First, I would like to thank Countess De Los Rios, Susanne023, Akemi Tatsuyoshi, Nightshadekiller and Catherine Alice. I hope you will enjoy this new chapteras I did, since it was very fun to write.

Chapter 1 : The Lysa Conspiracy

After a short winter, Lord Tywin Lannister visited his daughter in King's Landing.

I accompanied him as an anonymous member of his host. I wasn't told why he was travelling there. Officially, he visited the royal family to meet baby Joffrey, his first grandchild, but everyone suspected the trip wasn't just a social call. I knew he would have no time to spare for me; I had, however, received instructions, carried by one of his squires, ordering me to spend time with Cersei and her ladies and to listen. I guessed he wanted to know who she was seeing and if she was happy.

I cannot say my performance was stunning.

Tywin always insisted that, as the Lady of Fairkeep, I should dress according to what my lands could provide. He had shown me once how he calculated what was due for my personal living : what wasn't in use for the demesne itself, or for the repair and modernization of the castle (he had ordered this, as part of all the liberties he obviously took in my name) ; what he did not keep for my sisters' dowries ; what he did not put aside in case of disasters such as storms, flood or drought ; what did not go to the construction of the new port, to transform one of my villages into a small, bustling fishing and merchant city. What was left was shared between my sisters and I, and even if Tywin was kind of generous in gifts (he had offered a horse to each of us for our birthdays), I felt for the first time the pang of poverty when I compared my clothes and jewel to those of the ladies of the Court. I may have been put my wits and education above beauty, I could not help but feel profoundly hurt every time I heard one of them snicker.

I was sixteen, usually the age at which young ladies get engaged. Cersei was twenty-one and had been married for three years. When I first joined her and her ladies, in a solar with a sea-view, she had her one year and a half son Joffrey on her knees. She looked tremendously happy and clearly in love with the child.

She introduced me to her friends with surprising kindness since she hardly ever cared for me at the Rock. I had only been the youngest pup in the kennel and I had expected her to have forgotten all about me.

"Ladies, let me introduce Lady Esteill of Fairkeep. She has been my father's ward for some years now, and pupil too, if I'm not mistaken?"

I had no idea how she knew. I couldn't image Tywin writing to her about my classes. It downed on me that she may have been asking by letters to other relatives or friends how her father fared, who he saw and who he talked to. The notion was disturbing. I shook it off: of course Tywin wrote to her, and of course he could have mentioned he was tutoring me. If not him, then one of her uncles could have done it, either Kevan, Tygett or young Gerion who, after all, was not much older than Cersei.

"No, you are right, my Lady." I tried my best curtsey, and was pleased when it proved satisfactory. "I am very grateful of you father, for all the good graces he bestowed upon me."

"Has he already set his mind on your future husband ?"

I answered that I did not know, that Lord Tywin mostly kept to his own counsel. The question unsettled me, since I often wondered about this matter and never dared to ask Tywin.

"Good. Pray that he never does. Husbands are the bane of a woman's life. Look at my dear Lysa Arryn. The poor thing..." She patted fondly Joffrey's head. "Thankfully, after the horror of childbirth, we still have our babies. Well, most of us do."

She asked me for gossips from Casterly Rock. I indulged her, and by the end of the hour, she knew who married whom, who gave birth and who was in disgrace. She listened with mixed feeling of carefully hidden nostalgia and obvious boredom; if not for fugitive glances or small twitches of her mouth, I would have guessed she did not care at all. I was relieved when she turned to another matter, that is, the birth of Oberyn Martell's fourth official bastard daughter. True, the girl was a few months old now, but Cersei had only now received a new lady-in-waiting from Sunspear and was all too happy to criticize the Martell's debauchery.

I was utterly fascinated, for at the Rock, Tywin would never have tolerated anything of the sort. I knew his brother Gerion was rather fond of girls, but he was always discreet about his lavish frequentations, careful not to cross his Lord, and was an exception: Kevan was so in love with his wife it almost hurts, and Tygett, even though Darlessa was drunk half the time and despite his taste for untasteful jokes, was known for his fealty toward her. Of course I knew not all families were as virtuous as the Lannisters, but I had been sheltered from such scandals.

