A/N: Hey guys! You all know who's turned up!
Guest reviewer Anne yes he is a crafty wee begger and he's about to get worse!
Thoughts would be awesome, this chapter was a tough one.
:)
Playing Both Sides
"Who in the name of the Gods are you?!" Daenerys demanded.
"Please your Grace! There is no time I could find no one else!" he implored her.
"Who is your wife going to poison?" she asked him, moving towards the flap of the tent.
"Tully's," he told her, "and no doubt Stark's too"
Daenerys stared at him then, realisation dawning on her; "Littlefinger," she almost snarled.
He almost smiled at her reaction. The clever girl had worked it out quickly, quicker than he expected her to. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She had obviously been told tales of him judging from her cold reaction.
"My wife is here in camp … and she means to kill," he said, meeting her eyes.
"Come with me," she demanded, wrenching the flap aside and marching out.
"She's not with Stark I went there first," he told her as her eyes flickered towards the Stark tent.
"Brynden," he heard her whisper under her breath then, her pace quickening.
She called some of her men to her as she raced towards the Tully tent, to Petyr's surprise they seemed sober. Daenerys had wrenched aside the entrance to the Blackfish's tent before any of the celebrating men around them had even registered her presence. The Blackfish turned at her entrance, as did the woman that was with him. His wife. This would be the difficult part, would she play along? He fixed his eyes on her and shot her a look which clearly told her to stick to the plan. All he had told Daenerys wasn't a complete lie – Lysa was indeed quite mad. But she was also madly in love with him which he was hoping she would remember now.
"Don't drink that!" Daenerys insisted, snatching the cup from the Blackfish's hand.
"What …?" he began but she had turned to one of her Unsullied and was speaking again.
"Take this to the Maester – I want to know what's in it," she told them and he took off at once.
"Your Grace, forgive me … what is the meaning of this?" the Blackfish asked her then.
"I have reason to believe that your wine was poisoned," she told him and he laughed.
"Ridiculous! My niece brought it, she …" he tailed off as he caught the look in Lysa's eyes.
"Arrest her," Daenerys said softly to her men and the Blackfish's blood ran cold.
He tried to find words to protest as two Unsullied came forwards at once to grip Lysa's arms. His niece said nothing as she was dragged away, her eyes meeting her husband's for a moment before she was removed from the tent. The Blackfish swallowed hard before turning to meet Daenerys' eyes which were full of concern.
"My own niece," he managed then, his throat dry.
"Sit down," Daenerys urged him, her grip on his arm strong as he staggered slightly.
"Lysa … little Lysa," he whispered disbelievingly, his eyes moving to find Littlefinger's.
"I came to stop her," Petyr told him, meeting his eyes.
"Why?" the Blackfish asked, suspicion rising in him at once.
"She has gone quite mad … I feared for her safety as well as your own," he said unblinkingly.
"This is your doing," the Blackfish accused.
"I assure you it was not," Petyr said smoothly.
"My niece would not try and kill her own kin!" the Blackfish roared.
"Enough!" Daenerys said sharply before either of them could say another word.
"Forgive me your Grace," they both muttered.
"We will see whether the wine was truly poisoned before we speak with Lady Arryn," she told them.
Robb was utterly furious as he paced up and down the tent listening to what the Maester was saying. Littlefinger was stood behind Daenerys and Jon with an expression of immense satisfaction on his face that Robb wanted instantly to knock off. Stannis watched Robb pacing, his mind working furiously as he too took in the words the Maester said. There was poison in the wine that Lysa Arryn had given to Brynden Tully and she was now under a heavy guard at the Queen's pleasure. Stannis knew Robb was annoyed that he was not allowed to deal with her – but they were not in the North anymore and he had to bow down to Daenerys' wishes.
"Thank you Maester Wyman," Daenerys said when he had finished.
"Now what?" Robb almost snarled, his eyes fixed firmly on Littlefinger.
"Now I would like some time to speak with Lord Baelish and his Lady wife," she told him.
"Can I see her?" Robb asked her.
"I think it's best you wait for now," she said softly.
"She's my Aunt," he almost snapped.
"She's under suspicion of attempted murder," Daenerys told him firmly and he turned away from her.
"Fine," he fumed eventually, his eyes back on Littlefinger again.
Daenerys gestured for Littlefinger to walk with her then and he fell into step with her, Jon looking between his wife and Robb uncertainly for a moment before following after her. The Maester then took his leave and Stannis quietly dismissed Davos so he was left alone with Robb.
"I'm surprised you kept your temper Stark," Stannis quipped after a moment.
"So am I," Robb seethed, his fists clenching and unclenching as he continued his pacing again.
"She'll be a fool to trust Baelish," he dared to say then and he saw Robb nod curtly.
"That bastard all but killed my father," Robb snarled.
"Your father died to protect the honour of the Kingdom's … to protect the throne," Stannis said.
"He died because Baelish betrayed him and sold him to the Lannister's," Robb snapped.
"What would you do?" Stannis asked him then.
"I'd have his head myself," he said with a cold finality and Stannis allowed a smile of satisfaction.
