"Renly Baratheon is dead," Loren commented to the rest of the small council.
"Indeed, my lord," Varys replied solemnly.
"There seem to be quite a few tales of how it happened. Some say that Lord Stannis arranged negotiations where he had Lord Renly assassinated. Others that Renly tried to assassinate Stannis who fought back. I've heard it said that Robert's ghost came to strike down both Stannis and Renly for trying to usurp his son's throne, or for nearly spilling blood over the ancestral Baratheon home," Littlefinger mused.
"I don't care what the smallfolk say!" Cersei declared, giddy as a little girl with pleasure. "Renly Baratheon, the greatest threat to Joff's reign is dead and his army has scattered."
"Not as much as you may wish, Your Grace. Much of the army that Renly took to Storm's End was a force of armoured knights, and the greatest part of that strength went over to Stannis after his brother died."
Loren knew that his plan had been half successful at most by that fact alone. He had sent the assassins to eliminate both Baratheon brothers and bring an end to this, they had killed the one with the larger army but left the one with the better battle smarts and greater experience for them to contend with. But there was hope at least, Renly's army had been too large, ultimately if they'd arrived at King's Landing, he and his family would have lost. Stannis' army was smaller, elite, armoured and well led, but much more manageable. "What of Stannis?" He asked.
"No word, my lord," Varys said, "his son is denying all access to him, whatever happened to Renly seems to have affected Lord Stannis as well. He survived the negotiation where his brother did not, but I can say no more than that."
"Remorse over killing his brother, no doubt," Tyrion said, sipping on his wine, "Stannis has gained the most from Renly's death, and so he surely was the one behind it."
"Very likely," Loren replied.
"A pity," Tyrion said. "My nephew was so looking forward to putting Renly's head on a spike."
"There are traitors enough for the spikes," Loren replied. "Many of them were Renlys and now are Stannis', who are they?"
"Most of Renly's knightly host," Varys tittered. "Though the greater part of his foot remained at Bitterbridge under Lord Tyrell and several notables from Renly's knightly host, Lord Tarly, Florent and Rowan chief amongst them. The siege continues unabated, Ser Courtnay refuses to believe that Renly is dead and will not open the gates until he sees the mortal remains, which have vanished. Loras Tyrell is responsible for that, most likely I hear that Tarly had to restrain Ser Loras from charging into Stannis' host alone, so red was his rage and deep his sorrow."
Loren nodded. "And it is good that he did so, if Stannis had captured Ser Loras, Lord Mace would be powerless to act against him, he loves Loras too much to risk his harm." He leant forward and steepled his fingers. "We must move quickly to take advantage of this chaos. Tyrell remains at Bitterbridge with a great host and he cannot love Stannis, or he would already be marching beside him."
"They hardly love us, either brother."
"True, but when choosing between two you dislike, you choose the one you hate the least... or the one who can offer the most and fastest. And emotions are easy to attract when they run as hot as Ser Loras'. We must win him to our side and Lord Tyrell might follow."
"And how do you propose we do that?" Cersei asked.
He fixed her with his gaze. With diplomacy, dear sister, he thought. "We have some carrots that we can offer them."
"Golden carrots," Littlefinger said at once.
He shook his head. "I dare say that Lord Tyrell is richer than you are Lord Baelish. No, he has gold aplenty, we must offer him something else. His daughter was a Queen under Renly, and Joffrey is still in need of a wife."
A moment of silence swept around the table. "He is promised to Sansa Stark."
"A marriage that made sense in the days of Robert, not now. Sansa Stark can offer us nothing, Margaery brings fifty thousand swords."
"Joff is determined that he have Sansa," Tyrion pointed out.
"The king is still a boy, when he becomes a man, he may make such choices, until then he will listen to his council." Cersei looked about to respond angrily, but he cut across her. "We have no time to argue the matter, we are not the only ones without an unmarried son, Lord Stannis is a stubborn man and will not have forgotten that the Tyrells besieged him for a year, but give him too much time and he may overcome that and make the same offer, we must make it now, before he does."
"He won't," Cersei insisted.
"Even if he doesn't, the strength he's amassed now, if he marches tomorrow we won't be able to stop him without help. We should thank the seven that ser Courtnay is holding out, but he can't last forever." Loren looked around at each and every one of them, it was vital that they understand this.
"Father will-"
"Come if he can, if not we must look to other allies," he finished. "Now unless anyone else has another objection, we must decide who we send to negotiate. This is Lord Tyrell, we need someone of an appropriate rank to treat with him, someone with the authority to do so."
"Why not you, brother," Cersei suggested at once, "you are the Hand of the King after all, and the King's uncle."
