Just to clarify, this was never meant to be the sort of story where the protagonist shows up, magically fixes everything, and leads Westeros to prosperity with no trouble. I've read enough similar stories, usually involving a trueborn son of Robert and Cersei. He's the best warrior in Westeros, the smartest man despite his young age, holds no prejudices, befriends the Starks, and joins them when the war starts, complete with a Sansa pairing (And occasionally, with Arya)
Here, actions have consequences and things don't magically get better because someone dies. I've heard it suggested that Matthew should have killed Littlefinger and Varys the day he arrived. Apart from the fact even the King needs a genuine reason to kill two people that high-ranking, Littlefinger's death here led to Renly being much more dangerous, a delayed alliance with the Tyrells, and Lysa sending Knights of the Vale to assist Robb. Not the best outcome, all things considered.
To me, the problems in King's Landing go far deeper than those two and killing them wouldn't matter much. Robert Baratheon did little but drink and whore, while Aerys was a lunatic. The rot has seeped in for decades and it's very difficult to clean up. Matthew can fight a war, but he's outmatched in politics, which any of us would be.
I know it doesn't appeal to everyone. We like happy endings and scenarios with simple solutions, but it doesn't feel like Westeros to me.
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"Where the hell is Tyrion?" Matthew demanded. His behavior had been strange for well over a week and now there was no sign of him. He'd gotten word to his spies, but none of them knew where he was, either.
"No doubt engaging in his usual drunken debauchery," Tywin scowled before returning to the matter at hand. "You know what's expected of you during this wedding, I trust."
"I'm familiar with the procedure," Matthew dismissed. "What I want to know is why that Imp isn't here. He's not at the taverns or brothels, and for him, it's like being replaced by a pod person." At Tywin's quizzical gaze, he added: "Out of character for him."
"Should have killed him a long time ago!" Joffrey declared. "You can't trust dwarves, my Uncle least of all!"
Finding myself agreeing with Joffrey more often than I'd like. Matthew didn't consider it a positive sign. "He's up to something; I'm sure of it."
"If it reassures you, Your Grace, I will locate my wayward sign and make sure he does not miss the wedding."
"Assuming he hasn't already arranged my death." Matthew hadn't meant to speak out loud but he couldn't help himself. He'd learned how to handle enemies on the field, shooting at him or using medieval weapons. Politics where the consequences of failure was death happened to be another matter.
"Your Grace, my son is a wastrel, but he wouldn't dare make an attempt on you." Far as Matthew was concerned, Tywin had a major blind spot when it came to Tyrion. "I understand you're feeling paranoid after recent events but. . ."
"Paranoid is what they call people who imagine threats against their life. I have threats against my life." Matthew didn't plan to eat or drink a thing during the wedding. "And since he's spent his life harming your legacy, what better way to do so?"
"Every precaution has been taken," Tywin didn't believe Matthew but his voice stayed the same. Matthew had insisted on people watching the food and drink at all times, including his personal guard, who he changed out every day to ensure no one could get close to them.
"We've got a lot of enemies and I don't intend to send an impression of weakness." More than he already had, at any rate. "You won't live forever and someone's got to ensure it doesn't fall apart after your death. Tell me, are either of your children capable of that?" Matthew knew it was a low blow, but it got his point across.
"More astute than I'd expected," Tywin gave him reluctant credit. "My son seems determined to remain in the Kingsguard despite my efforts to get him to claim Casterly Rock. The less said of my daughter, the better."
"So, since I seem to be your only hope, it seems a wise idea to listen to me." Tywin fixed his death stare on Matthew. "Oh, spare me. Truth is often difficult to hear, so don't waste your energy trying to intimidate me."
"Everything will go smoothly, and our alliance will be assured. Your fear will not enter into that."
"You've underestimated your son more than once," Matthew cautioned. "I don't intend to make your mistake." He walked out of the room before Tywin could respond. Matthew expected the man to try and hold him back, but he did nothing.
The wedding was in a matter of hours. One way or the other, it'll be over with. His marriage to Margaery would be a political one, but most were, and he hoped they could at least get along with each other. He didn't intend to become another version of Robert Baratheon.
Throughout court, there wasn't a single sign of Tyrion. That he'd disappeared from brothels and taverns warned Matthew something was up. And the little bastard's smart. If he did poison me, Tyrion would be long gone.