"If it were up to me I'd give you that justice Stark," Stannis said quietly.
He turned to go then, leaving Robb with that thought. Little steps, plant the seed of doubt.
"It's just you and me – I want the truth," Daenerys said, staring into his eyes.
"I would serve you as the rightful Queen," Petyr told her, not looking away.
"Why?" she asked him simply.
"Because I don't like to lose," he told her honestly and she raised an eyebrow.
"And I don't like liars and turn-cloaks, you cannot be trusted," she said darkly.
"You've been speaking to Robb Stark," he said, nodding in understanding.
"It's not just him who cautions me against you," she told him, her eyes narrowing.
"I could be of great use to you," he told her then, seeing the glimmer of curiosity in her eye.
"How?" she asked despite herself.
"Dorne would join you but they are afraid to what with the might of Highgarden in the way," he said.
"Go on …" she said, raising an eyebrow.
"I can bring Highgarden to your side," he smiled and she couldn't help but stare at him.
Petyr watched her reaction and he knew that just another few choice words would have her eating out of the palm of his hand. Robb Stark would demand his head but there was no way he would be able to take it if the Dragon Queen was on his side. He wasn't lying, he could deliver her Highgarden and in return she could deliver him the woman he loved. He only hoped that Lysa would play along, that she would act her part as well as he knew she was capable of.
"How?" she asked him.
"Let's just say they owe me a favour regarding Joffrey's untimely demise," he replied.
"So they were responsible …" she breathed.
"Tyrion worked it out did he?" Petyr questioned her but she ignored him.
"What do you want in return?" she asked him. Here it was.
"To be of service to the crown again … and to have a Lord's seat," he told her.
"Is that all?" she asked him, her eyebrow raising.
"For now," he said silkily and her eyes narrowed again.
"I don't like games Lord Baelish," she told him firmly and he regarded her for a moment.
"Very well … there is one other thing I want," he said.
"Name it," she said, her eyes on his again.
"The woman I love," he told her.
Lysa wasn't bound when he walked in and she threw herself into his arms. He held her back like the doting husband he was, stroking his hand through her hair and murmuring all kinds of assurances in her ear before he pulled back and looked at her. He could see the unwavering trust in her eyes and he smiled – she was making this far too easy for him.
"I'm so sorry my love," he whispered.
"You'll get me out won't you Petyr … you will fix it …" she looked up at him pleadingly.
"Of course my love," he assured, "I have the Dragon Queen where I want her"
"You have convinced her it was a mistake? That I had no idea?!" she asked desperately.
"She is not quite that stupid my sweet," he crooned at her.
"Then what?! You have to get me out Petyr, for Robin!" she insisted.
"I will," he soothed, "but she wants her confession"
"Confession?!" she repeated, and for the first time he saw doubt in her eyes.
"Just a formality … you would of course claim to have been overwhelmed by grief," he explained.
"And then she will let me go?" she questioned him, her eyes completely trusting again.
"Of course, we will be free to go back to the Eyrie and be with Robin," he lied.
"I love you Petyr," she told him.
"You will write a confession?" he asked her.
"If you're certain it is the right thing," she said, meeting his eyes again.
"I wouldn't ask you unless I was certain my love," he said, holding her gaze firm.
She nodded then and he fought back his smile as he pushed a sheet of paper towards her before giving her a quill and ink. As she began to write he moved to pour her a cup of wine, making sure she was completely absorbed in what she was doing. He didn't give it to her at once, leaving it on the side table before sitting down on the bed and sliding his hand under the pillow. When she finally set down the quill he stood up and traced his fingers across the back of her neck.
"What do you think?" she asked him as he read it over her shoulder.
"Perfect … but you could make one addition my love," he suggested.
"What's that?" she questioned, picking up the quill at once.
"Tell the Queen you would rather die than suffer any more loss," he told her.
"Why?" she asked him and his hand tightened around her shoulder.
"She has a tender heart, it will appeal to it," he said evenly.
"Of course … you are always so clever my love," she said, adding his words to the bottom.
"Perfect … now sign," he told her and she obeyed him.
"Will you take it to her?" she asked him then.
"No my sweet, she wants to collect it in person, here – have a drink," he said, passing her the wine.
"Thank you," she said, taking a grateful sip.
"I will see to it that she comes soon," he said, kissing her cheek lightly, "goodbye my love."
Lysa drank her wine down, rising up from the chair as she began to feel drowsy. She should write to Cat, she though, stumbling around for a piece of paper. She swayed slightly then and dropped down onto the bed, perhaps a lie down would do her good. Perhaps she just needed to close her eyes for a moment. Just for a moment.
"She says she will write a confession," Petyr said.
"I want to see her," the Blackfish demanded.
"She asked for a moment, then she would see the Queen," he said smoothly.
"I will go to her," Daenerys said.
"I'm coming," Robb said, his eyes narrowing at Petyr again.
"Me too," the Blackfish said firmly.
"Very well," she sighed, "come on."
