"Catelyn? What are you doing here? Has something happened to Bran?" Ned asked worriedly.

Her eyes narrowed. "You mean apart from being thrown from a tower window and paralysed from the waist down?" she asked testily. "No. He has not awoken yet, but I have discovered his attacker and made an arrest."

"Oh?" Cersei asked in interest.

"Oh, yes," a bitter voice said from behind Littlefinger. "And she wouldn't even wait for me to get dressed first."

Cersei and Ned looked around in bewilderment, then looked down.

Tyrion Lannister, aka the Imp, the Halfman and You, glared up at his sister in reproach, a chain hanging from his neck and wrists and his small form stooped in exhaustion – amidst the scant clothing upon his person, that is. And even his underwear was only half pulled up, leaving his backside revealed to all from the back.

"You," Cersei greeted him loathsomely.

"He did it?" Joffrey asked incredulously. "He can't even reach the windowsill!"

"Neither can you," Tyrion pointed out.

"Silence." Cersei turned to her little brother with a scowl. "And where were you? A brothel, I suppose?"

"Church, actually," he corrected drily. "I opted to honour the Seven with a new choice of attire."

"I thought they banned you the first time you did that?" Joffrey said curiously.

"Shut up, Joffrey. What is your evidence against my... brother?" she asked, using the word with reluctance.

"A man entered Bran's room and attacked us," said Catelyn levelly. "He bore a knife belonging to your brother. I bring him here before you to propose a bargain. Now that the king is dead, there is no reason to keep our children betrothed. None of us want them to marry, only Robert, and now he is dead, I see no reason to continue with this betrothal. I propose to exchange my daughters, Sansa and Arya, for your brother, and I will drop the charges against him in accordance with this."

"No deal."

"Why the bloody hell not?" Tyrion demanded.

"I don't like you."

"That's hardly fair," he said sulkily. "I'd tell Mother and Father if they weren't dead on the outside and inside respectively."

"Be quiet, You. I plan to take him to the Eyrie if you do not comply with my bargain," Catelyn continued.

"The Eyrie?" Tyrion asked in horror. "Not... Lysa Gimme-A-Straight-Jacket-Or-I'll-Open-The-Moon-Door Arryn's Eyrie?"

"My sister will execute him forthwith. Am I to assume that you want this outcome to result?"

"Well, I do not want to lose the girls," she replied sweetly. "I like to tie sailor knots in their hair when I'm bored."

"Tie your own mangy hair up, you dumb blonde—" Catelyn started.

"Cat," Ned warned. He turned to the queen. "Please excuse my wife, she is under extreme stress at the moment—"

"Don't be a kiss-ass, Fred, it isn't attractive," Tyrion interrupted.

"Compared to a short-ass, it rather is," Catelyn snapped. "And his name is Ned, or to you, Lord Stark, Imp."

"Well, that's Tyrion to you—"

"Shut up, the grownups are talking," Cersei said absently.

Tyrion scowled as Joffrey laughed.

"Tell you what," Cersei said to Catelyn sweetly. "You may have your little rat Arya free of charge. Her hair already has knots, she's no fun to play with. Sansa, on the other hand, shall marry Joffrey as planned. He has grown fond of her this past few months."

"My belt has, anyway," he muttered with a grin.

Ned held Catelyn back and pretended not to hear that.

"And what if we decide to steal our daughter back and run away?" Catelyn asked.

"Tyrion will send his man back to Bran's room in exchange for one last 'bargain'," she said with a grin. "He will comply."

"That as it may be," Tyrion conceded, "I never said it was my man—"

"Silence, dwarf," Cersei snapped.

"Come, Catelyn," Ned ushered.

"Oh no, I'm going nowhere until I get Sansa," she said firmly. "You should never have let Sansa be betrothed into this horrid family. You have too much honour for your own good, Ned Stark."

"Do you always let your wife nag you so?" Joffrey asked Ned mockingly.

"She's always like this," he said miserably. "It's no fun being Lord of Winterfell with her around. Once, she let all the boys outside to play snowmen, and wouldn't let me go out so I had to stay inside with her and sign forms all day. Kept telling me I had a cold, but I didn't—"

"Shut up," Cersei snapped. "Now I suggest you run back to your snowmen, Starks, and don't forget your little dog on your way out. And the direwolf, too," she added spitefully.

"But Sansa—" Catelyn said despairingly.

"Best you forget about her until she is crowned queen," Cersei said pleasantly. "You won't be seeing her until then. At least."

Catelyn's mouth twisted and she spun to leave, dragging Tyrion behind her as Ned followed in her wake with his tail between his legs. Just before leaving, she turned back to the queen and pointed a finger at her and Joffrey. "You Lannisters will pay for this," she threatened on her way out.

"I already am paying for this," Tyrion gasped, dropping to his knees and mooning the king and queen in the process. "My feet are dying."

Cersei rolled her eyes as Catelyn dragged him out on his knees. As their footsteps and knee-scrapes receded, Jaime entered the hall in bemusement. "Is that Tyrion?" he asked incredulously.

Cersei's expression softened. Jaime strolled to the throne nonchalantly, his armour gleaming and his hair rustling in his wake. She stared at her brother in a daze, and didn't stop staring even as Joffrey waved a hand in front of his mother's face.

"Why is our younger brother being dragged by the Starks across the whole castle?" Jaime persisted.

When it looked like Cersei would be staring at him all day, Joffrey replied, "The Stark woman accused him of pushing her brat out of that tower and paralysing him. They're taking him to the Eyrie."

"The Eyrie?" Jaime asked in horror. "But Lysa Arryn... she's a madwoman. I wouldn't go near her with a double edged blade. With three double edged blades and a sword arm for each."

"And that's our problem... how?" Joffrey asked testily. "We don't want the little sod. She can do what she likes with him."

"Beg pardon, my liege, but I rather like my brother, despite his stunted growth," he said coldly. "And besides the matter of his height, he is still a Lannister. Cersei, allow me to follow him to the Eyrie and recover him before that lunatic gets her hands on him."

Cersei said nothing, her mind elsewhere – approximately three feet from Jaime's face, to be precise.

"Cersei?" Jaime asked impatiently.

Joffrey waved a hand in front of her face and she blinked. "Yes, of course, whatever you say," she said distantly.

"But Mother, we have better things to worry about than that idiot brother of yours!" Joffrey snapped. "He's a member of my Kingsguard, we need him here!"

Her mind was gone again and as she giggled softly to herself, Joffrey shrugged and gave a sigh. "What of my grandfather? Can't he rescue him?"

"You sent for him to relieve Lord Stark of his duties as Hand," Jaime replied. "He will only be setting off now. Lysa Arryn will have eaten him by time he got there."

Joffrey sighed heavily. "Oh, alright," he said reluctantly, waving his hand at him. "Go on and rescue him."

"Thank you, my king," he said with a bow.

"On one condition."

Jaime looked up half-heartedly.

"That you bring him to me in this hat," he continued, and he held up a jester's cap.

"Anything else you want him to wear upon his return?" Jaime asked dully.

"Just that lovely outfit he arrived here with will do," Joffrey said evilly.