Tyrion struggles with his Queen's latest order.
We're back! That was a long wait, but I haven't given up on this story yet. Enjoy.
39. Kinslayer - Tyrion
Tyrion had spent several years of his life trying to find a way to kill his sister. One of his earliest memories was crying until his little eyes were dry, because Cersei had called him an evil little kinslayer during one of their many fights. She had always blamed him for their mother's death in childbirth, much like their father did.
I suppose she was right, after a fashion.
Growing up at Casterly Rock, only his brother Jaime had ever treated him with any semblance of kindness. If not for him, I'd have jumped off a cliff at the first opportunity. In his young mind, he saw their family divided into teams. Cersei and father were one team, while Tyrion and Jaime were another. If only he could remove his sister, he would finally win the game. However, as he grew older he realised something important.
I could never win that game.
His fate had been sealed with his birth. Killing Cersei wouldn't have changed much about his life. And, considering how much Jaime loved her, it might have become worse if his brother learned who had killed her. Besides, despite their rocky relationship, she was his only sister. Some foolish part of him had always hoped they would eventually learn to accept each other.
That hope vanished when I killed father. Even Jaime must hate me now.
"A faceless man would be ideal." Varys said, snapping him out of his own mind. "Though I dread to think of the cost…"
They were sharing a cabin on the Balerion, as it made its way to King's Landing. The Queen would arrive later on Drogon's back. Eventually. After reading that letter, she seemed tempted to fly straight to the Black Wind, just to make sure Jon was fine.
That's going to be trouble. She's already putting him above everything else.
He scratched his beard. "No, there's probably an easier way. I know she has a weakness for wine, so poison would be the best option."
"My little birds are still loyal." The eunuch had a hint of a smile on his round face. "They tell me Cersei has a cupbearer by the name of Joy Hill. Perhaps the girl can be of assistance."
Tyrion gaped at the man. "Uncle Gerion's little daughter? Why didn't you say something sooner?"
He had nothing but good memories of his favorite uncle. The youngest brother of Lord Tywin Lannister had been quick to laugh, and his face had always seemed locked in a constant grin, as if the whole world was funny to him. He taught me how to tumble, to my lord father's great displeasure.
"It wasn't relevant until this moment." Varys shrugged, hiding his hands on the sleeves of his robes. "Information is only valuable when the time is right."
Rolling his eyes, he said, "Now is the time. I'm still not sure about using my cousin in such a way, but the position of cupbearer is extremely useful…" Perhaps there's a way to do it without implicating her. "We'd need a slow-acting poison, one that takes days to kill its victim. Do you have any suggestions?"
The eunuch paused to consider. "Well, almost any poison can be thickened by an agent to prolong its effects… However, some of them are too obvious, like the Strangler, or Manticore venom, so none of those should be used." He seemed to think harder, furrowing his brows. "I believe the best option would be Sweetsleep."
Tyrion knew about the famous calming decoction. "Sweetsleep? Isn't that a fast-acting remedy? The few times I've tasted it, I remember the effects didn't take long to show."
"A few grains will slow a pounding heart, a pinch will grant a full night of dreamless sleep, and three pinches will produce a never-ending sleep." Varys recited, as if quoting someone. "More often than not, the difference between remedy and poison is the dose. Obviously, we shouldn't give her the full three pinches right away, but if she drinks as often as you suggest, it won't take long until the dose becomes poison."
"Interesting." He muttered, trying to imagine how to put this plan into motion. "I suppose we could find out where Cersei gets her wine, lace each bottle with a pinch, then simply wait." It sounds too easy.
There was a knock on the cabin door. Tyrion called for them to enter, and Priestess Melisandre stepped inside, her blood-red robes swishing as she closed the door behind her.
"You've sent for me, my lord Hand?" She asked, raising her eyebrows.
Varys didn't look pleased by the intrusion, looking from one to the other. "What's this about?"
Tyrion grinned. "I was just covering every option. High Priestess Kinvara mentioned a very specific ritual, involving sex and shadows…"
The red woman huffed. "Save your breath. Whatever the High Priestess has revealed about that, I won't do it."
"Even if it was a command from the Queen?"
She smiled, her eyes shining red. "The only command I'll follow is from the Lord of Light. Or his champion, the Prince That Was Promised."
"Have you even seen the Prince since he arrived at Dragonstone? I don't recall you two ever sharing a room during our stay there." Tyrion asked, remembering the conversation between Kinvara and Ser Davos Seaworth at the feast. They must have been talking about Melisandre.
The old knight had joined them on their way to King's Landing, claiming to have unfinished business in the city. The mining of dragonglass had been successful enough to fill two whole ships, which were already on their way to White Harbor, so the man said he didn't need to stay at the island anymore.
"The High Priestess had advised against it, but my faith in him remains strong." Her voice certainly seemed sure of itself. I should've known the woman would be insufferable now that she's been proven right in her convictions.