Daenerys led the party towards Lysa's heavily guarded tent, her Unsullied bowing at once and letting her pass through, the others following her in. She stopped dead when she saw the scene, hurrying at once to the bed and rolling Lysa onto her back.
"Lysa!" the Blackfish shouted out, shoving Jon aside and hurrying to his niece.
"She's not breathing!" Daenerys shouted out then.
"My wife!" Petyr choked out, dropping to his knees.
"Fetch the Maester!" Robb demanded and one of the men rushed out at once.
"How did this happen?!" the Blackfish demanded, staring between Daenerys and Littlefinger.
"She was fine when I left her, I swear" Petyr said, tears streaming down his cheeks.
"And we all know what your promises are worth," Robb snarled.
"If you did this …" the Blackfish began.
"Wait," Jon said and they turned their heads to him as he read through a piece of paper.
"What is it?" Daenerys asked him.
"It says she would rather die … than suffer any more loss," he told them all gravely.
"She wouldn't do that! Take her own life, not when she had her boy!" the Blackfish raged.
"My mother said she was devoted to him … it doesn't make sense …" Robb agreed, shaking his head.
"Since Robin has grown older he has depended on her less," Petyr piped up then.
"She's his mother …" Robb stared at him incredulously.
"She wanted another child … she couldn't cope with it not happening," he continued desperately.
"She wouldn't," the Blackfish said defiantly, looking down at Lysa's lifeless form.
"May I?" the Maester interrupted then and they made way for him to examine her.
Robb went and stood next to the Blackfish then and not knowing what else to do simply lay his hand on his shoulder. Jon and Daenerys shared an uneasy glance before looking between them and Petyr and finally to the dead woman on the bed. The Maester sighed heavily then and shook his head. None of them were surprised, they had all known at once there would be no saving her.
"If you would like to pay your respects I can lay her out here?" the Maester offered.
"Thank you," the Blackfish managed.
"I should write to my mother," Robb said, already dreading the words.
"Would you please tell Cat I'm thinking of her," Petyr said then.
"I'm not passing anything on from you," Robb spat, striding from the tent.
"You had a hand in this Baelish, I can smile it a mile off," the Blackfish added before following him out.
Robb watched as the Blackfish sat in the corner of the tent, a strong flagon of ale in his hands that he barely seemed to notice he held. Looking at him didn't help so he turned his head back to paper in front of him, his quill sat in the inkwell just waiting for him to write something more than 'Dear Mother'. He didn't know how to tell her that her sister was dead, that her sister had seemingly taken her own life. Robb didn't believe it for a second – he thought of the reason that Baelish had given, that she was desperate for another child. He thought of Elissa, how she had been and he knew that it was a lie. No matter how badly Elissa had wanted another baby he knew that she would never have left Torrhen without her, no matter how much she was hurting. From what his mother had told him about his Aunt Lysa she was a fiercely protective mother, even more so since her husband had died.
He swallowed hard and wrote that Lysa was dead in the gentlest way he could imagine. Even so the words still looked so harsh on the page, he hoped she wouldn't be given the letter when she was alone. He wrote that the cause of her death was still unknown but that it did not appear that she had suffered or come to any harm. The temptation to write about his suspicions about Littlefinger was almost overwhelming but he didn't. He wouldn't make it any worse for his mother than it already was – he wouldn't tell her about Littlefinger until he was absolutely certain.
"Forgive me," it was Tyrion who had entered the tent.
"What is it?" Robb asked when the Blackfish showed no sign of movement.
"The Maester has confirmed poisoning, Tears of Lys were found under her pillow," he told them.
"How in the name of the Gods did she get them?" Robb demanded.
"That doesn't matter, what matters is that the Maester has ruled it as a suicide," Tyrion said.
"What?!" the Blackfish had finally found his voice.
"Convenient," the voice of Stannis came from the mouth of the tent.
"Indeed," Tyrion said slightly suspiciously.
"Littlefinger is no friend of mine I assure you," Stannis said.
"No," Tyrion agreed, "but it is not your friendship with him I am worried about"
"Daenerys," Robb grimaced then and Stannis watched him carefully.
"He has promised her he can get Highgarden on her side," Tyrion told him and he slammed his fist on the table making the others flinch.
"Surely she's not stupid enough to trust him?" he said, his voice dangerously low.
"I don't believe she trusts him but I believe she means to make use of him," Tyrion explained.
"He killed my father … and I know he murdered my Aunt," Robb seethed.
"You think she'll care about that if she can get Highgarden on her side?" Stannis questioned him.
"Highgarden is all that stands in the way of Dorne," the Blackfish added heavily.
"We cannot trust him," Robb said, shaking his head.
"No, we cannot," Tyrion agreed, "but our eyes on him may yield something of use"
"What are you suggesting?" the Blackfish asked.
"Keep our tempers, play our cards close … he will slip up eventually, men always do," Tyrion said.
"Do nothing you mean?" Stannis asked.
"Do nothing yet," he corrected and one by one they all reluctantly nodded.
A/N: Well ... yeah ... thoughts?
Some nasty bastards about.
More tomorrow.
:)
