"I know why I was asked to go," Tyrion told her, fiddling with his sleeves. "But I must confess my lady, I do not know why you have been thrown to the dogs as well."
Margaery grimaced. "Because House Tyrell must be represented, and it's either me or my grandmother."
"Your brother is here," Tyrion pointed out.
"He is," she confirmed. "But he is a knight of the Kingsguard and so must protect Joffrey at all costs. And so, it's me."
"Ah, of course," Tyrion replied. "I do apologise, and I'll try to stop you from getting dragged down with me."
Margaery kept her anger in check, forcing a diplomatic smile. "You have nothing to apologise for, Lord Tyrion, you haven't turned traitor and besieged us in the Red Keep."
"I'm glad you think so, do please tell your beloved when you next see him, I don't doubt he thinks I had something to do with this." He took a breath of his own. "You need to make your smile wider by the way."
"How's this?"
"Much better."
Margaery couldn't help but chuckle a little. It was a strange talent, inspiring laughter in the face of catastrophe. "Shall we go then?"
"Personally I'd rather stand here for the rest of the day, but I suppose we probably should." Tyrion nodded and the Red Keep's drawbridge began to lower.
How had it come to this? Margaery had woken the day after Lord Redwyne's surviving ships, forty nine in total, had sailed into port, expecting a council meeting to discuss what they could possibly do next. Instead, she was roused awake by the sound of bells and hammering footsteps. At the walls of the central holdfast, she saw what had happened, though she still didn't understand it. The Red Keep was surrounded. In the night the Lannister army had entered the city and seized all the important locations. She wasn't sure how it had started, but by dawn the food stores, the outposts of the city watch, the Great Sept of Baelor and the Dragonpit were all in their hands, and a heavy guard placed on the Red Keep itself. They controlled every gate and, from what little she could make out deeper into the city, every crossroad. Fleabottom looked untouched, but everything else was theirs.
Now they assembled a huge force outside the Red Keep, outnumbering their loyal garrison at least two to one. She saw gold cloaks standing in step with the soldiers, and the badges on some of the soldiers' breasts were from reacher houses, not western ones. Most of the Tyrell army, from what she could see, still camped outside the city walls, but for whatever reason, they made no move to attack the city.
And the gold cloaks. What were they doing, were they siding with the winners, had most of them been wiped out and these were the last survivors, or had they been in on it all along?
They'd asked for answers, demanded to know what by the gods the army was doing. She thought it had been Tywin's doing at first and demanded from him, who in turn demanded from Kevan, who demanded from Tyrion who for a lark demanded fro the imprisoned Lord Loren. By the time they'd been round most of the court, they were well and truly bottled up. Messengers had gone to the army outside but received nothing in return. Finally, after the first day, the army had sent a message to the castle, demanding nothing, except that negotiators be sent to treat with them, one Lannister and one Tyrell. Nothing else, no list of demands, no terms, only a promise, not one gram of food would enter the keep until negotiations had begun.
A morning of arguing later and she had finally agreed to be the Tyrell representative, and had been surprised to see Tyrion waiting for her at the gate. She knew Cersei would never do it, she wouldn't be allowed anywhere near a negotiation, and Tywin wouldn't negotiate at sword point with his own army, but she had thought he would send Kevan. Apparently not.
The tower clanged down and she and Tyrion, together with their meagre escort crossed the bridge.
Was she about to die? Was this the end, here?
In the courtyard outside the drawbridge, Margaery and Tyrion met their negotiators.
The army had pulled away a respectful distance, leaving a table that looked like it had been taken from a tavern and placed on the stones. Seven individuals stood on the opposite side of it. Knights, one and all, or at the least equipped in full plate mail. They wore no cloaks and had no identifying signatures. Who were these cowards. Storm the city but refuse to show their faces.
When Tyrion and Margaery approached the table, Tyrion raised a hand. "Well met!" He called.
"Not very, said one of the knights.
"Sit," said another, gesturing to the chairs set out for them.
