Had a sudden burst of inspiration, so I'm posting this a couple days earlier than I'd originally planned. Wrote 5,000 words in a single day on all my various projects, so I'm rather proud of myself.
XXXXXXXXXX
"By the Gods. . ." Robb Stark whispered, looking over the scene before him. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of men, women, and children butchered.
"It seems the Mountain has escaped justice once again," Roose Bolton remarked, surveying the area. Every Stark and Tully captive held in Harrenhal were littered across the rain, the two of them stepping in puddles of blood.
The lucky ones had their throats cut or were hanged. Robb looked over to the center, seeing a group of nude female bodies, tortured and mutilated. A pair of knives were next to the rightmost corpse, the blood still stained on it a dark reminder of Clegane's work.
Robb swore to himself Clegane would die slowly if he ever got his hands on the giant. Perhaps even given to Bolton. . . It wasn't a punishment Robb would give to anyone else, even the likes of Jaime Lannister. However, if anyone deserved to be flayed alive, it was Ser Gregor.
"Check around, see if there are any survivors," Robb ordered, his bannermen frozen with rage. "Now! And make sure my mother. . ." Catelyn walked between them before he could spare his mother the sight before them.
His bodyguards took out their swords, cursing in fury. The Smalljon hacked apart several pieces of wood, most of them in a single blow, promising vengeance to the Lannisters. Dacey Mormont cursed so foully than any man would be proud.
A few of the faces were familiar, men that had served his father since before Robb was born. He kneeled down, burning the faces of the dead in his mind. Robb frowned in quiet fury, hand grasping his sword unconsciously.
No one spoke a word, save for a few silent prayers to the Old Gods. Riverlanders, Northmen, and peasants alike were slaughtered. Robb walked over a log, searching through the dead for any sign that some were lucky enough to escape such a grisly fate.
Catelyn turned toward her son, her face struggling to hold onto its dignity, but Robb knew she would break down the instant his mother had a moment alone. Only the reminder of his duties prevented him from doing the same.
Such butchery cannot be allowed to continue. Robb nearly tripped over a young boy that had his arms and legs hacked off before his heart was cut out. He drew his swords, thrusting it into a wooden post, wishing it was Tywin Lannister before him.
"Any survivors?" Robb asked his mother in a slightly choked voice.
"No, they are still looking." A single tear rolled down Catelyn's cheek. Harrenhal was searched from room to room for those lucky enough to escape. It went unspoken among Robb's bannermen they hoped to locate Lannister men they could repay with blood.
A handful of survivors were located, wounded men and women who managed to pass themselves off as corpses. None spoke a word, flinching at every touch, staring at their rescuers with dead eyes.
"If I had any doubt about taking the Iron Throne, it is now gone," Robb informed his mother. Allowing such atrocities from the Crown could not be tolerated. He still did not wish for the throne, but. . . perhaps better him than the alternatives.
Bodies were dragged into a pile to be burned, given as much respect as they could manage. Even in such a somber moment, however, boots, swords, and shields were taken for further use.
"We must respond to this provocation," Bolton reminded Robb. "Balon Greyjoy still raids your lands, yet Theon still rides beside you. Half the realm now thinks you toothless. A second occasion will break all faith."
Robb considered his words. I've won every battle, but my men are still losing faith. He could not bring himself to execute Theon, with many of his bannerman heading back North to defend their lands, which Robb couldn't raise any strong objections to. Not responding to the Lannister's latest provocation would make his position even more precarious.
Bodies were laid down in the center, in between pieces of wood the Riverlanders ripped off from the former cages and gallows. Edmure lit the kindling, his previously optimistic demeanor nothing more than a memory.
Robb took a few steps back, gesturing for his men to ensure they were not caught in the flames. Fire spread only slowly with such limited amounts of wood. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to keep his stoicism.
"Uncle, we must ensure that such an atrocity does not take place again," Robb approached, grabbing his attention. "We hold many Lannister prisoners, do we not? Including Jaime Lannister?"
