"A Gathering of Foxes…" Game of Thrones.
Summary: At the endgame, players Littlefinger and Tyrion Lannister and Sansa Stark have their final reunion…
The Eyrie…The Great Hall of the Moon Door…
Official greetings done…Guards dispatched by mutual consent…
"So…" Petyr smiles, Sansa by his side, Robyn by hers, nervously eyeing the "bad man" returned, Tyrion Lannister. "You've come, in the name of our new king, Aegon Targaryen, to demand I, or rather, my stepson, proclaim fealty to the new Crown."
"That is my official mission, yes." Tyrion nods.
"There's more?" Littlefinger, beaming. "Come to see your wife, perhaps?" patting Sansa's arm.
"Actually, yes…How are you, dear?" Tyrion, genuinely warm smile to Sansa, in dark gown, who avoids his look. Robyn frowning…
"Who let the bad man back in?! I want him gone!" His frustration redoubled as all but Sansa, quietly patting him and stroking his back, ignore him.
"And how could I resist a chance to see young Lord Robyn and this lovely seat again…" Tyrion smiles, at Robyn, then Petyr.
"Of course, the marriage, having been forced upon her, under duress…" Petyr notes, cutting somewhat to the chase.
"She's free to make claim for an annulment if she wishes." Tyrion nods. "You are, truly." He eyes Sansa.
"Even from the 'good right arm' of the new King?…The new Hand?…And the man who even defied said King, prevented his marriage to his sister, curbed his power with a new Council of Kings, even forced him to accept the notion that the King is not above the law?…I understand…" Petyr grinned. "That even the life of a prostitute is now cause to bring a King before judgment. As a…Former…Owner of bordellos, I must salute you, my Lord."
"The new charter states that the King is not above the law…And the law applies to the humblest citizen, even a whore…Even a dwarf…Even a twisted little thing like you, Baelish." Tyrion, calmly, moving along the walkway rimming the Moon Door. "It's my hope that never again will a kingship like Joffrey the First's or the Mad King's be possible. We'll see." Baelish walking along as well, Sansa holding Robyn, stroking him.
"It'll never work, Lannister." Smile. "The noble houses will tear a weak king to pieces and shit on your charter of rights."
"That may be…But there aren't that many noble houses left now, Baelish." Tyrion notes. "And the Dornish and Tyrells support the Council and to some extent the charter. Even Aegon, much as he initially chaffed at the idea of limiting his power, accepted it as a pledge there would be no valid reason to rebel against him and it would promise a future where there'd be hope of restraining future mad kings."
"He can't have been pleased with his good friend and ally's insistence that he not marry his sister, the lovely Danys…"
"She didn't wish to marry him, not really…And he'd no great love for her…And my work with the Citadel fairly conclusively proved to the Council that incest leads to Mad Kings and Joffreys. No one wants that."
"He was not pleased, though. Nor with the fact that someone informed Stannis of the way of formulating wildfire that would kill even a dragon. And it was you who required him to give up the remaining dragons, as a pledge of good faith."
"One with his sister, to ensure her position back in Essos, the other at the Wall, with Lord Snow, to maintain the truce with the Walkers. Not quite giving them up…The Queen would return to his aide, and Lord Snow would support him, if his cause be just."
"Ha, ha, ha…" Baelish laughed, darkly. "After all we have seen in our time, you can speak of 'just causes'. I'd thought that nonsense died with Robb Stark."
"Perhaps, perhaps not. I make no claim to be 'just' myself." Tyrion put up a hand. "Merely I wish to see it as a possibility." He and Baelish closing the distance as they circled.
"I know it was you who revealed the secret to Stannis…Imp…" Baelish, coolly. "And I'm sure the King knows."
"Oh, must we descend to insults, Little finger? I'd hoped for better from you…And he'd be rather a fool if he didn't…Given my fame with wildfire usage…" Tyrion, archly. "And Aegon is no fool."
"No. I offered to kill you, of course. In the most subtle terms I could conceive. He declined my offer."
"So he was kind enough to inform me."
"Foolish of him, from my point of view. So, he left me to you, to deal with." Smile. "Some men would be offended."
"But not you?"
"I can appreciate your talents, Lannister. I'm perhaps one of the few who can. Be a pity to lose me. Your only audience…"
"Unbearable…" Tyrion, slight smile.
"I must say…" Baelish, stepping back a bit. "You dealt with Lord Varys brilliantly."
"He was too dangerous to leave at Aegon's side. Too willing to insist Aegon's powers be unlimited and enforced by the dragons. Actually I was sad to see him lose his sense of proportion in victory. It was the best thing, really…Danerys will need his advice, Aegon is better off without it."
"And now the game is yours, really…A limited king…You his Hand…Your brother his Kingsguard commander…Casterly Rock and the Lannister lands yours…And of course…" smile to Sansa by Robyn's side. "Through your wife, you control the North."
"Lord Rickon will have Winterfell and the North when he comes of age."
"But till then…Sansa will be his Regent. Giving you, with an alliance or two, control." Baelish grinned. "Admirable. That is, if Sansa remains your wife."
