King's Landing. Loren had not seen the city in some time, not, in fact, since the third name day of King Robert's youngest child. He doubted the boy remembered him well, or the others for that matter.
"Well," Tyrion said from behind him. "Here we are."
"Here we are indeed," Loren accepted. He could see trickles of ant-sized people moving towards the many gates of the city, a banner of twinned lions and stags flew from the Wall. What rank madness; with Renly Baratheon claiming the crown as Robert's brother, Robert's son should be flying the banner of his father, remind the people who ruled them. He thought back to the day of the Sack of King's Landing. He had been father's squire then, watching as the Lannister host sacked the city. Lions flew from the walls that day as well, and he doubted many people from that day forgot it.
Tyrion pointed out alongside the Rush. "Look," he said. "It would seem to be the case that the king is hosting a tourney on this fine summer's day."
"Why today, what should he be celebrating?" Loren asked his brother.
Tyrion raised an eyebrow at him. "Why brother, it is our dear nephew's name day, had you forgotten."
Loren scoffed. "That would imply I knew or cared in the first place," he shook his head. "Madness, to be hosting a tourney at this time. Still, he is the king, as his new councillors, we should go and make ourselves known to him."
"Lead on, brother," Tyrion said, and Loren put his spurs to his horse, his men and Tyrion's clansmen and sellsword, following on behind.
A pair of riders, Loren hesitated to call them knights, were riding at each other. One of them bore the bloody spear his father had so railed against. But this was no Lord Commander of the Gold Cloaks, if they had knighted one of his sons... He shook his head.
The crowd parted as he and his party rode towards the royal box. He saw the Hound standing faithfully by his master's side, a white cloak flowing from his shoulders. The king was sat, bored and pouty, with wine in his hand and a large crown on his head. On his left was his betrothed, the Lady Sansa Stark, judging by the red hair she shared with her mother and eldest brother. Beside her was another girl, perhaps two years older, but he recognised the look of her at once. It was the Targaryen girl. Her hair was silver and even from a distance he could see her purple eyes. She had seemed so much younger when her brother had pleaded for the Company's support to take back the Iron Throne, and they had turned him down sharply. But her brother was dead now, killed in Dothraki attack on Pentos, and she had been spirited away. Stannis Baratheon had found her in his harbour, and sent her to his brother. She had arrived not long before the King himself died. He didn't know that Robert had ever seen the girl. Since she was alive, he would guess not. On the other side of the king were his younger siblings, Tommen and Myrcella, and though they had golden hair and green eyes, they looked alien to him.
They all looked over when he and Tyrion approached, their men holding back a little. He dismounted and walked over. "Who are you?" The boy king demanded, and his brother looked confused as well, who was this moustached individual who had come before them. But the Princess seemed to remember him. "Uncle Loren?" She asked.
"Yes Princess, it is I," he replied, and the Princess rushed over and hugged him tightly around the middle.
"We haven't seen you in years," she squealed, releasing him and backing away, looking up at him with wide eyes.
He nodded. "It has been... long," he said.
"We heard you were in the east," the King said.
"I was," Loren confirmed. "But now I am here."
"And we thought you might be on the battlefield," Tyrion said, waddling up beside him and kissing the princess on the cheek. "But you were nowhere to be found."
Joffrey shifted uncomfortably. "I've been here, ruling the Kingdoms, but don't you worry, uncle, I intend to face Robb Stark myself."
Loren would like to see that.
Tyrion then looked at Sansa. "My lady, I am sorry for your loss."
"Her loss," Joffrey snarled. "Her father was a confessed traitor."
"Yet still her father," Tyrion replied. "Surely, having so recently lost your own father, you can sympathise with her plight."
"We have a whole box full of mourners, Tyrion," Loren reminded him. "His grace and his siblings have lost their father, they may soon lose their uncle Jaime, Lady Sansa's father has also left us and," he raised a glass of wine, liberated from a servant, to Daenerys, "I believe this one has lost a brother."
"Yes, uncle," Joffrey said. "We are all mourners here."
Tyrion nodded.
"Well, Tyrion, we should be going. Enjoy your name day, your grace," he said, bowing his head. "We would love to be able to stay and celebrate with you, however, there is work to be done. Come Tyrion." He returned to his horse and mounted, waiting for Tyrion to do the same.
"What work?" Joffrey asked. "Why are you here?"
"We are to defend your city for you, Your Grace." Tyrion called from atop his horse. "Nothing more." Loren turned his horse and began riding for the city, the Red Keep and his sweet, foolish sister.
Such a force of men met no opposition as they rode the streets to the Red Keep and dismounted in the courtyard. "My Lords," a Lannister man said, his armour strong and head bowed. "We... we did not expect you."
"Indeed," Loren replied "well then... who are you?"
"Vylarr, my lord I command the Lannister men in the keep."
"Vylarr," he repeated, he would try to remember that. "Where could I find my sister, the Queen Regent?"
"She... I believe there is a small council meeting."
Loren nodded. "Carry on, Vylarr, come Tyrion, let us go and prevent more bungling of the realm."
Outside the small council meeting, as was custom, was a knight of the Kingsguard, in gleaming white plate. "Ser Mandon," Tyrion greeted cordially. "Would you be so kind as to open the door for us, I fear we are late for the meeting."
Ser Mandon did not appear to want to move, so he stepped forward. "Ser Mandon, perhaps you didn't hear my brother. We are late for the meeting and would like to pass."
"My lords, the small council-" he began.
"Is down several members," he finished for the knight. "We are here to fill some of those seats, by order of Hand of the King, Tywin Lannister. Now... open the door, if you please."
After a moment"s hesitation, Ser Mandon stepped aside. Loren turned to his guards. "Remain out here," he said, "until the meeting is done." His sister may be a fool, but she was the Queen regent, he needed her to accept him with at least some level of willingness, which would be harder if she was surrounded by his men. Together, he and Tyrion entered the small council chamber.
