(First part of the story is mostly unchanged. Only the second half has received an extensive rewrite.)

Chapter 9: Justice and Injustice

Though the journey from Winterfell was considerably faster than the journey to Winterfell, it was still infuriatingly slow for a man who had previously been accustomed to the luxury and conveniences of modern travel. Thankfully, we did not have a wheelhouse to escort, which quickened our pace greatly, but the poor quality of the roads left much to be desired, and slowed our progress. This effect was compounded by the fact that we bore the burden of a dozen additional Lannister men, as well as a man from the Nights Watch. Still, it wasn't as bad as it may have been, on account of the fact that I had managed to talk my mother out of her wish to send more than twice that number with me when we had first departed for the wall.

Boredom appeared the order of the day, and unlike the journey north, I lacked much in the form of intelligent conversation. My uncle, naturally, was a delight, but conversing with just one man became stale after a while, even one as interesting as Tyrion Lannister. The men may have been fun to converse with, and yet they appeared deeply uncomfortable in my presence, the conversation not flowing freely, but instead feeling forced and stilted.

If the travel became any more tedious, I feared that my suicidal urges may yet resurge.

Still, we made good progress, and after just a few weeks, the rain pouring down, we found ourselves at a very familiar inn, on a very familiar crossroads, just as I had intended. We walked in, and Tyrion began to solicit the services of the inn-keeper, flashing his gold with the intention of securing us lodgings for the night. The negotiation continued in earnest, with one freerider eventually trading his room for the gold, and the men in our retinue arranged to sleep in the stables. With the accommodation sorted, the subject quickly turned to food, and a wide spread was set to be arranged. Soon after, a bard jumped up, eager to serve our party, though his overtures were rejected.

Throughout this entire time, from the back of the retinue, I had been stealthily watching the Lady Catelyn. Her expression betrayed her annoyance, and her anger, though her emotions were suppressed, her desire to retain anonymity trumping her desire for vengeance. If nothing else, her very presence confirmed it: someone, likely Joffrey, had tried to have Bran killed.

However, her hopes of anonymity were swiftly shattered when Tyrion's gaze landed upon Catelyn, and he addressed her, "Lady Stark, what an unexpected pleasure." Catelyn tried to turn her head, but admitted defeat when Tyrion continued, "I was sorry to miss you at Winterfell."

The bard who had attempted to solicit my uncle gaped at her, and the inn-keep looked surprised, "Lady... Stark?"

"I was still Catelyn Tully the last time I bedded here." She turned her gaze away from the inn-keep to address an older man sat in the corner, "You in the corner, is that the black bat of Harrenhall I see embroidered on your surcoat, ser?" The man responded in the affirmative, and Catelyn continued, "And is Lady Whent a true and honest friend to my father, Lord Hoster Tully of Riverrun?"

Ser Rodrick caught on to what she was doing, and stood from his seat, loosening his sword from it's scabbard. She turned her gaze to a trio of men sat by the fire, "The red stallion was ever a welcome sight in Riverrun. My father counts Janos Bracken among his oldest and most loyal bannermen."

The three men looked uncertain, "Our lord is honoured by his trust."

My uncle had not yet caught on, "I envy your father all these fine friends, but I do not quite see the purpose of this, Lady Stark."

She ignored him and turned to address a large party in blue and grey, "I know your sigil as well: the twin towers of Frey. How fares your good lord, sers?"

The leader of the group rose and responded, "Lord Walder is well, my lady. He plans to take a new wife on his ninetieth name-day, and has asked your lord father to honour the wedding with his presence."

Tyrion sniggered, much to the annoyance of the group of men, who by my count numbered in excess of twenty. Catelyn offered him a stern look, and addressed all of the men in the tavern, "This man came a guest into my house, and there conspired to murder my son, a boy of seven. In the name of King Robert and the good lords you serve, I call upon you to seize him and help me return him to Winterfell to await the king's justice."

Many of the men drew their swords, eager to curry favour. The inn-keep, alarmed at the sudden turn of events, looked about ready to begin begging, "No swords, not here, please, my lords."

Tyrion looked speechless, and so I opted to reveal myself, speaking in his stead, "And what of me, my lady? I have accompanied my uncle the entire way, and I have not sighted anything that may be indicative any such conspiracy. As you may know, I am rather clever for my age, and if you were to levy such an accusation upon my uncle, you would be levelling an equal allegation upon my own person. And why would a prince of the realm conspire to kill your son?"

