Lord Tywin's chain of hands made a golden glitter against the deep wine velvet of his tunic. The lords Glen Quagmire, Mace Tyrell, Paxter Redwyne, and Mathis Rowan gathered round him as he entered. Mace was the new Master of Ships, and Lord Redwyne and Lord Rowan had joined the council as advisors. He greeted each in turn, spoke a quiet word to Varys, kissed the High Septon's ring and Cersei's cheek, clasped the hand of Grand Maester Pycelle who had been let out of prison, and seated himself in the king's place at the head of the long table, between his daughter and his brother.
The others had to scramble for seats. They all tried to get as close to Tywin as possible, except for Tyrion, who made a show of dragging his chair all the way to the other end of the table.
"Shall we begin with the wedding arrangements?" Cersei asked.
"No," her father said. "With the war. Varys."
The eunuch smiled a silken smile. "I have such delicious tidings for you, my lords. Yesterday at dawn our brave Lord Smith caught Homer Simpson and Cleveland Brown outside Duskendale and trapped them against the sea. Losses were heavy on both sides, but in the end our loyal men prevailed. Lord Brown is reported dead. Now Lord Simpson is leading the survivors back toward Harrenhal in bloody disarray, little dreaming he will find valiant Ser Gregor and his stalwarts athwart his path."
"Gods be praised!" said Paxter Redwyne. "A great victory for King Joffrey!"
"What did Joffrey have to do with it?" Tyrion asked. "Speaking of Joffrey, why isn't he here?"
"He didn't feel like coming," said Tywin.
Varys continued. "As for Chris Griffin himself, he's heading to the Twins soon with his Uncle Patrick, so Patrick can marry one of Walder Frey's daughters. And I hear that Lord Carter Pewtershmidt has finally died."
Uncle Kevin cleared his throat. "Balon Greyjoy, who now styles himself King of the Isles and the North, has written to us offering terms of alliance."
"He ought to be offering fealty," snapped Cersei. "By what right does he call himself king?"
"By right of conquest," Lord Tywin said. "King Balon has strangler's fingers round the Neck. Chris Griffin's heir, his brother Stewie, is dead, Winterfell is fallen, and the ironmen hold Moat Cailin, Deepwood Motte, and most of the Stony Shore. King Balon's longships command the sunset sea, and are well placed to menace Lannisport, Fair Isle, and even Highgarden, should we provoke him."
"And if we accept this alliance?" inquired Lord Mathis Rowan. "What terms does he propose?"
"That we recognize his kingship and grant him everything north of the Neck."
Lord Redwyne laughed. "What is there north of the Neck that any sane man would want? If Greyjoy will trade swords and sails for stone and snow, I say do it, and count ourselves lucky."
"Truly," agreed Mace Tyrell. "That's what I would do. Let King Balon finish the Northmen whilst we finish Stannis."
Lord Tywin's face gave no hint as to his feelings. "There is Carol West to deal with as well. Adam West's widow, Carter Pewtershmidt's daughter, Lois Griffin's sister… whose husband was conspiring with Stannis Baratheon at the time of his death."
"Oh," said Mace Tyrell cheerfully, "women have no stomach for war. Let her be, I say, she's not like to trouble us."
"I agree," said Redwyne. "Lady Carol took no part in the fighting, nor has she committed any overt acts of treason."
Tyrion stirred. "She did throw me in a cell and put me on trial for my life," he pointed out. "Not that I'm bitter or anything."
Quagmire raised a hand. "If you'll pardon me saying, my lords, I believe I may hold the key to the Eyrie. Between my legs! Giggity, giggity, goo!"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Mace asked.
Quagmire explained. "I propose to travel to the Vale and there woo and win Lady Carol West. Once I am her consort, I shall deliver you the Vale of West without spilling any blood. Just semen. All right!"
Lord Rowan looked doubtful. "Would Lady Carol have ye?"
"She's had me a few times before and voiced no complaints."
"You have no idea how persuasive Lord Quagmire can be," Tyrion said to Lord Rowan. "He's never tried to get you into bed with him, has he?"
"Bedding," said Cersei, "is not wedding. Even a cow like Carol West might be able to grasp the difference."
"She's always wanted to marry me," Quagmire assured her. "Ever since we were kids. How 'bout it, Lord Tywin?"
Lord Tywin's gold flecked eyes met Quagmire's black ones. "You are admirably suited to the task, I believe."
"Great!" said Quagmire. He stood up from the table. "I'll leave right now if you want." He walked out of the room.
But before leaving the castle, he made a stop in the secret room downstairs. "It worked, Bill," he said to the yellow triangle. "Lord Tywin agreed, just like you said he would."
"Excellent," said Bill. "And once you've married Lady Carol, you know what to do, right?"
"Oh yes, my lord. I know exactly what to do."
Bill blinked his single eye, which Quagmire recognized as a gesture of approval. Then he disappeared.
Meanwhile, north of the Wall, Mance Radar was sitting alone in his tent. Bill appeared in front of him. "Did you find the Horn yet, Mance?" he asked.
"Not yet, Bill," said Mance.
"Well, just let me know when you do. I can't wait to see you turn that wall into shards."
"Will do," said Mance. "It's so good of you to help us free folk out like this."
"Yep, I'm a real humanitarian, there's no question about it." In a flicker of light, Bill was gone, teleporting back to King's Landing.
