And we're back. A thousand apologies for such a delay. There were dozens of setbacks and complications writing this chapter and the next. Originally they were one but the length grew too great so I cut it into two. hopefully what is given will make up for the delay. The next chapter is guaranteed to update next Wednesday and I feel it's one of my best ones yet.
I want to give out a great thanks to Longclaw1-6 and Elphaba818 for their help writing this chapter and the next! Without them, it would have taken even longer. Be sure to check out their stories too!
Announcement, Since Last chapter, I started a Tumblr that is going to feature all 199 Valyrian Steel Weapons of Westeros we haven't seen yet+ some bonus art for ones we have seen. Be sure to check it out! I cant post the link on this website so go to Archive of Our Own to get the link!
Enjoy!
Petyr
On his way out the door of his establishment, Petyr was surprised to see the Hand of the King, Lord Jon Arryn just outside with several of his knights. Ser Vardis Egen kept a hand over the hilt of his sword and the visor of his helm down as he always did when he was venturing the streets with Lord Arryn. "My lord Hand," Petyr greeted with a smirk and curt nod, "To what do I owe such pleasure of your company?"
Jon Arryn gave half a smiling nod to Petyr. "Lord Baelish, the funds I requested for the repairing of the city's eastern sewers."
"Oh yes, you caught me at a favorable time. Not moments ago did I sign the documents and they are being sent for delivery as we speak. I expect it won't be two days until your funds are secured." He kept a hand on the stone railing as he walked down the steps of the entrance and one hand waving about like he was a performer about to make a gold dragon appear between his fingers. Whatever act he had to do to make others think less of him in any way, even in the slightest, gave him the advantage.
"Would you care to join me to Red Keep?"
"I wouldn't deny the Hand's Company, especially on a fine day as this." Lord Arryn's squire, Hugh, kept a close pace behind his master. The boy was an occasional visitor to Petyr's establishment and always had some wonderful things to say.
After only a few paces after getting out of sight of the establishment, Lord Arryn broke the silence between them. "I've noticed that you are becoming a rather close friend to our King. I don't mean to judge, I just never knew Robert to be with friends of a certain type."
"A man of books and words instead of swords and armor?" Petyr asked.
"Precisely. You spend much time in his company since you rose to be our Master of Coin. Have you been confided into by our King as of late? He is more… wrathful ever since the Princess left for Winterfell. From a commoner's point of view, it is the frustrations of a father missing his daughter but we both know he hardly ever looked her way."
"Yes, his eyes are fixed on his golden sons. Just the other day I saw him trying to show Prince Joffrey how to wield a hammer instead of a sword. I believe Robert's anger stems from the frustration of our Queen. She misses her daughter and wants a richer life for the Princess instead of the cold wastelands of the North." And she also missed her lover.
"If the rumors about what Tywin's pursuing in the mountains, then it won't just be a cold wasteland any longer. Speaking of Joffrey, I've been hearing of some sick rumors. One of the cooks caught the Prince in the kitchen butchering a cat."
This brought legitimate shock to Petyr. "Oh my. What is Prince Tommen's cat?"
"Thankfully it was just a stray. I imagine if it was Tommen's, the boy would be heartbroken." Lord Arryn sighed in relief.
"Such a rumor doesn't surprise me. Having witnessed a similar event. Instead of a cat, it was pigeons and rats. The Prince thought it hysterical to hide the innards in many of Pycelle's books. He's rather fond of being more like a Lannister than a Baratheon. A cat toying with his prey."
Lord Arryn went silent, almost like he was stuck in thought. "Does Robert ever talk about the Greyjoy Rebellion? I've come to notice his temper rising ever since winning the war."
Petyr played to Jon Arryn's insight and acted as he took it to thought. "Now that you mention it, he was rather excited to go to war, but coming back he was as brooding and furious as the day Ned Stark came north with his sister's bones in tow. Usually, some of my girls would be enough to bring Robert back to his usual self but he hasn't been a regular as he used to be in the past few years. All for the best though, fewer bastards to father. Did you know that since gaining my new position, I've received several letters from women claiming their children are Roberts and demanding some compensation?"