The men in the tavern looked far more uncertain now that I had made my presence known, and though we were outnumbered, some of the men in our retinue gained in confidence and drew their blades as well. By the same token, some of the men on her side appeared reluctant, and one man even went so far as to sheath his sword. Though her party had been weakened, it still handily outnumbered my own. From the looks of things, a standoff was brewing.

Catelyn initially appeared surprised at my presence, but having publicly proclaimed her course of action, was now committed to seeing it through, "A prince of the realm wouldn't. His uncle would." She pointed at Tyrion, "Those in King's Landing say that his mind is his weapon. He is renowned for his wit. I do not think it would be overly difficult for him to outwit you, no matter how clever for your age you may be, my prince."

Whilst I analysed the situation, Tyrion spoke up, "You're making a sad mistake, Lady Stark. I had no part in any attack on your son. On my honour-"

Catelyn's gaze was filled with poorly concealed contempt, "Lannister honour. Your dagger left scars. The blade sent to open my son's throat." She then pulled back her sleeves, revealing long scars along her forearms, partially healed, caused by her encounter with the cutthroat, "I bear the evidence of it upon my naked flesh."

The proof of her accusation offered, some of the men appeared to have regained their faith in her words, and appeared determined, especially once being assured that they were only targeting my uncle, and that they would not be committing treason by targeting me. "Kill him," hissed some drunken men in the back, their call swiftly taken up by the others, anger flooding the room at her wounds. Me and Tyrion had fourteen men between us, and Lady Catelyn appeared to have secured the loyalty of just under twice that number. Before the argument could devolve into an outright confrontation, I intervened, "You say you seek justice, my lady?"

Catelyn had a strange look on her face at my words, "I do, my prince."

I nodded, "Very well, then. If it is justice you seek, then it is justice you will find." I motioned for the men to sheath their swords, which they appeared to be reluctant to do. After prompting them twice, I finally convinced them with my words, "If you believe you can win against an enemy twice your number, then be my guest. But even if you do believe that, can you truly protect my uncle and me from the fighting? Can you swear that a stray crossbow-bolt or blade will not find a home in my heart?" The men looked unsure, "Well, then, lower your swords!" I looked back at Lady Catelyn, "Can you swear my uncle a fair trial? That the king's justice will be delivered appropriately, and that it will stay as justice, and not morph into vengeance along the way?"

The wind appeared to have been taken out of her sails, albeit with much hesitance on account of a deep suspicion she held of me, "Aye, that I can."

I nodded, "Well then, lead the way, Lady Catelyn."

She seemed relieved, until she realised that I intended to accompany her, at which point her eyes narrowed in suspicion, "I only have need of your uncle, my prince. You are not being accused of any crime, and are free to continue on your way."

I smiled and shook my head, "No, my lady. Where my uncle goes, I go as well. And if my uncle is to be your prisoner, then I will be accompanying him as his advocate. Which he will need, if he is to receive a fair trial."

She paused, frustration building in her eyes. After a moment of silence, she spoke, "Aye. But if you are to accompany us, then how can I trust justice to be delivered, if I am to spend my days with Lannister blades at my back? A prince must have his retinue, and Lannister honour is no honour."

I nodded, "So you have said. But these men are under my command, Lady Catelyn. Are you questioning the honour of House Baratheon as well?"

She shook her head, "Not at all, my prince, but they bear the sigil of House Lannister. They are dressed in their liveries, they are clad in their gold, and you are yet a boy, my prince, too young to command their true loyalty, no matter how precocious you may be."

Now it was my turn to think. I couldn't risk Tyrion falling prey to butterflies, though I could be relatively sure of his safety, as I spotted Bronn across the room. Ultimately, however, it was a risk I would rather not take. As Littlefinger always liked to say, chaos was a ladder, and Tyrion made it far easier for me to climb it. From any angle by which one looked at it, staying with Tyrion was decidedly the safer option, both for my personal safety and my future prospects. My mind made up, I spoke up, "You say you seek the king's justice, Lady Stark?"

She nodded, "Aye."

"But the King isn't in Winterfell, is he? He's down south, in King's Landing. If it is truly the king's justice you seek, then you would be fine with allowing the King to administer that justice, no?" I pointed down at the door, "And he's far closer, too. Winterfell is a moon's ride away, perhaps more. By comparison, King's Landing is practically a stone's throw away. There, you will get your justice all the sooner." I pointed at the men behind me, "And you can be assured, my lady, that in spite of their Lannister loyalties, the men in my retinue would not dream of harming you, nor any in your party, not when you are going to seek an audience with the King."

