Purple Wedding

Her plan worked! Sansa was long gone from King's Landing and on her way to the Twins to meet their mother and brother. No-one suspected that she was impersonating her sister but she couldn't stay long or they would. On the down side, she was now, by marriage, a Lannister! Arya snorted to herself – if her father could see her now – married to a Lord, not exactly ruling his castle and certainly not having children that will be knights and prince's but much more of a lady than Arya ever planned to be. Arya shuddered.

As often as she could, usually late at night or early in the morning Arya would pretend to be an orphan girl down in Flea Bottom, she rarely slept more than a few hours, and sharing a room with someone was out of the question. It was the best time to gather information on the Lannisters anyway and today she had hit the mother lode.

It was well known that Stannis' forces had been almost completely wiped out at the Battle of Black Water Bay and that wildfire was used to do it, but what she didn't know was that the wildfire was being made on Cersei's order. Tyrion had found out and taken over but Arya's instincts were screaming. If she knew Cersei as well as she thought she did, there was no way she would keep all of the most deadly fire in the world in one place. She was far too paranoid for that and far too mistrustful, particularly of her little brother. No, Cersei would have another stash of it somewhere else, the question was, where?

The Pyromancer would know you needed specialist knowledge to handle that stuff. He would be her next target but he's not likely to just tell a peasant girl and if he didn't tell Tyrion there was more he obviously still holds some loyalty to Cersei. How do I break that loyalty? What hold does she have on him? There was the obvious, threat of violence, beheading, threaten his family, if he had any, it could just be obscene amounts of money.

Even if she did manage to get him to talk, what's to stop him from lying and running to tell Cersei what she's done? She would only get one shot at this; she has to kill the Pyromancer after she's seen him. This is not going to be easy. Damn near impossible!

Unless... Cersei asks for it herself. He'd have no choice but to give her what she wants. A risky move but it might be my only hope.

It wouldn't be easy stealing some of Cersei's clothes; she could sneak in while Cersei was at a council meeting but if she notices it missing or gets back early. A dark cloak might be better; she would want to keep a low profile down here anyway. She had observed Cersei – how she moved, how she held herself, how she talked. Hopefully she knew enough to put on a convincing show, would the pyromancer even know her well enough to notice? She doubted it.

All that would have to wait for the moment; it was time to begin her, or rather Sansa's routine. Arya quickly made her way back up to the room she now shared with her husband.

Tyrion wasn't even awake yet, since the wedding he had been drinking a lot more than normal, it seems he was just about as happy with his current situation as she was - no doubt it was his enforced celibacy that really had him wound up. He refused to consummate their marriage until Arya/ Sansa wanted him to – which would never happen but he swore to uphold his marriage vows and remain loyal to her alone. Arya had to admit that she did feel sorry for him, he may be a Lannister but he was nothing like the rest of his family, she had always liked him. He knew better than anyone what his father, sister and nephew were capable of and yet he openly defies them, hits back as hard as he gets. She respected that – perhaps in time, she might learn to let go of some of the hate that she carried around but for now, she had work to do.

Arya quickly removed the rags she wore to Flea Bottom and put her sleepwear on, as far as Tyrion would know, she was here all night. She was just stowing the rags when Tyrion stirred.

"Sansa?"

"I'm here."

"Did you sleep?"

"A little. I don't sleep much."

Tyrion sighed.

Arya poured a glass of water from the pitcher she kept filled on the table. "Here." She handed him the glass.

"Thank you, my lady."

Arya swallowed a retort, she hated anyone calling her 'my lady', but she knew that Sansa was always so proper, she let it drop. The awkward tension between her and Tyrion was really starting to get annoying but then it must be difficult being openly despised by your own wife.

"Shall we go to breakfast?" Arya asked sweetly.

"You go. I have a meeting with my father first thing. I'll meet you after?" He still sounded half asleep, or more likely, still drunk from the night before.

"I would like that." Again Arya tried to sound like she meant it.

