Chapter 11
I waited several long moments behind the shields of my men as the snap of crossbows firing continued. An ungodly scream rent the air, and soon enough one of my crossbowmen came closer. "You're clear, your grace." The shields parted enough for me to see. Five crossbowmen lay dead, two of mine and three of Tywins. A fourth was cradling his arm, a bolt jammed thoroughly inside. My eyes flickered to the man who had unknowingly shielded me. I'll build you a statue if I survive today.
"Mercy, your grace." Pleaded the crossbowman. His face was filthy, criscrossed by scars. His armor was nondescript, just a dark jack of plate covered by a doublet.
"Your grace, we found this when we searched him for weapons." Explained one of the crossbowmen. He handed me a letter, sealed with the Targaryen dragon. I ripped it open, reading the contents. Orders from the dowager queen to have me killed. It was so obvious that I discarded it immediately.
"Clever of him to present an easy alternative," I admitted, rubbing my chin. "You four, take this one to the maester and then question him. I want to know who really hired his company." The men nodded, ushering him off quickly. The rest of my complement of guards, some twenty-six men now, fell in around me. "We march to the Red Keep. Double time!" I called, entering the carriage. I wasn't certain how the situation would be when I got back. The men were ordered to be extremely watchful every week on this day for anything suspicious. The way Maegor had laid things out made it possible to pen the enemy in and the men should be able to hold things just long enough for us to get back and reinforce the soldiers. The ride back to the keep was tense, every second that ticked by adding to the knot of dread that was becoming the noose with which I would no doubt hang. It had been foolish of me to risk my own person in baiting the trap. I had come so close to death, I could still taste it.
We encountered a bit of trouble along the way. The hail of bolts descended on us again, this time from a platoon of Gold Cloaks. My own men made quick work of them, using the cover of a hail of crossbow fire to advance and cut them down. Clearly Tywin had been busy with them, then. I would need to secure them as quickly as I could.
When I returned, there was nothing too out of the ordinary. More Lannister men milling about than usual, but the advantage held by the men on the walls should keep them occupied long enough to kill any attack. Still, I needed to ensure the situation was entirely in my grasp. I turned to Ser Oswell. "Ser Oswell, I need you to go to the treasury and see to it ten thousand dragons are gathered. When you have it, take a few other men and find the Captain of the Gold Cloaks. Inform them that it is a donation from the soon to be crowned king, a gift for their noble service to the crown, and then ensure that they send a hundred more men to join us here, and make damned sure the men you bring back with you have been paid well. Have the rest lock down the city." Ser Oswell gave a nod of understanding, bless him, and I passed him a small seal I kept on my person. "This is proof of your orders. Make sure the treasurer understands the importance of haste."
I could not afford even a moment's hesitation. Then I turned to my guards. "Sergeant Tomas' men will join the men on the gatehouse and close it for all but Ser Oswell. Sergeant Edryk, your men are with me." They moved quickly, the crossbowmen joining others on the wall, while the halberdiers posted themselves at the doorways. The position would be unassailable for Tywin.
I sought out one of the men from the squad with me. "You will go to Lord Tywin discreetly, and request a meeting between the two of us. No harm shall come to him, I swear it on every one of the Seven. We shall meet in the Small Hall." The man nodded, and made his way to the holdfast. After a few more moments, I sent another man to ensure Lyanna was safe - the plan was for Stannis' contingent of men to keep her safe, but who could say?
Before long, the Gold Cloaks joined the ranks, dispersed in small groups so if they betrayed us they could be cut down quickly. They seemed nervous; so did my men, for that matter, the air thick with tension waiting to be cut. This was their first test. I prayed it wouldn't come to the second test, since that one would likely be far bloodier.
Not long after that, Tywin emerged from the Holdfast. He had been housed on the lower levels; it would take a bloody fight to capture Lyanna without Stannis' support. That was how I reassured myself in the tense moments of waiting. When I received word that Lyanna was with Stannis, I breathed a sigh of relief.
He was allowed through, cutting through the stables. Guards watched carefully for any attacks as he was lead through. There was a moment where the Lannister men dropped their hands to their swords, considering the walls and gatehouse thoughtfully. It took only a shake of the head from Tywin for them to relax. At least he recognized the position he was in.
