It smelled of shit.
The rank stench hit his nose as the city was barely coming into view. An odor that permeated the air and seemed to touch everything in its path. The closer they got the worse it did get. The smell of trees and bushes and the Blackwater were all snuffed out as the overwhelming odor of King's Landing reigned supreme.
Gerold Lannister had heard from his father that the city was a horrible place, but a part of him didn't think that it smelt so bad. How could anyone wish to live in such a horrid smell? Even the war camps didn't smell as bad, and that was including the smells of injured and dying men.
This… was the stench of half a million sweaty and filth ridden bodies. Probably more, with the refugees flooding into the city from the Riverlands. Ser Amory Lorch and his men were running wild across the Riverlands and setting anything they could aflame. Burning down homes and fields of crops and forcing the common folk to flee to safety.
Which happened to be King's Landing.
"How does anyone live with this smell?" Gerold asked.
Uncle Tyrion was riding his horse to the left of him in that special saddle that allowed him to not fall out. His disfigured uncle merely waved a hand and shrugged as they got closer to the city. They were riding at the head of the column, with around one hundred and fifty or so mountain clansmen of the Vale of Arryn on one side and the one hundred of the Lion Guard, Jason Lannister's personal guards, riding on the other.
Gerold rode at the head of the Lion Guard with Ser Julian Stackspear on his right. The older knight was his second in command of the hundred men of the Lion Guard that accompanied Gerold. He was a loyal and capable commander, and he was someone that Gerold knew he would have to lean on as they would soon be taking command of the Lannister Household Guard.
From what he had heard, Captain Vylarr commanded a hundred red cloaks. They were all capable men as well, but they were no comparison to be made between the red cloaks of King's Landing and the Lion Guard. Jason Lannister took pride in his personal guards, and Gerold and Leo had been trained along with them.
Which he had both hated and enjoyed, even more so after all those hours of drills were put to good use. He took no joy in killing, but he also made sure that he was skillful in a blade. Not nearly as good as his father or Uncle Jaime, but still one of the better swords of House Lannister.
"You learn to close your nose to it." Ser Julian said.
Gerold doubted that he would ever be able to completely ignore the smell of shit and unwashed bodies of half a million people. Mayhaps he might just lose all sense of smell by the time the war was over, and he could return to Casterly Rock. That was a somewhat sobering thought.
"I'm more concerned that my nose might just fall from my face." Gerold said.
"That would be the day nephew of mine. But have no fear, I've spent more than my fair share of time in this city and I've yet to lose a single body part." Uncle Tyrion said.
"There's probably a jest somewhere in there."
"Ha! Make sure you don't lose anything either Gerold. Your father would have my head if I returned his son without his cock." Ser Julian said.
"I have no intention of visiting the whores of King's Landing." Gerold said. "I don't eat where I shit."
"That's one of Jason's sayings." Uncle Tyrion said. "Just try not to become a kingslayer while we're here nephew, or you might just be an exact copy of your father."
Gerold wouldn't even think of becoming a kingslayer and even less so because the king was his own cousin. Granted, Joffrey Baratheon left much to be desired, and he was the definition of spoiled brat. Gerold did not look forward to meeting his younger royal cousin, though seeing Myrcella and Tommen would be good. Those two were at least nice and sweet children.
They rode through the Lion Gate as they made their way into King's Landing. Three stone statues of lions sat on either side of the road, with the seventh being the gate house itself. The portcullis acted as the fangs and if you squinted, you could see the shapes of eyes and a nose on the stone bricks. Mayhaps it was just a trick of the eyes, but it felt like they were riding through the lion's mouth, and straight into a snake pit.
The people of King's Landing were there to greet them to the city. There were some cheers and some frightened looks that were among the crowd. Their party was in sharp contrast with itself, with the Lion Guard riding in straight and organized lines while the mountain clansmen were a disorganized bunch who lacked discipline and more often than not were fighting with each other.
Gerold didn't know how Uncle Tyrion was holding the command of theses half savages, but so long as he did, Gerold's job would be just a touch easier. He would have enough to deal with in the red cloaks and whatever other problems that were going to come and hit the city.
The smell of shit rushed into Gerold's nose, and he had to fight to keep his face still. It felt as if his nostrils were burning and only one look around was needed to see as to why. The streets were packed with people who were all in need of a good wash. There was filth that covered the streets, from shit of people and animals, to rotting food, to other greyish brown substances that Gerold didn't even want to know what it was.
