Tyrion deals with the political situation in King's Landing, alone.


TYRION XII

According to Littlefinger's report, the price of bread increased of twenty per cent, the price of a chicken by fifty per cent, and the price of fishes by thirty per cent. Since the war started, the City Watch counted a little more than twenty thousand refugees who came to King's Landing. That represented an increase of the population by about five per cent.

The numbers could be worse. If Lord Tyrell had closed the Rose Road and the Riverlands were devastated by their armies, the prices could have doubled or tripled, maybe more, and the number of refugees might have been five times higher. However, that wasn't the case. Despite the fact he wouldn't engage his forces by their side, Mace Tyrell kept the Rose Road open and sent more food stocks since the Riverlands were no longer available as a source to fill the capital's granaries. Tyrion also opened the Kingswood for people to hunt in it, and he had several small boats built so more people could fish into Blackwater Bay. However, all these measures couldn't entirely compensate the loss of food imports from the Riverlands due to the Tully rebellion, and the additional loss from the Crownlands caused by a partial desertion of lands by the peasants.

Cersei wanted to close the gates to the peasants who fled the war, but Tyrion had a better idea. He made a decree, that Joffrey signed without question because the matter bored him, stating that every peasant who would abandon his field would be deprived of any ownership he had on it. As a complement, the decree stipulated that citizens of King's Landing could apply to occupy the abandoned fields. As a result, the loss of food production was lessened and the inflow of refugees was partially compensated by an outflow of the city's inhabitants who went to cultivate the land. The population of King's Landing wasn't afraid of the coming war or aware of its dangers like the peasants, and the experience of recent increases in prices was an incentive to leave the capital for lands where you could grow your own crops.

Ser Jacelyn Bywater said the troubles in the capital had diminished, though not entirely. They had to carefully watch the newcomers, who were a constant threat for new riots. With the increases of prices, refugees without homes, Margaery's departure and the recent atrocities ordered by Cersei with Robert's bastards, they had all the ingredients for a civil uprising. However, these elements were weak for now, and they managed to control it. The city was at peace, they managed to control factors that could lead to riots if they couldn't neutralize them.

He wished that Margaery was there. It was three days since she left, and he already missed her. She was better with the crowd and the people than he was. Tyrion had no illusion. He was a dwarf. When he travelled through the streets of Lannisport and the roads of the Westerlands with his wife, it was Margaery the people cheered for, and whatever love they felt for him was only due to the love the people bore to his lady wife. The people loved the ladies who fed them and smiled at them, the handsome knights and great warriors, and the sweet children of their lords and kings. They loved Margaery, the Roberts Baratheons and the Tommens and Myrcellas of this world, but not the Imp who spent his days reading. He could hope for respect, but not for love. That left him with a bitter taste. Still, respect was better than hatred or disgust. He could live with it, as long as he had Margaery's love. That was enough for him.

Tyrion read another report about the crown's finances. The debts were now approaching six and a half million golden dragons. Tyrion wished he could reduce spending from the Crown, but it was difficult to control expenses in times of war. So instead he had to increase the debts his nephew owned to Casterly Rock. He also wrote to his father-in-law, asking him to borrow more money from Highgarden. The way they were going, he feared he might have to do like his father at the beginning of Aerys's reign, and to repay the crown's debts with the gold of the Rock. He didn't rejoice at the idea of paying for Robert's follies and Joffrey's cruelty.

According to a report from Varys, the Red Priestess from Asshai who was on Dragonstone with Stannis Baratheon was indeed more than an advisor. One of his little birds confirmed they shared the same bed at least once. It seemed that Tyrion didn't have to use rumors after all. He only had to use the truth to destroy Stannis Baratheon and weaken his supports. Varys also warned that the Florents declared for Renly Baratheon, and that a few houses in the Reach were thinking about doing the same. However, most remained neutral so far. Tyrion expected other houses to follow the Florents. They were too powerful for their defection to not be followed by anybody. You finally got what you wanted, Cersei. The Florents rebelled against the Tyrells. The only problem is that they rebelled against you son as well.

Just when he was thinking about that, the door of his office opened and his dear sister walked in like a fury. Tyrion supposed Ty couldn't keep her outside, and he couldn't blame him for that.

"You monster. Myrcella is my only daughter. Do you really think I'll let you sell her like a common whore?"

Why would you think so? No one is paying us for her. In fact, it would be quite the opposite, since it is commonly the bride's family who pays something to the groom's family.

Tyrion nonetheless noticed that his sister's voice wasn't only filled with anger, but also with despair. He knew how Cersei loved her children, so he tried to remain civil in front of her assault.

"Myrcella's a princess. Some would say she was born for this."

"I will not let you ship her off to Dorne as I was shipped off to Robert Baratheon." Tyrion allowed a very thin smile to come to his lips. The snake had come out of the bushes, and it seemed it was a very old snake.

