Grey Worm chuckles as he tells the tale of the Imp's demise to Yara, Qarl, Sigurd Harlaw, and Maege Mormont, as they all share a flagon of wine, in Yara's tent. They have spent the past week marching towards Torrhens Square, pursuing the beaten army.

"As you know, he was a pervert. He couldn't keep his hands off women and girls. I've often wondered if it was sexual jealousy that led him to betray the Queen. Anyway, his best friend was Bronn, who he made Master of Coin, and Lord of Highgarden. Imagine it! A venial, illiterate sellsword, who didn't even know what a loan was, being made Master of Coin! You can understand why the South fell apart so rapidly under their rule. Bronn's only real financial decision was to build more brothels. Brothels were certainly destroyed when Kings Landing was taken by storm, and there were plenty of starving women and girls in the vicinity who would do anything to earn a crust. Men and boys too, although I don't think the Imp was interested in them. So, brothels were constructed. The rest of their revenue was spent on the army, or found its way into the pockets of Bronn, the Imp, and Tarly. Tarly, at least, did suggest introducing running water into Kings Landing, but no one was interested, least of all the idiot king, or his council, who thought of the Smallfolk as livestock in any case. Anyway, the Six Kingdoms soon started falling apart under their rule. You destroyed them at sea, your Grace, and won your independence. The Dornish saw no reason why they should be loyal to a man who did nothing for them, and they soon broke away too. Sooner or later, Kings Landing will have no choice except to recognise their independence.

Apart from lining his own pockets, the Imp found that governing the South was no bed of roses. He suffered one military reverse after another (some of which I played a part in). Bronn could have been useful militarily, but he too just wanted to grow rich. As you know, the Reach is a breadbasket, and he thought he could hold the rest of the country to ransom. Naturally, it did nothing to enhance the popularity of the regime, among the population as a whole. The Imp took to drink, and to whoring. Of course, those had always been his weaknesses, but now they became a compulsion. He was always, at least, half cut by lunchtime, and he regarded a day without a woman as a day wasted. I had agents among the whores and winesellers of Kings Landing. The whores found him disgusting. A noseless dwarf is never going to be the most attractive of bedmates, but he liked them to do things they found degrading, so I was told. He was out of control. I did think of letting him live, because of all the harm he was doing to his own cause, but no, he deserved to meet his end for persuading Jon Snow to do what he lacked the guts to do himself. So, it was really very simple in the end. There was a bawd named Chataya, whose brothel he especially liked to visit. When one of my agents approached her, she proved very amenable to letting her join her girls. It turned out, she hated the Imp as much as her whores did. So, it was really very easy for my agent to finish him off. Granted, she had to have sex with him first, but she kept plying him with wine until he passed out. Then, she cut his throat. But, the best of was, she wasn't finished. She was so nauseated by him, that she cut off his cock and scrotum, before stuffing them in his mouth, and then departing. Chataya and the girls were delighted, however much they had to pretend to be shocked. " The room rocked with laughter at this tale.

"They gave him a State funeral, but I gather all the mourners could talk about was finding his cock and balls in his mouth". There was more laughter.

"So tell us about Tarly and Bronn" asked Maege.

"There's not a lot to tell. But, you know that Tarly never qualified as a Maester. Nonetheless, the King foisted him on to the Citadel as Grand Maester. They didn't like him there, I can tell you. He was arrogant and ignorant in equal measure, and of course, qualified people don't like duffers being promoted over their heads. He also kept a paramour called Gilly. He'd often promised her marriage, but of course, he never kept his promise. Anyway, she hated him. She was the mother of his child, but to him, she was just one of his whores. It was very easy to suborn her. She gave us details of his movements, and my agents broke into his chambers one night. They stuffed a pear down his throat, choking him. Gilly watched it throughout. She was most amused. She told them they ought to have stuffed it up his rear end. As for Bronn, all it took to remove him was a poisoned mushroom. The relatives of the Tyrells were duly grateful when they recovered Highgarden. They owe me a big favour, so I think you'll have no difficulty feeding the North, should there ever be famine, your Grace."

Ser Tristifer Botley pokes his head round the entrance to the tent. "We've captured Tallhart your Grace. Do you want to hang him?"

"No, he can buy his life by persuading his men to surrender Torrhens Square. If they refuse, then by all means, send him back to them by trebuchet. "

"So justice is almost served" comments Grey Worm. "Only Queen Sansa remains."

"Probably the most dangerous of them all. People have often underrated her. That has usually proved fatal to them."

Maege is uneasy. "Your Grace, I understand that you intend to rub her nose in her defeat. Rightly so. I accept, she has to stand trial, so that her crimes may be made known to the world. Nevertheless, it might save lives if we could persuade her to surrender. Perhaps she would do so if you were to offer to deliver her into the custody of my mother. My mother is not a cruel woman. Sansa may fear that if she is sent into exile in the Iron Islands, you will quietly dispose of her at some point in the future. My family would guarantee her life, and assure her that she would not be ill-treated in captivity. We cannot offer her the luxury of Winterfell on Bear Island, but her life would at least be comfortable, and we are of the North."

"Far better than she deserves" mutters Grey Worm.

Yara ponders this for a few minutes. "Far better than she deserves, as you say, but Winterfell will be a tough nut to crack. If I can save the lives of a couple of thousand of my men, then it would be worth it. I think you'll find that Sansa will never yield, Maege, but it is still worth a try."

Notes:

This chapter is mostly fan service. Readers of my other fics will know that I loathe the Tyrion of Season 6 onwards with a passion. Bungling, useless, sanctimonious, and treacherous.

There are really are no words in all the tongues of elves and men to sufficiently express my feelings towards him