He glanced over at Oberyn and Arianne, whom he'd reluctantly extended an invitation to the wedding. Matthew hoped he wouldn't have to marry Tommen to Arianne and would only do so as a last result. Maybe to Sansa as a symbolic gesture. Robb still holds his honor sacred, at least. There weren't a whole lot of other choices, not with Loras joining the Kingsguard. No way would I give either one of them to a Frey.
Plots within plots, trapped in a different world, Joffrey in his head. . . Matthew thought if he survived without going insane, he'd start believing in God again. At least King's Landing was starting to improve. Matthew glanced out the windows toward the public latrine he was in the process of building, which he hoped would lower the disease rate.
"Why do you even bother? They won't care, and it won't gain you a thing."
Unlike you, I'm not willing to turn my back when I could do something. Matthew knew he couldn't fix everything, but wanted to at least leave Westeros in better condition than it was currently. Assuming all his so-called "allies" would let him.
Matthew marched into the chambers on the edge of the Red Keep, where Stannis and Melisandre stayed. Several of the King's Men outside the door let them in without a word. "Has the mining of obsidian began?" Matthew didn't waste time with pleasantries.
"Yes, though according to the last letter I received, progress is limited." Stannis responded. "They question the necessity, but will not disobey a direct order." He turned to Melisandre. "Does this truly work or is it merely a false legend?"
"Creatures of ice cannot withstand the personification of fire," Melisandre assured. "During the Long Night, it was the only weapon the First Men possessed that could kill our enemy."
"But I have another concern," Stannis interrupted. "I have seen you do little to fulfill your promises. What guarantee do I have Joffrey is not standing in front of me?"
"Oh, spare me the threats; I've already listened to a long spiel from Tywin." Matthew felt Joffrey shudder within him. For all his petty cruelty, the boy was a coward. "And yes, if he takes over, you'll behead me, execute me, blah blah blah, regardless of the consequences." For all Stannis' threats, Matthew preferred it to political intrigue.
"You have done little to cleanse the corruption, and as my brother had no trueborn heirs, the throne is mine by right. I have forgotten that, for now, but that does not mean I enjoy this partnership of ours. Want does not enter into it. It is my duty to ascend to the Iron Throne."
"Perhaps you should be a little less transparent. Anything happens to me, your head is next on the chopping block, and you're even more hopeless at political intrigue than I am. You don't have any excuses, either. So have you accomplished anything besides threatening me?"
"I have removed most of the Gold Cloaks taking bribes. Many still do, of course, but none will again be so transparent. Twenty-seven have been executed, and an additional one hundred and two sent to the Wall. When the time comes, they will not last long, but they will still be useful."
"At least that problem's being solved."
"Corruption will not matter when the Long Night comes," Melisandre proclaimed. "Only Lightbringer is capable of dealing a fatal blow to our true enemy." Matthew glanced over at Stannis' sword, interested in what sort of trick allowed it to glow.
"It absolutely matters, Melisandre," Matthew confronted her. "Corruption prevents us from uniting, it weakens us, and prevents me from doing anything significant to prepare." He wondered if those who warned of the Nazis before the war felt the same way, along with China's intentions before World War Three. Probably. "Your religion may not understand that, but I do."
"So long as Tywin Lannister lives, little will be accomplished," Stannis interjected. "The rot did not begin with him, but it has grown and festered since he was Hand of the King. He will allow no reform, and the corrupt can hide underneath his legs."
"Tywin won't be around forever." Not many reached the age of sixty in Westeros. "We'll have to do our best." Matthew worried far more about what Cersei could do than Tywin. She rarely thought through the consequences, and her murder of Littlefinger had nearly destroyed them.
"Nor are the Tyrells trustworthy and you place them in a position to open your throat," Stannis added. "I would never do anything so foolish."
"Which is precisely why the Iron Throne will never be yours, whether you kill me or not." Matthew scoffed. "You don't make alliances with people you trust, and you're incapable of bending. I don't like them, either, but it's political reality. Something you still fail to understand."
"If I may make a request, Your Grace," Melisandre interjected before their conversation rose to a shout. "I see great peril at your wedding."
"No kidding, not that anyone else is willing to listen to me." Matthew wondered how many were merely incompetent and who truly wanted him dead. He didn't intend to give them what they wanted.
"Therefore, I request to accompany you," Melisandre finished. "I have seen tragedy in the flames, a wounded creature lashing out at all who have caused him pain."