At the end of the afternoon, Joffrey started to wail loudly. Cersei left the child to a nurse and gave free quarters to her ladies. She wished to show me around the garden to hear more about her family, but once there, I discovered the true reason behind this walk.

"Since you are new here, I will ask a small favor of you. Do you know who Lady Lysa Arryn is ?

"Is she the young woman with the blue dress? The one who was seated not far from the throne, with red hair?"

"Yes. Members of the court don't sit, but for the king or the elderlies, but Lady Arryn was bestowed this special honor. She has trouble conceiving, you see, and Jon Arryn thinks the causes are physical weakness and fatigue. I, however, have another theory. I know Lysa sneaks regularly to the city to buy cosmetics. I bet she's buying less savory potions too. I would like you to help me prove it."

She bent her fine, lean waist to grab a pink rose. She had grown prettier and the setting sun put her golden hair on fire. Yet for all her beauty her words smelled like foul play. She may be thinking of someone else's safety, or she may not. A breath of air carried the rose's scent to me; rich, lovely and sweet. Its petals were as pale as Cersei's skin. I could imagine her skin, as soft and perfect as this rose.

But then, roses were cruel flowers, with needles and swords sticking out of their body.

"Pardon my asking, Lady Cersei, but how I am supposed to find these proofs?"

She tilted her hair so that it would cascade on her back, a lovely, almost flirty gesture.

"Follow her. She should go tomorrow morning" she explained patiently. "And try to get in the shop and listen. She doesn't know you. Dress simply and she won't even know you're there."

Yes, foul play indeed.

Still, I did as I was told. I put on some bland clothes of my servant. The young girl concealed my hair under a plain, cream scarf, as it was done by the most respectable, unmarried girls. Then I left the Red Keep and waited. My servant would wait for my return and convince the guards I had every right to be there, despite my plain clothes.

Thankfully, Lysa Arryn was overly nervous but in no way discreet, which allowed me to follow her with some ease. Had I been stalking someone with some skills or imagination, I would have been caught: I was as credible as a peasant as Tyrion would as a squire, and my infiltration technics were completely inexistent.

I followed Lysa when she entered a small shop clustered with herbs and powders. I could not help but drink the view and scent like I would a heavy wine: small baskets displayed all sorts of pepper and spices, some red, other a rich yellow, all with their own, pleasant smell. Green, dried bouquets hang from the low ceiling, creating a natural curtain. Once inside the single room one would find himself in a comfortable penumbra, the light coming through the herbs. I spotted glasses bottles of an average quality, but filled with all sort of weird wonders. I shivered when I spotted what looked like a dead kitten floating in a green liquid.

Lysa and her servant shot me a mistrustful glance. What was I supposed to do? I had expected this eventuality but had prepared nothing in anticipation. My cheeks reddened. I stammered some kind of apology and feigned to be fascinated by a shelf of jars. Lysa soon whispered (rather loudly, actually) that I was of no importance. I felt her servant's glare on my back; obviously, that girl knew better than her mistress, but did not dare (or want to) speak up right now.

I heard someone's footsteps, someone heavier than the skinny Lady of the Vale. Then a female, deep voice rang out and the two women chattered. Lysa asked for products I recognized: a powder made from rocks which was used as whitening foundation; a vinegar from the Arbor, very prized by high ranking ladies for their hair; a red pigment from Essos to paint pale cheeks pink, and other expensive products denied to me, not because I couldn't afford them, but because Tywin found it vulgar on young, fresh and unmarried women. I was beginning to think Lysa had nothing to hide at all and was just a nutter when the conversation dropped to a low murmur I could not understand. Finally, Lysa got what she wanted, paid and left the shop.

And I did not know what she had bought.

I turned to face the shop keeper. She was a fat, red faced woman with greying hair, with dark eyes and thick lips. She asked what I wished for, her tone amiable enough, though she lacked the clean politeness of someone used to talk to higher borne people.

"I..."

I was ashamed and embarrassed. How could I ask her what Lysa was bringing back to the castle? I would be too suspect and she would refuse.

"... I would like the same. As the Lady."

