyway, and there was no need to struggle to eat me while I could still fight back. But I wished the rat still tried to nimble my feet. I would have at least something to distract myself. But now, I had nothing and could only wait for tomorrow when they would chop my head off.
Yet the promise of death brought me some hope to leave this place. The cold stone walls surrounding me made me squeezy. It felt like I was trapped like an animal, cut off from the outside world. When I started to feel the walls closing in on me, I turned my attention to hatred and resentment. And I had a lot of that to distract me.
My father knew very well that I didn't kill Joffrey, no matter how much I wanted. Cersei knew it, too, but pointing their fingers at me was easier. I wondered if my father had sent Jaime away so he could do this. He knew that Jaime wouldn't stand for my treatment; it was too much of a coincidence that Jaime left not long ago, and this happened.
Or gods hated me as much as the rest of the world. What nonsense. The gods have no place in my trial. In Westeros, justice is often more about power and politics than the truth. The justice system in King's Landing was heavily influenced by those in power, particularly my family, who sought to use me as a scapegoat for political gain. Everyone with even a bit of intelligence knew that it was no secret.
It was impossible to prove my innocence, no matter how I thought. It would be great to spit on Tywin's face by proving my innocence, but I knew it wouldn't happen. Those in power were not interested in hearing my side of the story. I had a better chance by talking to the gods. My amusement ended when I heard footsteps coming through the stone floor.
"What are you doing, Podrick?" I looked at the young, innocent face standing before me with a lit torch.
"I heard that nobody would bring you food anymore, so I brought you some," Podrick replied, presenting me with sweet rolls, cheese, and wine.
"Where did you get gold to bribe the guard?" I asked.
"I knew where you have hidden some gold for a rainy day," Podrick replied.
"You fool!" I yelled at him in frustration. "You should have taken the gold and escaped this wretched city as far as possible."
"Where would I even go, my lord?" Podrick asked.
"Anywhere but here," I answered. "Go to the North. I heard White Harbor is a beautiful city. With the gold I have hidden, you could start a new life anywhere in the world."
"But it is your gold, my lord."
"Why a dead man would need gold?" I asked.
"The trial is still in a day. Surely you will be proven innocent," I knew Podrick wasn't that stupid, but he refused to lose hope.
"Listen, Podrick," I said. "No one can control what will happen to them, but we can control our reactions. Don't let anyone tell you how to feel about certain things that will happen to you. But don't hold on to hope so relentlessly and accept the reality. It will let you make the right decisions."
"The lord I serve wouldn't give up so easily," Podrick said. "He would think of anything to win."
"You know nothing!" I shouted at the boy. "There is nothing left for me. I have no friends that would justify for me. My family is more than willing to get rid of me, and they have no trouble finding people to tell how horrible of a person I am. I have nothing. I am nothing, just a dead man walking. Even the gods have abandoned me."
"Have they?" Podrick asked.
"And even if they didn't, what can the gods do for me?" I asked, gripping the iron bars separating me and Podrick before I realized. "Gods might have no care for a Lannister like me, but there is someone who might have. Podrick, find Loras Tyrell and tell him I want to talk to him."
A.N. As always, If you want more, up to seven advanced chapters, you can support me on pa treon. com \ ironwolf852. And if you have any requests for stories, I will only take them on my pa treon.
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