Catelyn expression morphed between rage, exhaustion, and desperation. She had been well and truly had, and she knew it. If she declined, she would lose support from the room all the same, and then being outnumbered by my retinue, she would wind up the prisoner rather than the gaoler. If she accepted, she likely knew that she could not expect any such justice, on account of the presence of the Queen alongside the King. I decided to crank up the pressure before she could figure a way out, "You say you don't doubt the honour of the crowned stag, and your husband is like a brother to the King, and his Hand besides. If you will get justice anywhere, my lady, it will be in the capital."

Silence persisted, the atmosphere tense as we all waited in her response. Catelyn now looked like a deer in headlights, unable to comprehend the fact that she was close to being outmaneuvered by an eight, almost nine, year old child. It took a few moments more, but then the airs she had been building up in her accusation seemed to escape her with a sigh, and she deflated. She looked back up at me, and tried one last trick, "I must be with my son. He is injured, and I cannot bear to be parted from him a moment longer, not when each passing day could be his last. I will come south for justice only after he has woken, or after he has..."

Catelyn choked on her words, and she looked on the verge of tears. In spite of this, I allowed a wide smile to break out on my face, "Didn't your hear? Your son is whole and hale, my lady, and expected to make a full recovery by your Maester. When we were last in Winterfell, he had already woken, and was even deemed fit to ride with a special saddle of my uncle's design, though the Maester thinks it will be some moons yet before he can walk again." I frowned, "I would have thought you would have already received a raven from your son bearing this joyous news." I shrugged, "Though I suppose that even ravens can lose their way."

Catelyn's expression twisted to one of hopeful surprise, "Truly? My son is safe?"

Tyrion spoke up, "That he is." She shot him a venomous look, "You need not trust me, Lady Stark. Pen a letter to your boy and see for yourself, if you must."

"There is no reason for you to go to Winterfell in such a hurry now, my lady. You can go after you have secured your justice from the King."

She looked forlorn at the prospect of venturing down to King's Landing once again, and yet, unable to see a way out, she nodded her ascent, "Aye, my prince."

The atmosphere now less tense, we sat down to sup at the inn, and Lannister gold paid for the food of every occupant that night. The next morning, Tyrion's wrists were bound at my insistence, and I took childish pleasure in enjoying his mild discomfort. Catelyn seemed irked that we were making light of the situation, but I was just having too much fun with it, and I saw little harm in it. This was not the Vale. The roads were smooth, and I did not expect to face ambush by mountain-clan. Tyrion was unlikely to need his wrists unbound anytime soon, though I still had them unbound a third of the way through our journey, once the joke of his captivity grew stale.

Our pace was leisurely. We rode at no more than a trot the entire way down, and Tyrion soon began to win over Catelyn's party, one by one. He and I engaged in a joint campaign of scepticism, loudly debating Catelyn's accusation between us, tearing her arguments to shreds with our words, and sowing the seeds of doubt in her mind. Weeks passed us by, and we stopped at a separate inn every night. As our collective party grew closer and closer to the city, I spent time ruminating on what effects my choices may have.

With Tyrion still in the company of several Lannister men-at-arms, I doubted Tywin was likely to attack the Riverlands anytime soon. I didn't know if he would be riding down to King's landing as well to see to Tyrion's defense, or if he would be content to sit on the sidelines in his lack of care for his son. Doubtless, he would be more patient either way, intent on seeing things through before settling on any violent course of action, though I thought it likely that he would still begin to gather a host, just in case.

Everyone else, however, was more doubtful.

I couldn't even begin to guess how a figure like Littlefinger or Varys was likely to react to this fresh turn of events. The only thing I could truly be sure about the two of them is that they would, as always, prove to be agents of chaos, quietly serving their own agendas. This felt like the perfect opportunity to entrap Littlefinger and be rid of him, especially with Catelyn present to cast his claims out in the open and expose them for the lies that they were, and yet I felt almost certain that he would find some way of worming his way out of it all. And even if I did deal with him, would a grief-stricken Lysa not raise her banners for him? Perhaps it was best to keep him out of proceedings, and deal with him more quietly later on, so as to not complicate matters even further. It was a difficult conundrum to consider, because if I went after him and failed, my life was essentially forfeit, and if I succeeded, I risked making the looming war all the bloodier and harder to win. And yet killing him would massively simplify matters in the capital.

It was something to consider, but not something I would act on till I had a better grasp of the situation.

