Name day celebrations were rather extravagant to the highborn's of Westeros, but a name day celebration for a King was usually the most indulgent and wondrous in all the land. But the tension that hung in the air on King Joffrey Baratheon's 16th name day was slowly killing the pale red-headed lady stuck watching the melee tournament with the royal family. Sansa grimaced as the knights fighting across the balcony grappled each other and the Hound ended up slamming his mace into the other's chest, sending his opponent flying over the railing and crashing to the ground over fifty feet below. The crowd around her cheered for the victor as the loser's body was dragged away unceremoniously. Joffrey chuckled and stepped up to the ledge as he watched the servants below sweep up the blood left behind from the body.

"Well struck, Dog," The blonde boy cheered and glanced behind him at the Stark girl. "Did you like that?"

She pulled a fake smile onto her lips, "It was well struck, Your Grace."

The King sneered, "I already said it was well struck."

"Yes, Your Grace," Sansa quietly replied as she looked down at her lap.

The Blonde rolled his eyes as he turned to the Kingsguard standing by the royal seating, "Who's next?"

"Luther Brune, a free-rider in the service of Lord Baelish," The announcer across the way called out as the King returned to his seat, gesturing to an armored man coming to the center of the arena. "And Ser Dontos the Red, of House Hollard." The man gestured to the other side and tensed slightly as the knight failed to appear, "Ser Dontos the Red, of House Hollard?"

"I'm here! I'm here!" A portly man racing down the stairwell near the royal seating called out. Sansa watched as the oaf fumbled with his mace and helmet as he stopped near the King, biting her lip lightly when she noticed Joffrey's annoyed look. "I am sorry I am late, Your Grace, and my deepest apologies-"

"Are you drunk?" The king asked as he noted the man's flushed face.

Ser Dontos rapidly shook his head, "Oh no, no, Your Grace. I've only had two cups of wine."

"Two cups?" The King repeated. "That's not much at all. Please, have another cup."

"Are you sure, Your Grace?" The knight wondered.

Joffrey nodded his head, "Yes, to celebrate my name day. Have as much as you like."

"I'll be honored, Your Grace," He bowed towards the King, missing the warning look the Stark girl sent towards him.

"Ser Meryn, help Ser Dontos celebrate my name day," Joffrey called to the Kingsguard standing nearby. "See that he drinks his fill."

The Lannister knight seized the man as two other guards brought forth a large barrel of wine and a brass funnel, opening the cork on the case before they lifted it to the man's mouth and started pouring the liquid down his throat. The restrained knight gagged on the alcohol and the crowd grimly watched as he choked in front of their eyes. Joffrey smirked in satisfaction as he leaned back in his seat to watch the torture.

"You can't!"

The boy sat up and snarled at the whimpering lady next to him, "Did you just say 'I can't?'"

Sansa clenched her hands together, "I only meant, it would be back luck to kill a man on your name day."

"What kind of stupid, peasant superstition-"

"The girl is right, my King," Sandor Clegane spoke up from behind the seated nobles. "What a man sows on his name day he reaps all year."

Joffrey frowned at his sworn sword but waved his hand towards the three men still trying to drown the knight in wine, "Take him away. I'll have him killed tomorrow, the fool."

The guards pulled back and Ser Dontos heaved as his body threw up the vast amounts of wine, "He is a fool," The redhead quickly pushed out. "You're so clever to see it. He'll make a much better fool than a knight. He doesn't deserve the mercy of a quick death."

The blonde King smiled, "Did you hear my lady, Ser Dontos? From this day you'll be my new fool."

"Thank you, Your Grace," The knight weakly answered. "And you, my lady. Thank you."

"Beloved nephew!"

Sansa's blue eyes shifted away from the knight turned fool to see Tyrion Lannister making his way towards Joffrey and herself. The imp was followed by a bearded man and an assortment of roughly dressed warriors.

"We looked for you on the battlefield," Tyrion stated as he reached the young King's side. "And you were nowhere to be found."

"I've...been here, ruling the kingdoms," Joffrey claimed as he glanced around at the watchful crowd.

The dwarf nodded as he poured himself a glass of wine, "And what a fine job you've done," He smiled at the King's younger siblings sitting on his other side away from Sansa. "Look at you, Myrcella. More beautiful than ever. And Tommen! You're going to be bigger than the Hound, but much better looking." He chuckled at Clegane's stoic face, "This one doesn't like me."

