"The boy is too young, he will be killed." The old man behind the registration podium frowned worriedly as he gestured to me.

Ser Gregor and I looked at one another and then back to the old men.

I began to laugh as the mountain leaned over the podium. The white haired knight paled as the mountain growled. "Are you questioning me?"

"No, I will register him now. About the entry fee..." The elderly knight was interrupted as a fat purse of gold dropped onto the podium with a clang. "A hundred dragons." Ser Gregor grunted and began to walk over to the elaborate jousting registration table.

He stopped and looked at me over his shoulder. "Half, boy."

I nodded affirmative.

Four years had passed since I woke as Tyrek Lannister. I had grown from the skinny boy I used to be into the size of an average Westrosi man. At a little more than five and a half feet, I was growing steadily every year. Carrying Ser Gregor's spare sword across my back in battle and eventually, wielding it, had strengthened my body.

Forged in blood and sweat, I was as fast as anyone could be.

I had bought a new set of armor for the upcoming tournament. It was in honor of the stupid prince's 'second and tenth' name day. I was a little less than two years older than the spoiled little bastard.

Ser Gregor was going to crush the competition in the joust as he always did. The reward was fifty thousand gold dragons. You had to be a knight to fight in the joust. I on the other hand, was going to fight in the melee.

The melee is open to anyone who can pay the very pricey entry fee. Only nobles or knights could really afford it though. The prize is ten thousand gold dragons. A huge amount of money. Half went to Ser Gregor if I won, for allowing me to compete. I had fought with him for years now.

A new set of armor was made for the tourney. The old one was too tight. Misfitted armor can kill you as easy as a knife to the throat. Dull black painted full plate armor with boiled leather and underneath. My breastplate was was in the Greek style of chiseled abdominal and chest muscles. My helmet's faceplate was a likeness to my face. Cost me eighty dragons and took months to complete.

I wore a red cloak over my shoulders. The Lannister's lion sigil stitched across it. Knee high black dyed and polished leather boots with a steel cover on the top to merge uniform with my segmented plate leg armor.

My sword was long and thick. A little thicker than the average sword with a notch running down the middle. It had a five foot blade and a foot long handle. It weighed a little more than twenty pounds and was named Dragon Slayer in honor of my past life's favorite anime and manga. Compared to my childhood size and my father's sword, it was the same. I continued to get lager swords as I grew taller. I was used to the balance of a large weapon.

It was what my muscle memory was trained to fight with.

Words had carried to me from a raven of Ashemark, a year ago, informing me of Darla's death. She had died the same as my 'father', plague.

Tuely, I had not visited Casterly Rock since I left. A days ride, I had visited nearby Lannisport fairly often. I stayed there with his other men when he was in audience with the asshole, Tywin. I had not seen a Lannister of Casterly Rock since I left it. Killed and seen quite a few of the other types of Lannisters though.

Lannets, Lennys, Lannisters of Lannisport, Lannys, ect.

Never was I summoned by Tywin. Maybe he had expected me to send him ravens telling him how horrible Clegane's Keep was and come crawling back or come to him begging for coin like the rest of his family. Tywin had decided to send me to the Clegane Knight as a squire, I believe, to kill me. He and my 'father' had hated each-other I had been told. Maybe he wanted my to come begging to go squire elsewhere and have me owe him a debt for the deed.

Begging just wasn't in me anymore. I hadn't known I had the option as a Great House Noble to go begging my uncle to save me. If I had the memories from the first nine years of comfortable life with Darla, I may have known I could do so. Tywin was King in the West lands in all but name.

After Ser Gregor registered, we went to one of Baelish's Inns to rest from the trip and have a little fun.

Tomorrow, I would fight for something precious.

Freedom from Ser Gregor and Tywin Lannister.

666 666 666

"Tyrek Lannister" the Herald announced my name as I gazed over to the Royal box. I waved my arm to Identify myself. The Herald was announcing the names of everyone competing in the Grand Melee.

The white cloaked knight, Jamie Lannister stood behind the Queen and glanced over to my armored form. He looked like an older version of me.I turned my view from him to my competition. Most were in boiled leather or chain-mail or half-plate. Out of sixty nine men competing, only twenty or so wore expensive full plate armor. I recognized most of my rivals from other tournys in such places like the Reach and Vale.

I wasn't the shortest man in this tourney, but I was the youngest. I had sunk most of the gold I(not counting my many stashes) had betting on myself. The odds were against me 20 to 1. If I won, twenty thousand gold dragons was mine. Twenty five after the prize and Gregor got his cut. Enough to live anywhere in the world, barring Quarth. Twenty thousand gold was nothing in Quarth.

