I rode up ahead of the wheelhouse, at the front of our procession, as we crossed through the Lion Gate. To my left rode Clegane in his soot-black steel plate and hound's helm, upon a black stallion, and to my right rode Ser Jaime Lannister, my father-uncle, in resplendent gilded plate, atop a stallion barded in the colours of House Lannister. The white cloak hanging from clasps on his pauldrons was the only thing that would let anyone know that this was a Knight of the Kingsguard and not just Tywin Lannister's golden heir, and even that was almost hidden by how the sun reflected on his armour. I myself was not wearing any kind of armour, nor did I wear it on anything even remotely resembling a regular basis.

To my consternation, Tommen was riding in the wheelhouse and not on horseback, though how much of that was Cersei forcing him to stay inside or him not wanting to be anywhere near me unless he had a sword in his hand I'm not sure. Out of the two endpoints of the Goldroad - the Lion's Mouth and the Lion Gate - it wasn't even a competition as to which one was more impressive. The former, that is. While the entrance to Casterly Rock was something approaching two hundred feet in height with gates larger than anything I'd ever seen in my life and accessible by a stairway large enough for twenty horses riding side-by-side, the Lion Gate was just a gatehouse. A large, impressive gatehouse and one of seven, sure, but still a gatehouse. It was awe inducing, certainly, but everything about Casterly Rock befuddled the mind. King's Landing was on a completely different scale.

"Ugh, the smell." I said to Jaime. "I'd rather be in the Rock's sewers."

"You have Tyrion to thank for that." he said, laughing.

"Fifteen years of peace. The longest summer in living memory. Ties to four of the seven Kingdoms. Yet our great King couldn't even fix the cisterns and drains of his own home. What a disgrace." I said, riding forwards.

— — — —

I paced around the solar in the Queen's apartments. It was larger than my own - significantly larger, actually. I guess that's to be expected - she is the second most important person in the realm, after all, now that Jon Arryn is dead and the position of Hand of the King is more empty than it should be, especially with a King as… ill suited to rule as he is. Cersei sat behind a large table, lounging on an intricate armchair, a look of boredness on her face. It was mildly annoying, but it only made her more beautiful, if that was even possible. I couldn't help but to toy with the cuffs of my doublet as I thought and mulled over the tale which I had just listened to as if it was one of great success. Tyrion sat on a desk nearby, his short stubby legs dangling off the corner. He was here at my invitation and insistence, and that had been cause for an argument in and of itself.

"This is a disaster." I declared, rubbing my brows as I slumped into a chair. I could hear Tyrion's smile widening, his muscles pulling at the skin, almost rubbery in texture, showing a hideous grin.

"Joff…" Cersei said, pleading.

"Enough." I interrupted. "What do you think, Tyrion?"

"Your genius has left us in a rather enviable position, sweet sister." he answered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Your idea to poison the fish was just brilliant." He earned a slap for that.

"Lysa Arryn has to die before she can send messages to Riverrun, Winterfell or the Eyrie, that's for certain. Though, even with Robert at the Rock, I doubt how much control this will give us over the Lords of Mountain and Vale. They've always been a prickly bunch." I said, my tone clearly stating that there was to be no debate. To my great annoyance, it was either misheard or ignored.

"Making sure that happened was what I tried to do." Cersei announced haughtily. "Lysa is a frightened cow, and too paranoid by half. It'll be difficult for that series of events to occur due to foreign intervention."

"Nonsense." Tyrion replied. "As long as you make sure that your lord Husband keeps his promise to our father and she doesn't send any messages, this shouldn't be an issue." I could feel the hint of a smile tugging at my lips, stubbornly fighting my annoyance and anger for control over my face, as I realised what he was about to say. "Not a soul denies that Lysa Arryn loves her firstborn son almost as much as you do yours." I saw realisation flash in Cersei's eyes, though not a hint of any emotion other than the deep disdain that was universally present whenever she looked at him. Whenever most people looked at him.

"Yes. That could work." I said, rising from the admittedly very comfortable armchair. "Uncle, it would do me a great favour if you were to make the necessary arrangements. Mother, make sure that father keeps his word to grandfather."

I left the room without waiting for a response and Sandor, who had been waiting as faithfully as to be expected from the animal on his house's sigil, stepped in line right behind me. The sound of his feet overpowered mine so fully that it seemed that there was only one person walking along the corridors of the Red Keep.

"We're going to the North soon." I told him. "This means we'll be around my father the King much more than normal. He's a drunk, but he's not a fool. If he sees you with a Valyrian Steel dagger, he'll eventually remember out its origin. We're going to bring a part of the armoury with it - you're going to have to leave it there."

He did nothing but growl in response, the guttural sound coming from him very similar to a hound's. With every passing day his nickname seemed more and more accurate. Soon after we arrived at the stables and mounted up, followed by an escort of gold cloaks from the City Watch, as well as a few Red Cloaks from the Lannister Guard, detached to follow me wherever I went on the orders of the Queen - my now-mother.

"Where are we going?" the lead guardsman asked.

"Tobho Mott's shop on the Street of Steel." I announced, earning a raised eyebrow from my sworn shield. I turned around and continued. "You're still getting something out of this, even if it isn't a dagger, at least for now."