"You mean to pay them back in kind?" Edmure's eyes widened. Part of him felt horror, at least until the crime they bore witness to returned in his memory with a vengeance.
"Yes, Tywin will learn there are consequences to that creature ravaging our lands," Robb decided, ignoring the voice inside his head telling him it was wrong. "Choose two hundred of our prisoners whom we know have butchered innocents in the Riverlands. Behead them as a warning to the Lannisters that we will not tolerate such behavior."
"Do you have any specifics, Robb. . . I mean, Your Grace?" Edmure questioned.
"Yes. We will execute the Lords, not the peasants. Tywin will consider the latter to be easily replaced, but seeing his bannermen's execution is another matter entirely. Make sure Cleos Frey is there to bear witness to this event, so he can tell his Lannister masters the consequences of butchering our people." Dangerous as Bolton was, he was correct. A message had to be sent to the Lannisters.
"Your father would never have allowed this," Catelyn rebuked.
"Father's dead. They killed him. Honor means nothing to the Lannisters." Robb's guilt for making such an order and satisfaction in inflicting a blow to his enemies warred within his mind. "Harrenhal will be used as a dagger pointing straight at the Lannister heart. Uncle Brynden can keep the Westerlands disorganized and unable to form another host to attack us."
Despite his rage, Robb could not bring himself to give them to Roose Bolton. Flaying was outlawed, but he was certain it was still practiced in secret. No, the executions would be quick, with more mercy than Tywin would ever provide.
Deep down, Robb knew his father would be ashamed of him for the order. Yet compassion was seen as a weakness to his enemies. I pray they do not force me to do this again. Robb expected such a plea would go unanswered as the war dragged on.
XXXXXXXXXX
"Unbelievable; my body controlled by the likes of a commoner!" Joffrey raged, pacing back and forth.
"I can't say I particularly enjoy our circumstances, either," Matthew deadpanned. "Being trapped in the body of a mad king wasn't what I wished to do with my life. A bastard born of incest, no less."
"How was I taken over by a pathetic little worm like yourself?! Being beaten up by a woman?!" Joffrey waved his hand, visions of his old life replacing the clear sky.
"Enough!" Matthew snapped, the memories an unpleasant subject for him. He closed his eyes, although it did no good.
"Aw, does that hurt to know you were so weak? Struggling to get away from a girl half your size? You were too feeble and scared to try and fight. . ." Matthew shoved him to the ground, not wanting to hear any more.
"You dare touch me?!" Joffrey rushed Matthew, only for him to pin the teenager to the ground. He did not dare do him serious harm, for fear of inflicting it onto himself. Matthew presumed they were inside his mind, but did not know the rules of their situation. Too much was uncharted territory.
"Unhand me, peasant!"
"Perhaps you should consider the fact our fates are intertwined. If anything happens to me, you're finished as well." Matthew doubted reasoning with the psycho would get him anywhere, but he decided to make the effort regardless.
"I've seen what your world is like. You're fools, giving power to the common people."
There are those who say they don't have any real power. Matthew mused, curious as to whether Joffrey would notice. In some aspects, they would even have a point. However flawed the United States was, though, Matthew vastly preferred it to the likes of Westeros, even being a King.
"This body is mine! I've been an intruder in my own skin for far too long! You're going to pay for what I've endured!"
"Consider this, Joffrey," Matthew moved to a combat position. "I barely knew you still existed until recently. It's only because I'm injured that you're able to do anything at all. I never credited you with an overabundance of brains, but certainly you can piece together how unlikely it is to end in your favor."
Joffrey continued to kick and thrash, screaming obscenities and threats. Matthew rolled his eyes and finished the fight with a single kick, ending his threat.
"I'm going to make you pay for what you've done to me!" Joffrey promised, attempting to hide his fear.
"And how exactly do you intend to do that?" if Joffrey wasn't such a monster, Matthew would have felt sorry for the boy. He was certain having no control of his body was an agonizing experience, but Matthew had a difficult time caring.