This wasn't a surprise to Jon Arryn. "And more are sure to come. Your predecessor reviewed more than a dozen in his service."
"And I'm sure they all said the same thing mine said. A baby with King's blood deserves a King's ransom. I assumed some of these are simply scams and fooleries to attain riches. Though I had some time and boredom one day and decided to investigate a few of these claims. I went as far as hamlets outside the city to a smithy nearby. I must say that the resemblance was undeniable. Some had the eyes, some had his square jaw. If you ever find an interest for yourself to see, it wouldn't even be an hour of your time spent."
Lord Arryn cocked his head and shrugged. "I suppose if it wouldn't take up too much time, a look would be intriguing. I remember Robert's bastard from the Vale, Mya. She's a woman grown now and serves as a guide to the Eyrie. A kind girl and looks much like her father but doesn't share his temper. Do you know what Robert did just yesterday?"
"The incident with the guard, I heard." Some foolish castle guard said an insulting joke about Robert not realizing the very man was behind him. Instead of getting a laugh from Robert, the guard received a snapped neck. "You were like a father to our king when he grew up in your care. Tell me, do you see Prince Joffrey heading in the same direction as his father?"
"I hope the boy might be simply in a phase with these episodes of animal cruelty. Robert didn't do any of that, he preferred peeping on women dressing and bathing before he was old enough to bed them."
"Hopefully our prince does nothing of that sort with his current hobbies."
Jon Arryn stifled a chuckled as did Petyr. "I think that once Joffrey grows into manhood, he will show more of his father's side. Robert was already drinking at that age yet I've never seen so much as a drop of wine near Joffrey's lips. I believe it's the Queen's influence and care that makes him seem so different."
"She does keep her children close to her. Her little cubs. I imagine when Joffrey is crowned and wed, Cersei might have half a mind to strangle the bride to keep her son."
"Probably. Though Tommen's company might be what she takes herself to. He's certainly proving himself a rather peaceful boy than mischievous and energetic like Joffrey."
"All for the better." Peter agreed. "Traits such as those often lead to a fine man of knowledge when grown. I think we could use more of the sort over men with more brawn than brain."
"No argument there. Too often do I see people in the streets that fall to poverty and living in the gutters. It makes me wonder who they were before they became that way. If they were once respectable people with bright futures and worth recognition..." Lord Arryn began to scratch his chin as he looked down to the road.
"Is something the matter?"
"No no, just thought. Those missives about our King's bastards, do you still have them perchance?"
And the seed has taken root. "I save every document I receive. In times like these, one must always account for every problem that is presented no matter how minor or small it may seem."
"Would you allow me to obtain some copies? I am starting to desire to see our king's natural offspring for myself."
"Absolutely. What idea have you come up with, Lord Arryn?"
"Depending on the legitimacy of these claims, we shall see."
When they crossed over the bridge to the Red Keep, one of the castle stewards was waiting for them. "Lord Baelish, the King has summoned you to your office for a meeting."
"What wonderful timing. The Lord Hand and I shall make haste for his grace."
The steward flinched. "Just you, my lord. It is a private matter, his grace said."
"Nonsense. No matter of the king is private from his head advisor." Petyr falsely fought.
"It's alright, my lord." Jon Arryn said, saving Petyr the time of an argument. "I have much to do anyway. I bid you a found evening."
Petyr bowed his upper body quickly and gracefully. "Perhaps Lord Stannis would be in the want of company. Perhaps share my words about my troubles and he might crack a smile." If Stannis found out the secret of the Queen, there wouldn't be a doubt that such a cold man would seize the chance to take up what he thinks is his.
"The Seven hells will freeze over before Stannis smiles." Jon joked as he departed.
Petyr walked the halls alone, giving an occasional greeting to the nobles he passed by. But instead of heading for the stairs that climbed to the Master of Coin's office, he went to the ones that descended deeper into the Red Keep. The light of day soon disappear for no window was made in the lowest foundations. He found a torch waiting for him and took it as he went into the belly of the Red Keep.
The lower levels were hauntingly quiet, but ghosts were just another idea to frighten idiots who believed in them. But soon bones and skeletons were becoming present. Not the bones of humans, but of the mightiest beasts, dragons.
