"Are you sure about this Gerold? As much as I hate to say this, Littlefinger has his uses."
"Didn't you say something about a Valyrian dagger and feeding the man's balls to a goat?"
"We never got around to speaking on it, and I wasn't totally serious on the goat part, but that's beside the point. If we make too many changes too fast it sends a back message."
Gerold looked down at his youngest uncle as they walked towards the throne room. The sounds of several pairs of boots rang out in tandem and Gerold was still not as comfortable with having knights of the Kingsguard at his back along with men of his Lion Guard. They may have sworn loyalty to the crown, and as Lord Regent he basically was the king at this point. But these men were also the ones who didn't hesitate to beat Lady Sansa when Joffrey ordered it done.
Well, Ser Arys Oakheart had at least hesitated, but he still carried out the order regardless.
And now he had two of those men at his shoulders. Blount was a coward and easily bent to his will, and he was no threat with his sword. Oakheart was at least the most honorable among them and so Gerold had chosen the man as well.
The others, Greenfield, and Clegane of all people were tasked with guarding the entrances to Maegor's Holdfast. They were accompanied by men of the Lion Guard as well, as Gerold didn't trust them enough just yet. It may have been seen as an insult, but Greenfield was not a man who Gerold cared for, and Clegane didn't complain when he received the assignment.
"You saw the books uncle. You read the same numbers that I did. How the man wasn't found out years ago is a miracle, or a travesty." Gerold said as they continued their pace, slow enough that Uncle Tyrion didn't have to overexert himself, but fast enough that they made good time.
"I did, and I won't lose a moment of sleep when I see his head roll, but would it not be better to throw him into a black cell? If we kill him now, this publicly, it may make Joffrey's reign seem even more unstable." Uncle Tyrion said.
"Its already unstable. Half the court says that I all but usurped Joffrey. Not that they aren't wrong, however. I am the Lord Regent, so I need to rule in the king's name, and turning this city around for the better is one of my responsibilities."
There was a rot in King's Landing, and not the fact that the place smelled of shit. The court was a pit of snakes, filled with schemers and backstabbers and lickspittles sycophants! No one got any work done because they were all too busy trying to gain the advantage over one another. There was no honor in this place, and if Gerold was going to right this city, he'd have to get his hands dirty.
And bloody.
"They won't say that to your face nephew. You're the Lord Regent after all, and I dare say that by the end of this war they'll be singing your praises."
"I need no songs sung of me. I just need everyone to stop acting like children."
"That is a tall order Gerold. One that I might say is near impossible to fulfill."
"Unfortunately."
They made it to the throne room and Gerold nodded at the guards that flanked the doors. They were red cloaks and while they had been reorganized by Captain Vylarr, Gerold still had his doubts about the men. They still weren't as good as the men of the Lion Guard, and mayhaps they might never be. But one could hope after all.
The sounds of the court were seeping through the massive doors before them. Solid metal and thick, yet the sounds were still making it through. Gerold motioned for the doors to be opened and some of the red cloaks moved to do so. He took a breath to steady himself and he gripped the hilt of his sword in one hand, the other tugging at the red and gold sash around his chest.
A loud groan was heard as the doors to the throne room were opened. All the eyes of all the people in attendance swung towards the noise and Gerold had so sallow the spit in his mouth. When he had called for court to be in session, he hadn't expected this many people. There weren't even that many noble lords and ladies still in King's Landing, yet there were more present than Joffrey's court ever had.
He decided not to dwell on that though as the herald's voice boomed.
"The Lord Regent, Ser Gerold Lannister! The Hand of the King, Lord Tyrion Lannister!"
They walked towards the Iron Throne in silence. There were some murmurings from the people of the court. Glances from the corner of their eyes that always disappeared whenever Gerold looked their way. It was unnerving to know that so many people were looking and talking about him from behind his back, yet his actions had led him to be here, so he sucked it up and remained stoic.
The carpet leading to the Iron Throne was plush red. Though at a closer look it seemed more blood red than anything else. There had been much blood shed in this very room after all, and there might be even more after today.