He resigned himself to breathing through his mouth for the duration of his stay in this gods damned city.
The Gold Cloaks of the City Watch were pushing the crowd away and making room for their party to move through. It really showed how bad the situation was going to get if the war ever came knocking on King's Landing's door, for there were too many people here to survive a siege. Gerold may be new to war, but even he knew that feeding half a million people in a siege was impossible.
Progress towards the Red Keep was slow but steady. The mountain clansmen slowed them down even further as they were continuously stopping and looking around. They'd never seen a city of this size before and Gerold had spotted several of them simply taking things from street sellers and then causing fights when gold was demanded of them.
Uncle Tyrion's sellsword friend, Bronn, was the one who usually had to go and sort those idiots out. Undisciplined and disorganized, that was the only words that Gerold could say when referencing the mountain clansmen. That, and good warriors, not disciplined soldiers, but ruthless warriors.
They eventually made it to Aegon's High Hill. The Red Keep loomed in the distance and Gerold wondered where it was that his father had entered from. Did he scale the walls and enter with his blade in hand? Did he simply have the drawbridge lowered and strolled right in? Mayhaps there was an inside man who let the Lannister men in.
His father had ridden into this city only once, and he would never return to it after he left. Gerold had wanted to follow the example that his father set, for he had no desire to go to the city that had hurt his father so much. But Grandfather Tywin had ordered him here, and so it was that he now rode through the Red Keep's gates.
The sounds of trumpeting and some cheer could be heard as they came across, but it wasn't from those that were greeting them. No, it was coming from somewhere else, and it sounded a lot like a celebration. Gerold didn't know what there was to celebrate. There was a war going on, and it looked like it was going to be a bloody one.
It sounded like it was coming from the outer bailey by the looks of it. The massive red brick walls of the Red Keep loomed around them and Gerold looked around with one eye. It was a marvelous looking castle, though in his mind Casterly Rock was still better. Even the Golden Tooth was more to his taste, though the keep of House Lefford was a smaller one, it at least did not have the ever-present smell of shit in the air.
As they made their way through the various sections of the Red Keep's courtyards, Gerold realized that he'd need a map of the place, as well as King's Landing itself more than not. It would do well to memorize it, just as he had done for Casterly Rock. If he was to command the Lannister Household Guard, it wouldn't be right if he got lost half the time.
"Sounds like we're missing the king's name day tourney." Uncle Tyrion said.
"He's holding a tourney. We're in the middle of a war." Gerold said. He knew that his cousin was a spoiled brat, but this was a little much. There were more important things to be done after all.
"Sense was never one of Joffrey's strengths."
"Gods help us all." Ser Julian muttered.
They signaled the gatehouse to open their gates. The men manning it were wearing the red cloaks of House Lannister and with a salute, the great gates were opened with their iron hinges creaking all the while. The gates were a massive thing, and they revealed a rather thick iron portcullis. It had to be raised before they could enter and Gerold motioned for Ser Julian and some of the Lion Guard to enter first.
The Roaring Lion of House Lannister stood tall with its golden mane on the red banners. They fluttered in the wind as the riders made their way into the outer bailey. Gerold followed close behind with Uncle Tyrion at his side, the horses' hooves clopping and kicking up some dust along the way.
The scene they came upon was one of celebration, or it should have been one of celebration. In reality it looked more like a poor attempt at a tourney. The stands were only half full and most of that were men of either the City Watch or the Lannister Household Guard. The few noble lords and ladies that were present weren't all that noble at all. Some of the lower houses of the Crownlands as well as others that Gerold couldn't quiet recognize.
Though, who he instantly recognized was his royal cousins. The royal box looked less royal and more like a poor attempt at royalty, and it was filled with one of his royal cousins as well as some knights of the Kingsguard, Sandor Clegane, and someone who must have been Sansa Stark.
Joffrey was wearing a gilded breastplate with a roaring lion on it, though there was little other armor on his body, and he looked quite ridiculous. As if he had only thought to put a single piece of armor before running out to this tourney. The boy king stood up as their party entered through the gates and Gerold saw that Sandor Clegane, the king's sworn shield, had a hand on the hilt of his sword.
Myrcella and Tommen standing in the tilt yard, or what passed as one, with Tommen wearing armor fit for a boy of eight and on a pony that was his size. Myrcella was standing next to the pony and seemed to have helped her younger brother into it. There was also a quintain that was set up that had dummy stuffed with straw and wearing leather armor mounted on a pivot.