Yep, that's Tyrion. Matthew considered her request. "Very well, if you wish to come along. However, you will dress in plain clothes. I don't intend to attract any unnecessary attention." Without her distinctive red dress, Matthew doubted many would recognize Melisandre, even taking her height into account.
"Do not ask me to attend," Stannis ground his teeth. "I have better things to do than speak with sycophants, liars, and fools."
"Hence why you'll never have the Iron Throne, for that's what you spend most of your time doing as King." Matthew knew their partnership was unlikely to be a permanent one. "Melisandre, have you seen anything in the flames, any precaution I have overlooked?" It required him to trust his subordinates, a dicey proposition in Westeros.
"Flames speak of danger, but not its source."
"Don't forget, I want you to blend in with everyone else." Matthew would not tolerate any argument on it. "Least in a gunfight, I don't have to worry my so-called allies will shoot me in the back."
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"A gift for you, Your Grace." Tywin handed Matthew a Valyrian Steel sword, reforged from Ned Stark's greatsword Ice. Margaery stood at his side, leaning against him, arm around his waist.
"Thank you, Grandfather." Matthew nodded. "I assure you, I will take proper care of it."
"What do you plan on naming it, Your Grace?" Margaery inquired.
"Only fools name their swords," Matthew scoffed. Before him stood hundreds of noble, all ready to kiss his ass. He had to admit, he and Margaery made an excellent couple. She wore a polite smile, studying the surroundings with calculating eyes. She's got wits to rival her grandmother's.
Gift after gift was placed on a table beside them, swords, daggers, jewels, books, artifacts from distant lands. Songs were song and vows were exchanged with the High Septon. "I'm amazed that fat fool can stand so long." Matthew muttered. Margaery giggled in response, an act she quickly concealed from the crowd.
Once the proceedings were over, Matthew and Margaery sat atop a pair of tall chairs for the King and Queen. He fussed with his crown, attempting to get it to set perfectly. Even after close to three years, it was still a strange sensation. Hard to believe it's truly been so long. His memories of Earth faded by the day.
"Husband, you seem so tense," Margaery laughed. "You have triumphed in battle against all your enemies. Do weddings scare you so?"
"My dear Margaery, what would I possibly have to fear, surrounded by friends?" Matthew gestured to everyone. He had Barristan and Balon watch Loras at all times, the boy not quite able to conceal his contempt.
"To a glorious reign and a prosperous realm," Garlan raised his cup.
"To an everlasting alliance." Matthew glanced over at Oberyn and Arianne, who made little effort to interact with others. He studied Garlan, as Garlan studied him.
Wonder what the smallfolk would think of us now, Matthew mused as he watched food fall onto the floor. Few took notice of the servants bringing in new courses, but he observed the resentment on their faces. Matthew expected if those in King's Landing witnessed it, all of them would be torn apart by a rabid mob.
"After the festivities are over with, perhaps we can donate the uneaten food to the smallfolk," Matthew suggested. "Have them see us together and enjoy our generosity." Now that King's Landing was no longer in imminent danger of starvation, he hoped the gesture would be more effective.
"An excellent idea, husband." Margaery grabbed his arm. "I admit, the subtleties of politics can be lost on me, but. . ."
"I know you far too well." Matthew chuckled. "You know them better than I can ever hope to."
"I appreciate the compliment, Joffrey. Are you sure you don't intend to eat anything?" Matthew's stomach growled at her words.
"I'm far too happy with my new wife to even think about food." Matthew lied. He'd endured far worse hunger in the past. Going without for a few hours wouldn't bother him any. Matthew paid only scant attention to the entertainment, primarily jesters who performed for the crowd's benefit. A pair danced in front of him, juggling eggs while standing on a single foot.
However, his eyes were on the servants. If he had intended to poison someone, the servant would be blissfully unaware, being told whatever the poison was that it was merely an ingredient. While foolish, Matthew knew plenty of fools worked in the castle. And plenty of greedy fools. Brutal as the consequences were, plenty would risk them.
Margaery planted a brief kiss on his lips, surprising him. "I trust you're enjoying yourself, husband." She smiled. "I expect you're eager for the bedding ceremony."
Truth be told, he'd forgotten all about it. "No worries, I'll be gentle with you." Matthew doubted she was a maid but would treat her as such anyway.
"My Grandmother informed me of what I was to do. You really should visit Highgarden. We'd all be honored to have you." Margaery frowned. "I am a bit nervous. You are kind, of course, but other husbands. . ."