"Can't imagine why," The man next to the short lord muttered.

"We heard you were dead," Joffrey cut in.

Myrcella smiled at her uncle, "I'm glad you're not dead."

"Me too, dear," Tyrion agreed. "Death is so boring. Especially now with so much excitement in the world." He caught sight of the Stark lady and bowed his head lightly, "My lady, I'm sorry for your loss."

"Her loss?" The King scoffed. "Her father was a confessed traitor."

"But still her father," The older Lannister pointed out. "Surely having so recently lost your own beloved father you can sympathize."

Joffrey glared at his uncle and turned to face the redhead, waiting on her answer. Sansa tensed under his harsh gaze, but steeled her nerves as she kept her gaze focused on Tyrion, "My father was a traitor. My mother and brothers are traitors too. I am loyal to my beloved Joffrey."

Tyrion smirked at her lies, "Of course you are," He gulped down the rest of his wine and left his goblet on the table. "Well, enjoy your name day, Your Grace. Wish I could stay and celebrate, but there is work to be done."

"Work? What work? Why are you here?"

The dwarf ignored his nephew as he walked back into the keep, making his way towards the small council room. He knew after his father had asked him to come to King's Landing it would be hard to convince the council that he had the best interests of the King at heart, but he had lived through harder conditions than his older sister's rage. He paused in his walk when he noticed Grand Maester Pycelle carrying a covered birdcage into the small council room and inched towards the open door to catch the conversation.

"The bird arrived early this morning from the citadel, Your Grace," The Maester stated as he pulled off the covering to reveal a snow-white raven nestled on the perch. "Conclave has met and considered reports from maesters all over the seven kingdoms, and declared this great summer done. At last. The longest summer in living memory."

"The peasants say a long summer means an even longer winter," Varys said as he looked at the small bird.

"Just a common superstition," Pycelle added.

Baelish shrugged his shoulders, "We have enough wheat for a five-year winter. If it lasts any longer...we have fewer peasants."

"The city's drowning in refugees, Your Grace," Janos Slynt chimed in. "Fleeing the war. We have nowhere to house them and with winter coming it will only get worse."

Cersei motioned towards a servant in the corner to collect the white raven, "You command the City Watch do you not, Slynt?"

"I do, Your Grace."

"And are you not a lord at my command?" She asked.

The man sighed, "I owe my title and lands to your generosity, Your Grace."

"Then do your job," The Queen Regent ordered. "Shut the gates to the peasants. They belong in the field, not our capital."

"Yes, Your Grace."

Tyrion rolled his eyes at his sister's cruel tactic and started to whistle lightly as he moved from his eavesdropping spot and into the room. The council members watched in confusion as he confidently entered the room and walked up to his older sister.

"Don't get up," He jested as he approached Cersei. "More ravishing than ever, big sister." He placed a quick kiss against the Queen Regent's cheek before he started to walk towards the other side of the table, "War agrees with you. Forgive the interruption, carry on."

"What are you doing here?" Cersei hissed.

Tyrion groaned as he slid into the chair across from the Queen Regent, the seat reserved for the Hand of the King, and poured himself a drink, "It has been a remarkable journey. I pissed off the edge of the Wall, I slept in a sky cell, I fought with the Hill tribes. So many adventures, so much to be thankful for."

"What are you doing here?" Cersei asked again. "This is the small council."

The shorter Lannister nodded, "Yes, well...I do believe the Hand of the King is welcome at all small council meetings."

The woman narrowed her eyes, "Our father is the Hand of the King."

"Yes, but," He pulled out a sealed scroll and passed it to Varys. "In his absence..."

The Eunuch unrolled the letter and glanced at the words, "Your father has named Lord Tyrion to serve as Hand in his stead while he fights-"

"OUT! All of you out!" The members of the council rose from their seats and quickly left the room to avoid the Queen's wrath, leaving her alone with her brother. "I would like to know how you trick father into this."

"If I were capable of tricking father, I would be Emperor of the world right now," Tyrion sarcastically stated as Cersei moved to sit next to him. "You brought this on yourself."

"I've done nothing," She innocently said.

"Quite right," He agreed. "You did nothing when your son called for Ned Stark's head. Now the entire North has risen up against us."

"I tried to stop it."

"Did you?" Tyrion wondered. "You failed. That bit of theater will haunt our family for generations."

