This is a smaller update, but since I'm going on hiatus for a bit due to school, I figured I'd leave you with this bit before I went. It's a small rewrite of the original "ACOK: Tyrion VIII", where the Small Council learns of Renly's death. The remainder of the chapter (Tyrion and Cersei's personal conversation) remains intact. Remember, all the other chapters in the original works are still considered canon to this story, so do be sure to read those. That, or watch the show and fill in the blanks.

Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim any ideas, places, or characters from the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. Cheers

This is a problem. Damnit Olyvar. Tyrion silently cursed the boy as he sat in on one of the Small Council meetings, listening to another of Varys' reports. Renly Baratheon was dead, and the Stormlords were now pledged to Stannis. Alongside of the Vale, Stannis now had more than enough to crush them at King's Landing. Yet that was not what was bothering him on this particular night. "The boy moves for Bitterbridge as we speak. My spies say he intends to attack the Reachmen before they can reorganize." The eunuch informed Littlefinger, Cersei and Tyrion, a seemingly solemn expression on his face.

"I doubt it." Tyrion responded. "If the rumors are true about Renly's death, Stannis likely fears retribution against him by the Tyrells. He's likely sending the Arryn boy as a diplomat first. If he should fail, then the Rose and the Falcon will clash while Stannis has free reign to attack us here."

"Aren't you giving too much credit to the boy as a diplomat?" Littlefinger said in his mocking voice, the one that Tyrion so often detested. "I doubt that Mace Tyrell's sons will consider any offer made. Renly was beloved in the Reach."

"Mace Tyrell loves the idea of power. That's why he married his daughter to Renly. Not because he thought Renly was going to be a good king." Tyrion scoffed. Renly would have made a worse king than Robert in his mind. "But now that his opportunity to have a grandchild for a prince is gone, he will settle for the next best thing."

"Pray, tell us what that is." Cersei remarked with a snide attitude.

"Have you no brains? Olyvar Arryn is a High Lord of Westeros, a descendant of one of the most pure of the Andal bloodlines, a commander in Stannis Baratheon's army, and recently freed from his betrothal." By your order, if you recall Cersei. "And if I remember correctly, Margaery Tyrell is newly widowed…"

"The Tyrells would never join with Stannis." Cersei dismissed Tyrion quickly. "Not even if Olyvar Arryn and Margaery Tyrell were to get married."

"Sister, you and your council continuously think I'm overestimating the boy. But the fact is that you are underestimating him and are putting too much faith in Mace Tyrell being loyal to a corpse." Tyrion was blunt in his assessment. How many times did he see his own niece and many other maids swoon over Olyvar Arryn? The boy was not the prettiest, but he was pretty enough, and his way with words were unmatched when he was calm. "If, or should I say when, the Tyrells accept Olyvar's proposal, the war will indeed be lost, as well as all of our heads."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Cersei spat violently, but Tyrion knew that beneath the demanding exterior, she was panicking.

"Our only option is to offer something of greater worth to Mace Tyrell. And the only thing greater than a High Lord;s hand is a King's."

"Joffrey, married to Margaery Tyrell?" Varys said in shock, although Tyrion knew it was feigned.

"Joffrey is already betrothed to Sansa Stark." Cersei said flatly. "This will never work."

"Your Grace, Margaery Tyrell belongs to one of the wealthiest families in the Seven Kingdoms." Littlefinger came to Tyrion's rescue, taking him by surprise. "She would be a better match to your son. With her as Queen, we would have another fifty-thousand swords behind us. Not to mention she is likely able to bare children at her age."

"Joffrey is only three-and-ten, he is not interested in these sorts of things." Cersei hissed.

"Except he's already had young Sansa publicly stripped naked by Ser Boros numerous times, many of which I've had to stop." Tyrion's patience was running thin now. "Besides, it is better he be interested in these things than lopping off heads and starting wars."

Cersei was fuming, crimson in the face, attempting to find a counter to his words. But Tyrion could tell that she could not. "Very well." She relented. "But if he does not like her-"

"Please. From what I've heard the girl outclasses Sansa Stark in beauty. I'm sure Joffrey will find her just as much to his liking as his old betrothed." Tyrion could tell Cersei had her doubts, but was relieved when she raised no more objections. "Now, sweet sister, you need only go to Bitterbridge-"

"Why must I go?" Cersei responded. "This was your plot, and you are Hand of the King. You should represent the crown." Tyrion eyed her with suspicion. He knew that she wanted him out of the capital, and that this was her chance. But this was his chance to remove her as well, and he was not going to allow all of the work he had done to go to waste.

"Your Grace, Lord Hand. If it pleases you both, I shall go to Bitterbridge and rally the Tyrells to our cause." Tyrion's suspicious eyes now rested on Littlefinger. What is your game, Baelish? Ever since Catelyn Stark had informed him of Littlefinger's involvement in his capture, Tyrion had little trust for the Valeman. "I would make a poor hostage if the Tyrells prove inconsolable, but I doubt I would be taken. Unlike Lord Arryn, Loras Tyrell bares no animosity towards me, and neither does his father."

"And you are confident you can out maneuver your former liege?" Tyrion had not forgotten where Littlefinger was from. He was a Valeman, formerly in service of Jon Arryn. "The boy is quite skilled with the tongue."

"Experience and skill are two different things." Baelish said with a mocking grin. "Should I beat the boy there, I should have no problem in convincing the Tyrells that he is the enemy. We do offer the biggest prize, after all. Royalty."

"Very well. I can offer you a hundred Gold Cloaks and some gold to meet the Tyrells with. Gods know you will need both." Tyrion did not like it, but he was in a corner. He could not leave now, not with Stannis seemingly coming up from Storm's End.

"My lord Hand, with such difficult fighting on the way to Bitterbridge, I will need a stronger escort than that. Five hundred would do."

"I'll give you three hundred and forty knights to your service. That should be enough to protect you on your way." Tyrion said plainly, which Baelish nodded his head in agreement. "Take one of the Redwynes along with you. I hear Mace's mother is a Redwyne, perhaps their kinship will be useful."

"Ridiculous." Cersei spat once more. "The Redwynes rose for Renly."

"Aye, that they did. But is as your brother says, Your Grace. Renly Baratheon is simply a corpse in the ground." Littlefinger reminded her. "Their loyalties will lie with whoever is against Stannis Baratheon, which so happens to be us."

"Take whichever you prefer then, but you leave the other one as hostage." Tyrion commanded. "You depart at dawn. Do be sure to beat the Arryn boy there. You will be handsomely rewarded should you make this work, Baelish."

"Oh I know, my lord." Littlefinger met Tyrion with a smile. "And I am thankful that I will have much time to think about my potential reward as I travel."

A/N: And the race is on for the Rose.

Hope you guys enjoyed. As always, please leave a review. They are always helpful. Have a good day/night.