"Dorne is the safest place for her."

"Are you mad? The Martells loathe us."

"That's why we need to seduce them. We're going to need their support in the war your son started, even more so now that the Reach is uncertain."

"She'll be a hostage."

"A guest," Tyrion corrected.

"You won't get away with this. You think you are safe with your titles and your armies? Ned Stark had titles and an army too." Yes, but he didn't know you as well as I do. He didn't expect you to stab him in the back. I do. I know you will try.

"Do you have a better idea to gain allies, sister? Even Father knew that the Lannisters needed allies."

"Look where is now."

"And your son will end at the same place if he doesn't make any compromise. And his sister, his brother, and his mother as well."

"You would have us make compromises with our enemies?"

"The Martells are no enemies. They never did anything against us. And Doran Martell has all the reasons in the world to accept my offer."

"Yes, because it will give him the possibility to avenge his sister. He will take Myrcella's life in payment for Elia's life."

"Martell is too honorable to murder a little girl, particularly one as sweet and innocent as Myrcella. As long as he keeps her, he can expect we will respect our part of the bargain. The terms I offered him are too rich to refuse. I also offered him his sister's killer, a council seat, some castles in the southern region of Storm's End…"

"Too much. You've offered too much, and without my authority or consent."

"Then go to Joffrey and ask him to cancel the deal. The Martells will be so offended that that they are likely to rally Renly. But I don't expect Joffrey to listen to you. He never listens to anybody, and we both know he doesn't care for Myrcella. The only person Joffrey cares about is Joffrey."

Cersei looked taken aback. "I care about Myrcella. I am Joffrey's regent, not you, and I say that Myrcella will not be shipped off to this Dornish."

"Trystane Martell is only two years older than her, and I hear he is a very decent man, and quite handsome. I think Myrcella will like him."

"You're really an utter fool. Myrcella will not go. I will not allow it."

Cersei was staring at him with all the hatred of the world. Tyrion was tired of it. He was trying to protect his niece, just like she did, but unlike Cersei, he knew the safest place for Myrcella wasn't behind her mother's skirts. Tyrion slowly stood up and walked to the door. When he arrived near the handle, he turned to his sister, and spoke on a tone that left no place to discussion.

"It's done, Cersei. Myrcella is leaving."

"No."

"You cannot stop it."

"No!" She slammed the flagon of wine that was on his desk on the floor. She began to cry. Tyrion tried to seize his chance and to make her understand.

"Just how safe do you think Myrcella is if this city falls? Do you want to see her raped, butchered like the Targaryen children? Make no mistake. They'll mount her pretty little head on a spike right beside yours."

"Get out! Get out!"

She snatched another flag on of wine and threw it at him. Tyrion managed to duck, but it was close. "Guards!" The doors opened and two of Tyrion's men came in. "See the queen to her chambers. She needs rest."

Surprisingly, Cersei didn't resist the two guards who escorted her outside. As she left, Tyrion decided to tell her one last thing. "For once, Cersei, think about Myrcella's interest, not yours."

The doors closed. Tyrion sighed and went back to his desk. Perhaps he had been too hard on Cersei. Myrcella was her daughter, after all. He knew there were risks, but Doran Martell was known to be a man who thought before he did anything. He had much more interest to keep Myrcella alive as a guest to House Martell than to kill her, especially with all the promises Tyrion made. Only the head of Ser Gregor Clegane should be enough. Why kill an innocent child when you could have the man who raped and murdered your sister after he butchered your nephew and niece?

Tyrion didn't know all the details of what happened on this fateful day, but it was known to be a certainty that Clegane killed Elia Martell and her children. Did he do this on his father's orders? Tyrion couldn't be sure, but he knew what his lord father had been capable of. He had no difficulty picturing him ordering Clegane to kill the princess and her children. He didn't hesitate when it came to the Reynes and the Tarbecks, or to Tysha, and he was ready to let his king die at Duskendale. However, what gain could his father obtain by killing Elia and her children? Of course, Rhaenys and Aegon were threats for any child Cersei might have with Robert. Tyrion was quite sure that his father already thought at this moment of marrying Cersei to the new king. He plotted this for a very long time and wanted Rhaegar to marry Cersei when he was Hand of the King. However, why would he order Clegane to kill the children when Robert Baratheon was very likely to do it himself? As for Elia, what gain could he obtain from her death? Looking at this, Tyrion couldn't understand why his father would give such an order. The children were condemned anyway. Why kill them when someone else would do it anyway? And why kill a woman who was no threat once her husband the heir and her children were dead? They could have sent her back to Sunspear alive, and she would have remained there for the rest of her life, grieving and mourning, but alive. If Tyrion had been there, he would have ordered his men to bring the princess Elia to him, alive, so they could claim they kept her safe during the battle. They would have the gratitude of her brother, and Robert all the blame for killing her children. Doran Martell would understand the Lannisters couldn't by themselves stop Rhaenys's and Aegon's death. The moment it was decided the Targaryens would no longer rule, their fate was decided. Gregor Clegane's actions made them take the blame for the death of three innocent people. Robert was the one who wanted to be king. Let him pay the price for it. Instead, Robert was the great and honorable warrior who fought for his lost love, and the Lannisters were the monsters who killed women and children. This affair had been all to their disadvantage. Whether Tyrion's father wasn't as clever as Tyrion thought, or Gregor Clegane acted without orders. Well, it was time for the Mountain to pay the price, and the fact that he was among those who Cersei tried to turn against Tyrion was only one more reason to deal with him. As soon as Tyrion had Prince Doran's answer, he would make sure Ser Gregor Clegane was dead the next time he saw him.