It seemed that their party had just interrupted Tommen's go at being a tourney knight. At least his little cousin was properly armored, and it looked like his riding form was at least passible as the boy rode towards them. The little boy put his spurs to his pony and came trotting over to them. One of the knights of the Lion Guard lifted Tommen from his saddle and placed him on the ground as Uncle Tyrion dismounted from his horse.
Myrcella was also running over as their uncle greeted Tommen with a slap on his armored chest. Tommen was laughing and as they stood next to one another Gerold realized that they were of the same height. It seemed that Uncle Tyrion was running out of nephews that he was taller than. But there was always little Joy Hill that his Uncle beat in height. Uncle Gerion's bastard daughter was a small thing.
Uncle Tyrion also greeted Myrcella by lifting the girl up and spinning her around, which Gerold saw as an impressive feat for someone of his stature. Though mayhaps that was a little mean of him.
Gerold dismounted from his horse and handed the reins off to his squire. The young Morgon Banefort was the same age as Joffrey, but the thirteen-year-old squire was twice the man in Gerold's opinion. His squire took the reins in hand and Gerold took his lion helm off and was hit with a fresh wave of the smell of King's Landing. He had half a mind to just put his lion helm back on but there was no point to it.
He'd have to get used to the smell of shit eventually.
"Gerold!"
He turned and gave Myrcella an over exaggerated bow at the hip. He swept his hand out and did all the flourishes that he could think of and got a giggle and a smile in return.
"Princess Myrcella, my day is brightened and the weight upon my shoulders has been lifted by the sight of your heavenly visage." Gerold said and offered a winning smile.
He got a blush from Myrcella in return and gave the little girl a hug and a kiss on the forehead. Myrcella was a sweet little girl, and it was a shame that she had a brother as vile as Joffrey. She would have done great at Casterly Rock, but it seemed that the gods thought otherwise.
As they walked together to catch up with Uncle Tyrion and Tommen who had gone ahead, Gerold motioned for Ser Julian to go about with the plan with the wave of a hand. Ser Julian nodded and motioned for half of the hundred Lion Guards to follow him as they made their way towards the Red Keep.
The plan was to secure control as quickly as possible and to get the Lannister Household Guard into order. Ser Julian was to look for Captain Vylarr and to inform the man in the change of command as well as to assemble all one hundred of the red cloaks in the main courtyard for inspection. Lord Tywin had tasked Gerold with overseeing the Lannister guards in the city and getting them into order. He would do just that as quickly and efficiently as possible.
If it meant stepping on some toes, so be it.
He and Myrcella arrived just in time to see Uncle Tyrion bending down on one knee in front of the king.
"Your Grace."
"You." Joffrey said.
"Me." Uncle Tyrion said as he stood. "Thought a more courteous greeting would be in order, for an uncle to a nephew that is."
"They said you were dead." Sandor Clegane said.
"I was speaking to the king, not his dog."
"I'm glad you're not dead." Myrcella said.
"As am I!" Tommen said with a smile.
"We all share that view sweet children." Tyrion said and then turned towards the other lady in the royal box. "My lady, I'm sorry for your losses. Truly, the gods are cruel."
So, this was the Lady Sansa Stark. Gerold watched as a flurry of emotions flicked through her face, all present and gone within seconds. She was trying very hard to wear her court mask as his mother liked to put it. "A lady's armor is her courtesy" was what Alysanne Lefford would say, and his father would smirk at that, "armor is armor, and veiled words are nothing but that, words."
Gerold's mother would tsk at that and tell them that words could be just as dangerous as any blade. It was a lesson that they had been taught many times, and his little sister was getting frighteningly good at using her words as weapons.
Though, this girl in front of him was no Isabella Lannister. Sansa Stark was a tall girl that was around twelve years of age if Gerold was remembering correctly. She had very little of the Stark in her, with Tully blue eyes and Tully red hair. There was also something that looked a lot like a bruise under the sleave of her pale purple silk dress.
Gerold was in command of the Lion Guard and the Lannister Household Guard now. He was basically commander of all Lannister forces in King's Landing, and since Lady Sansa was still Joffrey's betrothed, she fell under his protection. The source of those bruises would need to be investigated; this was the future queen after all, and any attack on the king's family was seen as an attack on the king himself.
It seemed that the Kingsguard were getting lax in their duties.