"This is my mind too, and your memories are mine to access." Matthew forced himself to ignore the images of his ex-girlfriend using him as a punching bag.
"It was more than a decade ago. She has no power over me now." Joffrey laughed, forcing him to relive every moment of it because moving on to his war experiences. Realizing he couldn't beat Matthew physically, Joffrey opted for mental torture.
"Fine, if you want to play that game. . ," Matthew regained control of himself, forcibly seizing control of the images above. After a few moments of effort, he changed the scene to that of Cersei and Jaime having relations. "May I present to you your parents?"
"You're a liar!" Joffrey denied, trembling.
"Search your feelings. You know it to be true." Matthew pushed, deciding to make Joffrey pay for bringing up unpleasant memories. "You were never a Baratheon, only a Lannister."
"I'll have you flayed alive for this when I break free of you!" Joffrey stomped his foot on the ground, reminding Matthew of a child's temper tantrum.
"Robert was never your father at all, and you were never capable of pleasing him anyway. No matter what you tried." Despite himself, Matthew was a little sympathetic to Joffrey. He'd only been a boy when a crown was put on his head and he was certain their family dynamics had some effects on him. "You were an embarrassment to him, Joffrey. Cowering behind your mother's skirts rather than behaving like a man."
Joffrey charged at him, screaming with inhuman fury. Matthew sidestepped, kicking him in the back. He turned around and attacked again, but failed to land a single blow on Matthew.
"I've fought far more dangerous opponents than you," Matthew held his hands behind his back and sat on him. "And won, so perhaps discretion is the better part of valor."
"I am the King!" he screamed, on his hands and knees.
"Technically, yes. One of them, anyway. You, however, would have brought your family to ruin. Even if they did discover the truth, most would be grateful you were no longer around to screw things up."
"You tried showing mercy to people, and what did it get you?" Joffrey spoke in a slightly calmer voice. "You gave food to the peasants, and they tried to kill you in return. Everyone thinks you're weak and feeble, which you are. Saving Stark gained you nothing, only more enemies. Fear is the only way to rule."
"What did your cruelty accomplish for you?" Matthew countered, changing the scene to Joffrey's poisoning. His straining stopped, watching his death with horrified fascination. Matthew watched the scene stonily, knowing the consequences that followed afterward.
"You know I'm right, peasant." Joffrey sneered. "And since if you die, we both do, perhaps you should stop pretending this is your world. The Tyrells chose to commit treason! Send a message to the entire realm how such actions are punished."
"Ah, so you are capable of reason after all," Matthew rolled his eyes. "Let me make this clear: if you try and retake control, I'll send us both careening off the highest tower in the Red Keep."
Joffrey kept silent, thinking it over. Matthew gave an added push. "I would suggest we at least try and cooperate with each other. You might even learn a thing or two."
"All I've learned during your time controlling my body is that mercy is a weakness. Every time you've tried your stunts, things became worse. Once I wrest control again, I'll teach all of them how a true King punishes his enemies. Flay the alive and they'll learn their lesson."
"Oh, I'm certain you'll try." Matthew was relieved Joffrey wasn't in his body. While everything he'd experienced so far was beyond his comprehension, he could live with having Joffrey in his head. Having him in his body, near his loved ones. . . he'd have done anything to prevent that.
XXXXXXXXXX
Suppose it was too much to ask to have Father acknowledge anything I've done. Tyrion glared at Tywin, his arm in a sling due to it being all but shattered at the Blackwater. Even with copious alcohol consumption, the pain was a constant.
Those at Court laughed and jeered at the prisoners, at least until the King ordered silence. Combined with Tywin's infamous glare, no one would dare speak out for fear of the consequences.
One Lord after another were dragged before the King, forced to bend the knee of suffer the consequences. By and large, it was a dull affair, one Tyrion saw little need in paying attention to. For all their words of fealty, it would not stop them from making another attempt should the opportunity arise.
Cersei stood beside her son, arm around his shoulder. I wonder how you'd respond if you realized that wasn't Joffrey, sister. Tyrion would love to run that idea by her. Would she refuse to believe it? Or would she be willing to murder the man who possessed Joffrey's appearance?