Tyrion wouldn't relent. "But it could be done? Birthing a shadow assassin to kill Cersei?"
She shrugged. "If my Prince wishes… However, I assure you the marriage is inconsequential." Lifting a finger in the air, she straightened her back to reach her full height. "I've seen the truth within the fires. The lion will devour itself."
"And you're certain the lion is Cersei?" That sounded far too vague. I may be small, but I'm a lion too. That was one of the reasons why he had never cared too much for prophecies. Most of the time, they were confusing on purpose, just to cover all possible scenarios.
Melisandre hesitated for a moment, her face betraying her doubts, but it was brief. When she opened her mouth, her voice was strong again, "Who else could it be?" Me, or Jaime, or even Joy, the poor bastard girl. And that's just off the top of my head.
He didn't bother arguing with her. "I guess your usefulness is rather limited, Priestess. You may leave us now." He said, dismissively.
She fixed him with a glare, pursing her red lips. "I serve my Prince. Remember that, before you presume to give me orders. There's nothing I won't do to keep him safe."
As they watched the woman leave the cabin, Varys said, "Our Prince certainly inspires a fierce devotion from his followers…" His voice was barely louder than a whisper.
"Thinking out loud?" Tyrion asked, raising his eyebrows. "Careful, my friend," he warned, keeping his voice low, "some thoughts are treasonous if given voice." And spiders can choke on the very webs they spun.
The eunuch gave his usual practiced smile. "Our Queen also inspires devotion from her followers, I'm not blind. I just find it interesting how one Targaryen wishes to solve a problem through marriage, while another wants to solve the same problem through murder."
Tyrion couldn't respond to that. He knew Jon well enough to imagine his reaction to the murder his Queen had commanded. He's too much like his adoptive father. Lord Eddard Stark had actually tried to save Cersei and her children, even after he discovered the truth about their birth. But that's why he died.
"Sometimes, one death can save countless lives." He tried to justify his Queen. "A wise ruler must know when to be cruel as well as kind."
Varys nodded. "True. In this particular case, your sister's death would be the preferable alternative. She has no armies or allies of note, so this marriage brings us nothing except her life. Which few seem to value." There was no judgment in his tone, as he seemed to be simply stating facts. Then the eunuch shrugged. "Still, I hope this isn't indicative of how our Queen will solve all of her future problems. Murder won't always be the best choice."
"She can be kind." Tyrion said, trying to convince himself too. "And she has shown the ability to compromise, even when she didn't like it." Opening the fighting pits of Meereen couldn't have been an easy choice for someone who hated the very concept of slavery. "She's just a little… distracted this time."
"Indeed." Varys had a knowing look on his face. "The Prince inspires devotion even from the Queen herself. I wonder how long until she orders Lady Yara Greyjoy's death?"
"She'd never do that… I think." His eyes widened, considering the possibility for the first time. Walking over to the small table, he poured himself a glass of Arbor Gold. Drinking deep, he let his mind wander. The consequences of that would be… severe, to say the least. If Jon were to learn of it… The last thing he needed was for the two dragons to fight each other.
"Perhaps you're right." The eunuch shrugged, clearly pretending not to care. "Perhaps the three of them can work out an arrangement, as they seem… open to the idea of sharing. And Targaryens have been known to take more than one wife in the past."
Tyrion remembered the conversation with his Queen on the day of Jon's arrival at Dragonstone. She didn't seem open to the idea of sharing then… But maybe she's changed her mind. He switched the topic of conversation after that, trying to prepare for their meeting at King's Landing.
One problem at a time.
"So, where's your precious dragon queen?" His sister's cold voice broke the silence. She was dressed in Lannister red, with golden studs and metal shoulder pads.
They were meeting at the Small Council Room, the long table providing a comfortable distance between the two sides of this new alliance. Cersei was sitting at the head of one end, while he sat at the other end, their people lined around them. Qyburn and Ser Gregor are her only people. Varys sat at his right, while Missandei sat at his left. Grey Worm stood next to her, staring at the Mountain, probably wondering how a fight between them would turn out. Not well for the eunuch, most likely.
"Queen Daenerys should arrive shortly." Tyrion replied, hoping his queen didn't actually go visit Jon on the Black Wind. "In the meantime, we can work out the details of our plan. Is Euron Greyjoy already here?"
She turned to Qyburn, who said, "The pirate made it clear he would only land here when both of his queens were ready and willing, or so his letter claimed. We're to send the raven back once that happens. Harrenhal is close enough to make it a short trip. Especially on a dragon."
The way his sister's expression darkened made him curious about the contents of that letter. I'm sure the pirate must have used a few more colorful terms. His curiosity could wait, however. "Good. We can use this to our advantage. Make sure you only send the letter when the Prince arrives. He'll be bringing a surprise for Euron Greyjoy."
"Yes," Cersei sneered, "I was just about to ask where my betrothed had been hiding. We should at least meet before the ceremony."