As Lady Sansa said nothing to Uncle Tyrion's words the conversation turned its attention back towards the king.
"I am also sorry for your loss as well Joffrey." Uncle Tyrion said.
"What loss?" Joffrey genuinely sounded curious. Was he serious?
"King Robert cousin. Your royal father? He was a large man and hard to miss as I recall." Gerold said.
"Cousin Gerold, yes, I remember my father. It was a sad thing, a boar killed him in the end." Joffrey didn't sound sad at all.
"Is that so?" Uncle Tyrion said.
Gerold saw the change in Joffrey's face that showed that he was tiring of this conversation. There was also the veiled question being asked and although Gerold hadn't spent anytime in King's Landing up until right now, he did know that Cersei Lannister and Robert Baratheon's marriage was not a loving one.
Though, would Aunt Cersei kill her own husband? Gerold wanted to say that the answer was obviously no, but he had met his aunt enough times to know that she only cared for herself and her children. The rest of the family could fall off a cliff and she wouldn't have batted an eye at it all.
"King's Landing brings out the worst in people." Gerold's father had said more than once. "It's like there's a poison in the air, when one gets too close to power, it blinds them of all else. Make sure to keep your secrets to yourself and trust no one but the Lion Guard when you're in that city."
Gerold had thought that his father's words were just precautionary at first. But now he was standing in the heart of King's Landing, and it felt like every second face that they had passed was a false one. Grandfather Tywin had said that they were to eliminate anyone who had a whiff of treason about them, and Gerold felt that it was going to be a necessary thing to do, and he didn't look forward to it at all.
Lady Sansa's words pulled Gerold's attention back towards the conversation.
"I'm sorry that my lady mother took you captive… my lord."
"Many people are, and before I am done there may be more yet. But I thank you for the sentiment. Joffrey, where is your mother?" Uncle Tyrion said.
"She's with my council." Joffrey said with the air of superiority that had become all too common of him. "Your brother Jaime keeps losing battles. He's been taken and now we've lost the siege of Riverrun, and her stupid brother is calling himself king in the north."
"All sorts of people are putting a crown on their heads and calling themselves king as of late."
It was clear that Joffrey wasn't one for word games. They seemed to fly right over his head and land somewhere in the bushes, and Gerold felt a smirk come to his lips at that. Joffrey was going to be a shit king, and Grandfather Tywin was going to have to clean all of the messes up and rue the day that the Lion of Lannister ran out of patience for the little stag king.
"Did you two bring me any gifts for my name day?" Joffrey asked the both of them.
"Men to guard the Red Keep with." Gerold said.
"My wits." Uncle Tyrion said.
"I'd rather you'd brought me Robb Stark's head." Joffrey said with a sniff. "Tommen, Myrcella, come."
Sandor Clegane offered them a word of warning as the four of them left. The Kingsguard knights followed as well and it most of the tourney spectators were also leaving. The king was gone and now there was no need to sit around and watch his poor excuse of a tourney.
"How are you holding up Lady Sansa?" Gerold asked. Hopefully she could tell him something about that bruise on her arm, or who gave it to her.
"I'm fine." Lady Sansa said and Gerold didn't believe her for a second.
"Is it grief for your lord father that makes you sad?" Uncle Tyrion asked. Lady Sansa did look decidedly sad.
"My father was a traitor along with my brother and lady mother. I'm loyal to my beloved Joffrey."
It was painful to listen to the words coming from her. They were all filled with no warmth and covered in pain and emotionless gratitude. What had happened to Lady Sansa for her to get like this?
"Come Uncle, we have work to do and a city to sort out." Gerold said and watched as Lady Sansa walked away. The northern maiden would have been the winter rose of King's Landing in one world, but this one was a far crueler one, and King's Landing had no room for roses.
"A woman's armor is her courtesy." Uncle Tyrion said softly.
"It seems that my lord father is right on this count though. Courtesy didn't protect her, and those bruises on her arm is proof of that."
"Aye, let's go nephew, we have business with the queen and council to deal with."
Gerold took a deep breath to sigh and instantly regretted it, for the smell of shit filled his nose.
King's Landing was shaping out to be everything that his father said it would.
And wasn't that a pity.
Tyrion looked up to the corpse like face of Ser Mandon Moore. The knight of the Kingsguard was so emotionless you'd think that the man had no facial muscles, and the white armor didn't help in that regard either.
