TYRION
When the day arrived, it rained and rained. Huge rivulets were streaming down the windows of the Red Keep, soaking the silks and fabrics of the courtiers in attendance to see the king's justice done. The gods are crying, Tyrion thought downheartedly, not a good sign for me.
Jaime escorted him to the stand, rainwater gleaming off his white armour, and locked him into the wooden box.
"How much security is needed for one small Imp, Jaime?" he asked.
"They think you're a very murderous dwarf," his brother said, then crouched to his level. "Tyrion, listen. When father asks you, you must plead for mercy. You must. Father has agreed to spare you and send you to the Wall. He will not kill his son, regardless of what happens."
If only we could be sure of that…
"Send me to the Wall?" He might have laughed, if he had not felt so bitter inside. "Where I can freeze my prick off? I will not beg for mercy, Jaime. I will not give that bitch what she wants."
Jaime shook his head. "That's our sister you're talking about, you know."
Tyrion cocked his head. "That doesn't make her any less of a bitch."
His brother slammed a fist down on the box and glared at him accusingly. "You must plead for mercy, Tyrion."
"I'll do as I please," Tyrion said coolly. "Relax, dear brother. I have an ally, and I have a plan." I just hope it all comes together.
Jaime frowned at him uncertainly, and opened his mouth, then closed it again, for the king was entering the room, prompting the assembled party to rise.
"All rise for His Grace King Tommen, of the Houses of Baratheon and Lannister, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms."
Tommen entered the room, but his address was only brief. "I leave precedence of this court to the good judgement of my grandfather, Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King, Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West."
There was some sparse, half-hearted clapping as the king strode down from the dais where the Iron Throne was, and left. Why didn't I just get him to proclaim me innocent and be done with it? Tyrion wondered. If only I had…
By now, Lord Tywin had climbed the steps to the metal monstrosity that was the Iron Throne. He glanced briefly at it, then seated himself on the chair at the foot of the steps, the shadow of Aegon's mighty throne looming above.
"Tyrion Lannister," the Hand began, his face cool and emotionless. "This court finds you charged with the murder of King Joffrey Baratheon. How do plead, guilty or not guilty?"
"Not guilty," Tyrion answered, loudly and clearly. In the corner of the room he saw Jaime sigh. Beside him, Cersei, still dressed all in black, straightened up from her grief and wiped away a false tear.
"Then how would you say he died?" Lord Tywin asked.
"I don't know," Tyrion said lazily, wringing his hands. The crowd wanted a spectacle; he would give it to them gladly. "I suppose… he choked… choked on his pigeon pie."
"So you would blame the cooks?" asked his father.
"Or the pigeons," Tyrion returned, drawing titters from the crowd. "Just leave me out of it."
A steely glance from Lord Tywin subdued all laughter. "The court calls on the witnesses for prosecution," he said, leaning back in his chair, with the Red Viper and the Fat Flower on either side of him. Mace Tyrell was wearing all green today; a doublet stitched with cloth-of-gold and green satin, while the Red Viper was in a loose red silk bound by a golden buckle at the waist. He stared curiously at Tyrion from beneath sharply arched eyebrows. Even if Tommen manages to sway Tyrell, my fate is still on a knife edge with that one…
The first witnesses were all members of Joff's Kingsguard, clad in their golden armour and white cloaks. "I doubt that Lord Tyrion murdered good King Joffrey, but more than once I did hear him threaten His Grace with violence," said Ser Meryn Trant, "I believe the Imp is certainly capable of murder."
Next came Ser Boros Blount, who built on Trant's point with more evidence; "After the riots in Kings Landing, Lord Tyrion struck His Grace in his anger. He called him 'a vicious idiot' and sought to harm the boy."
"The context, ser!" Tyrion cried out. "Why, give the crowd some context to my devious behaviour." He turned back to the benches. "Our good King Joffrey commanded his Kingsguard to slaughter the smallfolk. I believe his exact words were-"
"Silence!" shouted Lord Tywin. "The prisoner will not speak unless he is spoken to!"
Tyrion fell silent mutinously. I will not hold my tongue forever, he thought, meeting his father's gaze as Ser Balon Swann stepped up to the witness box. "During the Battle of the Blackwater, Lord Tyrion urged His Grace to command the vanguard, in the hope that he might be struck down by the traitor Stannis."
He was followed by Ser Osmund Kettleblack, who stated that not only had Lord Tyrion threatened 'the poor boy,' but had in fact threatened to castrate King Joffrey at his wedding to Sansa Stark, whom be believed plotted with Lord Tyrion.
This drew a collective gasp from the idiots among the court, but Tyrion had eyes only for Cersei, whom he could see smirking in the distance, all signs of her earlier grief forgotten. The bitch has a plan, he thought, and it is working.
The next witnesses were all members of the Small Council.