"She is free to do as she chooses…And Winterfell is in her care and her brother's."
"And what of poor, clever Littlefinger?…And the Baelish? What fate has the Hand and Master of the Game for them?"
"You'll surrender your regency here and return to the Fingers…You and your family will be unbothered and hopefully, after whatever minor power struggle you make among you, your leader will join the Council of Seven."
"Generous…"
"More than deserved…"
"But, perhaps there could be another potential outcome…?" Baelish suggested, winning smile.
"As in…You kill me, marry Sansa, and secure the North with the Eyrie and Winterfell under your thumb." Tyrion, wry look.
"It's not a bad idea, though it would be safer to marry her off to Lord Robert here. But, to kill the Hand of the King…And the husband of a woman I clearly would profit by marrying or controlling…That's sure to cause a stir. Even if the Hand were so arrogant as to put himself in my power."
"Petyr." Sansa, looking over. Baelish putting up a hand.
"We're simply talking, dear. Two wise old friends considering the Game for their amusement. Don't worry."
"Will the bad man fly? Will Father make the bad man…OW!..." Robyn groaned as Sansa slapped him.
"Enough, Robyn. Lord Tyrion is your cousin and our guest." She told him, firmly.
"Of course, if Sansa simply accepts your generous offer and I then marry her…" Baelish eyes Tyrion.
"You get what you want…And I hope she gets a little of what she does, at last."
"Letting me win…For love?" smile. "I'm touched, Lord Tyrion. Truly."
"I doubt you could ever understand such a feeling…" Tyrion, calmly. "But I assure you, it is quite sincere."
"I do understand. I've loved and done much for that love."
Tyrion shaking head… "Ah, your great passion for Cat Stark…Yes, you wanted her. And as with all things you want, you did everything in your power to get her or more importantly, to keep her from being anyone else's. It took time of course, you being so pathetically insignificant, for so long. But a brutal child insisting on his plaything is hardly love."
"You make me sound like King Joffrey." Smile.
"Exactly…Joffrey with brains and no silver spoon. Exactly what you are, Littlefinger."
"if so…" stare… "How could you hand your poor wife over to such a monster?"
"I believe you do value your toys more than Joffrey did. He never had to work to get them, so he broke them at his pleasure. You prefer to keep them. And Sansa can speak for herself…Can make her own destiny. And is more than entitled…"
"And if I am part of that destiny?" smile.
"Then I will endeavor to see you never cause her a moment's grief or worry. Even if that means protecting you from the wrath of the King and all those who would like to see you boiled alive."
"So I have a friend and protector in Tyrion Lannister? How wonderful."
"Not a friend. But, yes, a protector…So long as Sansa is also safe."
"I'd never harm her." First glint of anger…
"If I didn't believe that, you'd be dead."
"All sounds imminently reasonable. Except I don't believe the King would tolerate me acquiring such power in the North."
"Balanced by me at Casterly Rock…The little love your bannermen would have for you…Jon Snow and his dragon at the Wall. The King will accept it. If it is what Sansa wants, it's all yours, Baelish…"
"The bad man is funny…He talks funny! You talk funny, bad man!" Robert cried. "Robyn, enough…" Sansa hissed.
"So I've been told, Lord Robert." Tyrion nodded.
"You know though…" Baelish closed distance. "I think that the King would not object if his Hand met with an accident. And even if he would, he would treat with the new King of the North." He drew sword.
"Petyr…" Sansa, anxious.
"This is the best way, darling…Annulment is all very well, but I prefer to remove this irritant from our sight. You've forgotten, Imp…That sometimes even a Player can resort to doing things 'hands on'." Grin.
"The Bad Man flies now!" Robyn cried.
"Best to jump, Lannister…" Baelish notes, whispering close. "I'll say you died trying to save the boy when the poor child climbed to his demise…Kudos to you for your compassion and bravery. The King will be pleased to have a valid excuse for your death and will find me a superior adviser. I'll get him his dragons back…And his lawful right to rule unchecked."
"The King might just choose to remove you, for safety's sake, especially when he finds me full of sword thrusts. Don't be a fool, Baelish. You've never succeeded at playing the Knight's Game. I'm offering you a chance to win…Take it."
"I don't need a sword with you, little man…" Baelish, throwing down sword. "Lets give Lord Robert what he wants!" rushing Tyrion whose blow sends him reeling back.
"I warned you, Littlefinger…This is not your game. You can't even beat up a dwarf."
GRRR! Littlefinger rising, charges again. Kicking Tyrion back…
Robyn giggling merrily at the spectacle…
Baelish dodging a blow then grabbing Tyrion from behind, lifting him…
Groaning as he feels the swordthrust from his own blade, wielded by Sansa.
"You never asked me…" she eyed him as he turned. "I would have told you but you never even asked…"
He collapsed, grabbing for her as she backed away.
"I don't like this…" Robyn pouted, eyeing the dead Baelish. "He was supposed to make the bad man fly."
"Not today…" Sansa replied, calmly.
Tyrion rising to his feet, she moving to him.
"Are you alright, dearest?" she asked. He staring up at her slowly smiling face…