Margaery and Tyrion sat, and the seven knights did the same. Seven against two, was this some feeble attempt at intimidation. When you surround someone with an army, you don't need to resort to this. They should be trying to relax Margaery and Tyrion, employ some choice words and lure them into a false sense of protection. But no, they came in all muscle and strength. Definitely knights.
"You have us at a disadvantage, sers," she began.
The central knight placed his elbows on the table and laced his armoured fingers. "We have you at a number of disadvantage, we outnumber you, we surround your castle, we control your food and we decide your fate."
"You also fly our flags," Tyrion pointed out, nodding at the Lannister banner. "Strange, given your current state of rebellion."
"We bled and died for your flags," said a different knight, "we have as much right to fly them as you." She could hear the venom in his voice, the anger.
Now to derail before this got out of hand. "You requested negotiators from the crown, here we are, ready to hear your demands, sers," she said.
"Our demands are singular and simple," the middle knight said again. He didn't make any effort for his fellow knights to back down. Whatever their uniform armour, this man was their undisputed leader. "We know that Lord Loren is not unwell. We know that he lives and we know that you are keeping him imprisoned in his rooms. We want him released to our care, with all his arms and armour."
There was no point in denial, it would only harden their resolve and make them more intransigent at the next steps of the negotiation. "Lord Loren is being kept in comfortable imprisonment due to his making threats against the life of the king. He knows he can be released by simply apologising and swearing his oaths again."
"You lied to us about him being ill, why should I believe you now. No, you will bring us Lord Loren, at once, or so help us we will starve you out, all of you."
"You wouldn't dare," Margaery hissed, I assure you that Lord Loren will be the first to have his rations cut if the siege continues."
"Wouldn't we?" the knight asked. She couldn't see his eyes, but she could tell he was glaring at her. "There is only one person in that keep who has looked out for our interests while we've been fighting your war. One person who has led us to victory. We want him back, and if you cannot bring him to us, then you will suffer for it."
"A siege won't bring him back."
"Lord Loren is a soldier, he has lasted without food before. I have no doubt that the soft weak fools around the king, like the two of you, will break before he does." He looked between the two. "So, since we control the food supplies, you will give us what we want, and we will return your rations to you. If not you have enough for, what, a week, perhaps."
They weren't wrong about that. But they couldn't just give in to a threat like this. "We aren't just going to give you a man who has threatened the life of the king," Margaery told them. If nothing else, if they released Loren, these soldiers would serve him, and what guarantee did they have that he wouldn't just continue the siege, starve them all into surrendering to whatever he wanted, or perhaps just starve them.
"Then we are stuck," the knight said. "We're more than happy to wait for you to become unstuck."
"Or perhaps we could unstick ourselves now," Tyrion said. None of the knights replied, and Tyrion continued. "Since you have the food we want, and we have the man you want, and neither of us is prepared to give the other everything, we meet somewhere in the middle." Tyrion pointed back at the battlements. "We bring Lord Loren to the battlements up there, so that you can see that he is alive and well, in return you give us another week of food."
The second knight from the right scoffed. "We're not giving you a week of food just for a glimpse of our lord."
There, an opening. "So how much will you give us for a glimpse of him?"
The middle knight thought for a moment before replying. "A day."
"Five," Margaery replied.
"Two."
"Four."
"Two."
"Four."
"Two."
"Two," Margaery said. "And your pledge that at the next negotiation, after we have shown you Lord Loren, you allow us to see your faces."
The knights glanced to each other, in particular looking at the middle knight. "Agreed. Show us Lord Loren within the hour, and tomorrow morning, when negotiations resume, you may look into our eyes." The knights got to their feet. "Within the hour," their leader repeated, and they retreated to join the ranks of their army.
"Let's go," Tyrion said and they returned to the Red Keep, the drawbridge rattling up behind them.
"This is unexpected," Loren said as a cloak was pulled around his shoulders and tied at his collar. "How can I help you?"
"Cover his chains," Cersei said and one of the servants placed a jacket over the irons that bound his wrists together.