Tyrion called Ty and told him to bring him Vylarr with three of his best men. The commander of the red cloaks arrived with the said three men a few minutes later.

"What are your orders, my lord?" Vylarr asked.

"We have work to do. Follow me."

They did. It was already night. They wandered through the Red Keep until they arrived to a chamber beneath the rookery. "We arrest the man in this room. Is that understood?" he said to his men.

They nodded. Tyrion showed them the door with his hand, and they wasted no time. They obeyed him, not Cersei, and certainly not her allies.

The door burst open under the actions of Vylarr's men, to reveal the Grand Maester in bed with a pretty young woman. Unlike the old man, she wore no clothes. This was no surprise. Everyone knew the Grand Maester didn't respect his vows.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked. No one answered him, but the red cloaks seized him and brought him out of his bed. "No, please, please."

"Leave the girl alone," Tyrion ordered his men. She had gone out of the bed as soon as the soldiers entered. "You disappoint me, Grand Maester."

"I am your loyal servant," he protested, bowing.

"So loyal that you told the queen about my plans to send Myrcella to Dorne."

"No! Never! It's a falsehood. I swear it. It wasn't me. Ah, Varys. It was Varys the Spider." He wasn't very good at the game of thrones. Tyrion started to play with one of the instruments that Pycelle left on a table near him.

"I doubt it. I told Varys that I was planning to offer Balon Greyjoy a marriage between his daughter, Asha Greyjoy, and Joffrey. Lady Margaery told Littlefinger that I planned to wed Myrcella to Robin Arryn. There were only three people who knew we were offering the princess to the Dornish, and since we know for sure that my wife and I told nothing to the queen, we must conclude that she was informed by the only person left, you."

Pycelle was stuttering more than ever. "The eunuch has spies everywhere."

"How long have you been spying and working for my sister?"

"All I did, I did for House Lannister. Always. I've always been your servant, since the days of the Mad King."

"And I suppose you thought you were doing what was best for House Lannister when you sent these ravens to the Greyjoys, the Leffords, the Florents, the Westerlings and many other families to overthrow me."

"I never did such a thing!"

Tyrion turned to his men. "His beard. Cut it."

"What?" Before Pycelle could do anything, one of the red cloaks took his dagger and cut Pycelle's beard clean. The old man whimpered. For once, he had a taste of suffering.

"No more lies, Pycelle." Tyrion stood up. Pycelle was looking at every raven that left the Red Keep. If he didn't advise Cersei for the attempt of rebellion, then at least he knew, and he did nothing to warn Tyrion. "How many Hands have you betrayed? Eddard Stark? Jon Arryn? Not to mention a king? Jaime was there. You were the one to advise the king to open the doors to my father. You said he could trust the Lannisters."

"I did it for House Lannister. And Lord Arryn, he knew. He knew the truth about the queen. And, well, he planned to act, to tell King Robert."

"So you poisoned him?"

"No, never!" From the look of surprise, Tyrion could be sure that Pycelle didn't murder Jon Arryn. Indeed, Tyrion didn't picture Pycelle as an assassin. He was a coward, a sycophant who loved his position at court, who enjoyed living among the powerful, but he didn't have the guts to kill someone.

"But you let him die, made sure he succumbed, just like you made sure my sister could start a rebellion against me and my wife's family!" Tyrion's voice raised. This man disgusted him. He may not be a murderer, but he was no better than Littlefinger or Varys or Cersei.

"Lannister, I always served Lannister…"

"No, Pycelle, you serve Cersei, and Cersei is a Baratheon. My wife is more a Lannister than she will ever be. You betrayed me, you betrayed my house, and you betrayed your king. Throw him in one of the black cells. Get every information you can from him, by every mean necessary."

"No! No, no, no, no… Please! You can't do this to me! Don't! No, no…"

Tyrion heard the Grand Maester protesting and pleading all the way, but he had turned to the girl on the floor. She was terrorized, and who could blame her. He gave her a silver stag, then a golden dragon for her trouble, then he left the room. At least she would gain something from this terror.