My cheeks turned a dark pink again. I lowered my eyes and prayed the Seven I would never have to do something so shameful again.

The shop keeper nodded. "Stay here, girl." She came back a moment later with a small bag. "Here. Ya never took some before, yes ?"

"N-no," I stammered again. Of course I hadn't, I had no damning idea about... "No, never."

"If ya're not pregnant yet, then no one will know. Don't take too much, no more than one leaf a time. If ya're pregnant ya will bleed some bit, and bleed more the more ya wait."

"I'm not pregnant," I answered, trying not to sound indignant.

She did not seem to care.

"Then ya won't be. I don't care why ya want it for, as long as ya pay. Remember: one leaf a time only."

I paid with some of the money Cersei had given me, put the little bag in my servant's leather bag, thanked her and left.

I was elated. My mission was a success!

Or at least, it was, until I got caught by Tywin's chief of the guards.

The man had known me since I was ten. My disguise fooled him at first glance, but something must have nagged him: he walked past me as I left the shop, then stopped, turned, stared. His eyes widened and, one second later, he was seizing my arm and ready to go back to the Red Keep.

So much for my career as a spy...

I was brought back to Tywin's apartments and left there to wait. These few hours felt like days until he finally showed up. I had missed diner and my belly was rumbling uncomfortably, but what was worse was that I hadn't been allowed to change and was still wearing my servant's clothes.

"Who is he?" He sat behind his desk, tensed, ready to strike. Predator-like. "Who is the man you're sleeping with?"

I was taken aback. The idea seemed so ludicrous I had not even thought of it, yet it was, of course, the most plausible explanation for my little farce.

"No one. I'm not..."

"Don't lie to me !" he screamed. He had never screamed at me before; never. When he spoke again, his voice was calm, but his eyes still filled with fury. "Do you think you can make a fool out of me? Do you think you can go fuck whoever you're fucking, and I won't know? After everything I did for you, you would dare lie to me?"

"I'm not... fucking," my tongue felt dirtied by the profanity, "anyone."

His eyes reduced to a slit, he observed me with a deadly concentration. If he had suddenly barred his teeth, he wouldn't have surprised me.

Finally, he lashed a single word like one would lash a whip: "Explain."

I gulped.

"I wasn't buying the moon tea for my own use. I was following Lysa Arryn and had to buy some to know what she wanted."

It sounded like the worst excuse ever.

"Why?"

"Queen Cersei asked me. She knew Lysa Arryn was going to this shop and wanted to know what she was buying there."

"Why would Cersei want to know about this?"

"She didn't tell."

Silence.

"Do you have any proof? That Lysa Arryn is buying moon tea?"

"I suppose the shop keeper..."

"Will know nothing and deny she's selling moon tea in the first place."

"Only my words then."

"You're a young, unmarried Lady who was found in the street dressed as a serving girl with abortive drug in her bag. Your words are worthless, especially when compared to Lysa Arryn's, who is the Hand's wife." His lips thinned to a hard line. "I expected better of you. And I can't know if you're telling the truth. I'll have a Septa check that you're still the virtuous maiden you claim to be."

My breath stuck in my throat. I could not believe Tywin, who was the nearest thing I had from a father now, would mistrust me to this point. Worse, someone may know, and then no one would ever believe I was untouched; or the septa may tell him my maidenhead was already broken, which could be the case since I was often riding in the man-like fashion, and then, what would he think? I thought the man liked, respected me.

"No."

An eyebrow rose in disbelief.

"What did you say?"

"No. I won't agree with a Septa checking me, as you say."

"I am not asking you whether you want it to happen or not. It will," he affirmed.

"I am not your daughter. I am the Lady of Fairkeep and you have no business..."

"You will drop that insolent tone immediately," he warned, "You are my ward, my to marry, and I won't accept any doubt regarding your morality. If it is found lacking, then it is I, as you protector, who will bear the shame. I won't allow you to tarnish the honor of my house. Is that clear?"

"What is clear is that you distrust me for absolutely no reason at all!"

"Enough. Llewyn!"

The door of the office opened, revealing the head of Tywin's personal guard. I shut my mouth and set my jaw, determined not to back off, but I knew I was fighting a cliff with bare fingers.