He gritted his teeth. "And I suppose you will lead the defence in my absence? Why not you, Cersei, it would set my heart well at ease to have you out of harm's way." In truth he wanted Cersei in this city where he could keep an eye on her, and certainly not as a diplomat, she'd sooner walk into the midst of the Tyrell camp and demand obedience from every man there than negotiate. But he knew Cersei enough to know that she wouldn't accept.
"I will not leave my children, and I am the regent. My place is here."
"Another then," he said. In truth he already knew who he wanted to lead the delegation to go to the Tyrells.
"What of me?" Asked Littlefinger. "I could go. I am no great hostage to Lord Tyrell, and I dare say I struck up a friendship of sorts with the Knight of the Flowers while he was here with Renly. But I am a veteran of the council, serving under both Robert and our new King Joffrey."
Loren didn't like that one bit. Littlefinger was dangerous when he could keep an eye on him, out from under his gaze... absolutely not. "My Lord Baelish, I mean no insult but if you were to pin your holdings on a map, the pin would be bigger than the holdings. The Tyrells are proud of their heritage and lineage from Garth Greenhand. We must send someone of equal heritage, and a blood relative of the king if possible, fortunately, we have one here. Tyrion." The others all turned to look at Tyrion, who was startled by the suggestion. "You are not a veteran of the council as Lord Baelish is, but you are a Lannister, you've met the Knight of the Flowers before, and you have a glib tongue. As the King's uncle you will have the clout and by our grace you will have the authority to treat with Lord Tyrell."
Tyrion smacked his lips and put his glass of wine down. "I didn't know you thought so highly of my talents brother," he said. "But yes, I dare say that I can speak with Lord Tyrell on this matter."
Loren nodded. "Good." He looked at Cersei, who shot Tyrion a look of daggers but said nothing. No doubt conflicted about getting Tyrion out of the city and yet having him as Joff's official emissary to the biggest rival of the Lannisters on the continent. "That is all we need discuss, this meeting is closed. Tyrion, come to my chambers shortly, and we will discuss what you need for your mission."
Tyrion nodded.
He came later that day. "Me as your emissary brother, I'm flattered."
"The king's emissary, remember that," Loren reminded him.
Tyrion nodded. "Of course."
"Here is what I've put forward as your escort," he slid across a piece of paper. "Four hundred Gold Cloaks for safety, thirty knights and their squires should give you some clout. I also thought you might take one of the Redwyne twins, a sign of good faith, Lord Tyrell is half Redwyne after all, and of course a letter authorising you to treat on our behalf."
"Seems comprehensive," Tyrion commented, scanning the list. "What about my own soldiers, Bronn and my sellswords, or my hill tribesmen."
"The sellswords remain with us, and the Clansmen as well if possible, they will be of great use in the battle. And I doubt it will be a good first impression on Lord Tyrell if you enter his camp flanked by savages and sellswords, would it?"
Tyrion nodded. "I suppose," he said, though he was clearly unhappy about it.
"There is one more matter," Loren said. "You will be bringing one other thing with you, Cersei cannot know until you are out of the city and far from here. But I intend to send Tommen with you."
That took Tyrion aback. "Tommen?"
He nodded. "He is not safe here, and if Joff and Myrcella are here as well as him, if Stannis Baratheon takes the city, we are all dead. You will take Tommen, and if possible, you will see him delivered to father. He will know what to do. But keep him hidden as your squire until then."
"Are you sure it is wise to send Tommen into the Tyrell camp when we are uncertain of their loyalties."
"We have to take risks, if King's Landing falls and he is here, then Tommen is dead. If he is in a loyal holdfast near here and King's Landing falls he will be delivered to King Stannis in golden fetters. If he is with the Tyrells then, well, they may do the same, but this gives us the best chance of having one Lannister candidate remaining."
Tyrion did not look utterly convinced, but could not think of a better place for the prince. "You rob me of my soldiers and ask me to protect a prince."
"Robb Stark has robbed us of soldiers since he entered the war, we all have to be frugal or there won't be any left. Don't worry, what I offer you will more than make up for a few hundred sellswords and savages."
Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "Oh, and what do you offer?"
Loren raised a piece of parchment. "This is a grant, making you a full lord in your own right. Return with the Tyrells and we shall discuss which castle you would like to have as your own, you will have your pick from the those that belong to the traitors."
Tyrion looked genuinely speechless. "You... you would make me a lord?"
He nodded. "At the stroke of a quill, all I ask in return is an army, the Tyrell army, can you deliver that?"
Tyrion took the paper. "I will make it my life's goal."