Gerold parted ways with his uncle as they reached the base of the Iron Throne. The massive monstrosity of metal, a twisted chair made from hundreds of swords loomed over him and he made sure to keep his footsteps even and true as he climbed. There had to be over twenty steps leading to the seat and the fear of falling was ever present in his mind.
He regretted the fact that he had a red cloak on his back at that moment and as he took a seat on the Iron Throne it sat under him quite awkwardly. It did cushion his arse slightly though, and Gerold made sure to keep his arms off the arm rests, as well as not lean back in the seat.
A king should never sit easy. Aegon the Conqueror might have spoken true, but did he have to keep to his word so literally?
From his vantage point he was able to see the to knights of the Kingsguard as they stood in front of the Iron Throne. He was also able to see the table that the small council had off to the side of the Iron Throne, with all the councilors present, well most of them anyhow. The faces of the lords and ladies present were small to him from so high up, and he steeled himself for what he was about to do.
"Ser Julian, bring forth the prisoner." Gerold said in a loud voice.
There were the sounds of struggling and muttered curses as three men entered the throne room from a side door. The court looked on with some shock and curiosity in their eyes, their whisperings scheming clear for all to see. Ser Julian Stackspear had two men of the Lion Guard hauling in a somewhat disheveled Petyr Baelish in front of the Iron Throne.
The man was chained at the hands and his clothing had seen better days. It was all covered in muck and grime that the cells under the Red Keep were known for. It was stained and filthy. A far cry from what Littlefinger used to wear to the small council meetings.
"You cannot do this!" The man shouted as he was forced to his knees in front of the Iron Throne. "I am a lord!"
Gerold ignored the man and turned to the Grand Maester.
"Read the charges that have been levied against Lord Baelish, Grand Maester Pycelle."
The elderly man rose to his feet with some groaning and shuffling. His chains of office were clanking with the movement, and they clanked even more as he unrolled the scroll of parchment and cleared his throat. It seemed a tad over exaggerated to Gerold, but he'd think more on that later.
"Lord Petyr Baelish, of House Baelish, stands accused of theft and treason. He stands accused of bribery, attempted murder, and… conspiracy to usurp the crown."
Gerold watched as the Grand Maester's words took hold on the court and everyone else present. There were some gasps of shock and some more mutterings. There were frowns and sneers directed towards Littlefinger and the man himself struggled against the hold of the two men.
"Lies! All of those are lies! Are you all going to just stand there and listen to this welp?!"
"My nephew is the Lord Regent; I suggest you address him with the respect that he is due." Uncle Tyrion said and he had a smile on his face.
"He is the one who should be in chains! He committed a coup in these very halls! You all saw the bodies of Meryn Trant and Mandon Moore!" Littlefinger yelled.
There were some murmurings at that and Gerold couldn't fault the court for them. It was clear that he had all but committed a coup in the halls of the Red Keep, but he was the one with the army, so his word was law. He didn't like that he had to use such force to reorder the city, but needs must be, and if he was going to survive this war, he didn't want to constantly be looking over his shoulder.
"The Queen Mother relinquished her responsibilities of the king's regency to me Lord Baelish. The grief over King Robert's death has taken its toll on her and she requires rest." Gerold said, and that wasn't a total lie. Aunt Cersei did need some rest.
"Lord Tywin will hear of this!"
"Lord Tywin charged me with putting this city into order. He tasked me and my uncle with bringing stable rule to the city and that is what we are doing. Now, Lord Varys, if you could so kindly bring forth the evidence to those in the court."
The eunuch bowed his head and brought forth the various account books that Littlefinger had in his possession. Gerold knew what contents of them were. Rows and columns of neat writing that detailed transactions and exchanges of gold dragons, silver stags, and bronze stars. Every single piece of coin that Littlefinger had taken from the crown as detailed within.
Gerold had to admire the man for his ability to steal so much with no one knowing or noticing.
The lords and ladies of the court were most shocked at the contents of the books, as well as all the things that Gerold's men had seized from many of Littlefinger's brothels. The man had been using them as little safehouses around King's Landing and thus there were many interesting things stored in them. Gold, weapons, silks, but most importantly, information.
"Information is key." Gerold's father had said. "Sometimes it is more important than gold."