Mother was likely to be both amused and angry, for she had never really liked Tyrion anyways, but she would not tolerate the insult the accusation levied against her house, whilst Jaime was to be furious, on account of this fresh stain being placed upon his beloved brother's character. This was not a matured Jaime Lannister, who had suffered the loss of his hand and his pride, so I expected that violence would be his first port of call in such a crisis, and I was uncertain how he would react. It was very much a flip of a coin at this point. Tyrion hadn't been whisked off as in canon, but he was still likely to be counted as a prisoner of Catelyn Stark, and rumours had a tendency of twisting the truth and morphing beyond recognition as they spread. In any case, whilst I could not predict his movements in advance, I would be able to discern them the moment I entered the city, based on whether he was present or not.

My father... was also likely to be a wild card. His loyalties were to be torn between his Lannister in-laws and his kinship and professed love for all things Stark. That need not necessarily be a bad thing, especially if I could find a way to both acquit Tyrion and pin the blame on someone else simultaneously, but my father was likely to be volatile. I would have to tread lightly there, especially if I arrived with this news just after he was due to get the news about Dany's pregnancy, hence why I had kept our party at such a slow pace. I had to navigate the situation in such a manner so as to secure my position, limit the damage that a potential war could cause, all whilst preventing the secret of my parentage from spreading. I shuddered to think of what might do if the truth reached his ears.

Most certainly, I would be disinherited, and my mother would be killed. Joffrey would likely face the sword as well, and though I felt he would spare me and Myrcella, it was by no means a guarantee, as he was likely to be wroth with us. If I could not keep the truth a secret, which it looked likely that I couldn't, then my father would have to die. If such was the case, I hoped he would go out as in canon, so as to prevent even more bloodshed.

My other Baratheon relatives were less daunting prospects. Stannis was not in King's Landing, and there was little I could do to change his mind anyways, and so I knew to expect trouble from him. The moment my father dropped dead, which, even if he didn't die on the hunt, he would sooner rather than later on account of his lifestyle, Stannis would call his banners and have me declared an abomination of incest which, in all fairness to him, I was. Renly, on the other hand, was a more curious prospect. Whilst Stannis was staunch in his duty, by contrast, Renly was more self-serving, and so may even prove to be more pliable. I wasn't sure if I had anything to offer that could prove more valuable to him than a crown, but it seemed to me to be worth a try regardless.

War was inevitable, but that didn't mean I couldn't try to stack the deck when the day came to call the banners.

And then there was Tyrion himself to consider. I didn't doubt he would be acquitted, either by the method of his mind, or by his brother's blade in a trial by combat. Once he was, how would his presence alter the flow of events in King's Landing? Tyrion was not a member of the Small Council, but he was still influential, and there was a distinct possibility for some political maneuvering there. My own influence, on account of my age, was too small to be able to truly change much, so perhaps his own could be used instead?

Most interesting to me, however, was the prospect of how Ned would react. By my reckoning, he had already abandoned his position as Hand, and yet I also suspected that even if Jaime didn't attack him, he and Robert would still find some way to reconcile. And yet, the arrival of his wife, with Tyrion and I in tow, was likely to complicate matters. If he planned a departure from King's Landing, it would most certainly be delayed. Depending on his standing at the point of arrival, he may even be able to preside over the trial, assuming, of course, that there would be one, and that events would not distract from it.

More importantly, if his discovery of my mother's terrible secret could be prevented, then his death could be as well. If it could not, then his head would have to roll, it was as simple as that. Even still, based on my timing, there was a narrow window within which the realm could be saved the ravages of such a large-scale war. The only question now was how? I could hardly change the thoughts in the man's mind, and since the Bran incident, whilst he did not care to see me harmed, he was not likely to bear much respect for my words.

Of course, my involvement in Bran's fall could have derailed his whole thought process, but I doubted it. Ned knows about the assassin going after Bran, and even if Bran didn't see anything, to Ned, that didn't necessarily mean he didn't hear anything. With Varys, Baelish and Renly egging him on, the entire endeavour seemed a touch hopeless to me, and I suspected he would come by the truth one way or another. In any case, Ned Stark would have to be dealt with, one way or another.

I cast those thoughts out of my mind, however, as King's Landing came into view over the horizon. The outline of the Red Keep could also be seen in the distance, looming ominously over it all.

The time for planning was over. I had a kingdom to save.

No pressure.

And so, Tommen is in the Capital once again! How will he fare in the face of such intrigue?
The first part of the chapter is basically the same, but with a different ending.
Feel free to comment and let me know what you think.
Hope you guys enjoy!