He stood as still as a tree trunk and looked at both Tyrion himself and Gerold with eyes that seemed to be devoid of all life and emotion.
It was decidedly off putting.
"Her Grace left orders that no one is to disturb the council. They are in session my lord." Even Ser Mandon's voice was flat and emotionless.
"We are here on orders of Lord Tywin Lannister, Ser Mandon. He is Hand of the King and my uncle here is acting as such in his stead." Gerold said and produced a piece of parchment from his sleeve.
Tyrion watched as Ser Mandon looked down at the parchment and then at Gerold, and then at the ten Lannister knights who were at Gerold's back, and then back at Gerold.
His nephew was wearing the red and gold armor of House Lannister, with his lion helm in hand, sword at his belt, and had a red and gold sash that went across his breastplate from one shoulder to his hip, and the cloth ended just above his knee. Tyrion's father had made the boy wear it as he was now acting as the commander of the red cloaks in King's Landing, but Tyrion knew that Gerold disliked the sash.
It was useless weight after all.
But here it served a purpose, for the sash was a symbol of House Lannister and Gerold's authority. He was all but Commander of the Red Keep's Garrison at this point and news must have spread by now of their arrival to the city. Theirs and the hundred men of the Lion Guard, who were all loyal to Lord Jason Lannister and were now being commanded by Ser Gerold Lannister.
If this emotionless corpse looking knight still didn't get the message Tyrion was going to take his dagger and carve it into the man's forehead so that whenever he looked at his reflection, he knew that they were now the real authority in King's Landing.
"You may enter, they may not." Ser Mandon said.
"Keep the good knight company and make sure no one disturbs us." Gerold said and received a round of "Aye, my lord" in return.
Tyrion had to give it to his nephew, the boy knew how to act commanding when he needed to. Gerold looked down at Tyrion and when he gave his nephew a nod he turned and opened the door to the small council chamber.
The two of them walked into the room and were met by five members of the king's small council, all of whom cut their discussion off the moment they entered. Tyrion spotted his sister Cersei, as well as the eunuch Varys, and the white haired Grand Maester Pycelle, and a pig faced man who could only be Janos Slynt, and the scheming piece of horse shit that went by the name Littlefinger.
That dagger with the dragonbone hilt and Valyrian steel blade was not far from Tyrion's mind. Mayhaps he should have Gerold get two of his knights to hold the man down whilst Tyrion ripped all the secrets from the weasel of a man. Or he could put some of the mountain clansmen to good use and rip Baelish's cock off and feed it to the goats?
That would be a satisfying sight.
"You."
It seemed that common courtesy in the form of actual greetings were now out of style in King's Landing. Was a simple "Hello", or "How do you do", so hard for these people?
"Aunt Cersei." Gerold said in a plain tone.
Tyrion was sure that Cersei and the rest of the councilors caught sight of Gerold's men as the door closed behind them, for his nephew had opened it wider than was required for one man and a dwarf to move through. He could almost see the shock and calculating going on in their eyes as the door slammed shut.
"I see we've found the source of Joffrey's courtesies." Tyrion said and Gerold knocked a gauntleted hand on one of the Valyrian sphinxes that guarded the door.
"What are you doing here?" Cersei asked and Tyrion noted that she was aiming her question at himself and not at Gerold at all.
It seemed that the appearance of their nephew, who had never been to King's Landing at all until today, wasn't at all interesting to her. Pity, Tyrion thought that Cersei would at least direct some of her questions at their nephew, but it seemed that she had only the desire to aim them at himself instead.
"Delivering a letter from our lord father." Tyrion said and motioned to Gerold.
His nephew walked over and placed the rolled-up piece of parchment onto the table. The eunuch that was the Master of Whispers was the closest to where Gerold had deposited it, and he took it into his hands and examined it.
"How kind of Lord Tywin, and to seal is message with a lovely shade of gold wax. It looks every bit as genuine as it appears to be." Varys said with a voice that was all too high pitched for a man, but just right for a eunuch.
"Of course it's genuine." Cersei said as she snatched the parchment out from the powdered hands of the eunuch.
Tyrion watched as his sister read it, those green eyes going over their father's words. She had taken the king's seat as her own, and Tyrion figured that Joffrey seldom came to these meetings, and it wasn't all surprising either, for his royal nephew cared not for something as trivial as ruling.
Gerold gave the room a once over with his eyes. Looking from one side to the other and then at the councilors themselves. His nephew could do a very good replication of his father's calculating stare when he wanted to, and it was amusing and interesting to see how the other men reacted.
