Game Of Thrones : As Tommen Baratheon

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Tyrion's balls itched.

After his initial release, he had not managed to see Shae in what felt like years. It was really only a few weeks, but he already felt himself grow irritable as more and more time passed without release.

It was a bittersweet feeling, that.

The feeling of being backed up was fast becoming intolerable, but the reasons behind it were strangely pleasant, at least for him.

Tommen.

The new King was a great deal cleverer than Tyrion had ever given him credit for. A great deal more diligent, too. Oh, to be sure, he was prone to all the fits of fancy to which all children succumbed, but for such a young child, Tyrion didn't know if he'd been even half as clever. The boy took to administration like a fish took to water, and seemed full of an almost boundless and often irritating amount of enthusiasm for things that seemed to Tyrion to be rather mundane.

In the Small Council he was appropriately stern, strict and impassive, and the same for court, but he was still very much a child in all other walks of life. Tyrion remembered when he had first shown the boy the Royal ledgers and accounts, and Tommen proceeded to gush over them. He had looked at the long strings of numbers, and proceeded to ask Tyrion a series of exhaustive questions about what seemed like every expenditure since the beginning of the war.

Tyrion couldn't find it within himself to begrudge the boy his curiosity. He had been the model of manners and politeness the entire time.

His chambers had, at Tommen's behest, been switched to a rather luxurious set of rooms close to Tommen's own, which often played host to the King, as the two would whittle away their hours going through the books and untangling the mess Baelish left behind. Every so often, the comfortable silence would be broken by his nephew asking a question about this or that.

From what Tyrion could tell, he was not unique in this regard, as the new King liked to go from solar to solar within the keep, and assist all the members of the Small Council with their work whenever they required it. Though, from what Tyrion could gather, he was often graced with his nephew's presence the longest of all the members of the Small Council. Ostensibly, this was so that Tommen could 'learn the full scope of the art of governance', but Tyrion suspected it was to prevent his lords from plotting against him.

A clever idea, that.

Father would approve. Father likely already does.

Honestly, it seemed that the new King would work himself to death before his wedding. When he was not in the yard, in court, in the Small Council, or helping one of it's members, he could usually be found doing something productive or another. Tyrion suspected that the new King missed his sister, for he could often be found talking about her. Tyrion felt pity for the boy. He's lonely. It was only at Tyrion's insistence, with the hopes that he could secure some more time alone to visit Shae, that the King relaxed some, opting to spend some time fishing. Alas, not even this worked as intended, as the new King often insisted that Tyrion come with.

Not to say it wasn't enjoyable to fish with Tommen, but it certainly was not as enjoyable as fucking with Shae.

In this, Varys proved his greatest ally, making himself invaluable in allowing Tyrion to slink away from the notice of both the King and Lord Hand to visit her. And so he could finally relieve himself one last time with her, in the eunuch's own chambers. Silken sheets and long legs and smooth skin. A long, languid evening full of sex and wine and warmth. The tinkling sound of her laughter was music to his ears, though Tyrion did his best to ensure that she was too busy either moaning or sucking on his cock to do much laughing.

A wonderful evening, in all. Maybe even their best. Likely their last, too.

Since then, his world had been work, work, and more work.

More recently, Cersei had become more involved. To say his feelings were mixed about that would have been an understatement. A mere apology would never be enough to forgive her for all her crimes against him, and she knew it. Still, Tyrion tolerated her at Tommen's behest, deriving a quiet pleasure from seeing Tommen frustrate her efforts to assert her authority over him time and again. It quickly became clear that the two was not as close as Tyrion had presumed, and that Cersei's influence over him was comparatively smaller than his own.

The bitch scolded by her own pup. What a sight!

Such thoughts, no matter how pleasant, could not quell his boredom for very long, however. Tyrion shuffled the papers on his desk, stood from his seat, hobbling on his little legs through his chambers. Somehow, he wound his way to the yard, suddenly possessed by the desire to see his brother. Jaime had spoken precious little to him since his release, something justified quite easily as a combination his duties as a Kingsguard and the surprising vigour of his new King.

He feels guilty, Tyrion guessed. He knows that Tommen means to unseat me in favour of him. He must know.

And yet, if he did, he gave no indication. In their few interactions so far, Jaime japed and teased him as normal, and though he seemed somewhat distant, it was not entirely a strange thing. Tyrion knew Tommen had stolen Bronn out from under him, and that he was building something of a force of his own. Was Jaime involved? As his uncle and Kingsguard both, it seemed likely.

Then again, he could just be feeling guilty about Joffrey. No matter how vicious the boy was, Jaime is still a Kingsguard, after all.

Tyrion arrived not at the yard, but rather a low ledge overlooking it. The King was present, dressed in a loose tunic, sweat forming a sheen on his skin, a short length of dulled steel grasped in his hands, for the King was yet still too young for a full-length sword. He danced clumsily around Ser Balon, making the occasional attempt at a strike. His body was littered with bruises and small cuts, and yet every time he was knocked down, which was often, he always struggled back to his feet.

Jaime was nowhere in sight, and just as Tyrion was about to leave, the stench of perfume struck him. A moment later, pale, soft hands grasped the ledge beside him, and Varys appeared, "His Grace seems ever a determined sort, doesn't he?"

In spite of all the help he had gotten from Varys over the years, Tyrion could not help but feel some suspicion of him. It was only natural, he was a spymaster, after all, and Tommen had felt fit to whisper to him his own warning about trusting the eunuch. And so, he defaulted, as he always did, to his wit, "He could put Stannis to shame."

"Indeed. The new King has been a... refreshing, change."

Tyrion smirked, "Oh? He's been badgering you too, has he?"

"A treasonous sentiment, my lord." Tyrion looked up at him expectantly, till Varys relented, "His Grace has proven himself to be most curious."

A small silence descended as they watched the King dance around Ser Balon, practicing the odd manoeuvre whenever Balon would correct an error in Tommen's form. Tyrion did not envy his nephew his training. It was clear he was far behind where he should have been at his age, likely a product of Cersei's coddling, though he was making large strides of progress, thanks to his diligence. After a few scant minutes, however, the King's under-developed arms grew too tired to continue, and he retired from sparring so that he could recover.

Another squire took to the yard, sparring with someone else, and Tommen went and sat himself down off to the side, picked up his brother's old crossbow, seemingly fascinated by it's design. Tyrion looked up at Varys, stood silently beside him, "You testified against me."

Varys tittered nervously, "As did a great many more, my lord. The Queen - I am a man of a delicate constitution, as you well know - it was not difficult for her threats to turn my stomach."

"Hmm."

"I do hope you can forgive me, my lord."

"I suppose I could..."

Varys quirked an eyebrow at that, "Have you seen the Lady Shae recently, my lord?"

Tyrion smiled, "You know I have not, Lord Varys, as per my father's commands."

Varys nodded, implicitly acquiescing to Tyrion's hidden request, "I expect we have brighter days ahead, and a long future ahead of us, with His Grace as he is."

Tyrion watched Tommen test the drawstring of the crossbow, "And how is that?"

"He has the makings of a good King, wouldn't you agree? Patient, diligent, humble, pious, just-"

"Clever."

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