"I am not them, and if you don't feel comfortable, there only needs to be a ceremony. I know you've had ambitions of being Queen for a long time, but with it comes the chains of commanding."
"Most wise, Your Grace. I am grateful we were able to put aside our previous differences." Margaery ate a light meal, paying most of her attention to the crowd. Matthew gave her a kiss for the benefit of those watching.
In the corner of his eye, Matthew spotted someone who he believed was Melisandre, wearing a red dress unlike her usual attire. Several men attempted to get her attention, but no one gave any sign of recognizing her.
She made eye contact with him and walked toward him, focused on nothing else. Margaery raised an eyebrow at Matthew's action. "Is my beauty insufficient, Joffrey?" She kept her tone light, but Matthew picked up her hostility.
"How are things going?" Matthew nodded at Melisandre.
"This is quite a celebration." Melisandre visibly struggled not to resort to religious rhetoric. Her bracelet was hidden underneath the dress, though the red jewel could still be seen through the fabric. "I haven't had any occasion to participate before, however." Her red eyes still scared Matthew a little.
"Have you encountered any problems?" Both knew what Matthew intended to ask.
Instead of responding, Melisandre downed Margaery's drink in a single gulp. His wife sat stone-faced, keeping a tight grip on Matthew's hand. "To your good health, Your Grace." She disappeared without another word. I'll take that as a no.
"Who is that woman?" Margaery allowed her anger to show.
"Someone I asked to keep an eye on things." If she couldn't recognize Melisandre, Matthew wasn't about to enlighten her. "I received a recent threat and wanted to make sure someone took things seriously."
"You think someone would dare harm you at a wedding?" Margaery appeared amused. "Perhaps I should be flattered at your protection."
"Greatness inspires envy, envy inspires hate." Matthew shrugged. And Tyrion would be smart enough to hightail it out before the deed was done. Many hated the dwarf, but few took him seriously, Tywin least of all.
Oberyn approached Matthew alongside his niece. "Congratulations on the wedding, Your Grace." He wore a smile, contrasting with his hard-edged expression.
"Thank you, Lord Martell. I will take it in the spirit for which it's intended." Matthew nodded. Several men at the celebration looked over Arianne's gown, showing more skin than any other women there.
"Your Grace, I hope this means there are better days ahead." Ellaria Sand declared, lacking the same hatred as the prince.
"As do I, Ellaria." Much as Oberyn despised him, Matthew hoped he'd behave himself with his niece and paramour within his grasp.
"I hope we won't have to leave too quickly," Arianne sized Margaery up. "We can still serve you despite our arrangement cancelled." Margaery's face went red at the implication.
"Thank you for the kind offer." Matthew didn't want any unnecessary trouble, but the Martells had a different plan in mind. Gregor Clegane was only days away from King's Landing, and he intended to fulfill that promise, at least. The man was fearsome, but too uncontrolled.
Tywin collapsed against the table with a cough, vomiting out what Matthew quickly realized was blood. "Oh, shit!" He cursed and hopped down from his chair, forgetting Margaery. Tywin stuck two fingers into his mouth, his elegant clothing now a mess.
Jaime pushed the table aside, horrified gasps echoing throughout the room. "Help him!" Cersei demanded while others screamed for Pycelle to assist.
"What happened?" Margaery clutched at Matthew's sleeve.
"Not now, my love." Matthew removed her grip and marched toward his grandfather, though he knew it would do no good. Son of a bitch! He'd assumed he would be the target of Tyrion's wrath, since Matthew knew that part of the story, but Tyrion had outsmarted him.
Tywin forced himself to his feet and tried to say something, only to vomit blood a second time. With a pained face, he crashed onto the floor, convulsing. Bits of intestine littered the floor. Matthew watched him with a calm voice, announcing: "My grandfather has just been poisoned."
"Get up, Father!" Cersei demanded, cradling him in her eyes. Tywin's eyes filled with blood, no longer possessing the strength to speak.
"Get Tommen and Myrcella out of here," Matthew ordered Barristan. "I don't want them to see this." He hastened to carry out his request. Everyone at the wedding surrounded Tywin, though Matthew observed many who only feigned horror. Two women fainted in their husband's arms. I've seen far better performances.