Varys looked intrigued and gave Gerold a nod of the head. The Grand Maester acted like the feeble man and seemed to shrink slightly under Gerold's gaze. Littlefinger gave Gerold a smirk, which was met by Gerold's own. Janos Slynt got a frown though, and Tyrion made a note in his mind to have Bronn look around the City Watch. Tales of Janos Slynt's corruption were legendary after all, and there was every need to reorder the Gold Cloaks in the case of a siege.
They had to hold the entire city after all, not just the Red Keep.
"This is absurd." Cersei said. "My lord father has sent my brother to act as Hand of the King in his stead and to sit on this council until he can join us himself. My nephew is to take command of the red cloaks in the city as well as, reorganize House Lannister's defenses."
Tyrion pondered his lord father's orders for Gerold. Take command of the red cloaks and reorganize House Lannister's defenses seemed like a rather vague and opened ended order. Which was something that Tyrion was hoping that he could use to his advantage. If he wanted to take full control of the situation, he'd need to get Cersei out of the way when his sister tried to butt in.
"It seems a welcome is in order." Grand Maester Pycelle said as he stroked his beard.
"Indeed. We have a sore need of you, my lords. Rebellion everywhere, this grim omen in the sky, rioting in the city streets." Janos Slynt said. The red comet was of no concern to Tyrion, it was just that, a comet, but the rioting in the streets was concerning.
"And whose fault is that Lord Janos?" Cersei said and used the man's new title with disdain. "Your gold cloaks are supposed to keep the city under control. Yet you look towards my brother for help?"
"I fear I will be of little help on any battlefield. I've had my taste of it on the Green Fork, and I found that it is not for me. I sit a chair better than running around in armor. The Tower of the Hand seems like a much better place for me." Tyrion said.
Gerold snorted at that and knocked his gauntleted knuckled onto the wooden table that the small council was sitting at.
"How many men did you bring?" Cersei asked, and this time the question was directed at Gerold.
"A hundred of the Lion Guard. Uncle Tyrion has brought some Lannister men of his own along with around a hundred and fifty odd mountain clansmen." Gerold said.
"That's it? What use is a few hundred men when Renly Baratheon marches on the city or Stannis when he sails from Dragonstone with the fleet he stole? I asked for an army, and I got a dwarf and a green boy instead."
"Our father is off fighting Robb Stark and the Northmen. And if you have a problem with me and Gerold being here than you can take it up with our lord father. He is at Harrenhal with his host after all." Tyrion said.
"The king names the Hand, with the consent of the council. Joffrey named our lord father." Cersei said.
"And Lord Tywin tasked Uncle Tyrion to act as such in his stead." Gerold said.
Cersei fumed at that and rose to her feet sharply.
"Out! All of you out!"
Tyrion and Gerold watched as the other councilors got to their feet. Varys moved as if there was nothing amiss with the situation, a smile on his face and a gracious head nod and he was gone through the door. Janos Slynt and Grand Maester Pycelle were slower to get up, with Slynt hesitating and the Pycelle acting up his advanced age and weary bones.
Littlefinger tried to play the courteous Master of Coin offered to send a steward to ready rooms in Maegor's Holdfast for Tyrion and Gerold. As if Tyrion would allow for something like that to happen. Baelish had already backstabbed one Hand of the King, and Tyrion had no intention of becoming number two.
"We have no need of you Lord Baelish. Get out before I have my men remove you from the room." Gerold said and placed his hand on the lion head pommel of his sword.
Tyrion watched as the Master of Coin's eyes flicked towards the sword belted at Gerold's waist, and then to Tyrion, and then to a still fuming Cersei, before he noticeably swallowed, and hastily exited the room.
"Well, I must say that Littlefinger has some stones to him if he's willing to so easily forget that he's already betrayed one Hand of the King." Tyrion said.
"Ned Stark was a traitor. He tried to usurp Joffrey's throne." Cersei spat.
Tyrion knew that to be false. Honorable Ned Stark would sooner march to Dorne and back bare footed like Baelor the Befuddled than do something as dishonorable as harm his friend Robert's eldest son. Tyrion had an inkling as to what really happened in the Red Keep that fateful day, and he would have to get down to the truth of it before he ran out of time to do so.
"Of course, dear sister." Tyrion said and ambled over towards the wine casks and got poured himself a cup. "Gerold? Arbor Gold or Dornish Red?"