When he was out, Vylarr and another red cloak were waiting for him. "Vylarr, find a man you trust to bring back the girl out of the Red Keep. Make sure it's someone who will treat her nicely. Then find Varys, Baelish and Ser Barristan and bring them to the Tower of the Hand, with discretion."

"Yes, my lord."

Tyrion headed back to his chambers, where he gathered a few documents he would need for his upcoming meeting. He went to a room he had designed for holding small meetings. There was a long table there, with one seat at an end and a line of five seats by its left. Tyrion placed the papers at the end of the table and waited.

"Intimate." Tyrion almost jumped at the voice behind him. Varys was already here. "Lovely table." The eunuch went to the closest chair on the side and sat. He sighed. "Better chairs than the old small council chamber. Conveniently close to your quarters. I like it."

In another world, Tyrion might have said the same thing than Varys. He sat at the end of the table, on the chair that was destined to him. "I suppose you've been aware of the existence of this room for a while," he said to the Master of Whisperers.

"It is my duty to know everything, my lord Hand."

Tyrion had prepared this room for the right time and kept it a secret. No one was to suspect anything, especially not Cersei. The time had come now.

"You arrived quite quickly, Lord Varys."

"There were certain things I wanted to discuss with you before we began. May I?" he asked, pointing the flagon of wine on the table. Tyrion poured some for both of them. "It seems the Grand Maester has found his way into a black cell." Tyrion drank, doing as if nothing was amiss. Varys, on his side, had a little smile, and Tyrion thought the eunuch was impressed. He didn't seem to blame Tyrion for lying to him. "Well played, my lord Hand. But should I be worried? Janos Slynt, Pycelle, the small council grows smaller every day."

"The council has a reputation for serving past hands poorly. I don't mean to follow Ned Stark to the grave."

"You impress me, my lord, I won't deny it. I was surprised by how you handled things at Casterly Rock, but now that you are here, I think I start to better understand your success in the Westerlands. It is only a pity that Ser Loras decided to side with Renly. I wonder how he could choose to fight his own sister. I understand someone might want to kill his king for the sake of his family, but betraying his own blood for a pretender…"

"Be careful, Varys."

"I only regret that the Tyrells are not as loyal as you hoped."

"Don't talk against the Tyrells. My wife is one of them, and an attack against the Tyrells is an attack against my wife. The Reach will send us the men we need soon." He hoped to close the matter with this.

"You do love her, don't you?" the eunuch asked. "Lady Margaery?"

"I do." There was no reason for it to be a secret to anybody.

"And she loves you." Tyrion had the distinct impression that Varys was making a statement more than he was asking a question. "You are very lucky, my lord. It is hard to be in love, today. I hope that serving the Realm will not ruin this love you have for each other."

"So, that's why you came here? I didn't know advising people on love affairs was among your specialties."

"Oh no, it wasn't for this. You managed to establish your personal power over this city, my lord, and very quickly. Power is such a curious thing. Are you fond of riddles?"

"Why, am I about to hear one?"

"Three great men sit in a room. A king, a priest and a rich man. Between them stands a common sellsword. Each great man bids the sellsword kill the other two. Who lives, who dies?"

"Depends on the sellsword."

"Does it? He has neither crown nor gold nor favor with the gods."

In this situation, it mattered little. "He has a sword, the power of life and death."

"But if it's swordsmen who rule, why do we pretend kings hold all the power? When Ned Stark lost his head, who was truly responsible? Joffrey? The executioner? Or something else?"

That was a question way too hard to answer, and Tyrion wasn't sure if there was a good answer. "I've decided I don't like riddles."

Varys had laid down his cup. He took it back. "Power resides where men believe it resides. It's a trick, a shadow on the wall." Tyrion nodded, understanding the eunuch's reasoning. "And a very small man can cast a very large shadow."

Tyrion couldn't hold back a smile as he drank again. It was at this moment that Petyr Baelish and Barristan Selmy came in and saw Tyrion drinking with the Master of Whisperers.

Tyrion invited them. "Ser Barristan, Lord Baelish. Take place."

The knight looked a little confused at the sight of this place, but Litlefinger quickly walked to the chair right at Varys's left. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard gathered his spirits and sat as well in the middle of the table.

"Very well, everyone is present," Tyrion declared. "I'm sorry to summon you this late, but there are matters of importance to discuss and this reunion of the small council couldn't wait."

"I see you changed the decoration, my lord, as the king did when he took his place on the throne," Littlefinger pointed.

"Where are the queen and Pycelle?" Ser Barristan asked.

"The Grand Maester won't join us for quite some time. He disobeyed a direct order I gave him, and his disobedience put in danger the whole Realm. He'll stay into a cell for some time. As for my dear sister, I'm afraid she is not in a good condition to attend such a meeting. Recent news disturbed her greatly, and I think it is better that we let her rest. We'll handle the matters of the Realm for her."