He looked like shit. That was my first impression. Deep bags sagged under his eyes, making the already aging man look twenty years older. Still, I beckoned him into a solar off the side of the hall. The Kingsguard took up posts by the door. I sent for some wine, doing my best to match Tywin's piercing gaze as I waited. Once it had been tasted, I drank deeply. Then I set the cup down, leaning back a bit in my chair and templing my fingers. "Let's cut the pretenses and ardent proclamations of innocence. I have one of your crossbowmen in my custody, and Prince Stannis has been on my side this entire time. What we must discuss is what will happen next. But I admit I am curious. Why?"
He looked at me for a long moment, and I recognized how men could flinch under that gaze. Even tired he still had the cold, calculating, vaguely cruel eyes of a snake. Finally he sighed, drinking the wine. It had been poured from my pitcher, after all. "You remind me of Aerys, when he was young. Magnanimous, charismatic, yet full of ideas that he never really focused on. That was worrisome enough, but I was confident that Jon could rein you in. Yet instead he allowed you your foolish ideas, even supported them. This business with educating the smallfolk, forming your guard of them, that stank of Aegon. At least he was stopped by his Lords Paramount, prevented from letting peasants run roughshod over ancient rights and traditions. You, though, you would stamp down thousands of years of legacy for the applause of rabble."
Idly I wondered how much of his antipathy for smallfolk came from his father's mistresses. He sipped his wine, and I pounced on the silence. "Aerys took pleasure in the suffering of others. His ideas were all flights of fancy too expensive and too foolish to ever use. Mine have brought new prosperity, new possibilities. And as to the smallfolk, they simply make an excellent power base. They're the source of wealth, their ambitions are simple to satisfy, and they offer me a way of cultivating new men whose only loyalty is to me."
He waved a dismissive hand. "They are little different than cattle. Useful for taking blows meant for knights, perhaps, and a fine source of wealth. But I would not teach my cows letters. Still, I thought you would exhaust yourself of these trifles sooner or later, that Jon would take the reins and ensure no permanent damage was done. I would marry into the royal family and the influence that provided would allow me to fill the gap with fine men, born and raised for the duties they would fill," he stressed. "Then the dreams started. This time instead of the Starks it was myself and Jaime. Every night, as you sat on the throne and cackled. That was when I began to plot with your esteemed brother," he said, the first time any flicker of emotion trickled in. He schooled his expression quickly. "Your decision to split the power of the Hand was the last straw. When Jon did not act, I decided to. I would need a strong office to keep your brother from falling into the same madness, after all."
I watched him over the brim of my cup, thinking. "That clears some things up, I suppose. And the letter from the Targaryen Queen? Not a terrible idea. A perfect opportunity to divert the blame and strengthen the Lannister position in order to keep the new king safe, of course." Even sleep deprived, the bastard was pretty damn good at what he did. Once again I thanked that poor man who took the bolt meant for me.
"I suppose it was," he said, noncommittally. "Though clearly it didn't work." He considered me, and I entered the silence once more.
"I see two ways this goes down, then. The first option is that you take the black willingly. You leave tonight. You may leave behind letters for your children and family if you like. They will be read over by myself, to ensure you don't stir things up. Jaime shall be confirmed as Warden of the West; when I am sure Cersei has had nothing to do with this plot, she will be free to stay or leave as she pleases. The chronicles shall record you as the wise guiding hand that prevented Aerys' excesses for the vast majority of his reign, until he became too mad. Then you aided the noble cause to unseat him, and, seeing the realm was in good hands, you left to guard the realm from savage wildlings, leaving the West in the able hands of your son, the hero of Kings Landing."
His gold flecked eyes met mine, his silence beckoning for me to continue.
"Or you refuse. In which case I shall take you into custody, and charge you with every crime I think will stick. In court, many terrible secrets about your family will come out. Incest between the twins, that you were cuckolded by Aerys and Tyrion is his son, that you murdered your father. Grievous sins all, forcing me to give the Wardenship to another lord." His mouth opened and I put up a hand, smiling softly. "It does not matter if it is true, my lord. It only matters that I spread the word among the people of King's Landing, who already loathe you for the sack. From there it shall spread like wildfire, and the Lannister name will be even more tarnished than it was when your father ruled. Is that the legacy you wish to leave behind, my lord? Or would you prefer the first option? Either way you shall end your days on the Wall. The choice here is only what legacy you leave for Jaime to inherit."
He had the look of a man who had just swallowed a lemon. It was a rather funny expression on his venerable face, but I didn't laugh. Kicking him while he was down would serve me little; I had proven my point already.