Varys went first, wandering through the silken sea of his Myrish robe. "My little birds tell me things all the time, and I have heard… disturbing stories about Lord Tyrion's conversations with Sansa Stark. It would seem that the two of them were plotting something together, and alas, sweet King Joffrey paid with his life."
Tyrion snorted at the words. "If a stranger walked into the room now, no doubt they would see me as a murderous, stunted creature," he shouted, "And good dear King Joffrey as the sweetest child on this earth, felled by his plotting uncle. We all know the truth about Joffrey; how he-"
"Silence!" shouted Lord Tywin. "If you presume to speak again, I will have you returned to your cell!"
Lord Gyles Rosby produced, with a written statement from Lord Petyr Baelish (who was in the Eyrie) a ledger that showed that a quantity of the Strangler - the poison from the East that had likely killed Joffrey - had arrived in the port at Kings Landing three days before Joffrey's wedding.
"'Twas the Strangler that struck our good King Joffrey down," Grand Maester Pycelle confirmed. "The poison is known to the Citadel, but it is quite rare, made from plants that can only be found on islands in the Jade Sea. The leaves of the plant are picked and aged, soaked in a wash of limes, sugar water and rare spice from the Summer Isles. The leaves are discarded, but the liquid is kept and thickened with ash. After a while, deep purple crystals are formed… I did find traces of the poison in His Grace's noble throat. Vile, lecherous dwarf," said the old master, shaking a withered finger in anger. "To use devious means to kill the most innocent child the gods ever put on this earth."
Tyrion scarce held back his laughter. On the dais beside the Iron Throne, he could see his sister gripping the arms of her chair, her knuckles quickly turning white.
Following this, an assortment of highborn lords and ladies took to the stand. Bronn, now Lord of Stokeworth, told the court that he did not believe that Tyrion had killed the king, but he knew that his former master had struck and threatened Joffrey many times. Tyrion was relieved that Bronn had not completely betrayed him, and with a cursory glance to Cersei, finally saw her wearing a slight frown.
Next came the lowborn and the common folk of the city. Some of their statements were outright ludicrous. A man-at-arms in service to Paxter Redwyne claimed to have seen Tyrion speaking with 'shadowy men' in the gardens in dead of night, and a cupbearer at the wedding (Tyrion almost laughed at the irony) told the court that 'the little creature' had told him to mix what he told him was a sleeping draught with the wine in return for all the gold in Casterly Rock. A fat septon declared Tyrion to be the Stranger come to earth, and a 'respected herbologist' with knarled fingers told the crowd that he had inquired to him about the Strangler poison and told her that he would kill Joffrey with it. A tribeswoman from the hills told the court that Tyrion was in fact a demon, sent by the gods to plague Joffrey until the end of his days, and that they would 'fight an eternal war that shall tear the heavens asunder.' The septon called the tribeswoman a heathen, and a brief fight occurred at Lord Tywin's feet, until both were dragged away in chains.
But it was the last of these witnesses though that tore Tyrion apart. He could have slept through the first five hours of the trial, and indeed many of the court looked to be doing that. Cersei had done this on purpose, and when she saw him looking, she smiled.
Shae.
She took up the stand without even so much as looking at him. "I was Lady Sansa's handmaiden," she said, in that sweet, sweet voice. "They plotted together. Sansa was upset when her mother and brother were killed. He said," said Shae, not even gracing him with a name, "He said he would do anything to make her smile. Anything. She asked him to kill Joffrey, so he did."
The Fat Flower and his father had remained largely silent, but the Red Viper had spoken many times to offer mostly witty comments. "Why would a mere handmaiden be privy to such information?" he asked.
"Because I wasn't just a handmaiden, m'lord. I was - I was his whore."
A gasp went up around the court. "I beg your pardon? His whore?" said Mace Tyrell, disgusted.
"Yes, his whore, m'lord. He-he used me. He made me do things. Even if I didn't want to."
"What sort of things did he make you do?" asked the Red Viper. Tyrion wondered if he was getting some kind of sexual thrill out of this. He did not blame him. Tyrion glanced up to Cersei, but she was gone. "He told me to fuck me," she said without shame or courtesy, "He said I am yours, and you are mine, and you will fuck me. He made me call him a giant... my giant of Lannister." At this, tumultuous laughter rose up in the crowd.
In another life, Tyrion might have stopped the trial angrily right there, but he refused, for the sake of those who had prepared his defence. Shae was escorted out, and Tywin returned to the centre of the floor. He offered no words other than, "Tyrion Lannister, do you plead guilty or not guilty?"
"Not guilty." They were the only words he had said. His father's eyes flashed. "Very well then. Bring on the defence."
By comparison, Tyrion's defence was pitiful. It was organized largely by the Tyrells – to his surprise – but Tommen had done better than he had expected. The most credible witness was some lady in green, who only said that there was no way Tyrion could have reached Joffrey's chalice. The second part of the trial lasted only half an hour. Once again Lord Tywin came out with the same question, and he gave the same answer.