No one questioned this. Varys bowed his head, saying they would pray for the queen to feel better very soon. Littlefinger was listening and looking with interest, and Ser Barristan seemed to be worried. Tyrion wondered how he could worry about Cersei after all the horrible things she did. Or perhaps the old knight was only uncertain about what to think of all this.

"Now, to the matters at hand. First, I wish to inform the council that I am planning to wed Princess Myrcella. I sent a raven to Sunspear a few days ago, and I expect an answer very soon. When it will come, the princess will leave the capital to be betrothed to Trystane Martell, heir to Prince Doran."

"Trystane Martell?" Baelish asked, obviously annoyed.

"Are you sure that the Martells will accept, my lord?" Varys asked. "Their relations with the Crown has not been the best recently."

"Considering that the betrothal will come with a few castles in the Stormlands and the head of the man who murdered Elia Martell and her children, I don't believe Doran Martell will spit on the offer," Tyrion explained.

"A wise decision, my lord," Varys praised.

"I agree. The assassin of Princess Elia should have been executed a long time ago," Ser Barristan said.

"Thank you for your support, my lords," Tyrion continued. "The alliance with Dorne will reinforce our positions and add pressure on Renly Baratheon. Once the Reach brings its army on our side, it will be difficult for anyone to defeat the king. However, we will still have two pretenders threatening Joffrey's rule."

"Maybe three, my lord," Varys said. Tyrion looked at him intently. "I haven't received any news from my agents in the Iron Islands for quite some time. All the ships who go there do not return. I suspect Balon Greyjoy to be preparing something."

"You think he could rebel again?"

"That wouldn't surprise me."

"His son is a ward of the Starks," Ser Barristan said.

"Maybe, but I doubt the Starks will stop Balon Greyjoy from raiding their enemies. I will deal with this situation in the Westerlands and reinforce our coasts. Anyway, the Ironborn are merely raiders, not invaders. They will not be a serious threat to Joffrey," Tyrion declared. He hoped his plan to bring the Greyjoys on their side would work. After all, it wasn't every day that the Lord of the Iron Islands was offered the opportunity to make his daughter the queen of all Westeros. "Stannis, Renly, Robb Stark, these are the enemies we must deal with. And that's why I will send terms to Robb Stark."

Everyone seemed surprised. "Terms?" Varys asked.

"Yes." Tyrion gave them a copy of the terms he would offer to the Starks and, as a consequence, to the Tullys as well.

"These are quite generous terms, my lord, but I doubt Robb Stark will accept them," Varys said.

"The Starks follow their temper and their honor more than their brain. They will never consent to this," Littlefinger said.

"I think it is worth offering this. Lord Stark deserves it," Ser Barristan said. He didn't say his opinions on the odds that the terms could be accepted, but he approved, which was something. This meant the proposition was seen as an honorable one, and honor was very important to the Starks, as the Master of Coin just said.

"I know very well…"

Tyrion didn't have time to finish his sentence, for Cersei burst into the room without warning. Tyrion's men couldn't hold her off. They remained on the doorstep as she walked in. If she was furious two hours ago, now it was way worse.

"You! Not only you dare to send my daughter away, but you put Pycelle into the dungeons!" She shouted. She took in the place. "What is this?"

"This is the new small council chamber, dear sister," Tyrion replied.

"You move the small council meetings into the Tower of the Hand? You have no right to do this!"

"Why? I don't remember that there was any law saying the small council meetings had to take place in one specific place."

"You think you can take such decisions without telling me? I am Queen Regent."

Tyrion rolled her eyes. She said it so often that soon, no one would believe she was Queen Regent. "Cersei, I understand that you are angry because of Myrcella's departure…"

"SHE IS MY DAUGHTER! SHE IS GOING TO STAY WITH ME! SHE WON'T LEAVE! I WILL NOT LET YOU AND THE MARTELLS KILL HER!"

Tyrion kept his calm. His sister's presence might prove useful in the end. "Why not ask the small council about it? Varys, do you disapprove the idea of sending Myrcella to Dorne?"

"I do have reserve, my lord, but I think this should provide us with a useful alliance." He turned towards Cersei. "I understand your worries, your Grace, but my little birds in Dorne tell me that Trystane Martell is a kind boy, patient and caring like his father. And Doran Martell is not the kind to murder children, far from it. One of the reasons why he refused to continue his war against Robert the last time was that he was horrified by all the children who became orphans after their fathers died in the war. I hardly see him daring to hurt a little girl as sweet as the princess."

Tyrion turned to the man at Varys's left. "Lord Baelish, do you think there would be a better suitor for Myrcella? Do you think there would be a marriage that would bring more to the Crown than this one?"