"They already know he's a prisoner," Margaery muttered. She had been surprised at how little time it had taken to get the council to agree to this initial demand. Being bound was the only condition and Cersei was pleased to oversee it.
"But the rest of the castle needn't," Cersei replied. She seized Loren by the front of his cloak. "You will do only what you are told, am I clear."
Loren snarled. "As ever, sister."
"Let's take him," Tyrion said.
Despite the keep being sequestered, they had an escort of fifteen to lead Loren to the battlements. The rest of the council were working out their next demands. Margaery had wanted to be there, but Tyrion had pointed out it would be best if both of them were on the walls with Loren, to prove their worth as honest negotiators to the knights they were negotiating with.
On the battlements, they brought Loren to the top of the gatehouse, looking down over the raised drawbridge. "My my," Loren said, observing the army gathered before it. Margaery saw his eyes flit to the city walls, the great sept, all over the rest of King's Landing. "This is quite the development. You told me the city was taken, I didn't think it was this bad."
At the sight of them, the seven knights came forward. "Lord Loren!" One of them called. "Is that you."
"Tell them," Cersei said.
Loren narrowed his eyebrows at her. "Why should I?"
"Because this will never be resolved if you don't," Margaery replied before Cersei could. "Just tell them it's you."
Loren turned to the knights. "Yes, it is I." He called out.
"Tell them that you are unharmed," Margaery added.
"Also I am alive and unharmed."
"You don't need to tell them you're alive," Tyrion pointed out.
"Are you certain, Lord Loren?" The knights called.
"I am," Loren replied. "I am well, as well as I can be."
The knights looked at each other. Whatever they were saying was well out of earshot. Eventually they turned and one of the called back. "You have kept your terms, so we shall keep ours. Tomorrow morning we will deliver two days of supplies to you, and we shall continue our negotiations."
As the knights retreated, Loren chuckled. "So, that wasn't enough to end this?"
"Get him back to his rooms," Cersei demanded.
"Good luck with whatever comes tomorrow," Loren said to her as the guards led him passed. He turned to call over his shoulder, anger lacing his tones, "if you need me, you know where to look."
As the wagon of food trundled across the drawbridge, Tyrion nodded to Margaery. "I suppose we should see what they have for us today."
"More demands no doubt."
"And we need to be careful, the longer this goes on, the less respect the people of King's Landing will have for us when it ends."
"If we survive."
They made their way back across the bridge to another meeting with their own army.
"I thought we agreed that you would take off your helms today," Margaery said as she and Tyrion took their seats.
"So we did," the middle knight said, and reached up, pulling his greathelm from his head.
Tyrion laughed. "I shouldn't be surprised it's you ser Gerold."
Gerold set his helm on the table and nodded to the others. "Do it, we pledged."
One by one the knights reached up and removed their helms. Her eyes widened. She knew three of them, men of the Reach. Ser Talbert Serry of the Shield Islands, the heir of his house. Ser Lucien Leygrove a noted tourney knight and ser Thryce Olnien, a knight in the direct service of her own house. He at least had the shame to look away when she caught his eye. The other three were Lannister men, based on Tyrion's look, but she knew none of them. "Truly, ser Thryce, do your oaths not mean so much to you."
"My oaths, what of yours?" Thryce's shame was burned away by his anger. "Treat us honourably? All you've done is send us to fruitless battle after fruitless battle. Now you want to take away the one commander-"
"Ser Thryce, enough," Gerold commanded, sitting forward. "They only have a couple more days worth of food, let's not waste it on anger. There's plenty of that to go around in this army."
"Indeed," Tyrion said, "so where do we go from here? You have seen that my brother is alive and well."
"We have, and now we want him back, as we insisted before. But now we need more."
"More?" Margaery asked.
Gerold nodded, his one eye glaring at them. "Yes, you have seen our faces now, you know our names. We need a written pardon, signed by all the members of the council. One personalised for each of us, and a general one for the army. You will give us them, and you will return Lord Loren."
"Only a little then?" Tyrion quibbed.
"And what would we get in return?"
Gerold sat back. "If Lord Loren leads us, we will, again, march against your enemies. But only under his command."