"The young Lady is going to bed. Escort her to her room."

Just like that. I wasn't a child to be commanded, and yet, I knew -again- that I couldn't do anything to resist Tywin. The thought enraged me and for the first time of my life, I felt like a prisoner. In a spark of anger, my hand flew to the desk, grabbed the inkpot and threw it to Tywin's face.

He closed his eyes instinctively. The ink dotted his face and splattered on his deep red velvet vest. It would be spoilt forever, I thought as I left the room, immediately followed by Llewyn. I hoped it was one of his favorites, because I would definitely come to regret this gesture.

On the morrow, I had decided to let Tywin have his way. I had no way to refuse the examination and my persistence would only anger him. He was right: I was his to marry. I had no doubt that pushed too far, he would give me to the first brute he wished to favor.

It was quick, as painless as it was embarrassing. The Septa was around forty and motherly. She promised no one would know, whatever the result, that Lord Lannister had been very insistent, and he had been assured his will would be done. I wasn't thankful. Relieved by her promises, a bit; but I was far from ready to pardon Tywin. And then twice relieved when the Septa confirmed my maidenhead was intact.

I wasn't surprised when I received an invitation to dine with him. However I was astonished when, once there, he acted as if absolutely no apology was to be made. Shameless, he greeted me with the most neutral tone: "So. You told the truth."

As if he had never doubted it. And then: "You look awful tonight. What did you do to your hair?"

Since I couldn't rebel, I had decided to look as grim as possible instead. I had acquired a black, high buttoned dress which hid me from toes to neck, and had neglected the elegant hairstyle I favored for a tight braid, pinned up in a strict bun. I wore no jewel, even my favorite pendant, the little golden seahorse he had offered me for my thirteenth birthday.

"I did not want to look like I want to seduce or please anyone, My Lord."

"And so you look like you're mourning instead," he mocked me. "We need to know if Lysa Arryn bought moon tea before. She could have done so just this once, for a servant of her or a friend. We need to be assured she buys it regularly. Tomorrow, you will go back to the shop, disguised. You will offer a golden dragon to the shop keeper, or up to two if he tries to negotiate. I will have two men of my guard dressed as civilians to protect you. You won't tell Cersei, and if she asks, you weren't able to follow Lysa the first time."

This time, my mission went without any incident. The shop keeper charged two golden dragons and the promise her name wouldn't be given. What used to be a somewhat exotic adventure had turned into a disgusting chore. I wanted nothing more than to be done with it and, scared as I was to face Cersei and lie to her, I spent the rest of the day playing sick in my own room.

I was woken the next morning with strict orders and a new dress, all supplied by one of Tywin's squire. The boy from Crakehall explained I was to accompany our Lord to see the King. Everything had to be done according to Lord Lannister's wishes. I hadn't forgiven him, but once again, there was nothing I could do : Tywin was renowned for his lust for respect and his out of proportions revenges for those who would not give it. Furthermore, this was the King and, before I could help it, the prospect both intrigued and excited me.

Tywin had purchased a simple, high collared dress. The cut reminded me of the black one I wore out of spite, only this time, the color enhanced my blue eyes. Some discreet embroidery added a sense of luxury and an almost white, foam-like scarf to tie around my waist made me look thinner. He had chosen the hairstyle as well, a southron braid pined around my head ; my maid had to pull so hard on my hair to keep them from curling that she brought tears to my eyes.

Then I met the King.

I had seen him from afar since my arrival. King Robert, a tall and physically strong fellow, was an avid jouster. When he wasn't fighting someone in the training field, he would be seen leaving the castle to hunt or to go to the city for whatever he was doing there. Once home, he would order a feast if he felt like it. Sometimes I wondered if he ever found time to work at all. Now that I was only a few meters from him, I could understand why most girls deemed Cersei as "lucky". Black bearded, virile as an ox despite his stag-shaped crown, he had square shoulders, high cheekbones, sensual lips half hidden under his hairs. His black eyes were alert, almost suspicious as he extended a hand toward his "honorable father-in-law", which Tywin accepted. Tywin contrasted strongly with him. He was as tall as Robert, but leaner, almost dry, with a flatter belly and a crown of carefully cut, blond hairs around the line of his jaw. He was older by almost thirty years, but his light green eyes did not yield to the man. Without the crown, someone could even have guessed Tywin was the king, dressed regally as he was in rich red velvet threaded with gold.