In the center of the dungeons, there were two other torches set in the ground and conversing between Lord Tywin and the King. Their conversations were muddled but ceased when both men noticed Petyr's arrival.
"Baelish, 'bout fuckin' time you showed your ass. I hate it here." The King grumbled.
Petyr set his torch in a stand on a stone pillar and bowed. "Apologies, the Lord Hand Arryn kept me busy until my arrival. But I have made the arrangements as planned."
"Good. Then let's be quick about this. I'm not missin' Lord Harlton's melee." Given the effects of the dampener from years ago changing the King's state of mood and mind, pleasing him was difficult unless it involved fighting. Lord Harlton was throwing a small event when exotic fighters and women from Essos had come. From what the rumors said, any fights made were to the death, exactly what interested the King.
Robert wandered over to one of the medium-sized skulls. He stared at the thing like it was his next victim of his fury. "Have there been any complications as of late?"
Tywin spoke first. "Nothing that can't be taken care of, your grace. However, even with small numbers being sent to the Wall, the burden of funding their presence is costing more than expected. I have no doubt that my son will succeed in the negotiations."
Petyr stepped in the conversation. "We have yet to decide which course to take when Robb Stark and the Princess conceive an heir."
"We've not the means to discuss it until now," Tywin replied. "With things finally in motion, the time has come to decide what to do should Robb Stark and my granddaughter produce a boy or a girl."
"I do believe that our friend in the North was adamant about betrothing a son of his to a girl of Stark blood. He'll need to in order to tighten his hold on the North for us."
"But should a boy be born," Robert growled, "the name of Stark lives on. We make sure it ends and give Skinless his desired bride for his son. I'm sure Myrcella will suit that boy of his."
"An unfortunate but necessary deed, your grace," Petyr commented with false condolences. "But if it is a girl, we have nothing to worry about. The Starks will die and the North brought to heel."
"Fuck that," Robert growled. "I'm not bringing them to heel, I'm cutting their fucking legs off so they will never stand again. He slammed a fist hard onto the dragon skull and managed to crack the bone. He turned to Tywin. "You make sure the North never forgets."
Petyr smirked. "I have faith they never will. As they say, the North Remembers." It was all coming together so perfectly. Now that things were in motion and the day of execution was on its way, it was time to expand the plot. This war could not end as quickly as planned if things were to play out in Petyr's favor. It was time to find friends who would love to know what is being conceived now. And the best ones to make were in the Reach.
Tyrion
"Our mines are drying. Even we call in the debts the crowns owes us, it will not last. That is why we need to mine in the North."
"Don't you mean plunder?" Tyrion asked his Lord Father. "If you want the gold so badly, then answer Ned Stark's invitation."
"No. The man's hate for me is too much. His stubbornness will be the rift that keeps us from attaining the riches there and my journey will be for naught. He'll make no deal with the likes of me. That is why you will be going in my stead."
"What?" Tyrion almost spat the wine he was drinking.
"You'll be sailing for White Harbor on the morrow and you will secure a deal with the North for the gold."
Tyrion almost laughed nervously. "I'm better at spending money, not acquiring it."
His father didn't scowl for once, instead, the look he gave his dwarf son was one of a mummer's surprise. "I wouldn't be discussing this with you if I didn't believe your talents to be suited for such purpose."
"I'm good at conversation and wooing women, not diplomacy."
"You have a knack for convincing others to give you what you want. Convince Ned Stark to give us a deal instead of standing over opportunity until the day comes that he's buried with it. Myrcella may not share our name, but she shares our blood and a Lannister is worth more. I will not have her rule a cold, empty wasteland."
"You make it sound like you're doing it all for her."
"A smart man will do everything he can to better his family. She is still too young to fully grasp the enormity of such things. Our efforts will not only teach her but begin to change the North itself."
If change was what the mighty Tywin Lannister was aiming to achieve with a mine then it will be a complete miss. Northerners are too stubborn and proud. They cling to their ways as hard as anyone would to furs on a winter night. There was no possible way it would work unless he himself was the Lord of the North itself.
Still, if this was a chance for Tyrion to prove his worth then so be it. Perhaps if he could take control of things in his favor, he might be able to work them into something better, just as he did with the sewers of Casterly Rock.