"I shall take the black, then." He finally said, and if his teeth ground together loudly, I politely pretended not to notice.
"Excellent. You may request what you need for writing from a servant. I shall see to it with the tailors that fine clothes in black are sent along with you, since your remaining gold here is property of Lord Jaime Lannister; it shall be sent west along with your guards." I said. "Your mistake was trusting your dreams, you know. Prophecies are such self-fulfilling things. But I suppose that's the curse of your line," I mutter with a sigh, shrugging my shoulders. I wondered how the prophecy had changed for Cersei since she wasn't marrying me. The line of thought helped me keep a straight face as I left the room. Once I was certain I was alone save for my white shadows, I let out a gleeful chuckle. Then I turned to Ser Brynden. "What did you think, Ser Brynden? I seem to have outfoxed the Lion of Lannister,"
He nodded his head thoughtfully. "Skillfully done, Your Grace, but I would still be wary. He seemed calm when you said the crossbowmen failed. Most like he has other daggers waiting to plunge into you." Ah, Brynden, ever the dutiful guard. He kept me from growing too cocksure.
The next couple of hours was a flurry of activity. I sent a handful of men out to secure the body of the man who died in my place. They would find his family and pay them handsomely to help the wound left by his loss, and I would see to it he was buried with honors. Perhaps a statue at that intersection as well. More men were sent to disarm the Lannister soldiers, and I made sure one of my sleek, fast ships was prepared to take Tywin north, with a contingent of my most loyal men to make sure he didn't bribe the crew. The crossbowman was hanged and his head put on a spike. Criers flooded the streets, telling a much modified tale of Targaryen treachery. It would mutate and turn into something strange, that was just how stories worked, but as long as the basis remained the same I would be content.
Then I composed a letter to Ned, to be taken with all haste by a rider. It was mostly pleasantries - I wanted to make sure things were well for him in Riverrun, to invite him earlier than most other lords to the two ceremonies, but also to warn him that I was having Tywin sent to the wall 'voluntarily' and that if he did flee the wall before he swore his oaths he was to be executed. The contingent of guards were to stay there until he did, but I didn't want to underestimate him. Then I set to work on a letter to Jaime. This one would fly before Tywin's letter; hopefully the disarming gesture would help settle things in the west.
To Lord Jaime Lannister, Warden of the West,
It is my hope this letter finds you in good health. We have not seen each other since I released you from your Kingsguard oaths; I am afraid much has happened since then. Your father has chosen to take the Black, an honorable and noble deed. Unfortunately, this means the business of Lordship falls into your hands; I am ready and willing to be an ally in ensuring your stability, until you find your footing. The west is integral to the Seven Kingdoms, after all. You are, of course, invited to attend my coronation and wedding; Might I ask that you bring your brother Tyrion? I am planning to bring Renly to court soon enough, and it would be good for him to have friends at his side. My own wardship with Lord Eddard helped forge a mighty bond between our regions, after all.
Regards,
King Robert Baratheon,
Protector of the Realm, etc
With the letter done and sent off as soon as it dried, I checked Tywin's letters. They were short; clearly he meant to convey a great deal in the subtext. Still, there was little I could do to control for that. I would just have to prove to Jaime that I was a worthier ruler than Rhaegar would ever have been; not that that was difficult.
Jaime. I am taking the black. Rule the West well; do not be afraid to rely on Kevan for advice, but make your own choices. You are Lord of the Rock now. A Lannister always pays his debts. Tywin Lannister
Short, sweet, to the point. The others were equally simple. I bundled them together and sent them off. Then I escorted Tywin down to the docks. There was a chest of fine black clothes for him to wear, even a plate harness hastily painted black; his face darkened at his formerly shiny plate. I afforded him no weapons. He would have to wait until the Watch issued him that, at least. As he made his way on the ship, I nodded my head in recognition of the man who had ruled the realm for twenty years and who had been gunning for twenty more. There was something to be said for that ambition, but I was not the one to say it.
When the sail had disappeared from the horizon, I nodded my head thoughtfully and returned to the keep. My wedding and coronation drew ever closer. Soon I would kneel before the High Septon and rise both a King and a husband. The business of kingship never stopped to rest, I supposed. Still, there was something I needed to discuss with Lyanna.
She was in the godswood, examining one of the oak trees thoughtfully. "I think this is the heart tree," she said after a long moment. "Hard to tell when it's not a weirwood."