"He's the only one of you we trust with our lives," Thryce said.
"He has treated us with respect and bled at our side," one of the Lannister knights said.
"I hope you were never expecting that of me, ser Ballis," Tyrion said, gesturing to his misshapen body.
Again, Gerold restrained his fellow negotiators. "You have our terms. There will be no more deliveries of food until they are met."
"You would risk starving Lord Loren? You Gerold, truly?"
Gerold's lip twitched in a snarl. "I would have his liberty. And if you murder him, then I will do as he has requested of me, and devote myself to his children. I will start by avenging his murder, so that they need not live with the sin of kinslaying."
"As we said, Lord Loren will be released if he swears his oath."
"No. He will be released to us and a pardon will be issued. We know he is alive now, if he dies we know it is because of your negligence or malice. You will return him to us, or you will starve. Those are your options." He got to his feet, the others followed suit. "Don't take too long. We have all the time in the world. You don't."
And with that the knights picked up their helms and left, leaving her and Tyrion to stare blankly after them.
How dare they just walk away. They were knights, she and Tyrion were scions of the two richest houses in Westeros, the two most powerful. And they just walked away? What had she even done. She hadn't failed these men, she had tried to get Loren made marshall, given the power he needed she had called him back and he had lambasted her for trying. Curse those bastards.
"My lady," Tyrion said, placing a gently hand on her arm. "We should go. It seems we have terms to deliver."
The only heat in the council chambers came from Cersei's rage. "We can't just accept this? No king has ever been held at swordpoint by his own army, we cannot be the first!" Cersei was apoplectic. "I refuse."
"It would seem we either accept or die, your grace," Lord Varys said.
You won't die, Margaery thought. Varys knew all the ins and outs, he would escape well before hunger took them. No such option awaited them. If they escaped that way, then no one would follow them again, they might as well just throw themselves from the walls into the spiked moat. Perhaps they could escape to Duskendale and take ship to Essos, but those were their options.
"I agree with Lord Varys," Littlefinger said, "we don't have other choices."
"We could offer them-" Kevan began.
"Ser Kevan we have nothing to offer them except what they want. They will reject any offer of gold or land."
"Will they?" Kevan asked. "The right offer to the right people and the army will return to its position, and hand us the ringleaders in chains."
"We don't know who genuinely supports this coup and who is just going with the apparent victors," Margaery commented. "We don't know who to make those offers to, or how we would make them. And frankly, I don't know if we have the time to find out the answers to those questions."
"So you're saying we give them what they want?"
"I don't think we have any other choice."
"And it goes both ways," Tyrion said, "we may bribe them, but in times of hunger food means more than gold. When the lords and guards start getting hungry, who's to say they won't let the rebels in to take what they want, or indeed take my brother out to them. And then it won't be the army we have to worry about, but him. It would just be a case of whether he kills us all or takes us to Stannis in chains."
A thunk made them look to the head of the council chamber. "We will give it to them," Tywin said, his voice hoarse though he hadn't yet spoken.
"What?" Cersei asked aghast.
"We have no other choice," Tywin said, his cheeks were pale, his eyes haunted. Margaery wondered if this was the first time that Lord Tywin had ever been forced into doing anything. "We will give them Loren, and their pardons."
"But-"
"No buts, Cersei," Tywin said. "Kevan, draw up the pardons, I'll get Joffrey to seal them," his voice was flat, lifeless. "They will have their leader, and their leader will march against Stannis for us."
"That's one other thing," Margaery said. Everyone looked at them. "We need to make sure that Loren will march against our enemies when we give him this army."
"You're not saying-" Cersei began.
"I am," Margaery replied. She was under no illusion that things would just go back to the way they were, that Loren would just take charge again. He'd been stewing in hate and anger. "We need to see what Loren wants in exchange for leading our armies against our enemies."
"That's absurd," Cersei said.
"No," Kevan said, the realisation dawned on him. "The army will only march under him, which means we need him to agree to march. If he won't then they won't, and if they won't, we've already lost."