He was granted ten of his father's men as an escort. He was only given as much because of the additional goods he managed to procure before his departure. If it were just him, he would have only needed three guards. Two for protection and one for company.
It was almost afternoon when they finally arrived at Winterfell. For a first visit, the castle was not much when compared to Casterly Rock, but it was its own.
He didn't try to hide his smile when he saw Myrcella running over to meet them, just as cheerful and filled with joy as she always was.
"Uncle!" she exclaimed happily.
Tyrion was helped down from his horse and almost keeled over when Myrcella wrapped her arms around him. "Look at you! Still beautiful and sober despite your mother's predictions." He teased.
"What? She didn't say that!" Myrcella laughed.
No, Cersei assumed far worse. Raped like an animal and no longer her sweet child. "She fears that you have to wear so many furs that when you see her next she'll see a great bear instead of her sweet little girl!" He darted a hand to tickle her quickly and it made her laugh more.
When Myrcella calmed down, she asked, "Is my mother alright?"
Only on the days when she could have Tommen to herself or when a letter from Myrcella arrived. " She treasures all the letters you send. She keeps a chest just for them and has it under lock and key. If she were king, she'd have an entire castle as a vault to keep them safe forever. As would I if I ever got a letter." He cocked his head with a mischievous smile.
"I'm sorry uncle. There's just been so much here to discover. I can't think of what to tell you first."
"We can talk all about it now that I'm here, my dear. But first, I brought a present for your nameday."
"But you already gave me one this year."
"And I ask forgiveness for that. That lute player was gods awful and we both know it. This gift is one you won't just enjoy but will surely need in lands such as these." He waved his hand behind him as the last of the Lannister soldiers came in. The last one was a handler for a purebred golden mare of that certainly caught many eyes within Winterfell. There wasn't a horse as beautiful as this one anywhere else in the North.
Myrcella gasp and squeezed Tyrion's hand in excitement. "She's mine?" She nearly squealed.
"As Casterly Rock is your grandfather's." He nudged her forward and it was all she needed to run to her new gift. His heart warmed at the sight of Myrcella and her new mare.
Myrcella reached a hand up and softly stroked the mare's snout. "She's so gorgeous. What's her name?"
"That is for you to decide, my dear. She's your horse now and with it comes much responsibility. Just because you are a princess does not mean you can neglect caring for a prize such as this. I don't expect you to shovel after her dropping or those duties, but she will need a bond if you are to truly learn to ride her well. A name will be a good start."
Myrcella didn't miss a beat. "Tulip. Her name will be Tulip. Thank you, uncle!" Myrcella turned and tightly hugged Tyrion so much it squeezed out a groan and a laugh.
When she finally let go, Tyrion took both her hands in his and looked her straight in the eye. "I didn't think of this on spur of the moment, I thought long and hard about what you would need most that I could give you. I've inquired much about Lord Stark's boy, Robb. He loves to ride with the other wards, does he not?"
"He loves it so much. They go out at least once a day and will be gone for an hour on some days and the whole afternoon on the others."
Tyrion continued holding one of Myrcella's hands as he walked were her. "If you practice well and, this will be a great step to bring you closer to him, by learning to do something he enjoys. What else can you tell me of him? Is he handsome?"
Myrcella blushed a light red. "He is."
"Good. I prayed night and day that your father did not betroth you to some under bridge troll. I look forward to meeting him. Is it true Jaime asked him as a squire?"
Myrcella turned glum. "Yes, but Lord Stark wouldn't allow it. He doesn't want the Kingslayer to teach his heir." She leaned into his ear to whisper. "Robb sulks about it a lot but pretends that he isn't."
"Ah, a brooding boy? I wouldn't expect a son of Eddard Stark to have fits like that. But he is a boy denied a great chance."
"Well… he has his reasons and I tried to convince Lord Stark, but he's stubborn. Robb says he more that way ever since his brother passed away."
"Yes, Jon Snow, the b-"
"Don't call him that." Myrcella cut off. "Robb doesn't like it and neither does Sansa. He's a Stark too."