He shook his head with some reluctance. Tyrion preferred the current King to his foolish nephew and wouldn't actually carry the threat out. Hinting that he might, however, would make the stranger a little more compliant to his interests.
"Before we continue, I would like to make a toast." The King stood up, raising a wine goblet. "First of all, thank you to all the men who bravely participated in the defense of this fine city!" Everyone at court raised one hand, applauding their efforts. "And to my grandfather, Tywin Lannister." Tywin made no acknowledgement of either his words nor the admiration.
"Most of all, I would like to think the architect of our defenses. . . Tyrion Lannister, my uncle! All of us owe him a great debt." The King turned to face Tyrion and gave a rare smile.
"Only doing my duty, Your Grace." Tyrion bowed, feeling everyone's eyes upon him. Many were disdainful, yes, but others. . . it was perhaps the first genuine appreciation he had ever received in his life.
"Don't be so modest, Uncle. Come forth." With mixed feelings, Tyrion did as he asked. He knew what the man was trying to attempt, but that didn't mean he was immune to it. Being recognized for his efforts ignited a rare contentment, even happiness, inside him.
"In fact, if not for my Uncle, I would not be before you now sitting on the Iron Throne. Thank you for everything, Tyrion."
"Glad to see someone noticed I wasn't idle during the battle," Tyrion snarked, inwardly fuming. You clever little bastard. By singling Tyrion out, the King had just ensured their fates were tied together. Should anything happen to him, the dwarf's head would be next on the chopping block.
He's learning. He's an amateur at the Game of Thrones, but he's learning. Tyrion gave him reluctant respect. It wouldn't stop him forever, of course; the King was far too free when they spoke in private.
Next to be brought before the King was Randyll Tarly, scowling as he was dragged before the Iron Throne. "Being that you were the chief military leader of Renly's forces, you will be spending your remaining days on the Wall as punishment for your crimes."
"If my punishment is the Wall, then I would ask for an execution," Tarly snarled.
"What makes you think I care for what you want?" The King dismissed. "Perhaps some time fighting wildlings at the end of the world will help you reconsider whether rising up against me was a smart idea."
"If Renly had listened to me, make no mistake, I would be presiding over your execution now," Tarly spat defiance, having nothing to lose. Joffrey did not bother responding, gesturing for the guards to drag him away.
Other than a handful who refused to submit and were sentenced to execution, the court was uneventful. Tywin said nothing, spending most of his time studying Joffrey.
"Well, Your Grace, it has been most pleasant listening to you sing my praises," Tyrion commented, bowing once it was only him, Joffrey, and Tywin inside the room. "Is there anything else you require of me?"
"No, you have done quite enough," Tywin responded.
"I'm sorry, Father. I know you were expecting to find my corpse, but true to form, I have disappointed you."
"We've got a meeting with the Tyrell siblings, but I won't need you for that," Joffrey interjected. "I suggest you not aggravate your arm any further and conclude finding out just what Littlefinger was up to."
I haven't been able to devote much time to that. Tyrion admitted. Most of his time had been spent preparing the city's defenses. What he had been able to discover, though, was that Littlefinger had some sort of grand game planned. Investments that made little sense, money borrowed and stolen underneath mountains of paperwork. . .
But that was a worry for another time. He had been too long away from Shae. Tyrion considered saying as much; the man who controlled Joffrey's body would likely laugh, but his father would respond in his usual fashion.
He wouldn't be able to do much, but Shae had many, many talents. With his father around, Tyrion knew he would have to be more discreet about meeting her.
Varys would have been able to help with that, but he's disappeared as well. He didn't like it and was certain The Spider had something planned. No one knew for certain what Varys wanted, even Tyrion. He's in the city somewhere, but why did he disappear now?
Whatever was going on, some time with Shae would help clear his head. However much Tyrion tried to remind himself she was a mere whore, he found himself falling for her.
