I know, I know; I said that the story is complete. Well, it isn't. I guess that makes me an oathbreaker... :P

Big shout out to TheVillianStratigest for convincing me to continue and making me see that the story can go differently from the books.

I've actually put a distance between me and ASOIAF fanfiction because I am addicted to NBC's Hannibal. I hope that this chapter will not disappoint. It's a bit short, but I had actually given up on this story. Plus, I've never written Tyrion before. It should be fun! Enjoy!

TYRION

When Mace Tyrell pointed at him and started yelling, Tyrion thought that the Lord of Highgarden was merely throwing a cruel jape on him. Surely he could not mean his accusations.

But he did, and now Tyrion was in a cell waiting for justice to be served.

He did not know who had killed Joffrey. He knew that he hadn't done it. Could it have been Sansa? The poor girl had every good reason to want the king dead. She had suffered many times because of him, even if not by his hand.

She is my wife, he thought. One flesh, one body, one soul. I have to protect her. Besides, I have no proof of her guilt.

Maybe the murderer meant to poison Margaery and didn't care if Joffrey got poisoned as well. Even that idea made him think of Sansa. He had seen how the poor girl was looking at Margaery during the feast, as if she wished they could swap places. He did not blame her for not wanting to be married to him; but Joffrey? The boy was a worse monster than Tyrion. But he was good-looking. Sansa could not even look at Tyrion.

His thoughts were interrupted by the visit of a septon. Tyrion looked at the man and soon realised that he was none other than a spider on the wall of his dark cell.

"My lord Tyrion."

"Lord Varys, what a surprise." He chose to not use an adjective concerning the surprise. Whether it was a pleasant or an unpleasant one, it remained to be seen.

Varys giggled. "I suppose I cannot hide from you, my lord," he said.

"Everyone can hide, if they want to. I, being such a small man, know this best of all."

Tyrion hated the sound of Varys's giggle, yet he had to endure it once more. "I remember telling you that a small man can cast a great shadow," the eunuch said. "You did. But you did not use your size when you needed it most. Sansa Stark has fled, yet you remain here. And now you are accused of poisoning the king. Kingslayer and kinslayer."

Kinslaying was the most terrible crime in the eyes of gods and men, Tyrion knew. His brother was known as the Kingslayer, but he was supposed to be the Kingslaying-and-Kinslaying Imp. He would have laughed, but he was not very positive that he would get out of the situation with his ugly head still on his shoulders.

"I can hide very easily, but I have difficulty in running," he said. "My legs are barely made for walking. Besides, I am an innocent man; why should I run?"

"I thought," Varys said very seriously, "that, by now, you have learned that being innocent means nothing. Actually, if someone is innocent, they get into worse trouble than those who have things to be guilty for. Mace Tyrell is going to find witnesses to testify against you. His daughter could have tasted that poison as well; he wants to see some punishment - well, justice."

Tyrion felt the ghost of a smile appear on his face. Punishment and justice were two very dfferent concepts, yet often people used the word justice to hide the meaning of punishment. That was the way of the world.

"Lord Varys," Tyrion said, doing his best at fake surprise and offense, "are you saying that I should give something to people so that they will claim that I am innocent?"

Varys giggled yet again. "Lord Tyrell is already doing the same - against you. Secretly, to be sure, but-"

"-you have your little birds to inform you, "Tyrion finished the eunuch's sentence for him. It was not that hard to know what the spider would say.

"My little birds are everywhere," Varys said.

Is that supposed to scare me, spider? I am in a cell; I have nothing to hide in here. Shae was my secret, but you already know it. "Indeed they are," he merely agreed.

"I can help you, my lord. Give me names and rewards, and I shall give you witnesses."

"What can I offer them from my cell? A nice, dark corner? I think they will not like it much. Unless you approach beggars who sleep in the street, afraid of being raped or murdered or both. Only those people can help me now, Lord Varys. But I doubt they will speak up for me. I have saved them all, and yet they hate me. My lord father came up with an idea of taxing, but they call it the dwarf's penny. I rescued the city, abd yet they call me the demon monkey."

"You have highborn friends, my lord, I assure you. And there is the right price for every man. Mace Tyrell might think you are guilty, but he is not the only judge. And he will not be the only one with witnesses."

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