Gerold was no in the possession of many little pieces of information that could bring down noble houses. Not that he had looked through them, but from the glances that he taken, it was clear that there were many things that people didn't want to get out. It was the leverage that he might need in the coming future if he was to hold this city together.
The men of the Lion Guard as well as some of the Gold Cloaks had formed quite a little pile of chests filled with various things in front of the Iron Throne. Littlefinger's face had drained of its color as more and more chests were put forth, but it was the rather ordinary letter that made the man go berserk.
He tried vainly to escape his guards and Gerold stood from his seat and descended the Iron Throne. His footsteps were sure and each one rang out against the folded swords that made up the steps of the throne. He walked towards the pile and picked up the ordinary looking letter and opened it.
"NO! STOP!"
Gerold ignored those words and continued to read. How curious, Petyr Baelish was… or had been cuckolding the Hand of the King. Jon Arryn's lady wife had laid her treasons out right in this very letter and used some words to describe acts that Gerold was sure were more in place in a brothel than the Tower of the Hand. But what really caught Gerold's eye was mention of a… interesting acknowledgement.
Poison was always a women's weapon after all.
"Lord Baelish," Gerold said as he came to stand in front of the man, letter in hand. "It appears that you've done more than steal from the crown, you've stolen into another woman's bed. Lysa Arryn of all people. Tell me, how long did it take before you were able to convince her to poison the Lord Hand?"
The entire throne room was silent for a moment, digesting the words that Gerold had just said, before it exploded with noise. Littlefinger was shouting his denials and claiming that Gerold was lying, but the lords and ladies of the court were out for blood. For all that was going on, all the plots and schemes, having someone easy and simple to hate was easy.
Gerold waved the letter in the air and shook his head.
"The proof lies here, my lords and ladies. Lysa Arryn poisoned Jon Arryn with Tears of Lys, and she did so at the command of Petyr Baelish."
The court was outraged and there were many demands for Littlefinger's head.
"It was murder! You had the Hand of the King killed, and that is tantamount to attacking the king himself, and we all known the penalty of that."
"Take his head!" Someone shouted from the crowd.
"Kill him!"
"He's a traitor!"
"My lords and ladies! This man is a traitor through and through, but he was not alone in his act. Grand Maester, read the charges." Gerold said.
The old man once again made the long journey of standing up from his seat at the table and unrolled a second piece of parchment.
"Lady Lysa Arryn is attainted a traitor to the crown and the Seven Kingdoms. She is hereby stripped of all titles and lands, incomes and holdings. She is accused and found guilty of murder and treason and sentenced to… death. Any man or woman who aids this traitor shall also be considered a traitor to the crown and shall face the same punishment." The Grand Maester's words filled the throne room and were met with more shouting, though this time there was some affirmatives mixed in there.
"You can't do this!" Littlefinger said. "Lord Tywin won't allow it!"
"I am the Lord Regent. I speak with the king's voice, and I have found you guilty of treason." Gerold said as he looked down at the man.
"But-"
Gerold turned away from the man and his sputtering. He didn't need to hear any more of it. The walk back to the Iron Throne was a short one and he maneuvered around the small pile of chests. Uncle Tyrion had gotten up from his seat and met him halfway there.
"There will be consequences Gerold." Tyrion said in a low voice as the court continued to shout at Littlefinger.
"Aye, but he did order Jon Arryn's death, so it is only right that he be attainted as a traitor and die as one." Gerold said.
"You've made us an enemy of the Vale; we may need them in the coming months."
"She killed her own husband uncle."
"Aye, she did seem a little mad when I found myself locked in a sky cell."
"Well, she's guilty and now a traitor. If what you say is true about her, then the Seven Kingdoms are better off without her."
"What about Littlefinger? Are we killing him today, or are we making a bigger show of it?"
"You did say something about goats." Gerold said.
"Aye," Uncle Tyrion said with a snort. "let's feed him to the goats."
They laughed with each other as the sounds of the court and Littlefinger's outraged screaming filled their ears. They had done some good work this day, and Gerold didn't feel at all guilty for what was going to happen to Littlefinger. The man deserved it after all.