Matthew put two fingers against Tywin's wrist, feeling for a pulse. The man coughed, convulsed, and moved no more. Jaime paced around his father's body, hand on his sword, looking for a visible enemy to lash out against. Those at court backed away from the Kingslayer, fearing his wrath. Men shouted useless advice at each other while Matthew stared at Tywin's body.
He'd refused to listen and now he's dead. Matthew wouldn't mourn the man but it meant he was in a far more perilous position. He caught Melisandre in the crowd, wondering why she hadn't seen this in the flames. This is what you've dreamed about all along, hasn't it, Tyrion?
"Are you all right, son?" Cersei hugged him, tears in her eyes. "Please. . ." She attempted to take him away from the scene. Jaime watched with similar concern, reminding Matthew he was technically their son.
"I'll be fine." Matthew refused to budge. "I thought. . . the Imp would target me, not Grandfather." And Tyrion was long gone, away from justice. "We need to make arrangements for his funeral." Why Tyrion suddenly decided to act, he did not know.
Guilt clouded Jaime's expression. "I will stand watch over him. He deserves that much."
"I will ensure he is avenged!" Cersei promised, looking over at Oberyn, who had yet to change expression. A mixture of Gold Cloaks and Matthew's personal troops rushed into the room, spears and swords ready. "They did this! They worked alongside my brother to kill him! Kill them! Kill them now!"
"I don't think that will be necessary," Matthew raised a hand to stop them. Not yet, at least. "But I hope the Red Viper has an excellent explanation, Your Grace."
"Have you sunk so low as to slaughter your guests?" Oberyn moved to shield his niece and paramour, hand reaching into his clothing.
"Men, escort our guests to the tower cells." Forty men with spears surrounded the Red Viper, ending any thought of resistance. Matthew didn't know if he was involved, but few had greater motivation than Oberyn Martell.
"I have done nothing but cooperate with the Crown." Oberyn prepared a dagger, for all the good it was likely to do him.
"Pray I don't find out otherwise." Matthew's guards stripped Oberyn of his dagger. "Once at the tower cells, search their clothing and tell me everything they carry." He never once raised his voice through the fiasco.
Once his orders were obeyed, Matthew turned back to Tywin's corpse. Some of the guests had already left, as the man was little loved by his fellows. "We will find out the truth, no matter what it takes. The Imp cannot have acted alone. Continue searching the walls for Varys." If the Spider was caught, Matthew intended to arrange a punishment the Gods themselves would cry at.
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Tyrion waddled across the deck of the Meereense Knot, impatient for the journey to be completed. He did not dare look over the side, for he had already vomited too many times as a result of it. They couldn't even spare me any wine. One of many pleasures he had been forced to deprive himself of, at least for now.
Fortunately, the crew was compromised of individuals who asked no questions, so long as they were paid. At least a few had to be suspicious, but Tyrion had not suffered any interrogation. He patted the gold and gems still in his pockets, confident further bribes would take him where he needed to go.
How did it feel, Tywin, to see the life leave your eyes? A part of Tyrion wished he could have witnessed it for himself. After how the man had treated him his entire life, he considered he'd earned such catharsis. However, it was considered too risky, and thus, Tyrion refrained from indulging. He allowed himself a small smile, imagining the pain the Lannister patriarch suffered.
With the deaths of Tywin Lannister and Margaery Tyrell, any hope of an alliance would be shattered. Those who remained would be helpless, too divided to pose a major threat. Even the King's new inventions wouldn't matter. I doubt they'll stand up against dragons. Margaery was an unfortunate victim, but it had to be done.
A part of him regretted turning against whoever inhabited his nephew's body. Even after their relationship soured, he was still kinder than most in King's Landing. Not that it said very much.
Tyrion felt his stomach rumble and retreated below deck. The seas were calm for now, but he knew how quickly that could change. Many ships were sunk due to unexpected storms, and all he could do was pray they wouldn't be among them.
Wherever whores go. . . Tyrion wondered if he would ever see Tysha again, if he would even recognize her after so many years. She had loved him when no else did, which Tywin couldn't tolerate. I should have stood up to Tywin then.
In the end, it didn't matter. He paid the man back for everything he endured. Daenerys would be open to give him everything he wanted. And she'll find my price a modest one. When it came to his siblings. . . Tyrion had something special planned for them.
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Decided to skip the long journey in A Dance With Dragons and just have Tyrion show up in Slaver's Bay. Considering all the trouble GRRM had with it, it seemed the best option. Thought of having a brief scene in the North, but that can wait a chapter or two.