Cersei scoffed, "Robb Stark is a child."

"Who's won every battle he's fought," The dwarf reminded. "And his brother, Jon, was legitimized by your late husband and married to a highborn Dornish lady. Which gives the North another potential ally against us. Do you understand we're losing the war?"

"What do you know about warfare?" The blonde woman hissed.

Tyrion shook his head, "Nothing, but I know people. And I know that our enemies hate each other almost as much as they hate us."

A silence fell between the siblings as they both glanced at each other.

"Joffrey is king."

"Joffrey is king," Tyrion repeated.

"You are here to advise him," Cersei insisted.

"I'm only here to advise him," He repeated his sister once more. "And if the King listens to what I say, the King might just get his uncle Jaime back."

"How?"

"You love your children, it's your one redeeming quality. That and your cheekbones," The Queen quirked her brow at Tyrion. "Starks love their children as well. And we have two of them."

"One," Cersei bitterly admitted.

"One?"

"Arya, the little animal, disappeared somehow before the chaos," The Queen stated. "Baelish claimed Myria visited rather shortly with her bastard husband. We suspected they took the child when we weren't yet aware of Lord Stark's treachery. We sent scouts looking for them, but they must have reached the Stark encampments by now."

"She disappeared?" Tyrion snapped. "We had three Starks to trade. You chopped one's head off and let another escape with her rather smart sister-in-law. Father would be furious. Must be hard for you, to be the disappointing child."

The Lannister woman shamefully looked away from her brother, "Surely we can still work with this."

The temporary Hand of the King rubbed his forehead, "Perhaps not, you and I both know how smart Myria is. If she reaches the Stark camp with Arya and her husband then Robb Stark has not only gained another commander but one of the smartest players in the kingdoms along with his youngest sister. It doesn't leave much for us to trade."

"What if they don't know Arya is not here?" Cersei wondered.

"Not sure, the scouts have not brought back much information," The male Lannister groaned. "The Northern camp has been practically silent since they captured Jaime. Perhaps father has a spy or two, but even they are saying nothing."

"So we gamble a lie or tell the truth," The blonde woman rolled her eyes. "Either way, we are doubtful to get Jaime back at all."

"Well, we will need to plan carefully moving ahead," The dwarf rose from his chair. "Now excuse me, I have some unpacking to do, dear sister." The Queen Regent opened her mouth to protest, but her brother had already fled from the room.

Tyrion sighed in relief as he walked further from the small council room, happy to leave his sister alone. Honestly, he was surprised that she had gotten herself into such a mess but he also understood her concern. Jaime was his brother too, and now that he knew they were lacking the hostages to trade it would be foolish to ask for him back. Though even if they did have Arya, two daughters may not be enough to trade for the Kingslayer. Truly it was Joffrey's fault for this mess in the first place but it would be suicide to ever mention that to Cersei or the young King. The dwarf brushed aside his stress over the present conflict as he approached the Tower of the Hand.

At least all of the stress of this new job came with some perks, like an entire part of the Red Keep just for yourself and your selected guests.

The door to his private chambers creaked as he stepped in and Tyrion grinned at the beautiful vision laying on his bed, Shae. She might have been just a simple whore from Voltanis, but to him, she was a treasure. A woman who didn't judge him for his looks or his reputation, no she judged him on his own actions to her and the people around him. A breath of fresh air to be honest.

The tall woman rose from the bed at the sight of her Little Lion and wandered over to the table on the other side of the room to fetch him a glass of wine. The man smirked at her swaying hips and happily took the red liquid from her hands, sipping it lightly as she walked to the large balcony to glance at the view of the city.

"This city stinks," Shae mumbled as she wrinkled her nose. "Like dead bodies."

"A bit corpsey, yes," Tyrion agreed as he fiddled with the cup in his hands.

The brunette smirked, "And shit."

"I thought you wanted to come here," Tyrion said as Shae turned from her spot by the stone railing.

She leaned down and kissed her Lion's cheek, "I love it."

"You love the smell of dead bodies and shit?" He asked.

She nodded, "And cum, and garlic, and rum."

The blonde man chuckled, "You can smell cum from the balcony?"

"I love the stink. I love the noise," Her pink dress floated around her as she twirled lightly. "Cities make me want to fuck."

"And so did the country," The Lannister noted.

The woman shrugged her shoulders and fell back on the bed, "This is where I belong."

