Disclaimer: I don't own the A Song of Ice and Fire series.

Author's Note: Thank you as always to everyone who read the last chapter, and especially to those who favourited and followed this story. I'd also like to thank FromThereToHere for your lovely review, I'm so glad you like this story and , hope that you enjoy this chapter also. As always, I hope that everyone enjoys this, and please feel free to review and let me know what you thought.

This chapter will be a bit different, I've concentrated on the Arryns so far, but we'll be having a look at other players in the game this chapter. Enjoy.

Chapter Eighteen: Plots and Plans

Cyvasse, Petyr Baelish thought, was a good way to perfect your understanding of the Great Game. Though the game was of Esosi origin, he found that its ability to be used as a tool to aid his own games here in Westeros quite amusing. Right now, he had made few moves, few, but effective moves.

As a boy in Riverrun, Petyr found that he disliked being looked down on, being thought of as lesser because he had little land to call his own. He had hated that the woman he loved would choose a savage wolf over him, and so, lying in bed after his "duel" with Brandon Stark, he'd decided that one day, all these self-important lords would bow to him.

It was years before anything truly came right for him. Lysa's love for him was a great boon, and it had allowed him to rise high. From a minor lord with nothing, he'd gone from his home in the Fingers to Gulltown, and then on to the Capital. Now though, he knew, it was time to rise higher still.

The realm had been at peace now for nearly nine years since the Greyjoy rebellion, and Petyr knew that this could not continue. Chaos, as he'd always known, was a ladder, and he needed a bit of it now. So, he had made a plan. The Hand of the King had to die, and the Lions had to be blamed.

Really, Jon Arryn was making it too easy for him. With the old falcon's investigation into the queen's children, it would not be at all difficult to blame the Lannisters for his death. That, along with the fact that Arryn had sent away Lysa's son made his plan all the easier to carry out.
Smiling to himself, he made his way to back to the Red Keep, the small vial of poison that he'd acquired secure in his pocket. He'd met with one of his friends in a brothel of his, and now as he entered his rooms, he was unsurprised to find Lysa waiting. She'd been taking more risks, he noted, and it annoyed him. Lysa might be necessary for his plans now, but still, the woman's stupidity annoyed him.

"Petyr, my love, where have you been?" She asked, her shrill voice making his head ache. Nonetheless, he smiled, pretending as he always did to be pleased to see her.

"Meeting a friend, my dear," He replied. "Now come, we must speak."

"Of the plan, my love?" Lysa asked, her wide eyes glistening with excitement. "Is it finally time to be rid of him?"

"It is," Petyr replied, smirking. "We will get rid of him, and when the Lannisters are blamed...well, then things will be better for us both. After all, surely the young falcon will participate in the war that's sure to follow, and then..."

"Then I will have Robin back." She interrupted smiling widely.

"Indeed, my dear. Now, you remember what you're to do, don't you?"

Lysa nodded eagerly, her awful smile still on her face. "I'm to put drops in his wine, and then take it to him. Then, I'm to go with some guards to Winterfell, and tell my sister of my plight, and of the Lannister plot against Jon."

"Indeed." He replied, smiling with satisfaction. Lysa's trip to Winterfell would be necessary. Originally, he'd planned for her to go to the Eyrie, but the young falcon's hatred for her was clear. No, best to send her straight to the Starks, where she could whisper poisoned words to her sister, and set her against the Lannisters. What the Arryns would do, he was not certain, but if they too went against the Lannisters, then it would be civil war and that thought excited him greatly.
"Very good, my dear."

Lysa beamed at his praise, her eyes roaming over his face. "Anything for you, Petyr, my love, anything for Sweetrobin too."

He smiled, and nodded in acceptance. This plan would work, he was sure of it. The realm would tear itself apart, and as always, the Mockingbird would rise higher, until it reached its rightful place, atop the Iron Throne.

For centuries, Growing Strong were the words that House Tyrell lived by, and now, they had to embrace those words once again. Lady Olenna Tyrell knew that despite her son Mace's incompetence, her house had to rise high once again. They could have lost everything thanks to Robert's Rebellion, and if not for the fool who now sat the throne, they most likely would have.

Now though, the Rebellion was far behind them, and it was time for her to enter her house into the Game once more. She wanted Tyrell blood on the throne, and with Margaery being the sweet rose that she was, it would surely make it all the easier.

a knock on Olenna's solar door drew her from her thoughts. Good, she thought with a sigh, it seemed that her grandson had returned from the tourney in the capital.

"Come in." She called, and Loras did, a slightly sullen expression on his face.

Olenna snorted, and waved him towards the chair opposite her own. "Well, sit down, boy and wipe that silly look off your face. Just because you didn't knock enough men off their horses doesn't mean you should look so put out. Gods, you look like your father when he doesn't get the extra feasts that he wants."

"Sorry, Grandmother." Loras muttered, taking his seat.

"So you should be," She replied. "Now, tell me of the capital."

"What of it, grandmother?" Loras asked her.

Olenna sighed, cursing the gods for making so many members of this family idiots. "Did you see the prince?"