He opened the door to the Master of Coin's room, already feeling his breeches stiffen in anticipation. A slight whimper on the other side reached Tyrion's ears just as he threw the door aside.
"I've been waiting for you, brother," Cersei gave a devious smile. "It seems you've been keeping secrets from me."
"What is the meaning of this?" Tyrion demanded, wishing Bronn was by his side. Were either he or Shagga near him, Tyrion would have ordered the death of the pair of sellswords and possibly Cersei as well.
One of Shae's eyes were blackened, with countless bruises covering her naked body. Tears and snot dripped down her face, while she curled into a ball, attempting to protect herself from the sellswords.
"I found your little whore, Tyrion," Cersei informed. "You didn't really think I'd let you get away with your plot, did you?"
"What are you talking about?" Tyrion spoke carefully, not wishing to put Shae in more danger. How did she find out about Shae in the first place?
"No witty remarks? None of your usual comments?" Cersei walked toward her brother, confident in her victory. Tyrion held his comments back, knowing that Shae would be the one paying the price for them.
"I haven't made any plots," Tyrion trembled, despising being put in a helpless position.
"You tried to kill Joffrey so you could rule through Tommen," Cersei spat, appearing ready to physically assault him.
That would make things easier, wouldn't it? At that moment, Tyrion was nearly ready to spill his guts about the truth, just to see how Cersei would react to the news. It would be so satisfying to wipe that arrogant smirk off her face. But. . . no, she wouldn't believe me and I'd lose all my leverage with him.
"You convinced him to stay and fight, putting him at risk," Cersei fumed, Tyrion getting the impression she was mostly talking to herself.
"That was his choice and if he hadn't, all of us would have our heads on pikes," Tyrion spoke coldly.
"The only reason I didn't kill you long ago is because our brother Jaime loves you, disgusting little creature that you are. But I will not forget or forgive your attempt to murder my children. You are mine, dwarf." Cersei gestured toward Shae. "So long as you obey me, she'll be allowed to live. You can even visit her."
"And what guarantee do I have that you won't just kill her anyway?" Tyrion had no intention of obeying the likes of Cersei. His sister truly thought she was being magnanimous by allowing occasional visits. He turned to Shae and said: "Don't worry, I'll keep you safe."
"I know you will, my love," Shae whispered, crying silently.
"For all your plans and japes, you are a fool, little brother," Cersei sneered. "She's a whore. You don't mean anything to her. She only loves your gold, not your company."
"I'm yours, Cersei." For now. "But I suggest you keep in mind that King's Landing is a dangerous place. Anything could happen, including to those who think themselves protected." If she thinks me such a monster, I'll play the part. "I've never been fond of you, but as you're my blood, I never harmed you. Take care, sister; try not to be afraid of daggers in the dark." He swore he would make his sister pay for such an action. No longer would their mutual love of Jaime (if not quite in the same fashion) stay his hand.
He would wait, force himself to be patient while he revised his plans. I'm going to take everything from you, Cersei, and Father will be able to do nothing to stop me. Tyrion would never harm Tommen and Myrcella, two children far more decent than their background. Even whoever Joffrey was now, though his restraint had more to do with the fact their agreement was useful. I'm going to enjoy turning your victory into ashes.
It was only a matter of time.
XXXXXXXXXX
"So what do I do with the likes of you?" Matthew looked over Loras, Margaery, and Garlan. Loras gave a blank stare, Garlan stared back defiantly, and Margaery turned her head in an unreadable expression.
Matthew gave a brief aside to Tywin Lannister, who chose to attend the meeting alongside his brother Kevan. Tywin had yet to say a word, though he was certain the Lannister patriarch spent his time evaluating what kind of King Matthew was.
"We're all reasonable people here." Garlan folded his hands, scanning the Kingsguard. Even unarmed, Matthew feared the Tyrell brothers would make an attempt on his life. "I'm sure we can come to an arrangement."
"You supported Renly Baratheon, a traitor to the crown. I've yet to hear a good reason why I shouldn't have you executed." Matthew's voice grew angrier by the second. However much he hated the little shit inside his head, Joffrey was right about one thing. I'm done being soft.
