NOTE: Everything you recognize belongs to George R. R. Martin, a simply wonderful author who is much better at writing than I am. I own nothing. I simply love his books.

TYRION I

"And so, Lord Stannis lies dead, while Lord Renly is marching on us with a great deal more haste than before." Lord Varys fell silent for the first time in several minutes as he looked around to see how the Small Council were taking the news.

"Marching?" Tyrion Lannister inquired sharply. "Did Renly not gain control of Stannis's fleet?

"If he did, he has not chosen to use them."

The smiths are making a useless chain.

"We must strike." Cersei stated bluntly. "We must strike now, before he can rejoin his army."

"Strike with what, sweet sister?" Tyrion inquired politely. "We do not have the numbers to challenge Renly in the field nor the food to withstand a portracted siege. Renly is no fool. He knows the people of King's Landing are starving already. How much worse do you think it will be when the city is actually under seige?"

"If we send a raven to Harrenhal, father would-"

"Father would ignore you, as he did before. He cannot allow Robb Stark to continue his assualt on the Westerlands and he cannot help us either." Tyrion's patience for this little game was wearing thin. Or are you truly this stupid, Cersei? "He could either garrison his army in the city, which would make it even easier for Renly to starve us out, or he could challenge Renly in the field, where he would be defeated. We do not have the numbers."

"Then it would seem to me that we need allies," Petyr Baelish chimed in. The master of coin wore a solemn expression, but Tyrion could tell his mocking smile was not far away. "A shame that the Dornish will not bestir themselves to come to our aid, despite the fact that we are sending them Princess Myrcella. And to think, we could have had the armies of the Vale rushing to our aid if we had sent her to marry little Robert Arryn..." He was now giving Tyrion a very significant look.

Tyrion rolled his eyes. "Perhaps Lady Arryn can still be persuaded to help us." He had said it sarcastically more than anything else, but it was taken at face value.

"Lady Arryn has not yet lifted a finger to help her own nephew," Varys stated. "What chance do we stand?"

Littlefinger leaned back in his chair, grinning contentedly. "Well, I suppose I could be persuaded to go to the Vale myself. There has always been something of a rivalry between Catelyn Stark and Lysa Arryn, but when she departed King's Landing her and I were on excellent terms... perhaps if I were to offer mine own hand in marriage to her, I could win her to our cause?"

I trust you little and I like you less, Lord Petyr. What kind of game are you playing now? Tyrion glanced at Cersei and gave the tiniest shake of his head. She ignored him completely.

"I am ending the session," she announced. "We will meet and discuss matters relating to the defence of the city later. Lord Baelish, would you mind giving me a few moments of your time?"

Well that was sudden. The gods only know what Cersei and Littlefinger will plot now. Tyrion hauled himself off his chair. "Do let me know what you and Lord Littlefinger decide, won't you?" He asked her, before striding from the room. I do not like this. I am the Hand of the King. Whatever decisions they make about the realm, I should have a say.

He made his way lazily back to the Tower of the Hand, flanked by an escort of Stone Crows. The meeting hadn't lasted long, and Tyrion found himself feeling quite listless. Which is ridiculous, of course. A Hand's work is never done.

He decided to read for a while, to clear his head for whatever business that he would need to deal with later. It came knocking sooner than he had expected, however, in the form of Pod.

"Your sister requires you in court. The Queen."

"I have only one sister, Pod, and last time I checked she was the Queen Regent, not the queen. Unless of course she has wed Joffrey since last I saw her." She would probably be delighted to.

The squire's face reddened. "Sorry, my lord. The queen regent... wishes you to come to court."

Tyrion sighed and hauled himself from his chair, rolling his eyes slightly at Pod's lack of humour Very well. Let us see what has sprouted from this morning's foul seed.

Fifteen minutes later found him in court, watching as Joffrey dispensed judgements to the usual kind of petitioners. Nothing of any note really took place until Littlefinger stepped up in front of the king. This got Tyrion's attention.

