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My Lord,

I would have you come to the capitol at your earliest convenience to discuss the joining of our houses.

Sincerely, Brandon of House Stark…

Robin stared at the raven scroll so hard that he was amazed his gaze didn't burn holes into the paper. Out of the window, he could see the brilliant blue sky above Kings Landing, streaked with white cloud. It stretched all the way down to the greyish waters of the bay below, where ships with brightly coloured sails bobbed on the waves. With all his heart, he desperately wished he was on board one right that moment, sailing due North, back to the Vale where he belonged…

"Alyssa," he called, leaning back in his seat. From the desk at other side of the room, Alyssa looked up from the scroll she had been writing. "What time is it? I don't want to be late for the small council meeting…" He paused, before leaning forward once again and wrapping his arms around himself. "Although there's nowhere I would rather go less. I don't want to have the king looking at me with those cold, staring eyes…"

Alyssa regarded him with polite confusion. "Didn't they tell you, my lord? The meeting has been cancelled."

"Cancelled?" Robin twisted around to look at her, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Why has it been cancelled?"

Alyssa shrugged. "How should I know how things work in the capitol? Now, let me pour you a glass of wine." She got up from her seat, and began to pour dark red liquid from a bronze jug into a cup. "It will steady your nerves."

Robin hunched his shoulders over, looking small and sad. "Perhaps it is just as well. What is the point attending meetings when I am not going to marry the king?"

"Oh goodness, Robin, you're not still taking that silly line, are you?"

"I'm not silly!" Robin retorted. "I have made up my mind! The king doesn't like me, and I don't like him-not one bit!"

Alyssa sighed as she set the jug upright on the desk. "I still think you are being far too rash. You only properly met him yesterday. His Grace wants very much to marry you-"

"Well, maybe he shouldn't stare at me in such a terrible way then!" Robin clenched his firsts in frustration, slamming them into his knees. "His eyes! He makes me feel like a little mouse in a field, and he is an owl eyeing me up for supper!"

Alyssa turned her back as she picked up the cup of wine. Slowly, she crossed the room, placing the cup firmly in his hands. "Drink. And some men pay good money for that feeling in Gulltown."

Robin blushed fiercely. "I wish you wouldn't talk about it like that. I know they are whores, but at least they listen to me! At least they respect me!"

"They're paid to do that, Robin." Alyssa reminded him, watching him closely as he raised the cup to his lips.

"Well, I can't wait to get back to them, and away from this horrible city, and this horrible, horrible king!" Robin took a long, deep drink, hungry for the numbness that wine brought about. As he drained the cup, he felt that delightful warm sensation beginning to consume him…suddenly, as he set the cup down, he began to feel drowsy…What was this? He had only taken breakfast an hour before? But an immovable desire to sleep began to overtake his every cell.

"My lord?" Alyssa rushed to his side, grabbing his shoulders as his head began to lull. "My lord, are you alright?"

Robin shook his head, trying hard to clear his mind...but he was powerless to resist. His eyelids had become unbearably heavy. Dumbly, he allowed Alyssa to lead him over to his bed, guiding him down onto the mattress. The moment his head hit the pillows, he felt sleep, absolute and dreamless sleep, begin to take hold…in less than a second, he was out cold.

As she watched Robin fall irresistibly asleep, essence of nightshade weaving its magic inside him, Alyssa smiled. As she swept over to the door, ready to make her way to the tower of the Hand, she fingered the little glass vial in her pocket. A few drops in a glass of wine, that was all it took…Now, she could go to work.

Tyrion took his time straightening the chairs in the small council chamber, ensuring that each one lined up perfectly. Whenever he did this, he was always assured of a productive meeting. He was not a superstitious man by nature, but perhaps there was something about an instant semblance of order that instilled the same attitude in the minds of his peers. Therefore, it had become a small tradition of his to always have the room perfectly in order. Especially since, this morning, they were expecting a very important guest.

As he straightened the final chair, Tyrion let out a long, sad sigh. In his minds eye, he could see Cersei sitting before him, clear as day, in the very chair she had occupied back in the days of Joffrey's reign. He could see her long golden hair, the scarlet of her gown, her biting green eyes, the stream of hatred pouring out of her mouth towards him…Sadly, he smiled.

Suddenly-Tyrion was brought out of his fantasy by a loud, neat knocking on the door.

"Come in!" he called, trying to sound casual.

The door creaked open. Behind it, there stood a young woman with a long braid of black hair, almost to her belt. She was still dressed in the neutral blue and grey hues Tyrion associated with the Vale, which seemed rather washed out beside the bright, floral fabrics he was used to seeing in the capitol. It was certainly less harsh than his own customary black.

Perhaps one did not ordinarily invite bastards into the small council chamber. But Tyrion lived in a brave new world.

"Good morning, my lord." called Alyssa Stone, closing the door behind her. To Tyrion's surprise, she was unaccompanied.

"Good morning," he greeted her, tilting his head slightly to one side. "Will Lord Arryn follow you soon?"