"I did, but I didn't meet him. I did hear stories though."

"Well?" She asked impatiently. "What did they say?"

Loras frowned, his expression turning troubled. "Nothing good, Grandmother. They said that the boy was rude, arrogant, and cruel. Renly told me that he killed a pregnant kitchen cat, cut her open so that he could see the kittens inside."

Olenna frowned. Her own spies had whispered that the prince was a bit troubled, but they hadn't said anything like this.

"Well..." She said. "The boy is still young, mayhaps he'll grow out of it."

Loras snorted. "I doubt that. The prince isn't right, grandmother."

"Well, we'll wait and see about that. Now, tell me of the tourney, I heard that the Hand's children were they. I assume that you met them?"

"Yes, I did. Ser Artys Arryn won it," He said sullenly, glaring into space.

"And his sister?" Olenna asked.
"Lady Alyssa was polite enough, Grandmother. She seems to care deeply for both of her brothers, but otherwise I don't know much about her."

"Very well, Loras, you can go now. Send me your brother."

"Which brother?" Loras asked, and Olenna sighed again.

"Willas," She said. "Tell him we're to have lunch together in the gardens."

Loras nodded, and left the room. Olenna sat there for a few moments, thinking about what Loras had said. Margaery was not the only one that Olenna had to find a match for. Willas, her dearest grandson, was four and twenty namedays now, and he would need a bride. Alyssa Arryn would be a worthy match, one that she had considered before and had rejected, waiting to see if the Hand had another in mind for her. However, the girl was as yet still unwed, so Olenna decided that now was the time to speak with Willas about the potential match.

A little while later, she found herself sitting in the garden, waiting for Willas to arrive. What Loras had told her about the prince was troubling, and Olenna had decided to have her spies look into it further. Margaery would be queen, Olenna would ensure that, and if that meant removing the prince in favour of the younger one...well, so be it.

The sound of a cane made her look up, and she smiled when she saw Willas coming towards her. He was a good boy, her Willas, and she wanted him to have the life, and the match, that he deserved. He was kind, clever, competent, and he would have already been married she was sure of it, if not for that viper of a Dornish prince.

"Grandmother, Loras said you wanted to speak with me?" Willas asked.

"I did," She replied. "Now, come, sit we'll eat and we'll talk."

Willas sat, and with a gesture from her, a few servants came forward, setting down a variety of dishes. Olenna sipped from a glass of wine, and chose a piece of her favourite soft cheese.

"What do you wish to speak of, Grandmother?" Willas asked her curiously.

"Of your future, my dear. I believe it's time to seek a match for you."

A flash of unease appeared in Willas's expression, before he quickly covered it. Olenna, despite herself, felt a flash of pain for her grandson, it was unfair that he had to feel this way, she thought.

"And who did you have in mind?" Willas asked eventually.

"Alyssa Arryn," Olenna answered. "She is as yet unmarried, and she is the closest lady of suitable station to your age, apart from the Dornish princess and I would die before I allowed you to marry her."

Willas chuckled at that, in amusement at her hatred of the Martells. Willas had never shared her hatred of them, not even of Oberyn Martell who had injured his leg, and that made Olenna all the more proud of him. Willas was not vengeful, and it would only help him when he became the lord of Highgarden.

"Why are you considering lady Alyssa now, Grandmother? I heard rumours that the king offered lord Renly as her husband."

"He did, but the Hand refused. It seems his daughter did not wish to marry the stag."

"She did not wish it?" Willas asked, intrigued.

"No, she did not. From what I've heard, the girl has been allowed some say in her own future."

"That is rare. And...what do you know of her? She visited here a few years ago, and she was perfectly pleasant, but apart from that, I know next to nothing about her."

"Well, for a start she has been acting as Lady of the Eyrie for the last two years. She stayed when her brother did, and helped him to manage things in the Vale."

"Really? Most ladies would have preferred court."

"Well, not this one. Loras says that she is very close with her brothers, and that she was very pleasant to him. So, Willas, what say you?"

"I...well, it would be a good match. She's a lady of a great house, and she's the daughter of the Hand of the King."

"That she is. I want to invite her to Highgarden, your nameday is not far off now, and no doubt your oaf of a father will have some elaborate celebration in mind. We could invite her to that, and you two could get to know each other."

Willas seemed to think about her words for a moment, and Olenna let him. Her grandson would see the wisdom in this, she was sure of it and a moment later, she was proven correct.

"Mayhaps I should send the letters? We'd have to invite her brother and his new wife as well...otherwise, they would know our game at once."

"That is a wonderful idea, Willas, I'll let you see to it. And Willas dear, don't be nervous, by all accounts she's a kind girl, she'll not think less of you because of your leg."

It was not often, not often at all, that she spoke like this. She was the Queen of Thorns after all, but sometimes, encouragement was certainly called for.

"As you say, grandmother." Willas smiled, and they spent the rest of their lunch in a comfortable silence. Afterward, Olenna retired to her solar, and began to put the word out to her spies. Yes, she thought as she sent out the messages, house Tyrell would grow strong indeed, and it would be sooner, rather than later.