"Would you?" He sounded uncertain but almost hopeful.

"Of course. I'll get dressed and go down now."

Arya stood and began pulling out the dress that she would wear that day. Maybe she was just misremembering but the dresses were more uncomfortable than when she was forced to wear them at Winterfell.

She couldn't help but notice that Tyrion slid out of bed and pretended to focused on something in the far corner of the room – facing the other way. Arya smiled to herself – modesty. Did that really exist anymore? Maybe only in this room.

Shae, as if summoned, flew in through the door and immediately began tidying up the bed clothes. There was a definite heir of anger to her, like the sheets offended her, then she froze, looking at them. She and Tyrion shared a look.

What was that about? Oh of course! Sansa is still a maiden – she knows… or at least thinks she knows that Sansa hasn't been deflowered! But what was with that look? Why would Shae care, she was just Sansa's hand maiden… or was she?

Sansa said that she had come into her service recently; she was very beautiful and judging by her accent she is from across the Narrow Sea – possibly Lorathi or Braavosi.

Perhaps this was the reason that Tyrion was so unhappy at their marriage! Arya didn't blame him, she was a poor substitute for such a beauty, but this arrangement could never work.

The bed now sufficiently made and Arya unable to continue dressing without help, Shae turned her attention to her. Without a word she took hold of the strings at the back of Sansa's dress and pulled violently. Definitely a bit of tension there.

It felt like a lifetime or maybe two before Arya was finally sitting at the breakfast table overlooking the bay. Did Sansa really go through that every morning? The dress… the hair… the jewellery… all had to be just right before she could set foot out the door! Urgh! No wonder Arya hated being a lady! So much of the day wasted in just getting ready for it!

Arya examined every morsel on the table in front of her, piled high with fruit, meat, lemon cakes – Arya had never been much of a fan of them – strawberry tarts. Her mouth watered; being constantly on the move, hunting to survive, it had been a long time since she had seen sweet things!

Of course, she was suspicious of any food that she hadn't prepared herself, although, being married to Tyrion, she suspected she was probably slightly further away from danger than she was as Joffrey's intended. Never the less, she still had some herbs left from her travels which she crushed and brewed into an antidote for the most common poisons. She hoped that would be enough to counteract whatever, if anything might be in the food, but she didn't have much left. Another reason she couldn't stay long.

Arya spent most of the morning, happily contemplating exactly how Joffrey; Cersei and Tywin would die. It was one of her favourite past times, after all these were at the top of the list – heads of a family and monarchy – their deaths had to make a statement. Arya relished the challenge but she could never settle on the method, the timing she didn't have a great deal of control over. So how would she do it? There was always the obvious: poison their food or water; slit their throat while they slept but that was just too subtle and too quick for Arya's liking. There was no way she could take them on publicly – she would never get enough time to get all three of them and escape at the same time. They would all have to be done at the same time but in secret, which pretty much left poison – something all of them would drink. What if Jaime consumed it? … Was she worried about collateral damage? Then again, if the three of them died at the same time, it would only be one third of the impact! That wasn't right. Could she risk only killing one or two and hoping she had a chance to kill the other another time? If so, which two did she kill? Who were her biggest threats? Well that was obvious really: Joffrey and Tywin must die before she left King's Landing. Valar Morghulis. But how? When?

Arya heard footsteps approaching, her head jerked up, her hand to the thin blade concealed beneath the folds of her dress. It was Lady Olenna of house Tyrell. Arya relaxed slightly as she drew closer in a relaxed, confident stroll.

"May I join you?" She asked pleasantly.

"Please do." Arya replied, just as sweetly, indicating the chair opposite.

Olenna unhurriedly lowered herself into the chair. She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again, glancing pointedly at the handmaidens surrounding the table.

Arya understood the message. "Would you mind fetching some more refreshments for Lady Olenna?" She addressed the handmaidens. "Would you like something in particular?"