Tyrion nodded and felt gladdened. As one who was a bastard in his father's eyes, he shared the resent for the judgment cast for simply being born and Myrcella knew he did not like the treatment either. "Hm… speaking of my brother, where is he? I would have thought the protector of the Princess would be with the Princess."
"He's…still getting dressed. He can't take the cold days still." Myrcella obviously was covering for Jaime. Today was actually warmer than Tyrion expected.
Tyrion felt to laugh, but it didn't feel right at the moment. He hasn't received any kind of written correspondence ever since they last saw each other at the Capitol. This would be the first he would get to know how the fucking North was treating his brother. He didn't need to know in order to guess. He could tell from all the glares he would find from the peasants and Winterfell guard. A Lannister in the North is an unwelcome thing. And there was also a rumor floating about that Jaime humiliated Ned Stark in a duel.
He caught a glimpse of some boys practicing archery. One had long black hair was as pale as a ghost, another had dirty brown curls and a side face, and the third was auburn-haired and stoic like his father. He pointed over to them. "Is that Robb Stark there?" He asked.
"Oh yes! Do you want to meet him?"
"Of course. For no one but I can deem a man worthy of the most beautiful girl in the world. I'd sprout up taller than the Mountain and carry you away if a fool tried to snatch you away from me."
Myrcella led him to the archery range and the boys ceased when they saw the two of them approaching. The snide looking one almost laughed upon seeing Tyrion. "It's the Imp of Casterly Rock!" He exclaimed without holding back.
Robb Stark gave a quick elbow to the snide boy's stomach, who Tyrion could tell was Theon Greyjoy because of the bronze krackens peened to his belt, and he groaned his way to the dirt.
"Apologies, my lord. I'm Robb Stark." Robb introduced as he stamped the end of his bow into the dirt.
"Tyrion Lannister, the Imp of Casterly Rock and the Dwarf of Tywin Lannister." He didn't try to hide his titles, he showed the boys that he embraced them in public. Hopefully a lesson they could learn. "My word, for Stark, you certainly have more of your mother's Tully looks. Nonetheless, Myrcella, you were right. He is a handsome one."
Robb's brow perked up and Myrcella squeezed Tyrion's arm in embarrassment. "Uncle…" she whispered.
"Have no worry, my dear, I will not embarrass you further. Tell me, have you made any friends here yet?" He looked to Robb. "You have two sisters, do you not?"
"Sansa's my friend and the others too," Myrcella answered.
"I bet you are dying to show them your gift. I can see it in your eyes. Go on and fill them with wonder."
"Alright. I'll show you around later!" Surprisingly, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek before running off. He looked back and smiled at her innocence, praying that while she would know the world better as she grew, she would not change who she was.
Tyrion looked back at Robb with studying eyes. "You're shorter than I expected."
"You're taller than I expected." Robb shot back. The pale boy and Greyjoy took their leave with their instructor. The damn squid stole a second glance with a sneering smile. At least Tyrion found someone to have fun with, but what to do to show the boy his place. He's a Greyjoy so it wouldn't be hard.
"Your uncle Brandon was quite the built warrior. I didn't think a boy of your age would still be pup and not a wolf already. Still, you seem a good lad."
"You can tell after just meeting me?
"Just an assumption at first glance. Your need to keep yourself dignified by coming to the defense of a man such as I after being insulted, or perhaps you simply did it because your intended was with me as well and simply wanted to show her that you are not as childish as the squid."
Robb Stark picked up his bow and set it on a rack of them. "I'm simply giving courtesy to a guest in my father's house. It's unbecoming of myself to cling on immaturity like that."
Tyrion grinned at him. "Don't be so dramatic, boy. You are in fact still just a boy. Enjoy it while it lasts. Before the worries of the world fall on your shoulders and rob your spirits of their innocence. If you'll excuse me, I would like to speak with you more, mayhaps at dinner." Tyrion bowed his head and departed from the boy Stark.
Despite only one meeting, Tyrion noticed so much in the boy that reminded him of Jaime when he was younger. The look each of them had deep in their eyes, one of longing of someone lost. For Jaime, it was their mother and for the boy, it was his brother. It seems there would be more to negotiate with Lord Stark besides gold.