"None, I want a clear mind right now." Gerold waved off the offered cup and took a seat at the small council table, using a seat that had been unoccupied when they first entered.
"Well, more for me."
"I hope our father did not send you to for the sole purpose of drinking the wine." Cersei said.
"Oh, how I've yearned for that sweet sound of your voice." Tyrion said as he took seat down next to Gerold. He took a large sip and then placed the wine cup down next to Gerold's lion helm. Those teeth did look rather menacing.
"Has father taken leave of his sense? Or is this a forgery?" Cersei said and then read the parchment again, as if that would change the words written on it. "Why would he send you? I wanted him to come himself. I am the queen regent, and I gave a royal command!"
The parchment was crumpled up and thrown at them. It bounced off Gerold's breastplate and landed on the table in front of them. Gerold took the crumpled ball of parchment into his hands and smoothed it out, reading the words with his own eyes.
"He ignored you." Tyrion said and took another sip of his wine and watched as took a seat on the other side of the table, putting as much distance between them. "He has a large army and has decided to remain at Harrenhal. I would assume that he isn't the first to ignore a royal command."
"I could have you thrown into the dungeons, and no one would do a thing."
"I would have something to say about that." Gerold said. "Lord Tywin has tasked Uncle Tyrion with assuming the position of Lord Hand until he can come to King's Landing himself. We're here to help you."
"I don't need either of you. It's my father's presence that I commanded." Cersei said.
Tyrion decided to ignore the way she said "my" father and forged on ahead.
"Yes, but it's really Jaime you want here." Tyrion said. Tyrion knew that Cersei loved Jaime almost as much as her children. Or was it the other way around? Well, that didn't matter at the moment, for Jaime was his way into getting Cersei to stop pushing back against him.
"Jaime-"
"Is my brother as well." Tyrion spoke over her. "Give me and Gerold your support and I promise you, we will have Jaime freed and returned to us unharmed."
Tyrion ignored the way that Gerold looked at him from the corner of his eye, or the way that confusion flashed across his face for a moment. He hadn't shared any of his plans with his nephew yet, which was a problem that he'd need to rectify after this.
"How? The Stark boy and his mother are not like to forget that we beheaded Lord Eddard." Cersei said.
Tyrion bit back the retort that it was her idiot son that had Ned Stark become a head shorter and pressed on.
"We hold Stark's daughters, Robb Stark's sisters. I saw Lady Sansa out in the courtyard earlier with Joffrey."
Cersei tsked at that. "I've said that I have the younger girl as well, but that's a lie. She escaped Ser Meryn when he went to capture her. That Braavosi water dancer knocked all but Trant down with nothing but a wooden sword. I've not seen her since that day, she's most likely dead somewhere in the city."
"Is she not a little girl of nine? How did she manage to evade both the red cloaks and the gold cloaks?" Gerold asked.
"It matters not how she escaped, she is gone and there's no point in arguing over whose fault it is, since we already know who. Make sure to whip the red cloaks into shape after this." Tyrion said.
"I'll take it that you meant to get them into order, and not use actual whips."
"Whatever Jason does to get his men so efficient." Tyrion said. He did sometimes wonder how Jason managed to get the Lion Guard to be so loyal and so good at their jobs.
"That would take close to a year, and I've not got fresh recruits to work with."
"It matters not, just get them so that they're competent again. King's Landing has turned them into bumbling idiots with sticks. Now." Tyrion turned to look towards his sister. "Father has doubts on the loyalties of the king's councilors."
"He believes that they could be playing us false?" Cersei asked.
"More like he suspects."
"Why? What has he said?"
"Joffrey's reign so far has been one of him stumbling from one disaster to another. I would suspect something was amiss if I were in his position." Gerold said.
"Joff has always been head strong and he has no lack of good counsel. He's king now, he believes that he should do as he pleases." Cersei said.
"So, everyone on the small council is allowing my cousin to make a mess of things? Did they even try to stop Joffrey from taking Lord Stark's head?" Gerold asked with a look to his face.
Tyrion looked to Cersei with an expectant look as well. Taking Lord Stark prisoner was what caused the Robb Stark and the North to march down south, and taking his head changed the reason for their marching from one of rescue to one of revenge. They could've solved one problem if Ned Stark had remained alive.
"He was instructed to pardon Stark, for him to take the black. But Joff wanted to put on a show for the people, and he called for Lord Stark's head. Janos Slynt and Ser Ilyn Payne carried out the order before I could say anything." Cersei said.