"Figs would be lovely. Thank you." The two women scuttled quickly away, leaving Arya and Olenna alone. "As you are no doubt aware, my granddaughter Margery is now to wed Joffrey. What is he like behind his golden lions?"

Arya was taken aback. Was this a trick? Was she working with the Lannisters and trying to make her commit treason? Or was she just an old woman, shrewdly worried about her grandchild?

The Queen of Thorns had made a reputation for herself over the years as a woman who spoke the blunt and blatant truth, except when it suited her and her family. Arya decided to take the risk and confide the truth in her. "He's a monster! He cut off my father's head and made me look at it! He had me beaten by his Kingsguard!"

"Ah." Olenna leaned back in her chair, sighing. "Well that's disappointing… but not surprising. The question now is; what to do about it?"

Arya couldn't believe this woman's directness! It was a wonder she hadn't been accused of treason and relieved of her head by now. "I'm not sure what you mean." Arya feigned ignorance.

"I will not allow my granddaughter to marry that. So what is to be done?"

"I'm afraid I'm in no position to help you secure a better match for Margery."

"Don't play dumb with me child. After everything this boy has done to you – you don't want revenge on him?"

Arya's heart rate quickened. Where was she going with this? "Those are treasonous words, my lady. If people heard you talking…"

"But you are not people, are you? I've spent my entire life, sifting through politics, lies and hidden truths – in fact I've become something of a master at it. I know that you will not tell anyone about this conversation and I also know that you and I have shared interests."

"Shared interests?"

"Neither of us wants to see Joffrey wed Margery."

Arya dropped the innocent act and played along. "What do I care about Margery?"

Olenna gave her a withering look. "Whether you care for the fate that my granddaughter will face at the hands of that, so called monster, is not important. The solution is the same."

Arya nodded. "How can I help you with this solution?"

"That's what I'm here to find out."

Arya hesitated. This was the tipping point. Was she trying to help Margery or trap Arya? Her heart was pounding. What was it Little Finger said: everyone in King's Landing was a liar and every one better than Sansa? But what about Olenna and Arya?

Arya gave in. If this was a trap she was pretty sure she could get herself out of it – she been in worse places anyway. "Should anything happen to Joffrey. I… and then my husband Tyrion would be the first suspects."

"Not if you were both long gone from King's Landing before something happened."

"What would be so urgent that would draw the king's uncle and aunt-by-marriage away from King's Landing so soon before his wedding?"

"You would both be visiting High Garden, the home of your future niece and queen…with the intention of making it back for the wedding – barring any unforeseen delays."

Arya nodded. "You mentioned something about me helping you in this."

"Yes. I have the opportunities to make this happen but not the means."

"You have powerful friends and a great deal of money – can't you find the means yourself?"

Olenna leaned forward. "Of course I could, if I wanted the goldcloaks and city watch throwing me in chains immediately…"

"I see. Let me see what I can do."

"Be discreet. I am taking as much of a risk talking to you as you are to me.

"That's true. What's in it for me?"

Olenna looked surprised. "I take it the satisfaction of having a hand in this is not enough?"

"Not to take the risk of working with someone else, someone who could betray me or inadvertently reveal something."

Olenna looked like she was about to say something in anger but regain her composure. "What do you want?"

Arya explained, as vaguely as she could exactly what she wanted from the formidable old woman. She looked dubious but in the end agreed to Arya's demands, understanding that the less she knew of the details the better.

Olenna left the table just as the handmaidens had returned with her figs. She whipped one off the plate without slowing down.

This was a strangely fortunate arrangement – she could kill Joffrey, leaving no clue as to the killer. Reminds her of the Ghost of Harenhall. More dramatic than some chambermaid finding Joffrey's dead body in his chambers and less risky than doing it while she was still in King's Landing.

Now it was just Tywin to take care of. And the fire.

Arya was just getting up to leave when Tyrion joined her. "I'm sorry, Sansa. The meeting with my father ran later than planned."

"That's OK, Lady Olenna kept me company. I saved you some breakfast How did the meeting go?" Arya handed over a napkin with a selection of everything.

