Tyrion
Maesters Ballabar and Frenken opened the second day of trial. They had opened King Joffrey's noble corpse as well, they swore, and found no morsel of pigeon pie nor any other food lodged in the royal throat. "It was poison that killed him, my lords," said Ballabar, as Frenken nodded gravely.
Then they brought forth Grand Maester Pycelle, leaning heavily on a twisted cane and shaking as he walked, a few white hairs sprouting from his long chicken's neck. He had grown too frail to stand, so the judges permitted a chair to be brought in for him, and a table as well. On the table were laid a number of small jars. Pycelle was all too pleased to put a name to each.
"Greycap," he said in a quavery voice, "from the toadstool. Nightshade, sweetsleep, demon's dance. This is blindeye. Widow's blood, this one is called, for the color. A cruel potion. It shuts down a man's bladder and bowels, until he drowns in his own poisons. This wolfsbane, here basilisk venom, and this one the tears of Lys. Yes. I know them all. The Imp Tyrion Lannister plundered them from my chambers, when he had me falsely imprisoned."
Pycelle pulled the hairnet out from his sleeves and displayed it for the crowd to see.
"This hairnet was found in the godswood where Lady Sansa was captured attempting to flee King's Landing with Ser Dontos Hollard. She wore this hairnet to King Joffrey's wedding." Pycelle gave the hairnet a light shake. "In place of the missing stone, residue was found of the most rare and terrible poison."
"Was this one of the poisons stolen from your chambers?" His father asked.
"It was my lord, the strangler."
"A poison few in the seven kingdoms posses, and used to murder the noblest child the gods ever put on this good earth."
Tyrion's anger overwhelmed his sense. "Joffrey was cruel and stupid, but I did not kill him. Have my head off if you like, I had no hand in my nephew's death."
"Silence!" Lord Tywin said. "I have told you thrice. The next time, you shall be gagged and chained."
After Pycelle came the procession, endless and wearisome. Lords and ladies and noble knights, highborn and humble alike, they had all been present at the wedding feast, had all seen Joffrey choke, his face turning as black as a Dornish plum. Lord Redwyne, Lord Celtigar, and Ser Flement Brax had heard Tyrion threaten the king; two serving men, a juggler, Lord Gyles, Ser Hobber Redwyne, and Ser Philip Foote had observed him fill the wedding chalice; Lady Merryweather swore that she had seen Sansa drop the poison into the king's wine while Joff and Margaery were cutting the pie; old Estermont, young Peckledon, the singer Galyeon of Cuy, and the squires Morros and Jothos Slynt told how Tyrion had picked up the chalice as Joff was dying and poured out the last of the poisoned wine onto the floor.
When did I make so many enemies? Lady Merryweather was all but a stranger. Tyrion wondered if she was blind or bought. At least Galyeon of Cuy had not set his account to music, or else there might have been seventy-seven bloody verses to it.
"Lord Varys," the herald said, "master of whisperers."
Powdered, primped, and smelling of rosewater, the Spider rubbed his hands one over the other all the time he spoke. Washing ours lives away,
For the rest of the day, he listened to the eunuch's mournful account of how the Imp had schemed to part Joffrey from the Hound's protection and spoken with Bronn of the benefits of having Tornmen as king. Half-truths are worth more than outright lies. And unlike the others, Varys had documents; parchments painstakingly filled with notes, details, dates, whole conversations. So much material that its recitation took all day, and so much of it damning. Varys confirmed Tyrion's midnight visit to Grand Maester Pycelle's chambers and the theft of his poisons and potions, confirmed the threat he'd made to Cersei the night of their supper, and confirmed every bloody thing but the poisoning itself. The eunuch even claimed that his marriage made him sympathetic to Robb Stark. When Prince Oberyn asked him how he could possibly know all this, not having been present at any of these events, the eunuch only giggled and said, "My little birds told me. Knowing is their purpose, and mine."
How do I question a little bird? thought Tyrion. I should have had the eunuch's head off my first day in King's Landing. Damn him. And damn me for whatever trust I put in him.
"Have we heard it all?" Lord Tywin asked his daughter as Varys left the hall.
"Almost," said Cersei. "I beg your leave to bring one final witness before you, on the morrow."
"As you wish," Lord Tywin said.
Oh, good, thought Tyrion savagely. After this farce of a trial, execution will almost come as a relief.
