I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.
https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon
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Chapter 74: The Lion's Escape
Tyrion stood motionless in the dimly lit chamber, the weight of his actions pressing heavily upon him. Cersei's lifeless body lay sprawled on the cold stone floor, her once fiery eyes now void of life. The room was thick with silence, save for the soft, rhythmic breathing of Tommen and Myrcella, who remained in a deep, unnatural slumber.
He turned his gaze to his niece and nephew, their serene faces untouched by the chaos that had unfolded mere feet away. Guilt gnawed at him.
Approaching the bedside, Tyrion gently brushed a stray lock of hair from Myrcella's forehead. She stirred slightly but did not wake. The depth of their sleep was unsettling.
Her breath was steady, undisturbed by the horror that had played out in this room. It did not take a master of poisons to know that they had been drugged.
He grimaced.
"I suppose it was too much to hope you'd play with the Spider without being caught in his web," Tyrion muttered under his breath.
Tyrion looked down on his own stunted legs, once again cursing the gods for making him a dwarf.
There was no way — no chance in all seven hells — that he could carry two sleeping children out of the Red Keep, down through secret tunnels, through the streets of a burning city, and onto a ship without being caught or killed.
No. Varys never intended for him to leave with them.
He had been sent here to die — either by Cersei's dagger or his own failure.
Or worse... Varys had gambled that he and Cersei would destroy each other.
Tyrion's jaw clenched.
He would not let the Spider win.
As his eyes scanned the room in frustration, they fell upon something resting on the wall.
Joffrey's crossbow.
An ugly, gilded thing — all gold and malice — much like its previous owner.
But right now, it was exactly what Tyrion needed.
He grabbed it, loading a quarrel with unexpected speed, his rage sharpening his mind like whetstone to steel.
Tyrion moved to the door — quietly, slowly — just as he had seen Varys do countless times. The silence was suffocating.
As he got near he smelled Varys's perfume from outside the door. Moving swiftly to the chamber door, he pressed his ear against the wood, listening intently. Faint but familiar footsteps of the Spider coming towards the door.
Tyrion thanked the gods for this good fortune, he feared that Varys might have been long gone by now.
Varys lingered at the door for a while, most likely trying to hear anything from the chamber. But even Varys couldn't take the silence for long.
Tyrion waits patiently for the right opportunity, and fate answered his prayers.
The door creaked open.
And Tyrion fired.
The bolt hissed through the gap — slamming into Varys's soft, round belly. The Spider gasped, crumbling to the floor, hands pressing desperately against the spreading bloom of red staining his robes.
Tyrion did not hesitate.
Another bolt was loaded and fired — striking Varys in the chest.
The Spider shuddered.
Blood bubbled from his lips.
For the first time in all the years Tyrion had known him, Varys's calm mask shattered — replaced by wide, fearful eyes staring up at the little lion who had outplayed him.
"You... will bring ruin..." Varys croaked.
Tyrion knelt beside him, his voice low and filled with quiet fury.
"Ruin? You should have remembered, Spider... Lannisters pay their debts."
Varys breathed his last.
And just like that, the master of whispers was gone — leaving only blood on stone.
Moments later, the sound of armored boots echoed down the hall.
The two Gold Cloaks Varys had sent earlier had returned — likely expecting to escort Tyrion's body out of the chamber.
Instead, they found Tyrion Lannister standing over two corpses — his sister and the Spider.
They hesitated.
But Tyrion raised his hand.
"Fetch Ser Jacelyn Bywater. Now."
They obeyed.
A short while later, Jacelyn arrived — flanked by more Gold Cloaks.
He looked from the dead to the sleeping children, then back to Tyrion — who still held the crossbow.
"Cersei is dead. Varys too," Tyrion said, his voice flat. "The city will fall to Renly come the morrow. The mobs cry out for his banners. The gold cloaks don't have to fight and die for a dead queen."
Jacelyn's expression was unreadable.
"I need a ship. For myself, Tommen, Myrcella... and those loyal enough to come with me. We sail for Lannisport before dawn."
Silence.
Then Jacelyn gave a single nod.
"As you command, my lord."
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By the first light of dawn, Tyrion stood aboard a galley slipping away from King's Landing's docks.
The city behind him was quiet — too quiet.
Smoke still rose from parts of Flea Bottom. The Red Keep loomed on Aegon's Hill, the banners of House Lannister still clinging to its towers — but not for long.
Renly Baratheon's forces were near.
Tyrion sat beside the sleeping forms of Tommen and Myrcella — still drugged, still blissfully unaware of all that had transpired.
Podrick Payne sat nearby, his face pale, but loyal as ever. The Lannister guards who had chosen to accompany Tyrion stood watchfully on the deck.
Tyrion was able bring the Lannister men on his side, by explaining to them that with Cersei dead and children going with Tyrion, there is nothing left for them in Kingslanding.
As the ship cut through Blackwater Bay, Tyrion looked back once — only once — at the city he had tried to save.
It was a city of wolves, dragons, and vultures now.
And his game there was over.
But he was still a Lannister.
And the lion survives.
Always.