"Yes, well...you need to be careful," Tyrion advised. "No one can know you're here."

"No one will know," Shae absently promised.

The dwarf sighed, "You can't trust anyone in King's Landing. They're all liars. Good liars, bad lairs. One or two great liars."

The sultry woman fluttered her eyes, "What about you?"

"Me?" Tyrion muttered. "I'm not from here. I'm a slave to the truth."

Shae giggled, "Truth? You're the biggest little liar I have ever met."

The man gasped in mock surprise, "Why do you think I am so little? I'm being crushed beneath the weight of all that truth," He jumped onto the bed next to his lady and groaned at the feeling of the mattress. "Ned Stark actually slept on this? As if the poor man didn't suffer enough. One of the many changes we'll have to make around here."

The woman smirked at her Lord and pulled him into a searing kiss, jerking the Lannister's mind from his previous thoughts and stresses. He happily accepted the affection and he started to crawl on top of her welcoming body when a knock sounded on the chamber door. Tyrion grunted in annoyance but rolled off the bed and cracked the door open, frowning at the sight of Bronn with a smug smile on his lips.

"Sorry to interrupt, but you asked me to watch that redhead girl and return when she went back to her room," The sellsword slipped past the dwarf and waved absently at Shae as he made a beeline for the pitcher of wine on the small table by the wall. "Why are you having me follow her anyway?"

Tyrion turned to his new friend, "She's Lady Sansa Stark, a valuable hostage that needs to be kept unharmed."

The tall man snorted, "Oh, and you doubt the ability of the Kingsgaurd to protect her?"

"It's the Kingsguard I am worried about," Tyrion admitted. "They do what the King wishes and he enjoys taking his anger out on others. Sansa is too valuable a chess piece to be left to our young King's whims."

"Ah well, makes sense," The sellsword rolled his eyes as he chugged his goblet of wine. "Also heard the King's planning on some changes to the throne room. Big plans the servants say."

"Perhaps we could go see," Shae chimed as she leaned against the pillows in bed.

"I'll go see," Tyrion insisted. "If my nephew is making changes then the Hand needs to be somewhat aware."

The Lannister grumbled to himself as he left his chambers and made his way back towards the throne room. Barely a moment for respite and some problem came his way, but there was not much he could do about that. King's Landing was a dangerous place and if you were not aware of what went on then it was even more deadly. The blonde man had finally made it to the doors of the throne room when they were flung open and Cersei stormed from the large room, a harrowed look etched upon her face. Tyrion frowned at his sister's expression but continued his path into the room and towards his young nephew sitting on the iron throne.

"Your Grace," The teenager glanced up at the sight of his uncle wandering into the room. "Impressive changes I see to the room. Will make the whole place look so much larger."

"Uncle Tyrion," Joffrey scoffed. "What do you want?"

The dwarf chuckled, "Just wanted to check in with our benevolent King. And with I being the Hand of the King until your grandfather finishes fighting it is important for us to communicate," The blonde royal watched as his uncle inched closer, wary of the Kingsguard at the edges of the hall. "And I noticed my sister leaving the hall with a rather odd mood around her."

"Mother just forgot her place," Joffrey brushed off. "She can't act like the Queen anymore, I'm the King now."

"True," Tyrion agreed. "But she is still the Queen Regent until you are wed, and she means well. Surely it was just a simple misunderstanding."

The boy fidgeted in his spot on the throne as a smirk grew on his face, "Maybe you're right, uncle. Perhaps I just need to clean up this misunderstanding, get rid of the issue."

"There's a fine idea," The dwarf chimed as the King rose to his feet and made his way quickly from the room. "Give your mother my regards."

Tyrion breathed a sigh of relief as his nephew disappeared from his sight. The boy made rash and stupid decisions, but he should at least know not to alienate his own mother. Hopefully with his advice, whatever they argued over would be swept under the rug and they could focus on true issues now.

Like why the Stark camps had been so quiet the past few weeks.

Besides the battles they continued to win against his own father, the goings-on of the Northern men had been as silent as the grave. And silence in war was never a good sign, more like the calm before a storm. Perhaps they were staying drawn back so they could attempt to grow their alliances, join up with Renly or Stannis, maybe even send Myria to Dorne to speak with the Martells to join their cause. Whatever the cause, Tyrion needed to check with Varys and find out what was going on.