Game of Thrones: Fanfic: Time for action

[m_findlow]

Title: Time for action
Fandom: Game of Thrones
Characters: Tyrion
Author: m_findlow
Rating: M
Length: 980 words
Content notes: S1 and S2.
Author notes: Written for juliet316's prompt "Any, any, time's up!" at fic_promptly
Summary: Tyrion is left to face the battle of braver men than he.

Why me? Tyrion wondered, plodding through the courtyard, feeling every single pin and plate of heavy metal armor trying to weigh him down, almost into the ground. What had he done to deserve this? He was no soldier. Even the thought of raising another sword or battle axe filled him with dread. He'd done it before and wasn't keen on a repeat performance. He was a tactician, not a fighter.

His first attack on Stannis' fleet had been a crushing blow. The Blackwater lit up with the eery green glow of wildfire as it had torn Stannis fleet asunder. Would that Bronn were here now to call his wildfire nothing but jars of pigshit. That pigshit had just laid waste to a good portion of their forces, tearing apart the hulls of Stannis' ships like they were made of straw, flinging their men into waters to be consumed by the green fire or otherwise drowned by their own heavy armor. Tyrion had always thought it madness to attempt to travel on water laden in metal plate. As good a way as any to get yourself killed, in his opinion, and that was the opinion of one who cared not one jot for battle and warfare.

'Stannis' men are coming!' someone shouted at him as they ran past, not even stopping to give him a formal report. Tyrion's stature alone must have given him away as the Hand of the King, bedecked in red and gold, and not just some child suited up in desperation to defend the city walls.

He tottered up the stairs to the top of the battlements, hoping to get a better look at the progress beyond the walls of the Red Keep. What he saw sent a chill down his spine. At least a third of Stannis' fleet had survived the carnage of Blackwater Bay and had now pulled themselves ashore alongside the Mud gate, preparing to invade the gates and to tear down the Red Keep. He hadn't anticipated so many men surviving and as such had only a small compliment of men there to hold the gate. Any man dressed in Lannister red or carrying the crest of a lion on his breast would be cut down in a heartbeat. To his left, facing out towards the main sprawl of King's Landing, he could see more men flooding the city, burning the buildings and casting the city in an ever expanding orange glow. He didn't have to be a battle hardened warrior to know that despite his tactics, they were losing.

Tyrion cast his gaze around the courtyard. Where was that useless idiot nephew of his? The one who mere hours ago was hell bent on fire and vengeance against the Baratheon army? He was no King, nor would he ever be, not matter how much counsel Tyrion gave him, and no matter how many strings he pulled in the background. Joffrey pranced around with his sword at his side, like a stable boy playing at knights and dragons in his father's yard. He insulted true bravery by making that poor Stark girl kiss it before promising her he'd return once the battle was over and have her kiss it again, licking off the blood of his enemies. Better that he might stick her through with it and put her out of her misery. She'd either end up raped by Stannis' army if they breached the keep, or be forced to do the same with Joffrey. The former sounded like the more just of the two punishments.

One final look at the scene below the walls, their own men pressed with their backs to the keep, whilst Stannis cut them down in their dozens told him all he needed to know. Time was up. Their so called King was gone, possibly hiding in the keep beneath his mother's skirts. It was too much to hope that he'd died in battle, at least bringing some small fragment of honour to an otherwise disgraceful reign. Cersei had more balls than her eldest son. Better that she might have donned armor and wielded a sword in the name of House Lannister. She was the sort of foe one didn't want to have as an enemy. A woman like that could strike fear in the hearts of men with only a look.

And as for the King's own guard? The Hound had fled at the first sight of flames, and men who'd seen Clegane fleeing the battle knew that they were done for. If the Hound - the most fearless and merciless man in King's Landing, surpassed only by his even more fearsome and unforgiving brother - feared to face such an army, then all of them should run. None would admit it was the naked flames that set his courage to water rather than the enemy with their swords and axes.

Even the City Watch were nowhere to be found. They'd been sent out to command the leading forces, but nowhere was there a cloak of white or gold to be seen. Tyrion was left with whatever boys and vagabonds had been left behind in the Keep as auxiliary forces. A more lacklustre vanguard he'd never seen. He wouldn't have charged them with guarding a barrel of tabac.

Even a military tactician knew that there came a point at which fear consumed whatever was left of men's hearts. That time would be soon upon them if he stood by and did nothing. The battle was not yet done whilst they still had men. He was no King but he was Hand of the King. He was meant to speak the will of the King. If Joffrey wanted Stannis' army dead, then that was what Tyrion would command. He took to the stairs and stopped halfway, drawing his sword and bellowed out into the crowd of soldiers in the courtyard.