Baelish seemed to be at a loss of words for a moment. "Well, my lord, there are certainly other suitors for the princess, but I suppose we should leave the queen with a say in this matter. Deciding of who her daughter will marry without talking about it with her would seem… unsuitable."

Littlefinger played well. He was much better at it than Pycelle. Tyrion looked at Cersei. "So, sister, do you have a better match in mind for Myrcella?"

Rage was still plain on Cersei's face, but she didn't answer. She just didn't want her daughter to marry, for it meant she would go away. Before the absence of any sort of reply, Tyrion turned his attention to the last member of the small council who didn't voice his opinion. "Ser Barristan?"

"Your Grace, I understand you might be afraid, but if Lord Varys tells the truth and Prince Trystane is like his father, then I doubt we have anything to fear for the princess. Lord Arryn met the prince a long time ago, and he said he was an honorable man. Prince Doran will make sure she is protected in Dorne. And I could send one of my kingsguards with her to ensure her safety. Ser Arys Oakheart will certainly make a good sworn shield for the princess."

"Small good Ser Arys will do her if Doran Martell decides that my daughter's death would wash out his sister's," Cersei said.

"We already had this discussion, sister, and you just heard the opinion of the small council. They agree with me, and you have no alternative to propose for Myrcella. She is leaving."

"NO! I WILL NOT ALLOW IT!" Ser Barristan stood up before this new outburst.

"If you care about your daughter, then you will allow it," Tyrion replied.

"NO!"

She seized a flagon of wine with the intent to smash one for the third time tonight, but Ser Barristan seized her arm and stopped her from throwing it at Tyrion. The flagon fell on the floor and wine splashed everywhere. And like previously today, Tyrion's guards intervened.

"See her to her chambers. Give her some essence of nightshade to help her sleep."

"You will pay for it! YOU WILL PAY FOR IT!"

Cersei didn't stop shouting, yelling and cursing as she was brought outside, by force this time. Ser Barristan seemed bothered by everything that happened, Varys had a sad expression, and Littlefinger seemed a little surprised.

"Please forgive me, my lords. I'm afraid my sister is overreacting. I hope you understand now why I didn't invite her to this meeting."

"We do understand, my lord," Varys assured.

"Very well, concerning the terms I am about to offer Lord Stark, I know he might refuse them, but we lose nothing by trying. With the Tullys, he commands most of the rebel forces. Taking him away from Stannis would make things much easier for us."

"Robb Stark will refuse to bend the knee as long as Joffrey lives. For him, this war will be over when and only when Joffrey's head is on a spike," Baelish said.

"More likely when he will behead Joffrey himself. I heard the Northerners prefer to execute their enemies themselves. It's the Old Way. But I might have my own way to make Robb Stark look at my terms in a better way."

"And what is this way, my lord?" Baelish asked.

"Just watch me and you'll see. That's all. I apologize again for summoning you all so late. You may leave."

Varys bowed and left, and Ser Barristan did the same. Littlefinger, however, lingered behind. Tyrion stood up and went to a desk that was just farther inside the room. The small council chamber was right next to the place where he worked, or at least near to one of the places where he worked. As the eunuch and the knight left, Baelish stopped on the doorstep and turned to look at him. Tyrion, in the meantime, had seized a blank piece of parchment and took a quill with ink. He began to write a letter for the Lord of the Iron Islands. They would see if the prospect to have a crowned daughter mattered less to this man than his son's life. Tyrion didn't enjoy the idea of making an alliance with the Iron Islands, but he couldn't hold a girl responsible for her father's and uncles' crimes. And since she was from the Iron Islands, she may face Joffrey's anger better than Sansa Stark. He saw her today again, with new marks of slaps on her cheeks. He had to take care of this matter. Not that it would get better with the new additions to the kingsguard. After Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Bros Blount died, they were immediately replaced. Before Ser Barristan could suggest any name, Joffrey named his dog, Sandor Clegane, and Lancel Lannister. Tyrion suspected it was Cersei who suggested the latter.

"I don't appreciate being made a fool of." Littlefinger said. "If Myrcella marries the Martell boy, she can't very well marry Robin Arryn, can she?"

Tyrion kept writing, using a technique his father often used when he was still alive. "No, afraid not. Sorry about that."

"When I'm asked a service, I expect it to be serious, not a joke."

"It wasn't a joke. It was a test, and you went through it. Though not entirely. You failed to tell me about my wife's hidden plan. Her plan that consisted of protecting her family's interest in the case the Lannisters should fall, of discussing with the Starks through Lysa Arryn, and to falsely accept the betrothal between Myrcella and Robin Arryn. Did you really think I didn't know about this?"

"Well, it seems I didn't need to tell you in this case."

"For your information, Harrenhal is off the table now." Tyrion stared straight at the Master of Coin, taking the most serious gaze he could find. "Now, remember this, Lord Baelish. If you ever try again to turn my wife and I against each other, or if you think you can do it, know that it will be the last thing you've ever done in this life. I will never betray my wife, and she will never betray me."