"Surely you understand how so many men could be taken in by the likes of Renly," Margaery smiled. "None of us realized what sort of man he truly was. It would be in all of our interests to put this unfortunate event behind us."
"My father was lenient toward you after his rebellion," Matthew kept his tone quiet, finding it to be the more effective approach. "Aerys was a monster, which the entire realm knew. Yet his mercy was repaid with treachery. I don't intend to make that same mistake."
"Nor would it be wise to make any unnecessary enemies," Garlan pointed out. "Robb Stark and Stannis Baratheon still have armies of their own and we did not extend the full strength of the Reach."
Matthew considered his next words carefully. Pushing them too hard would lead to their parents hellbent on revenge, likely with a possible marriage match with Robb Stark. However, giving lenient terms would only lead to more rebellion.
"As of now, the debt the Crown owes you is null and void. Food shipments will resume entering King's Landing immediately. Taxes will be increased for the next decade, applicable to your family and every bannermen foolish enough to persist in this effort."
"I think we can agree to. . . overlook the debt in the interests of good relations," Garlan agreed. "Food shipments can be easily arranged as well. As for taxes, perhaps instead we can assist in rebuilding the city."
"I can assist in feeding the poor," Margaery offered. "I understand you've made such efforts yourself."
Like I'm that stupid. "I can manage without any help. However, the increased taxes are non-negotiable. Much will have to be done to repair everything you've destroyed. How much they are increased will depend on your behavior. Perhaps you're unhappy about this, but woe to the vanquished."
"And your prisoners?" Garlan asked. "My men don't deserve to be slaughtered because they followed orders."
"Free to go, after their ransoms are paid and they bend the knee to me. Those that haven't already done so, at least."
"How much are you asking for the smallfolk?" Margaery inquired.
"I believe two silver stags each will suffice." More and they were likely to be left behind and cause trouble in King's Landing. "However, until their ransom comes in, they will be put to work repairing the city, as will the lesser nobles."
"You won't find them very willing to perform peasant work," Loras spoke for the first time, clenching his fists. Garlan put a restraining hand on his arm.
"If they wish to eat, they'll obey." Matthew had many plans, including for removing some of the chamber pot contents from the streets. "Then you will publicly bend the knee and disavow the false claims about my parentage." Garlan and Margaery shared a glance.
"Perhaps we can send a better message of reconciliation," Garlan continued. "My sister has found herself recently widowed and this wouldn't be the first conflict to end in a marriage."
You wish to make me another puppet king. "Hmm, you make an intriguing offer. Margaery is a very beautiful woman." And a dangerous one. However, I cannot take your words on faith alone. While I consider your proposal, I insist the three of you stay in King's Landing as my honored guests. Do let me know if there's anything you need and my servants will get it for you."
"We have free reign of the Red Keep, at least," Margaery placed a hand on his arm. Matthew conceded it, but intended to watch their every move. He and the Tyrells discussed terms for hours, with Tywin only speaking a few words.
Once his opponents left, Matthew turned to Tywin and spoke, "I know you were sitting in on this meeting to obtain an impression of me. Out with it."
"I'm glad to see King's Landing didn't fall apart before I arrived," Tywin mentioned. "The Tyrells wish to be the power behind the throne, with the influence and little of the risk. It wouldn't be wise to alienate them."
"How many prisoners do we have?"
"Perhaps 15,000. Another 10,000 were killed storming the walls, a few thousand more on the river, with everyone capable of fleeing doing so. They will fetch an impressive ransom, along with hostages."
"Speaking of which, I am sending Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch to Dorne for Doran Martell to do with whatever he wishes." Matthew gave a triumphant smirk.
"Your Grace, Ser Gregor strikes fear at the heart of our enemies," Tywin argued. "He cannot be quickly replaced and every lord needs a beast from time to time. Amory can be discarded and the unfortunate act placed on his shoulders."