I came to stand beside her, looking at the thing. "I suppose it is," I agreed. It was large enough for the task, at least. "I'm not familiar with wedding ceremonies in your faith. Do we need a priest?" I wondered, my eyes on the tree. Then I turned to her. She was looking at me thoughtfully.
"You would do that?" She asked, pleasant surprise etched on her features. After a moment she smiled, widely. "Normally there aren't priests, since the weirwood watches over us, but if there isn't one a trusted friend watches over the ceremony. We could have Ned do that, since he's escorting me anyway." I nodded my head, intrigued by the thought. Talking about it seemed to break a spell between us, reminding me of how close it was.
"Perhaps a smaller ceremony with only friends could be arranged there. Not like we could fit vast crowds in the godswood anyway."
"Gods, imagine it. All those poor southerners having to sit in the spring cold, instead of a warm, pretty sept. I almost want to do it just for that, but having something private would be… nice."
"Aye," I said, before a simple, easy silence descended over us. Eventually it ended, as all things must.
"Well, you came here with a purpose. And your head's still on your shoulders. I think I prefer it that way," She said, with a smirk.
"You think? What, I can't even get a yes or no?"
"You're right. You would be much better without it," She decided, as if she had come to a great revelation. I chuckled, and she joined me.
"Tywin is off to the Wall. Gods willing, Lord Jaime won't have to join him." She nodded at that. "It was a near thing. A smallfolk man took a bolt to the throat for me," I admitted, my good mood turning somber as I thought about the moment. I shouldn't have put myself in the situation to begin with, even to spring the trap. Especially to spring the trap. Still, what was done was done.
"Well, that is preferable to you dying, but still rather bad."
"Thank you for the vote of confidence," I said, shaking my head. "Regardless, it reminded me of the last time I remember coming so close to death. At the Battle of the Bells," I paused. "There was a woman there. I remember being frightened, addled by milk of the poppy, screams and bells ringing in the air as I was ushered from place to place. The loyalists were just a few houses down, you know, and it was only luck that Hoster's men smashed into them and saved us."
"Pleasant though it is to reminisce about a time where I was locked in a tower with Kingsguard as company, I'm fairly certain you have a point, Robert."
"Right, right. Sorry. Did Oswell ever apologize to you?" She nodded, chuckling at my distractedness. "Well, my point is that I have two bastards now, not one. There's Mya, the one I had before we were betrothed, but I admit with the fear and milk of the poppy I decided to die with a woman in my arms, even if it wasn't you. Only I didn't die. Neither did she, for that matter. She named the girl Bella, after the ringing of the bells."
Her face went through a few expressions before it settled on unconcerned. "I can't expect you to have been loyal, not when I had a bastard of my own in that time. As I recall, Brandon is more of a threat to you than some girl born to a whore is to me."
"Still, I didn't know that. I thought you were being raped by that bastard over and over, and I still did it."
She looked at me for a long moment, her eyes a stormy gray. "It doesn't matter, Robert. Let us put that time behind us, please." I didn't need to see her pleading expression to agree.
"I want to make sure they're taken care of. They may be bastards, but they're still my children. They won't ever be a threat to our children," I said, preemptively. "But they deserve a chance at… whatever they desire to do, really. At least that way some of my children will get to do that, instead of being saddled with ruling." I paused, sighing. "Some part of me still wishes it could put the crown aside and go fight in the disputed lands, live a soldier's life for the rest of my years."
"And why don't you?" She wondered, her full lips slightly parted.
"Because war doesn't appeal to me nearly as much anymore. Not as much as you," I said, the last bit surprising even me.
"Yes, yes, you're a charmer, I know." But it did make her flush crimson, and I chalked that up as a win.
So, there is our eleventh chapter. I admit I took so long on this one because I rewrote things a few times. There was something appealing about the SI defeating Tywin not through battle but by using his understanding of Tywin's character to force his hand. The time around a King's coronation, especially a usurper's, is the most dangerous point, so that is why I chose to go with this. Admittedly my language in previous chapters was innaccurate; what Tywin was planning was less of a coup and more of an assassination with the goal of securing Lannister power in the capital. I did my best to give plausible reasoning to him while still having the story go the way I want it to go, but I recognize that not everyone will be satisfied with it; that is the unfortunate downside to fanfiction, since the author's understanding of a character can differ wildly from others. Still, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. If you did, consider leaving a review; it's a great motivator for me.