Tyrion narrowed his eyes. "I'm sure you're looking forward to that, sweet sister. From queen to princess… You seem to be taking it rather well, for some reason."
Her sneer became a smirk, her green eyes twinkling. "The reason is peace, little brother. What's more important than that? My people have suffered enough."
It couldn't have been her idea. Upon their arrival, Varys had mentioned how the people of King's Landing were rejoicing the wisdom of their lion queen, who had prevented the evil dragon queen from burning them alive with her fiery beasts. He had doubted that, until he visited a tavern and heard part of a song about a fierce lioness who protected her cubs from a mighty dragon.
Hear my cry, loud and shrill,
Though without fire, my roar can still shake.
You may burn me if you will,
But while I breathe, my cubs you won't take.
It was certainly amusing, yet Tyrion couldn't imagine any lion having much of a chance against a dragon. Not that it mattered, of course. The song was just another example of his sister trying to control how the people viewed her. Some still think the Sept of Baelor was destroyed by the Dornish, if the way Nymeria Sand had been treated was any hint.
The young woman could barely walk down the streets of King's Landing without being pelted by rotten fruits, or dung, or whatever else the smallfolk had at hand. The Unsullied had helped at first, keeping their shields up around her, but she decided to return to the ship and wait there. It's for the best, really. He wasn't sure how she would react to this meeting, considering her eagerness for vengeance.
"What about Ellaria Sand and her daughter Tyene?" He asked, already dreading the answer. If he knew Cersei, they must have suffered a great deal.
Predictably, she had a satisfied look on her face as she turned towards Qyburn, who replied, "I'm afraid Tyene Sand has been dead for a while now. And her mother won't take much longer in joining her, being unable to feed herself." The man's voice was emotionless, as if describing a list of ingredients he required.
The image of a mother helplessly watching her daughter dying in front of her floated on his mind, and he shivered. "Was that really necessary? How are you going to justify it this time?" He asked, trying to push the images from his mind.
"It was no more than she deserved." Cersei said, her green eyes narrowed. "What did Myrcella do to deserve death?"
Tyrion felt the guilt she intended. I sent my niece to a nest of vipers. "We don't always get what we deserve, sister. What do you deserve, I wonder?" Death, if I follow my Queen's command.
The Mountain took a step forward, moving his hand to the hilt of his massive sword. Grey Worm moved too, gripping his spear tightly.
Missandei placed a hand over her lover's arm. "Peace," she said, looking at Tyrion with a pleading expression, "is what we all deserve. That's why we're here, is it not?"
He took a deep breath, then smiled at the handmaiden. "Of course." Turning to his sister, he continued, "Forgive me. Let us leave past grievances behind, and look to a brighter future." One without you, sweet sister. "How about some wine? A man can only keep talking for so long, before his throat goes dry. I'm surprised you haven't offered us anything to drink."
Cersei picked up a small bell from the table and rang twice. "I was certain you'd refuse to drink, probably afraid of poison. However, let me assure you that I have no intention of killing anyone in this room." She said, her lips curling, as if amused by a hidden jest.
That was awfully specific, he mused, turning to Varys with a meaningful look. She's not half as clever as she thinks. They had made sure to warn Queen Daenerys against drinking or eating anything if they didn't personally see it being made, besides always having someone taste everything beforehand. He was sure Cersei would only try to kill the Targaryens after the wedding, but Varys had his doubts, so they settled on the side of caution.
A young woman with pale blond hair came into the room, carrying a tray with a large pitcher and several wine glasses. She walked with purpose, moving briskly to make sure everyone had their hands full. Almost everyone, he glanced at the Mountain and Grey Worm, still locked in a tense struggle for dominance.
"Cousin Joy?" He acted surprised when she moved to Cersei's side. "What are you doing here?"
"What does it look like she's doing?" His sister's voice made it clear he was successful in fooling her. "She's my cupbearer." Then she turned to face Joy, a fake smile on her face. "And you're doing a fine job, cousin." Just as she finished the praise, Cersei handed over her wine glass to their cousin, who took a sip before handing it back. "Something wrong, little brother?" His sister asked, green eyes glinting as she took a large swig.
Distracted by the sight, Tyrion had spilled some of the wine on his chin, the red liquid dropping to form a dark stain on his fine clothes. "No, it's just…" Thinking quickly, he came up with an excuse for the slip, "I haven't seen my favorite cousin in so long, I was overcome with emotion. Pardon me." He said, flashing a grin towards Joy, who smiled back. Uncle Gerion's smile.
As he put the glass down on the table, he shared another glance with Varys. There goes our Sweetsleep plan.
Everybody wants to kill Cersei. If you've been paying attention to my style, you probably know what's coming. I won't spoil it here, of course.
That song was fun to write. I'm finding out quite a lot about myself as I write this story. It's a nice bonus.
Next chapter we'll finally go back to check on Jon. And the big meeting at the Dragon Pit. That should be fun.
25/07/2019