Tyrion looked stunned as he accepted the napkin. "Thank you." He said slowly. "Urgh, the meeting…didn't go well."

"I'm sorry to hear that." She paused. "Lady Olenna has invited the both of us to High Garden. She insists that we see it and if we leave now, we will be back in time for Joffrey's wedding!" Arya tried to sound enthusiastic – perhaps overdoing it a bit.

"I… don't think that would be a good idea. I'm needed here and my father..."

They stopped walking and faced each other. "Please Tyrion. I would like a break from King's Landing – just a short break. I think it would be good for us to spend some time away from… everything. Plus, I've always wanted to see High Garden" Arya gave him her most meaningful look.

Tyrion smiled. "How can I disappoint my wife?" His smiled vanished almost immediately.

"Great! I'll start packing – we should leave in the morning if we want to make it back in time." Arya knew he wasn't happy with this but she didn't care, she did her bit for her conscious. After they were out of King's Landing, Tyrion could do what he liked. Suspicion would likely fall on him and by extension her for the murders of Tywin and Joffrey, even if neither of them were there at the time. Cersei would see to that but there was nothing that could be done.

Instead of returning to their chambers to 'pack', Arya veered off down into the tunnels to begin preparing the poison she would use.

The last time she was in King's Landing, she had found this little spiders web of tunnels and created a small stockpile of goodies in case she was ever back in the city and was in need of weapons, plants, herbs...

It only took minutes for Arya to find the discoloured rock in the wall and began to dig directly below it. She pulled out the mortar and pestle and a very rare plant, only found in the Jade Sea of Essos plus some herbs from the Summer Islands.

Arya ran through all the mental check-list in her mind once more: the poison was made – just needed to be delivered; the horses were fed and carriage prepared; she had paid Bronn and Podrick more gold than they could carry between them to lead the carriage out of King's Landing and towards High Garden in the morning no matter what and to say nothing to anyone.

All that was left to do now was to speak to the Pyromancer and then sneak into Tywin's chambers and spike his wine with the poison. She knew from her time at Harenhall that Tywin tended to retire to his chambers very late and only occasionally did he have a glass of wine before heading off to bed. Spiking that wine was a risk but she suspected that with all the preparations for the wedding, plus ruling the Seven Kingdoms, he would want to keep a clear head. Then again – he may be more inclined to drink.

Either way, it was her best shot at such short notice – ideally she would have liked to rig something either in his chambers or in his study so that when he sat down an arrow would shoot out from a concealed spot in the corner and pierce his eye but she didn't have the time. Besides the more elaborate a plot, the greater the chance of discovery or malfunction.

She quickened her pace back up to the room she shared with Tyrion – it seems he had thought it a good idea to invite her to lunch with him and her new brother-in-law. She hoped that Jaime was a good enough actor to treat her like the Stark daughter he barely knew, instead of the one that saved his life.

"Have some boar. Cersei conquered enough of it since Robert killed one for her." Said Tyrion, forking an enormous sausage onto his already laden plate.

"I'm not hungry." Jaime said quietly.

"You lost a hand, not a stomach! Sansa?" He motioned to Podrick to take the plate to her.

She shook her head. "No, I'm still full from breakfast. This is enough for me." She indicated her salad.

"That's not food! At least have some wine." Tyrion poured her a glass and handed it over.

"Your new hand – it's nicer than the old one."

"Is it solid gold?" Podrick asked.

"Gilded steel. A toast! To the Lannister children: the dwarf; the cripple and the mother of madness!" Tyrion smirked as he raised his glass.

Jaime instinctively moved his right hand forward to the glass but sent it washing over the table. Arya could see how much it pained him to be so useless.

"I'll get it! Leave us!" Jaime waved off Podrick as he made to clean the table

"it's only wine!"

"I can't fight anymore."

"What about your left?"

Jaime shook his head. "I can hold a sword but all my instinct are wrong. How can I protect the king when I can hardly wipe my own arse?"