Baelish held his stare, and Tyrion saw anger in his eyes. He just deprived him from Harrenhal. He would never give it to him. He couldn't trust Littlefinger. The Master of Coin walked out and Tyrion dedicated the rest of his time before he went to bed writing the letter to Balon Greyjoy.

When he went to bed, Tyrion couldn't find a way to sleep. The bed seemed far too large, and it wasn't because of its size. He ended up spending the whole night reading various reports and official documents. He also drank. Margaery would scold him when she came back. He only hoped they would make up for the lost time before she did it, or maybe she would scold him while they made it up.

In the morning, he summoned a young woman and explained to her his plan to make peace. They needed a long discussion, but at the end he managed to convince her and she accepted the mission she was given. He then summoned one of his men and gave him a very specific mission that he immediately accepted. They left this very day. Tyrion watched them ride away along the Kingsroad with a large guard, thinking they were their best chance, though he hoped the first mission would succeed, for the second might bring quite a lot of problems.

During the two days that followed, Tyrion ruled the Red Keep without opposition. Cersei was confined in her chambers, whether she willingly isolated herself from the rest of the world or she was sick, he didn't know. Still, it felt right that he didn't have to worry about his big sister for some time. Of course, he knew that she could be even more dangerous when she would come out. Cersei Lannister wasn't the type to let the others rule in her stead without fighting.

She didn't close herself to the world for long. The night after the second day without Cersei, someone came to visit him. The kingsguard entered, followed by Vylarr who remained on the doorstep. Tyrion ordered one of his men to always be present when he was with a visitor. Ty was with Tyrion in the room, pouring his wine.

"Your visits are too few, cousin. By the way, congratulations on your recent appointment on the Kingsguard," Tyrion said when he saw him. Lancel looked at Vylarr, obviously uncomfortable. It was as if he was afraid of the captain of the red cloaks.

"Her Grace, the Queen Regent, commands you to release Grand Maester Pycelle. Here's your warrant." He handed Tyrion a rolled parchment.

"So it is. Will you take a cup with me? I find that mulled wine helps me sleep." Tyrion seized the parchment and threw it on his desk.

"I am here at her Grace's behest, not to drink with you, Imp."

Lancel made to leave, but Tyrion talked before he could. "If my sister was so concerned for Pycelle, I would have thought she'd come herself. Instead she sends you. What am I to make of that?"

"I don't care what you make of it, so long as you release your prisoner immediately."

"And you've received these instructions directly from Cersei?" Tyrion didn't need an answer. He only had to look at how Lancel addressed him to see that his words were Cersei's, and his behaviour as well.

"As I said several times."

"And you've waited this long to deliver the information?" Tyrion started to unroll the paper, not really caring what was inside. It was his cousin right in front of him, the very image of the arrogance of House Lannister but without the wits, who interested him.

"When the Queen Regent gives me a command, I carry it out without delay."

Tyrion rolled back the parchment. His cousin didn't know that he was digging his own grave. "Cersei must have great trust in you, summoning you to her chambers for a matter as important as Pycelle during the hour of the wolf." Tyrion smiled wickedly at his cousin, and the expression on his face betrayed what he already knew. "Of course, I understand that in her current state, she probably sleeps during the day and stays awaken all night."

"The Queen Regent has a great many responsibilities. She often works from dusk till dawn."

"She must be very glad to have you helping her. Tell me, you really carry out without delay any order she gives you?"

"I do."

"Then how is it that I am still alive?" Lancel's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, did I say something you didn't expect? Vylarr, don't you think Ser Lancel placed his hand far too often on his sword's pommel while we talked and looked at you too often?"

"Ser?" Vylarr approached the kingsguard, a warning look on his face. Lancel was panicking.

"Vylarr, take Ser Lancel's sword, and his knife as well." Vylarr did as he was told. "Now leave us. You too, Ty."

"My lord, are you sure this is wise?" Vylarr asked.

"Don't worry. Lancel cannot kill me without a sword. If you hear one of us talking too loudly, come in immediately."

"Yes, my lord."

Vylarr and Ty left. Tyrion approached Lancel and smelled the air around him. "Ah, lavender oil. She always loved lavender oil, even as a girl."

"I don't see what you're talking about," Lancel said very quickly. "I am a knight!"

"An anointed knight, yes. Strange that you were anointed after Robert died. I didn't think pouring wine could get you a knighthood. Tell me, did Cersei have you knighted before or after she took you into her bed?" Lancel was more panicked than ever. "What? Nothing to say? No more warnings for me, ser?"

"You will withdraw these filthy accusations!" Tyrion ignored this weak outburst.

"Have you ever given any thought to what King Joffrey will have to say when he finds out you've been bedding his mother?"