The council looked around as the two new Lannisters entered the room. His sister looked alarmed at his presence and angry at Tyrion's, the bald cockless wonder looked passing curious, the master of coin smiled openly at their intrusion, the Grand Maester looked too tired to even look his way, and the last face was unknown to him, but the bloody spear brooch that fastened his cloak at the shoulder indicated that Janos Slynt had been granted a council seat as a reward for betrayal. "Don't get up," Tyrion said as they approached the table and took their seats.
"What are you doing here?" Cersei demanded of them.
Loren could see that Tyrion was about to make some jape or other, and he had no patience for it. "You find yourself lacking a Hand of the King and a Master of Laws," he said. "We are here to fill those gaps in your council."
"Father is Hand of the King, and I have named no Master of Laws," Cersei insisted.
"Father is at Harrenhal trying to organise the war with Robb Stark," Loren said. "By his decree, we are here."
"He cannot do that. Not without Joff's consent," Cersei bristled.
"As I said, he is at Harrenhal, if you wish to take this up with him, I will give you our fastest horses."
The other council members were silent throughout the exchange. "Get out," Cersei told them. "I would speak with my brothers alone."
The others heard the venom in her voice, and left at once, Loren didn't move, only stared at her. She got up to take seats closer to them. "I would like to know how you tricked father into this."
"We didn't trick father," Loren replied. "We are not the Stark twins, if you don't believe us, go and take it up with him at Harrenhal. But you have only yourself to blame for this."
"Me?" Cersei replied, shocked. "I've done nothing."
"Therein lies the greatest problem," Loren replied curtly. "You did nothing when your son called for Ned Stark's head, now his sons are out for blood."
"That was Joff," Cersei insisted in self defence, he wanted to smile at the way she was trying to shift blame, his sister never was capable of accepting that she was wrong. "Now he is king, he thinks he can do what he likes, not what he is bid by his council."
"Clearly," Loren replied. Tyrion seemed happy to sip at his wine, watching the two of them spar. It grated on him, but Loren needed to put Cersei in her place. "But not all the failings can be attributed to him alone. Was it you who suggested removing Stannis Baratheon from the council and replacing him with yourself?"
"Why not?" She replied. "I will advise Joff until he comes of age, and Stannis Baratheon is a threat."
Loren nodded, that was a sentiment his father shared. "Perhaps," he said. "But he was also Master of Ships, what fleets have you built, or ships have you commanded that you are qualified for that position. Now Stannis has a brother and a nephew calling himself king and you have snubbed the man so much that he might just declare for Renly, or press his own claim." He shook his head. "And dismissing Ser Barristan? Why?"
"We needed someone to blame for Robert's death, and why not him? He was old. It gives Jaime a seat on the Council and allowed Joffrey to cloak the Hound, and he was always fond of Clegane."
"So instead of Barristan the Bold, hero of Duskendale, veteran of the Trident and the Greyjoy Rebellion, he who slew Maelys the Monstrous in single combat, we have the Hound," he fixed Cersei with a glare. "What will people say when they see Barristan the Bold riding beside Renly, or Stannis, or Robb Stark?"
Cersei paled. "I... I didn't think..."
"Another problem," he said. "But what does that matter, I'm sure that Jaime will do a fine job serving from his cell in Riverrun."
"We can't let them execute him," Cersei said at once.
Loren raised an eyebrow. "We aren't there, if Stark decides to, there is nothing we can do to stop it."
"We have his sister," she insisted. "If they lay a finger on him-"
"Sister?" Tyrion asked. "Not sisters, where's the other one."
Cersei traced her fingers on the desk. "Arya Stark... vanished."
Loren wanted to punch the table. One failing after another, was there no end to incompetence?
"Vanished... in a puff of smoke, or into a magician's hat?" Tyrion asked. "We had three Starks to trade, one has lost his head, and another is just lost." He chuckled. "My my, we are in a deep puddle of shit, aren't we."
Cersei looked at them both. "Father may have named you, but he is not here, as you point out. If I declare you false, you will be thrown in the dungeon."
"My men will not permit it," Loren replied calmly. "But you could try, though I think it wouldn't serve you. We are not here to fight you, Cersei, we are here to defend the city."
She was in thought now. He could continue insulting her for her incompetence, but he would let her have a small victory now, if it got her approval for him to serve as Hand. He needed it... for now. "If I accept you, you shall be the King's Hand in name, but my Hand in truth. You will share all your plans and intentions with me before you act, and you will do nothing without my consent. Do you understand?"
He nodded. "Completely. We are at your service sister, we live to serve the King and his regent."
She seemed satisfied and got to her feet. "As Hand," she said to him. "You may call for the next meeting, when you are ready. I suppose you wish to see to the defences of the city."
"Most certainly," he said, and Tyrion voiced his assent as well.
Cersei left, pleased with herself, and Loren turned to Tyrion. "Janos Slynt," he said to him. "You saw the state of the city as we rode through?"
Tyrion nodded. "Very corpsy, and little order."
He nodded. "We'll have to do something about that," he said. "I could name a Lannister knight to the commander of the City Watch, but they will likely serve better with one of their own. Find me a capable officer we can promote, and devise some way to get rid of Slynt."
Tyrion smiled and nodded. "But of course, my lord Hand. And what shall you be doing."
"I have to see to the defences," he said. "Renly to the west, Robb Stark to the north and Stannis Baratheon at Dragonstone, still a threat," I have to see what our defences are like, and improve them, we must be ready to repel any attack against us."
He was determined that his tenure as Hand be successful, that he prove himself capable. That would only be possible if he was able to defend the city. If it fell, so did he.