"Lord Petyr Baelish," Joffery spoke first, "As a reward for your many years of service to the crown, I, King Joffrey Baratheon, confer upon you the castle and lordship of Dragonstone, to be held by you and your descendants until the end of time."

Tyrion raised an eyebrow. Very short and to the point. What next, I wonder?

Cersei stood now, speaking for her son and the realm. "We thank you once again for your diligence and aptitude in your position as Master of Coin. However, the Iron Throne has a new task for you. The threat posed by the traitor and usrper Renly Baratheon is not to be taken lightly, and the King wishes to forge a new alliance with Lady Regent Lysa Arryn of the Vale. Lord Petyr, you will go to her and offer her your own hand in marriage, and for a suitable match to be arranged for her son Lord Robert Arryn, who is henceforth restored to his rightful title as Warden of the East. Finally, you shall go to Lady Arryn with a promise: we will launch an investigation into the murder of her husband Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, and bring his killer to justice."

The court fell silent. Tyrion's eyes widened with surprise for a brief moment, before scanning the room to see how people were taking this. Littlefinger was giving a sweeping bow, accepting graciously, thanking the king for his new title, but he wore his wide, mocking grin. Obviously, he knew about this. Joff didn't look surprised either. The rest of the assembled court, however, broke into a sudden chorus of murmuring. Not surprising, Tyrion thought. As far as everyone knows, Jon Arryn died a natural death. This may cause more problems than it solves...

The session ended, and all too soon Tyrion found himself back in the chambers of the Small Council. The seats were uncomfortable, the smell of the city overpowering, but Tyrion Lannister found that holding power here made all that seem... unimportant somehow. Lord Baelish was not present. Bronn had brought word that he had already left the city with a considerable escort of Gold Cloaks.

"Good evening, sweet sister," Tyrion began. "Thank you for letting me in on your plans."

"I did not feel it was prudent for you to know, dear brother. We worked out all the nessecary details, so there was no need to trouble you with them."

"You offer justice for Jon Arryn? And how, may I ask, are you planning to offer that?"

Varys tittered nervously. "I am working on it, my lord hand. My informers are working day and night to find us the truth about Lord Arryn's demise."
And what is that? Tyrion wondered. Did you not kill him yourself, Cersei? Or was it another?

"These matters are not for us to concern ourselves with now," Cersei said. "Lord Renly will come down upon us with all his strength, and we must be ready. The defence must be planned. I have sent another raven to Harrenhal, informing father of the possible alliance with the Vale, and instructing him to join up with any force that Lady Arryn sends to aid us. Another raven has flown to Balon Greyjoy on Pyke, informing him that if he sends men to defend the Westerlands from Robb Stark, he will be greatly rewarded."

The last point, at least, Tyrion approved of. The Greyjoys may hate us, but they hate the Starks more. But isn't Lord Balon's son their hostage? "Very well," Tyrion said carefully, "In that case, I think we can end the shortest council meeting ever with the smallest council ever. I must attend to other business."
Varys bobbed his head, departing, but Cersei lingered for a moment.

"Tyrion... I apologise for how I've acted recently. I see now, that you were only trying to help... and perhaps Myrcella really will be safer in Dorne." She planted a kiss on his forehead and swept from the room, leaving Tyrion alone and speechless.
She's plotting something, or I'm a giant. This thought only led to places he did not want his mind to go, right now. A giant of Lannister.
He had a king to control, a sister to out-think, and a city to save. But all Tyrion Lannister wanted was Shae.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: And here we have it! Shorter than I'd hoped, longer wait than I'd promised... not a very good chapter, in my opinion. Tyrion is a very tricky character. Once again, of course, this is the part where I beg for reviews. Anything is good, just please, send me a sign! How am I doing here? Is it good? Bad? Neither? Particularly... what can I do to improve?