Winning, means proving my skill of arms before the King himself. If you are not a knight, and win a melee, you were usually knighted on the spot. Even if I wasn't knighted, twenty thousand gold coins was enough to tell Clegane I quit. Doing so would piss Tywin off good and proper of course. Maybe enough to cast me out of House Lannister. I don't need a protector like Clegane or Tywin anymore.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

After today, I will take no orders from anyone again.

The contestants all lined up and bowed to the King. We moved to line the edges of the arena. Once I reached my assigned place, I threw off my cloak and drew my sword. It drew little attention. The bronze armor of the venerable Yohn Royce drew much more attention than the black armored 'shrimp' with a long sword. I saw Thoros of Myr's sword light on fire.

Need to figure out how he does that.

How he brings the dead to life too...

I saw Ser Gregor and the rest of the men we often traveled with in the crowd.

I had bought a bought a clay jar of 'The Wine Of Courage' from the alchemist guild this morning for a few silvers. I had run out of it a few weeks previous. It would deaden all pain. If there were rules against cheating with drug use, I had never heard of them. Broken bones and exhaustion would not faze me under the influence of the potion.

If I win, I am free.

The men in this tournament would have to kill me to put me down.

Either way, I am free of Gregor and Tywin.

"Begin" Bellowed the drunk fatass.

I turned to the light leather armored man on my right and took his head off on my first swing. Battle cries sounded and the crowd cheered loudly.

My sword finished it's rotation from the beheading swing. I brought it around to blindly thrust directly behind me at the opponent that was on my left at the start of the fight. I felt the abnormally long sword pierce through chain-mail and bite deep into the back-stabber's guts. "Yield." He shrieked as the sword withdrew, along with some intestine and liver. He dropped to the ground as I moved on to the next man.

Under my helmet was a smile. I lived for this feeling. Unlike most of my opponents, I fought to kill. Left and right, I swung and slaughtered. Speed and reach were my strengths. As long as I moved the sword fast enough, I didn't have to use too much strength. The momentum and velocity of the long slab of steel did the work for me.

The crowd howled as a high over-headed swing crushed the skull of a man in full plate. The sword got lodged in the bone and nearly jerked out of my blood soaked hands. I kicked his helmet hard enough to dislodge dragonslayer and turn to meet the charge of two men who thought ganging up together on my would be easier.

They lost their heads in the same swing. My reach and ferocity was too much for them. The crowd screamed louder than ever. I could hear The king shouting the loudest of all.

After what felt like seconds only three men stood standing in the blood soaked arena. Thoros of Myr, Yohn Royce and I.

We circled each-other for what seemed like and eternity. I charged Thoros first. His flaming sword met my over-head swing with a clang. I ducked under a high stab at my neck and kicked out into Thoros's ankle. It broke with a snap. "Yield." he shouted as I turned to face the charging Royce.

We traded a few blows before his sword struck my left arm. I felt my shoulder dislocate. I felt no pain and continued, slower than before.

Win or die.

It is always win or die.

He slowed from exhaustion. My shoulder popped back in painlessly. He is an old man, I remembered. I left and opening in my center. He thrust at my chest. I ducked and thrust dragonslayer upwards. It took him through the throat. I was soaked head to toe in blood.

Freedom!

The crowd cheered.

I walked to the royal box. I removed my helmet, and bowed.

Robert looked at me with an incensed expression. "That was my friend, Kingslayer." He took a big swig of wine. "Take your fucking gold and get the fuck out of here before I kill you." He continued. "I shouldn't have spared you that day you killed the mad king. Should have gutted you then and my friend would still be alive." He continued to rant at and get louder to me as I stood there stone faced and half listened. I was thinking of what to do with the gold first.

Jamie, who had been smiling behind the Queen, had lost his smile when the King started speaking. He had gotten steadily redder and angrier as the King continued to rant. He walked down the steps from the royal box and moved to stand beside me. He in his gold plated armor and white cloak, next to my blood and viscera coated armor stood side by side.

The King slowly trailed off as he took in the difference in hight and facial expression between the Kinlayer and I.

The Queen looked like a fat kid in a candy store as she watched the Royal lardass go through every shade of red possible before storming off.

I was thinking of all the girls I could buy with that much gold.

"Come, cousin." The Queen beckoned me to follow to the Red Keep. Incestuous as she was, her beauty put Jessica Alba to shame.

So I did what any almost fourteen year old would do.

Followed the swaying hips in front of me.