Alyssa loosened the neck of her grey dress slightly, regarding Tyrion with tired eyes. "He will not be joining us."

Tyrion was abashed for a few seconds. He blinked hard a couple of times, before his tone became slightly more forceful. "Not joining us?"

"No, my lord," Alyssa said, quiet respect in her voice-and yet her eyes were certain. "Lord Arryn has sent me to represent him. He trusts me to speak on his behalf."

A nervous jolt shot through Tyrion's chest. Oh Gods. If Robin Arryn had not deigned to join them in the meeting that may have decided his future in the Red Keep-the outlook could not be positive. He swallowed hard, racking his brain for something probing to say. Still, he could not help but think that if the loathsome Arryn boy was going to refuse them, it could be a blessing in disguise. Perhaps the case for the Dornish was not lost after all…

"…Is Lord Arryn settling in well to life in the capitol?"

Alyssa spoke very carefully. "It is a world from the Vale."

"Do you think he will grow used to it?"

"Who can know, my lord." said Alyssa vaguely. She strolled over to the table, and fingered the backrest of one of the chairs. There was a strange look on her face. It was as if she was staring at a great wonder of the world. "Have those in the capitol grown used to Lord Arryn?"

It was a burdened question. Tyrion knew that there was only one person she truly referred to.

"I am sure the king will tell you himself, when he arrives," Tyrion answered, lowering his voice and stepping closer to her. "But you ought to know that he is very eager to join the Vale and the crown. I explained to your father before we left the Eyrie-"

"Lord Arryn," Alyssa interrupted him, still stroking the backrest of the chair. "does not believe this to be so. In fact, he is quite certain of the opposite."

Tyrion took in this peculiar statement slowly. It appeared that his instincts had served him well.

"Lord Arryn has expressed uncertainty regarding our arrangement." Alyssa met Tyrion's eyes as she spoke.

"Really?" Tyrion asked, keeping his voice casual-but extremely loaded. "…To be consort to the king of the Six Kingdoms…to sit at his side while he rules…to become in one fell swoop the second most important person in Westeros…sounds simply dreadful. I would certainly struggle to accept it myself."

Alyssa gave him a hard look. "You know it is not that simple. The throne is a dangerous thing."

Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "You needn't tell me that. But something tells me it is not the danger that plagues your lord."

"No," Alyssa agreed, keeping his gaze steady. "It is the king."

Tyrion sighed, rubbing his hands over his eyes. Deep down, he had known that this was always going to be a problem. "What is the matter?" He dreaded the answer.

Alyssa's hand ran from the backrest of one chair to the backrest of the next as she glided around the small council table. "You may not have observed this during our long journey together, but Robin is very sensitive. He may come across as…" She paused for a moment, searching for the right word. "As…"

Repellent? Tyrion offered in his head. Ignorant? A jumped-up little shit?

"…difficult." Alyssa selected, with a very significant look at the Hand of the King. "But behind it all, I know he has a good heart. I truly believe, with the right guidance, he has a lot of potential."

Tyrion recalled Yohn Royce's words back in the Vale: I wish I could say he will serve you well, but frankly, that would be an insult to your intelligence. Looking at the confident young women before him, there was no question as to whom the "right" guidance was going to come from.

"Perhaps that is so," Tyrion replied, studying her carefully. "And the crown would benefit enormously from the support of the Vale."

"But if Robin refuses the king," Alyssa stated bluntly. "It is all ashes."

"That it would be," Tyrion nodded, narrowing his eyes. "So what do you suggest the king could do to change his mind?"

A small smile from Alyssa. Now, they were speaking the same language. "As I said," she began. "Robin is very sensitive. He has a rather juvenile notion of marriage, and desires a certain affection from the king."

At this, Tyrion could not help but cough. "Affection?" From Brandon?

Very slightly, Alyssa rolled her eyes-then set them back on Tyrion. "It is all rather narcissistic, if you ask me. But let it be clear: if you want the Vale's men, the Vale's gold, and the Vale's support, the king must at least pretend. If Robin does not believe that His Grace has even the least bit of affection for him, he will never agree to the marriage."

Tyrion swallowed. "His Grace is not known for pretending."

"We all must do things we would rather not sometimes," Alyssa said. "For example, Robin would currently rather not stay in the capitol at all. Given his way, he would be on the Kingsroad by now. But I persuaded him otherwise."

For a second, Tyrion could not help but look impressed. "You persuaded him?"

"I persuaded him." Alyssa finished firmly, as the footsteps of the rest of the small council approached the door outside. "Talk to the king. If you want the Vale, you must first gain Robin."

When Tyrion considered the enormity of the task Alyssa had just lain before him. And yet, as he looked up at the daughter of Yohn Royce, speaking to him like an experienced statesmen…he could not help but look forward to working with her. Perhaps he was gazing at a future master on the small council…

But still. To persuade Brandon the Broken to somehow endear himself to Robin Arryn, even to show affection…it was akin to persuading a pig to grow wings and fly across the narrow sea…