"You're the lord commander now. Command – let others do the fighting. When was the last time father swung a sword?"

"I am not father! I'm the Kingslayer, when people find out I can't slay a pitcher…"

"So train then. Learn to fight with your left hand."

"With whom? People talk!"

Tyrion considered this for a moment but it was Arya who came up with the solution. "Ilyn Payne."

"Sorry?" Jaime raised an eyebrow.

"He's the royal executioner, so he can handle a blade and couldn't tell anyone anything if he tried."

"It's settled then!" Said Tyrion

"So how is married life?" Jaime asked looking between them.

Arya glanced at Tyrion. "It's fine." Said Arya.

"It's great. We're very happy." His voice lack sincerity.

"So the pressure from father is not a problem?"

"What pressure? Arya asked, looking from one to the other.

"You haven't told her? That's what Tyrion's meeting was about this morning, and yesterday morning." Jaime turned to face Arya. "Father is concerned that you are not yet with child."

"Why does it matter to him? He got what he wanted – what's left of the Stark family is part Lannister."

Tyrion was staring into his wine. "Tyrion asked father if the two of you could take up your rightful place as head of Casterly Rock."

"Is this necessary brother?" Tyrion grumbled. Arya suspected that Jaime was trying to tell her something but she wasn't sure what.

"I believe your wife should know that father refuses to acknowledge your birthright! That you will never rule Casterly Rock."

Ah! Tyrion's status as a Lannister was flimsy at best and anything that Arya did – like killing his father and nephew – would destroy what little he had

"Thank you brother, for bringing that up, again." Tyrion sounded hurt.

"But your children will be welcomed back." Jaime finished.

She thought on it a moment but the situation hadn't changed. She may be killing Tywin and Joffrey out of her own need for vengeance but it was bigger than that – they were threats to the Seven Kingdoms! She wasn't being a hero but sometimes in war - sacrifices must be made! Casterly Rock was not her concern.

I am Cersei Lannister.

Now it was time to take the biggest risk of her life!

With as much confidence and arrogance as she could and entered the Guildhall of the Alchemists. The pyromancers looked up at the sound of the door. Wisely only one approached her.

"Hallyne." Arya greeted him.

"Your grace. I trust you found the wildfire to your satisfaction?" He asked; a hint of tension in his voice.

"I did. Now I'm here for the rest of it."

"The rest of it? He sounded more alarmed than confused.

She carried on the bluff, hoping she was right. "Yes. I have need of it."

"Very well, your grace. Would you like me to take you to it?"

Arya relaxed, relieved that her instincts were correct. "No. I would like you to move the pots… all of them to the docks. There is a ship waiting there called the Scarlet Rose. I want you to discreetly load all of the remaining pots onto the ship before morning. Understand?"

"Yes, your grace. It will be done."

The pyromancer turned to leave. "Hallyne. If you fail me… wildfire will be the least of your concerns." Even in the poor lighting, Arya saw the colour drain from his face as she swept back out the door.

Well, that's that covered; now it's onto the Tower of the hand!

It was far too easy to sneak into the private chambers of the King's Hand! Granted the tunnels that Arya used were mostly forgotten and well hidden but still – it was an extremely serious security flaw. Well they will discover it when Tywin takes a drink from his wine!

As she suspected the pitcher was still in the cabinet behind the dining table, the glasses beside it – bone dry. It wouldn't take much poison to kill Tywin; only a couple of drops would be enough but she didn't want to take chances – she may never get another one like this again.

She only had enough ingredients to fill a phial – half of which she gave to Olenna earlier but if all went according to plan, she wouldn't need any more so she poured the rest into the pitcher.

When mixed with wine it was completely tasteless and there was no cure for it! The effects took hold so quickly that even if there was a cure, no-one would have time to get it and with the throat clamped shut, it couldn't be swallowed anyway.

That's why Arya loved this poison so much – it left no-one in any doubt what was going to happen. Once a few drops were swallowed, it was all over.