His cousin sat down. He was admitting his defeat. He might try to display arrogance, but he wasn't as strong willed as Cersei, and unlike her he knew he wasn't invulnerable, or at least now he realized it. "It's not my fault!" he said.

"Did she take you against your will? Can you not defend yourself, knight?"

"Your own father, Lord Tywin, when I was named the king's squire, he told me to obey her in everything."

"Did he tell you to fuck her, too?"

"I only meant I did as I was bid."

"Like when Cersei ordered you to kill me at this very moment, after a night or two of passionate lovemaking? Like when she ordered you to drunk the king so he would die in the hunt? You must have hated every moment of it, I'm sure of that," Tyrion ironized. "Is that what you'll have me believe? A high place in court, a knighthood, my sister's legs spreading open for you at night. Oh, yes, it must have been terrible. Not as terrible as the guilt you must have felt when you murdered your king or when you plotted to kill your lord and cousin. I could have you executed on the spot. However, I don't like executions. I think I'll let someone else take care of that. Wait here. His Grace will want to hear this."

"Mercy! Mercy, my lord! I beg you." His cousin was on his knees. Tyrion had some difficulties to believe that he was Kevan's son.

"Save it for Joffrey. He loves a good grovel." When Tyrion arrived at the door, it opened and Vylarr entered. He saw Lancel on his knees and his brow arched in curiosity. "It's all right, Vylarr. You may leave us alone."

He left, and Tyrion saw relief on Lancel's face. "My lord, I swear, it was your sister's bidding. It's true, she ordered me to kill you, but I didn't want to do it. I didn't want to kill the king either. She only ordered me to drunk him. She even paid me for that. I didn't know she was planning to kill him. She said she felt lonely and ordered me to share her bed. She felt lonely because the king didn't grant her any attention, and she said he slapped her and beat her. I'll leave the city at once, I swear. You'll never hear of me again, I promise," he whispered.

"No, I think not," Tyrion replied in a similar voice.

"My lord?"

He knew he won. "You heard me. My father told you to obey my sister. I give you the same order. Obey her. Stay close to her side. Keep her trust. Pleasure her whenever she requires. No one ever needs to know anything you did… as long as you keep faith with me. I want to know what Cersei is doing, where she goes, who she sees, what they talk of, everything. And you will tell me."

"Yes, my lord, I will," Lancel answered, his voice trembling. "I swear it, as you command."

Tyrion clapped his hands. "Oh, rise, rise. Let us drink to our understanding. Oh, you don't have a cup. Oh, well. Smile, cousin. My sister is a beautiful woman. And it's all for the good of the Realm. Go back and tell her that I beg her forgiveness, that I want no more conflict between us and that henceforth I shall do nothing without her consent."

Lancel stood up, still shaking. "But her demands."

"Oh, I'll give her Pycelle." Anyway, the maester gave him all the information he was seeking. It wasn't difficult to get it. They only had to threaten to torture him, and he told them everything. He would keep no scar from his captivity.

"You will?"

"Yes, I'll release him in the morning. Cersei can keep him as a pet if she wants, but I will not have him on the council. I could swear that I had not harmed a single hair of his head, but that would not, strictly speaking, be true. You may leave."

When Lancel was gone, Vylarr came to see him. "Is there a problem, my lord?" he asked.

"No, only a simple misunderstanding. It seems the lad had no intention of killing me after all. But someone else did."

"The queen?"

"Let me handle that, Vylarr. And never make suppositions like that again. That could put you in danger," Tyrion warned him, not wishing for his captain of the guards to die because the wrong person heard it.

"I understand, my lord."

When Tyrion was alone again in his office, he couldn't help but feel a little guilty about using Kevan's son to spy Cersei. Why did Lancel need to be his family? If he hadn't been, he could use the affair he had with Cersei as a distraction to bring people's attention away from the incest. Only, Tyrion felt he couldn't do that to Kevan. He would send Cersei away as soon as possible and ask Ser Barristan to help Lancel become a worthy knight, if it was possible. For Kevan's sake, Tyrion had to try. Kevan helped him so much since he became Lord of Casterly Rock that Tyrion had a duty to try to help his son, if not for their family ties then because he had a debt towards his father.

Tyrion poured himself a cup of wine to celebrate Cersei's declining power. He was closer than ever to send her away. Hopefully, his sister would leave the capital forever before Margaery came back. He hoped her discussion with Renly and her brother would go well.


A lot of material taken directly from the show or the books. Events are similar, but we can expect Tyrion to make similar choices given the circumstances. Of course, he can also show more clearly that he is the one ruling the place, since Cersei doesn't have any support from Tywin in this fanfiction, and Tyrion acts in such a way that Cersei's reaction will give the impression that she is unable to rule and faciliate her demise. I also thought that making Tyrion use symbolical actions like his father to display his authority helps to see how he remains very much like his father from some perspectives.

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Next chapter : Margaery