"And on the steps of the Sept of Baelor as well. The High Septon must be furious." Tyrion said.
"It matters not what the fat man thinks." Cersei scoffed.
"Am I to reorder the City Watch as well? It seems that every soldier, man-at-arms, and knight within this city has lost the use of their brains." Gerold said.
"You might very well have to nephew. If the likes of Janos Slynt can rise to Commander of the City Watch. Also, whose bright idea was it to name the man as Lord of Harrenhal? And to put him on the small council no less?" Tyrion asked.
"We had to. Lord Stark was conspiring with Renly Baratheon, and we needed the gold cloaks. Littlefinger thought that Harrenhal was a suitable price to pay for the man's loyalty." Cersei said.
"And what of Ser Barristan Selmy? Was that another of Littlefinger's bright ideas?"
"No, Joff wanted someone to blame for Robert's death. Varys offered that it should be Ser Barristan, and why not? The man was old and useless, and it would allow for Jaime to become Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and take a seat on the small council, which Selmy never did." Cersei said.
"Ser Barristan was a near legendary figure, just because King Robert disliked him, that shouldn't have been an excuse to remove him." Gerold said.
"Aye nephew, our dear King Robert may have disliked him, but the smallfolk love him. Barristan the Bold is a name that is said with reverence like those of Serwyn the Mirror Shield, Ser Ryam Redwyne, and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight. What if he ends up along side Robb Stark, or Stannis Baratheon, or Renly? House Selmy has taken up the third Baratheon brother's banner, who's to say that the Bold won't as well?" Tyrion said.
Cersei said nothing and only grimaced.
"Father considered all of this. And that is why I am here. To put an end to these follies and bring this city and our king into order."
"Joff won't be any more manageable for you than he is for me." Cersei said.
"I'll just send him to train with Gerold for an hour. I'm sure our nephew can whip his cousin into shape." Tyrion said and looked towards Gerold.
"I doubt he's improved much since the last time I've seen him with a sword. He hasn't even served as a squire yet." Gerold said.
"He was the Crown Prince; he didn't need to." Cersei said.
"You say that like there has never been any other Crown Prince before him. If I remember correctly, almost every single Targaryen king was a knight by the time they sat on the Iron Throne. There were some exceptions of course, but they all at least served as squires at some point. Joffrey hasn't." Tyrion said.
"You would harm him."
"He needs some discipline put into him." Gerold said. "If it requires some bruising up, so be it."
"We won't hurt Joffrey. We're here to keep him safe after all. Him and the city itself. We are your family and are here to make sure that your son still sits on the Iron Throne by the time father gets here." Tyrion said.
"Father should have sent Jason here instead." Cersei said.
"Jason will never set foot in this city again and you know that. Or have you really forgotten all that has happened concerning our elder brother?"
Jason had left King's Landing the day after the Sack. He'd taken his men with him and rode back for Casterly Rock. He didn't go back for King Robert's coronation. Nor did he go to Cersei's wedding, or the birth of either of his nephews or his niece. Every tourney that was held in King's Landing did not have Jason in attendance and neither did any celebration.
Their brother avoided this city like the plague.
Not even a command from their lord father would have brought him here.
"So, you've weaseled your way into the position. Always the cunning little imp aren't you." Cersei said.
"The one and only of course." Tyrion said back.
"Gods, how is it that you two hate each other so? You're siblings." Gerold said.
"That is a question that has no answer dear nephew. Best to just let it rest and move on." Tyrion said and patted his nephew's armored arm.
"For once I agree with my little brother." Cersei said.
"Well, that is certainly a surprise."
"Don't take this as anything Tyrion. You may be the King's Hand, but I am regent. You will share your plans with me, both of you will do so, and nothing happens without my say. Do you both understand?" Cersei said and pointed a finger at both of them.
"Certainly." Tyrion lied.
He had no plans of actually following through with that, nor did he think Gerold would either. Cersei may be Queen Regent, but Gerold had his Lion Guard, and Tyrion had his mountain clansmen. Soon enough, Gerold would also have Captain Vylarr and all his men under his command as well.
By sunrise on the morrow, Cersei would have no power in this city. The Kingsguard would be the only thing she had, and with Jaime captured and Ser Barristan fucked off to who knows where, it left only the mediocre knights behind.
Tyrion would be able to work with this.
He would indeed.