Tyrion and his men were led by an old, gray-haired Northern knight into the Great Keep of Winterfell where Lord Eddard Stark, Lady Catelyn Stark, their maester, and several of their house guards were waiting.
"Lord Tyrion," Eddard greeted, "I hope your travels were well."
"Perfectly so. I was blessed with calm seas and blue skies. My father sends his apologies that he could not attend himself for such exchanges. His assistance is greatly needed in the capitol."
"I trust that we can accomplish much with you in his stead, my lord. I offer bread and salt for you and your men." One of the servants carried a small plate of bread pieces in one hand and a small bowl of salt in the other. "The hospitalities of Winterfell are yours."
Tyrion partook of some bread he dipped in salt and was quick to eat it. "Many thanks, Lord Stark. While my travels were pleasant, I feel much more fatigued from the ride as do my men. We request that our meeting be postponed for another day."
Lord Stark simply nodded. "Very well." He stood from his seat. "If you have anything of need, I can assign one of my men to assist."
"For now, what I need is to say hello to my brother. Do you know of his whereabouts?" He noticed that Eddard flinched ever so slightly at the mention of Jaime.
Instead, Lady Stark spoke in her husband's place. "He is usually with the princess, but today he is taking a leave of rest. I believe he is in his room. Jory, lead Lord Tyrion."
"Aye milady," One of their men answered with a voice heavy with a Northern accent. "This way, milord." The man, Jory as he was called, led Tyrion alone into the castle to a room that felt isolated from most of the others. "We will be having supper in the next hour, milord," Jory said before promptly leaving.
Tyrion gave a light knock on the door. "My sweet golden lion, your beloved brother beckons for aid!" He playfully called. He heard a rustle before the door swung open and he saw Jaime standing there.
"Tyrion," Jaime breathed. He opened the door all the way and let his brother enter.
The room was very… minimal. There was a great deal of space but the only things that took it were a bed, a wardrobe, a nightstand, and a trunk. There was also an armor stand with Jaime's Kingsguard armor on it. "Not much compared to the White Sword Tower."
"Only been here a few months."
"And in all that time not a single letter to me, father, Cersei, or anyone. I've had to rely on rumor and whispers to guess how you are. If I had known that you're as bleak as this room is I would've brought better company, maybe a decorator too."
"What's there to tell. The country is shit, the people are shit, the Starks are shit. Did you feel like everyone was watching you as you came in?"
"I'm a dwarf, everyone always looks at me. Perhaps you feel it more because you are the Kingslayer."
Jaime wandered over to the armor stand and picked up a cloth that was resting on one of the spaulders. He cleaned his armor as he talked. "It's more so because I knocked their lord on his fucking ass."
So that rumor rings true. "What possessed you to best Lord Stark in his own home?"
"He asked for it, literally asked for it."
"Well, I can't argue with that. But must you make your time here miserable?"
"Suppose I should start sharing cups with Ned Stark and go on hunts with him. Be real chappy with the bastard."
"Is that so bad? Trying to make a friend rather than keep an enemy?"
"I don't need friends nor do I want any."
"Then what do you want?" Tyrion asked finally.
Jaime stopped cleaning his armor. He hesitated before turning to his brother. "I want those pricks to look at Myrcella and not see the Lannister of her."
That would be hard since she was all Lannister. "She is the sweetest girl any of us have ever met. If she can charm the woman I hate the most then surely the people of the North can learn to fall in love with her as Lord Stark's son is beginning to." From what Tyrion noticed, none of the people had any cold glares when it came to Myrcella. "Are you sure it's really her, or yourself you don't want them to see as a Lannister?"
Jaime scoffed and resumed wiping his armor. "And you wonder why I don't write."
"Indeed. Will I see you at dinner?"
Jaime ignored him and just kept wiping his armor.
At dinner, Tyrion half expected an entire boar or nearly rare red meat served. He didn't expect one of the best stews he had in his life. Potatoes with roast chicken, peas, carrots. Such simplicity yet such flavor, it was remarkable. And the consistency was so thick. The way it warmed him made it feel homey.
While he ate, he shared stories with Myrcella and they were joined by Lord Stark's daughter Arya and the steward's daughter Jeyne Poole. The girls were easily enticed with a story of knights performing nobility at tourneys, but he thought perhaps they needed something more real and unfortunate since they were growing into young women.