At Tywin's behest, the trial would end with a final witness from both sides, and Tyrion knew it would be Cersei before he saw her. She swept onto the stage, the only person present still in mourning for her son. When she spoke, she sounded bitter, like a sleepless alcoholic.
"My son... my first son... he is dead. And this is the man... not even a man... the creature that has taken him from me. Have any of you had your son murdered before your eyes?" she screamed at the court.
Either very real or very fake tears were rolling down her cheeks. "I and I alone, have stood vigil over his body for days. I and I alone wear black still to honour his memory. I always will. That creature - that creature, he came to me a year before my son was murdered, and he said this," she broke to a whisper, "He said, 'the day will come when you think you are safe and happy, and your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you will know the debt is paid.' He told me he was going to kill Joff. He told me. He told me, and I didn't listen."
The crowd was stirring angrily now. A great sob racked Cersei's body. "He tried to murder my son on the Blackwater, he tried to murder him when he married the wolf bitch, and then he murdered my son in my sight. My sweet, innocent baby boy."
She fell to the floor, tears streaming down her face and sniffed loudly. "On what was meant to be the happiest day of our lives. And who will he kill next if you let him go free?" she screamed, "If you so much as touch Tommen or Myrcella I will rip out your throat!" Then there was complete silence in the court. Cersei slumped to the ground. She looked as though she might be dead. Lord Tywin stood up, and waited, until the Kingsguard appeared to escort her off the dais, and then she suddenly stood to her feet, walked to the edge of the dais, and simply sat there at the foot of the Iron Throne, sobbing until the Kingsguard escorted her away.
No one dared speak.
No one spoke.
Gyles Rosby coughed.
Tywin Lannister rose to his feet, and beckoned on the defence witness.
No, Tyrion wanted to shout, don't do this for me.
The king appeared out of nowhere. Tywin glared at him.
"Mmm… m-my lord," stuttered Pycelle from beside the dais. "This is… is most unusual… goes against precedent, begging your pardon, Your Grace-"
"I believe the king makes the law," Tyrion offered helpfully.
"And the Hand enforces it. But this is… the king's… ah… the king's own command, Grand Master." Lord Tywin could not make it look as if he was sentencing his own son to death by choice.
"Quite rightly," said the Grand Maester. "Ah, yes, I remember now. One of the Aegons, mayhaps, did such a thing when his own blood was trialled. Mayhaps…"
"Tyrion did not kill Joffrey," Tommen said, cutting Pycelle off. Only one person killed Joffrey, and that was himself." The whole room was silent, not even the ghosts of the dragons daring to interrupt the king's address. "Joffrey was a madman. He was sadistic and cruel. All of you already know this. All of you already know this." Goddamn it, Tommen, Tyrion though, sit down, by all the gods just sit down.
"He would happily take heads and tongues for minor offenses, just for fun," the king continued. "Some of you know this. He would force whores, whipping boys, siblings to beat one another till they were bloody with a sceptre. Not many of you know this." A huge gasp went up.
"He was a sadistic torturer who would slit the stomach of a pregnant cat, just to see the murdered kittens inside. Few of you know this. And-"
Someone might have vomited in the crowd. Lord Tywin, the Red Viper and the Fat Flower were speechless, their mouths wide open.
It took Tywin Lannister a full ten seconds before he spoke again. "Tyrion Lannister, the court will deliver its verdict."
"Mace, of the House Tyrell, do you find this man guilty or not guilty?"
"Not guilty," the bumbling oaf said quickly.
It is simple, Tyrion thought, Someday his own kindness will get him killed.
"Oberyn, of the House Martell, do you find this man guilty or not guilty?"
Prince Oberyn smiled at Tyrion. Then he glanced at Tywin, looking confused and angry in equal parts, then back to Tyrion with a smile, a Dornish smile laced with a strange kind of lust. And Oberyn pronounced two words instead of one.
"Not guilty."
His father stood, and he may have sighed. I'm sorry to disappoint you, Father, Tyrion thought, but I will not die so easily.
"Tyrion Lannister… the gods have seen fit to judge you not guilty of the murder of King Joffrey Baratheon. You are hereby cleared of all charges and granted your freedom."
Where he might have expected uproar, instead he received only silence from the crowd. The only sound was Jaime loosening his cuffs and removing him from the box. Tyrion looked up, smiled sweetly at his father and his sister both, and stepped down out of his cage.
Jaime's hand caught him suddenly around the wrist. "You were not supposed to be freed," he hissed in a quiet voice. "They will be after you all the more now… Father… Cersei…"
"Perhaps they will be," Tyrion said. "And they're welcome to try. But I have friends in high places now, sweet Jaime. Be sure to remind our beloved sister of that."