"He's an uncontrolled beast, as are the brigands he surrounds himself with," Matthew scoffed. "I want men who can use their brains, not dumb muscle. What of the reports from Harrenhal?"
"Gregor killed all who resided inside," Kevan spoke for the first time, still mourning the loss of his son.
"The Starks and Tullys will respond, make no mistake on that," Matthew informed. Even an honorable man could not let such a blatant act stand, not and still have bannermen follow him. "That could include your son. Aren't the Boltons infamous for flaying their enemies?"
Tywin's face went white at the idea of Jaime facing such a horrific punishment. "They would not dare, not when we have Sansa in our grasp."
"We only have Sansa, while they have numerous relatives of yours. Gregor can be replaced while smoothing things over with Dorne at the same time. Clegane's a liability; imagine if he shouted out what he did to Elia Martell for the world to hear."
Tywin thumped his fingers on the table, considering Matthew's words. Kevan whispered something he couldn't make out into his brother's ear. "Who would you have replace him? The fear he inspires is not matched by any living man."
"His brother Sandor is just as dangerous, perhaps more skilled, and has enough restraint not to kill on a whim. If you recall, at my father's tourney, Clegane attempted to kill Loras Tyrell due to losing the joust. How would the Tyrells have responded? Combined with a possible match between Arianne and myself, we can neutralize the Dornish threat."
"His younger brother does have a similar reputation, but the Red Viper at least will not let things go so easily," Tywin warned. Matthew knew he was close.
"He gets to see the possibility of having descendants on the Throne. We can disavow Clegane's actions, and inform Prince Doran he can do whatever he wishes to his captives."
"Perhaps. . . Gregor can be replaced, considering the possible gains. Clegane put my son in danger, and that will I not forgive."
"Order him and Lorch to the Capital, along with a few of their brigands to sweeten the pot. As my Master of War, you will be in charge of defending King's Landing from future incursions."
"I was named Hand of the King, which my son carried out in my stead." Tywin stood up, fixing Matthew with his famous glare.
"Not anymore. I need a fighter, not a hand." I survived Jakarta. Do you think you're going to intimidate me? Matthew met Tywin's stare with one of his own. Despite himself, he wanted to wince, but he would ensure that he would be no puppet to Tywin, as Joffrey was.
Their staring contest lasted a couple minutes before Tywin inquired, still staring into Matthew's soul: "Who do you intend to give the position to, my son?" Tywin spoke the words with disgust.
"No, I'm going to keep the Imp as Master of Coin. My Hand will be Stannis Baratheon."
"Your Grace, have you taken leave of your senses?" Kevan asked in incredulity. "This is Stannis we are speaking of. The man will break before he bends."
"I've been in correspondence with him for some time. In his latest letter, he's no longer threatening to behead me and is slightly more courteous than in the past. And I have something that he and his red witch want."
"And what is that?" Tywin resumed his glare, although not with the same intensity.
"That will be revealed at the proper time. It wouldn't do to reveal all my tricks to everyone who asks. Suffice it to say I have knowledge that few possess. Having the man on my side will be an invaluable asset."
"I still hold great skepticism that your gamble will pay off," Tywin responded, but he did not dismiss it out of hand.
"I held off Renly long enough for you to arrive, with green troops and one eighth his numbers. I kept the battle from being lost even after the gates were breached, something almost no one can claim. Stannis did not add his fleet to his brother's, an act that would have doomed our efforts. I consider it a positive sign."
"Very well, I will see if this. . . move of yours will work," Tywin scoffed. "If your gamble fails, all of us will suffer for it, and I will not allow my House to lose this war."
"Noted," Matthew gave a slight smirk. "I've also got a few ideas for economic development you may find interesting once victory is ours. In the meantime, it would be useful if we could duplicate these in the Westerlands. Be sure that no one, save for yourself, sees them until they arrive." Tywin nodded and departed. It was a risk, and even without interception, others would eventually begin copying his ideas.
Matthew had learned his lesson. He would no longer allow himself to look weak, not if he wished to improve things.