We were soon a small group in a closed room, around a round table. Tywin and I sat in front of King Robert, while Jon Arryn stat at his right hand. I was at Tywin's left.

"So. What's the girl doing there?" asked Robert. He motioned a small, mousy cupbearer to fill his glass. The Hand frowned: obviously, he would have wished the meeting to be done with without wine. "I did not know you liked them so young."

Tywin jaw contracted, yet he said nothing, breathed and finally, answered with an icy calm.

"Lady Esteill of Fairkeep is my pupil. She has been tutored in bookkeeping and is the most able to replace the man I intended for today. Who, unfortunately, has fallen sick."

"What a strange idea. Teaching a girl in bookkeeping, I mean." Robert gulped down a big, noisy halve of his glass. "And a bit cruel too, if I may. You shouldn't teach a girl something she will never be asked to use."

"Some men actually listen to their wives," Tywin answered dryly. "Did you call me to King's Landing to criticize the way I tutor my wards?"

At that, an uncomfortable silence took hold of the room, stretched until it filled every corner. Jon Arryn finally emitted a small cough.

"The royal treasury is empty. The Throne would grant you the honor of a loan."

"How can the treasury be empty?" asked Tywin in astonishment. "The Crown was not only rich, it was making huge profits when I resigned..."

"It was six years and a war ago!" bellowed Robert, but Tywin ignored him and went on :

"I was the first in King's Landing at the end of the war, which was three years ago, and the treasury was still full. It wasn't pillaged, we had no winter, no war since then. While I do not wish to accuse anyone of mismanagement, it is my right as your vassal to..."

"Oh, please do shut up." Robert emptied what was left of his wine. "More!" He held the cup. A loud, annoyed breath went out of Tywin's nose. He reminded me of a tightly reigned stallion, waiting, wanting to break for a run. "Taxes had been low. People died. I had to rebuild the city you cleverly sacked when you arrived there first. I have to keep a strong army or a new war will break out. And I don't have to justify myself to you to ask for the fucking gold you're lazily mining out of the ass of Casterly Rock."

"Please, please, there is no need to quarrel over this," intervened Jon Arryn. Belittled by Robert, with an heavily lined face despite a straight back and awaken gaze, he was easily forgotten when he did not speak.

"The fact is, the King ask you, Lord Tywin, if you would agree to a loan. If not, then when will ask someone else. It is because indeed you know the realm well, and have served it faithfully before that we preferred you above the others."

"How much do you need?"

"Thirty thousand golden dragons."

"Take notes," Tywin ordered me. My quill dipped in the black bottle of ink, reminding me of our own quarrel. "Thirty thousand I can lend. I would however take a forty percent interest rate."

"Forty ?" Robert looked like he was going to suffocate.

"Forty is a very high rate, Lord Tywin," answered the Hand in a calm voice. "And would cripple the Crown's treasury when time will come to refund you."

"A low rate would not encourage the Crown to handle wisely its finances."

"But surely, your benevolence and loyalty urge you toward some... leniency."

"To some point, perhaps."

"The Crown will refund you in a two years' time, providing you allow a five percent interest rates."

Tywin raised an eyebrow. Robert was obviously overwhelmed by whatever game the two men were playing.

"I have gold mines, this is true, but thirty thousand dragons is still a big sum. I will have to make sacrifices to allow this loan and then will need the money from the interests to repair the damages."

"But these sacrifices will be less felt if you get the money back sooner," Arryn pointed out.

"They would be smoothened by a fifteen percent interest rate -if indeed, you can assure me you will manage to repay me in two years' time. However, if you can't, perhaps we could make two loans. Let's say ten thousands with a ten percent interest rate, to be refunded in two years, and another one of twenty thousands, to be refunded in five years, with a thirty percent interest rate."