The ride down the streets of King's Landing was uneventful. My reputation preceded me, so while normally a member of the Royal Family travelling through the streets would have attracted large throngs of people, my convoy didn't receive the same response. I didn't mind one bit, though, because in both this and my past life I absolutely despise crowds. Anything more than four people in a specific area is too much in my opinion, and only safety concerns can convince me to allow it to be otherwise when I am in control. Nevertheless, I swallowed my unease as we rode through the King's Way, through the heart of this Capital of ours. This was the most civilized part of the city, on the main street between the Great Square and the Red Keep. It was lined with manses and shops catering to the wealthy and their expensive tastes, constantly patrolled by men in black ringmail and golden cloaks, bustling with activity. We eventually reached the square, prominent in the center of the city, and turned left. I spied the Guildhall of the alchemists, imposing in its black marble, at the foot of Visenya's Hill under the gloomy shadow of the Great Sept of Baelor.

"I want to go there first." I announced, earning a series of nods from the guardsmen and a visceral reaction from my sworn shield. "You can wait outside, Clegane." I assured him.

Somehow the Alchemists must have been made aware of my decision to visit because I found a pallid man waiting outside its gates. My guards and I dismounted and I walked towards the man. He bowed deep as I got closer.

"Rise, wisdom." I ordered, and he did so.

"Your Grace honors us with your visit." He replied. "I am Hallyne, Grand Master of the Ancient Guild of Alchemists, and I bid Your Grace welcome to our Guildhall."

"I thank you for greeting me, Grand Master. Would it be possible for you to give me a tour of the building?" I asked.

"Yes, Your Grace, of course, Your Grace." he said, eager to please the first visitor of any significant importance in a very long while. "Though, if I may, Your Grace, the underground chambers are very cold. You may wish to wear some warmer clothes."

I nodded and called for a guard.

"You, get me my warmest clothes from the Keep." I told him.

"At once, Your Grace." he answered, bowing before returning to his horse. I turned back towards the Grand Master.

"Shall we, Your Grace?" the Grand Master said. I nodded and followed him.

The large, heavy doors opened with a thud and then a long, unnerving creak. It revealed a chamber completely empty except for lines of iron torches, eery green flames dancing on top of each. They bathed the room, floor, walls and roof of polished black marble, in their ghostly light, which reflected and bounced off the walls just as they would off a mirror of beaten silver. It was horribly unnerving, but the dull thud of the dozen or so men marching behind me, hands close around their spears and shields, served to soothe my senses substantially. Hallyne was undirsturbed, and I swore he felt some forbidden glee at seeing so many armed and powerful men, including the Crown Prince himself, shake in their boots at the least expression of his order's power. At the end of the almost excessively long corridor stood two doors. One was opened, the same sound in smaller scale as the exterior gates being emitted, and inside it was a table of the same black marble with two plush seats, one on either side. I motioned for my guards to remain outside before going in on the heels of the Alchemist. He sat down on his side of the table, allowing me to sit on that of the door, which soon closed behind us. This room was also lit with wildfire, though a single torch, and was apparently reserved for important guests.

"Lord Rossart was King Aerys' last hand, correct?" I asked as soon as it was proper.

"Yes, Your Grace." he replied with more than a bit of pride in his voice.

"He did have a… fascination with the substance." I announced, and he nodded. "I believe there are many stockpiles of wildfire from that era throughout the city."

"Yes, Your Grace. Much of the stockpile was lost and the rest is difficult to deal with, especially as it grows… riper with age, you see. We lost so many Wisdoms during the Sack of King's Landing that the acolytes that remained were simply not up to the task." he said, the pride replaced with a mix of disappointment and sadness.

"As the fruits of the old King's… exercises with wildfire grow… riper every year, it is imperative that none of them explode or blaze up. The consequences would be beyond horrendous." I declared and he nodded strongly.

"Certainly, Your Grace." he answered.

"Even the existence of these stockpiles would terrify the population if they came to light. If your Order could start preparing to remove and account for the caches of wildfire throughout the city, including finding those which have been lost, I would be greatly appreciative. You would be right to expect an appropriate, and undoubtedly handsome, reward when I come into my crown." I said.

"Certainly, Your Grace. I, and the Order, thank you, Your Grace." he said.

"Consider the Alchemists' Guild under the patronage of the Crown Prince from now on, Grand Master." I declared, and he nodded. A knock on the door soon followed.

"Your Grace?" I heard the guard call. "Your clothes are here."

"May we start the tour, Grand Master?" I asked as I stood up.

— — — —

Thanks for reading!

This one was a bit later than usual. The past week's been very busy, and it took a while getting the first part right. I'm still not totally confident on my portrayal of Tyrion and Cersei's plot is weak, but otherwise I'm ok with it. Please give me any criticism, or if you think any of the actions here are OOC.

Hallyne criticised the Sack to its perpetrator's son and (legal) heir, so he doesn't care about stuff like that.

I believe the route they followed here would be safer (and therefore more realistic) than one through the Hook. Fishmonger's Square and the Mud Gate is in a part of town that's a bit shadier, I'd think. It's no Flea Bottom, sure, but it's away from the big roads and beneath the two largest hills (Aegon's and Visenya's.)