Sansa
That evening, her good brother came to visit. Ser Jaime was a handsome man, even in his current state. Even still, she could only look at him in revulsion. The man who had secretly fathered Joffrey and crippled Bran. Just when Sansa thought that Jaime could not be worse, Tyrion admitted his suspicions of what happened to Bran. Still Sansa did not want to say anything about Jaime for the unconditional love that Tyrion bore his brother.
"The trial is not going well is it?" Tyrion was good at masking his fear, but she could see it all the same.
"You're going to be found guilty. Father says he will allow you to join the Night's Watch if you enter a plea for mercy."
Tyrion only laughed at his brother. "Those were the same terms Cersei offered Ned Stark. We all know how that ended. Will Lady Sansa be permitted to join me?" Her dwarf husband asked with unbridled sarcasm.
"No." Jaime Lannister looked at her with genuine sadness "I'm sorry, Lady Sansa but there is no plea deal for you. I offered to leave the Kingsguard in exchange for Tyrion's life, and I even offered to marry you in exchange for your life, but father refused."
Sansa knew that she should have been grateful for the offer but instead, she could only feel disgust at the idea of bearing this man's children.
"How is my brother treating you?" Jaime asked with somberness still in his voice.
"He is good to me, My Lord." Sansa replied with her usual voice for courtesies. Her good brother seemed relieved though Tyrion looked ashamed.
"When you see father, tell him I am not in a confessing mood."
Shortly after Jaime left, Prince Oberyn came to pay a visit.
"Are judges permitted to visit the accused?" Her husband asked.
"Princes are permitted to go where they will. Or so I told the guards." The Prince of Dorne took a seat.
"My lord father will be displeased with you."
"The happiness of Tywin Lannister has never been high on my list of concerns". The prince tilted his head slightly to face Sansa. "Did you poison him?"
"No." In truth, Sansa was not sure how to answer that.
"It is sad to see such a kindred soul locked up here. I know what it feels like to lose loved ones at the hands of a Lannister." Prince Oberyn flicked his head back to face Tyrion "no offense to you of course". The prince continued, "Cersei approached me, she spoke a great deal about her daughter. How worried she is about Myrcella. Your sister has a gift for mummery, for it was hard to believe that she wanted a pair of heads."
The Red Viper grinned. "I was surprised to meet a Lannister who shares my enthusiasm for dead Lannisters."
"To be sure, I have much to thank the queen for. If not for her accusation at the feast, it might well have been me on trial rather than the two of you." The prince's eyes were dark with amusement. "Who knows more of poison than the Red Viper of Dome, after all? Who has better reason to want to keep the Tyrells far from the crown? And with Joffrey in his grave, by Dornish law the Iron Throne should pass next to his sister Myrcella, who as it happens is betrothed to mine own nephew, thanks to you Lord Tyrion."
"Domish law does not apply. My father will crown Tommen, count on that."
"He may indeed crown Tommen, here in King's Landing. This is not to say that my brother may not crown Myrcella, down in Sunspear. Will your father make war on your niece on behalf of your nephew? Will your sister support her daughter over her son?"
"I do not know how my sister would choose, between Tommen and Myrcella," Tyrion admitted. "It makes no matter. My father will never give her that choice."
"Tywin Lannister," said Prince Oberyn, "may not live forever."
Something about that statement made her tummy flutter nervously.
"I was hoping one look at our sweet faces would be enough to persuade you all of our innocence."
"You are mistaken; The Fat Flower of Highgarden is quite convinced of your guilt, especially yours my lady. He believes that you wanted to kill his Margaery out of jealousy."
"That's not true." Sansa declared hotly.
"People are seldom as they appear. You both look so very guilty that I am convinced of your innocence. Justice is in short supply this side of the mountains. There has been none for Elia, Aegon, or Rhaenys. Why should there be any for you? Perhaps Joffrey's real killer was eaten by a bear. That seems to happen quite often in King's Landing. Oh, wait, the bear was at Harrenhal, now I remember."
"Is that the game we are playing?" Her husband rubbed at his hideously scarred nose. "There was a bear at Harrenhal, and it did kill Ser Amory Lorch."
"How sad for him," said the Red Viper. "And for you Lady Sansa. Is your husband always such a bad liar?"
Thankfully, Tyrion spoke up before she could answer.
"If it's justice that you seek, then you came to the wrong place."
"I would say that it's the perfect place, thanks to you. I am within rights to have my vengeance on the mountain who raped Elia with her son's blood on his hands. Your innocence may be obvious, but it will save neither of you." The Dornish prince smiled. "But I might, as your champion."