The negotiations continued, propositions launched back and forth. It was obvious both Tywin and Jon Arryn were great negotiators and knew what they were doing; I suspected they even took pleasure in this joust. On the contrary Robert made no effort to follow, and no one tried to get his attention. He drank more and more and finally rose from his chair, declared he would come back to sign whatever agreement was reached and left.

By the time Jon Arryn proposed a pause, my fingers had turned black and I had filled several sheets of paper with propositions and calculations, each sheet with a different plan, each plan with the money Casterly Rock would make. My hand ached, but I was elated. Never in my life had I been so close to power, to two brilliant persons ready to fight and cooperate for the interest of the realm and their own lands. Jon Arryn, despite his less than impressive look, was obviously Tywin's equal in wits and brain.

We rose from the table. Jon Arryn led us to an open balcony overseeing the Nera and long streaks of green fields. There, the conversation shifter to more personal matters: how was Tywin's family faring? Had Jon Arryn finally reached an agreement with his pro-targaryens remaining lords, and had Lady Lysa recovered from her last miscarriage? I was flattered when Jon Arryn extended the courtesy to asking me about my family. Not about my studies, though, and I remembered how displeased by the idea of a woman handling numbers he had been.

"Now, the true reason I took Lady Fairkeep with me today," began Tywin after he waved the servant away, "is that I had heard unfortunate rumors regarding your wife."

Arryn eyes fell on me. His brow furrowed, but he still motioned Tywin to go on.

"Please, my Lady, explain to Lord Arryn what you learned."

I gulped. Just how was I supposed to do that without angering the man?

"I saw you lady wife, My Lord," I said with the humblest voice, "when I was going to a shop, in the city, to buy cosmetics."

"Cosmetics? You wear cosmetics?"

"No, she doesn't," Tywin intervened. "I do not allow her to do so, which is why she tried to get some secretly in the city before she was caught by the chief of my guard. This is how I came to know about this affair."

"Please continue, young Lady."

"I overheard the Lady Lysa. She was buying moon tea."

"Are you sure of this?"

"Quite sure, my Lord. On Lord Tywin's orders I went back to the shop and paid good gold to know more. I learned your Lady has been buying the tea regularly for a year, in doses sufficient for one to be assured of never being pregnant."

Jon Arryn turned to the countryside. His gaze wondered on the green hills as the implication downed on him: that for a whole year, his wife may have been trying to stay barren. I pitied Lysa for getting a husband old enough to be her grandfather, but this was no excuse from her duty. In her place I would have done everything to be done with it quickly, to spawn something and be left alone by the old man.

"I thank you for telling me, Lord Tywin. And now, if this is true, I owe you a favor," he added sourly, but Tywin only shook his head.

"I would not ask you for one, not when like you, I have high hopes for children to come." He continued, answering Jon's questioning glare: "With Jaime in the Kingsguard and my other son's... deformity, I hoped Cersei would father many grandchildren. I have heard, however, troubling rumors concerning her marriage. Rumors which threaten these hopes."

"I will talk to Robert. Again," Arryn said. "But you have to know Cersei is not without guilt."

"I will have a talk with her, then, and hope that with our joint efforts, the realm will soon gain a few more sons."

"I needn't worry. Things will get better." He sighed. "We should get back to work, before Robert comes back and accuses us of laziness."

They finally agreed on a complicated loan in three parts, with clauses ensuring more money for the Lannisters if the Crown was late in payments. Tywin was pleased and declared himself ready to return to Casterly Rock. He called Cersei for a last meeting, the evening before his departure.

A thunderous meeting indeed.

I had the misfortune of being in the vicinity when she arrived. Regal in bearing, she pinned me to the wall with her glare alone and called me a traitorous weasel. I did not have the time to answer, and I would not have since I knew this to be true: Tywin opened the door to his apartments at this precise moment, saving me from his furious daughter.

"Esteill is not to blame for your carelessness and lack of subtlety," he said, his face a mask of severity. "What were you thinking, sending a young girl to the city? We can be thankful nothing happened to her, or that she wasn't caught in the first place..." then the door closed and I could hear only muffled sounds, though they were quickly escalating toward a shooting match.

I packed my things and, the next morning, we left King's Landing.