"Sadly though, when Prince Oberyn's lance struck Willas off his horse, Willas's foot was caught in the stirrup and his horse as both rider and steed fell . His leg was crushed and any promising career become a knight and a jouster came to an end, further disturbing relations between the Tyrells and Dorne."
"That's so sad." Little Arya said. She was proving to be quite the handful and one of the more interesting Starks. He watched her fight today and was intrigued at how much she was enjoying it. She was the first girl Tyrion had ever met that was learning to do so. He noticed though that despite her joy, she was struggling with handling a large sword. "I don't know what I would do if I lost my leg."
"He still has it, little wolf. It has only gone bad. He requires a brace and a cane. But not all is lost when fighting is out of one's reach. I've spent some time in the company of the heir of Highgarden. He's quite the learned man and has many fine pursuits. He breeds the finest horses from Dorne to the Wall. He's the one I went to when looking to acquire Myrcella's mare."
"Then I'll send him a letter," Myrcella said, "Tulip is such a wonderful horse."
"I'm sure he will be honored to receive thanks. You though, little wolf," Tyrion rustled Arya's hair, "you might find prince Oberyn much of a fascinating man. He has several daughters he teaches the art of combat to."
"Really?" Arya got excited. "Do you think I can learn with him or be his squire?"
"I think you can. But what your father thinks is another matter. That reminds me, I must excuse myself. Though it does pain me so, I do enjoy such youthful and exciting people such as yourselves, my ladies." Tyrion got from his seat with his mug of ale in hand and wandered over to the High table. Lady Stark's seat was vacant given that she was tending to her youngest boy. Since no one was using it, he climbed the seat next to Lord Stark.
"Lord Tyrion." Eddard greeted.
"Just Tyrion, My lord."
"Very well, Tyrion. Is there something you need?" He asked before spooning some soup.
"I was just wondering, is it true that you were the one that challenged Jaime to a duel?"
"Aye. He was more skilled than I predicted and I lost because of it. Nothing more to it."
"Except for some wager, I believe. Something about a cloak?"
Ned Stark kept his eyes on his horn of ale. "He refused it when I offered it to him."
"Probably to spite you for refusing your son to squire for him. Do not take it personal though. He's always been that way to most. The only exceptions are myself, my sister, her children, and a few men he grew up with at Casterly Rock."
"Not your father, though?"
"Especially. Every time they speak, or the last time they did, it always ends with sullen expressions and disappointment from the Mighty Tywin Lannister."
Eddard paused his eating and set his bowl aside to face Tyrion. "I sense you have some speech about your brother prepared to try and sway my decision."
"And the southern people think Northmen are thick as castle walls in the head." Tyrion joked but Eddard had none of it.
"My decision is final."
"Until you think otherwise. I didn't need to ask to guess why you said no. The Lannister name is not welcome here and neither are the ones who bear it. Of course, a man as yourself doesn't want the son of Tywin Lannister filling yours with the incorrect ideas of what is right versus wrong. But you see, you underestimate my brother's intentions as much as his skill if you think that."
Eddard paused. His gaze flinched away for a second. Whatever stance he was taking in this argument was beginning to buckle.
"The fact is my brother forsake his oath to slay the tyrannical king. Dishonorable, disloyal, and it branded him for the rest of his life. He doesn't deny what he did, he wears it proudly as any man would display their family's colors and sigil upon themselves. He wants your son not to teach him how to be like him, but how to be better. To be a great swordsman but more honorable than he. That is why he pursues your heir as a student. To see that Robb can become what he could not."
Tyrion drank heavily from his mug before scooting out of the seat next to Ned Stark. He was tired, he needed a pick-me-up if he was ever going to make it to bed and even more if he wanted a woman to join him.
"Tyrion," Eddard said, stopping him. "How many people are there in King's Landing?"
"Roughly half a million. Why do you ask?"
"Something Myrcella tried to say."
"If it's about what I can guess, you've none better to ask than my brother."
Well, now we know at least some of the plot against the North. but now the question remains when will it happen?
Leave a comment and tell me what you think