THE RESTLESS LION

Tywin Lannister wrinkled his nose at the stench of decay that embodied the throne room.

Ever since Aerys return from Duskendale he had been reluctant to bathe and seemed to do whatever it took to ensure that he exemplified uncleanliness. At first Tywin was certain it was a result of the paranoia that had followed the King from his place of captivity. However he was beginning to suspect that Aerys had found some sort of amusement in making it incredibly difficult for those who had to be near him to be comfortable in his presence. One person who did not seem to be affected by the stench was Varys, who stood to the right of the Iron Throne. It was a place normally reserved for The Hand of King, his place. Varys knew that. He knew that underneath that blank of expression that always lied across his face was a triumphant smile. He had finally ended up where he had always planned to be.

This caused Tywin dislike Varys a great deal.

Don't get him wrong, he respected him for being able to pull himself up from nothing into a position of honor at court, and if it had been any other position at which Varys sought, Tywin may have actually come to like him. However the position he was looking to usurp was his own and Tywin wasn't about to let decades of hard work and sacrifice be disturbed by a fat, balding foreign eunuch. He was the man who toppled an entire House to dust for simply implying they were on the same level as he. There was little doubt that Tywin could topple a nameless man. Yet, Tywin grew cautious. For he knew that men with no names where those more wiling to risk for they had no family to dishonor. Knew that Varys was gathering friends and allies through the favors that he encouraged Aerys to doll out to any man of noble birth willing to bend before the King and pay salutation to his very royal seat.

As he approached the Throne, Tywin knew that he would have to make the King see reason. It was one thing to curry favor for groveling upstarts, to burn dissenters and challengers to your power. Those actions were explainable and sometimes no less avoidable. However, to do what Varys had suggested would be a madness they could not afford and Tywin had spent the better part of the day trying to make the King see reason. The argument had been long and arduous and he was beginning to lose patience.

"Your Grace, it is imperative to understand that The Kingsgaurd are more than mere soldiers trusted to protect the life of the King. They are a sacred institution respected and protected by the common people and faithful alike. To abscond such sacred tradition where they are concerned could be seen as not only disrespectful to traditions but blasphemous insult to the Seven themselves."

"One of my guards has died Lord Tywin," Aerys hissed as he shifted uncomfortably on the Iron Throne, "Why should I not be able to replace him?"

"No one is putting to question your right to replace him, Your Grace, merely to have you keep in mind that Grandison loyally served three generations of Targaryen Kings. He was much loved and respected."

"It is said that there were thousands of mourners that lined the Sept of Baelor, some for the entire seven days in which he was interred, just to pay respect to him Your Grace. He was very well loved in this city." Varys interjected giving a small nod in Tywin's direction.

A bold lie. Tywin thought.

There had been many mourners, but Grandison was a relic. Those who paid their respects did so more out of historic curiosity and sentiment than actual love and affection. The Spider had used his influence over the King to turn the tide of the argument in his direction. For what purpose, he did not know, but it caused him to at the sentiment.

Nevertheless continued his argument, "To replace Grandison without adhering to the proper period of mourning would be seen as some as an insult. Grandison was a man of legendary feats whose contributions to the safety of not only the Targaryen dynasty but the Realm itself garner's him the love and respect of multiple generations of your subjects. You must see Your Grace that it at least affords him the right to the seven weeks of mourning traditionally given to men of his caliber."

Aerys looked at Tywin cautiously before turning to whisper something in Varys ear. The sight was unnerving to Tywin.

"Then let it be done. Give this man his seven weeks. However on the seventh day of the seventh week I want you to personally deliver me his replacement, Lord Tywin."

Varys expression turned to shock, "Your Grace, should it not be you that the decision should lie with? After all it is your House - your dynasty - whose safety is at stake."

"That is why I have put the task in Lord Tywin's lap. He is my Hand. He has faithfully served me without fail. His judgement is one I trust in this matter."

"An honour for which I am truly grateful Your Grace." Tywin shot a smug smile at Varys. "Now if you will excuse me, I must begin attending to the mourning festivities."

Aerys nodded and Tywin turned to leave. If he had been a simpler man he would have considered this to be a decisive victory against the Spider. But he knew better. Varys had been a mummer after all. Whatever he was playing at Tywin had the means to find out. It was Varys who had put the idea of replacing Grandison so quickly into Aerys mind to begin with. To have him to pay favor to Tywin's argument as he did was suspicious and left him ever more guarded. As he exited the throne room he saw Prince Rhaegar and Arthur Dayne standing off to the right of the door.

"I did as you asked," Tywin said as he walked over to the Prince and stopped before him. "Your father will adhere to the seven week mourning period for Grandison."

"Why do you not seem more pleased by this victory, Lord Tywin?"

"The Spider continues to spin his wed, my Prince. To what end I do not know. But I mean to find out."

Rhaegar nodded, "Then do so, Lord Tywin. The control that Lord Varys has over my father is troublesome for all of us. He is a man whose means and end are unknown. I feel that it is of great importance that we do what we can to ferret out his motives. Do you not agree Lord Tywin?"

Tywin nodded. He had not been deaf to the whispers of Rhaegar. Talks of treachery and deceit. Clandestine meetings with various men of power throughout the Realm. Talks that he meant to take the Iron Throne for himself. While many spoke of these things with scorn or disbelief, Tywin met them with cautious optimism. He had talked openly after Duskendale of his thought on Rhaegar's leadership. How he thought of him as a capable leader. Someone that Westeros needed instead of a meek and feeble King afraid of his own shadow.

"Indeed I do," Tywin said looking around cautiously. "However I feel such speech be better saved for a more secure location. Every brick in the castle has ears nowadays. I would so enjoy your company for dinner in the Hands Tower and we could discuss such matters at greater length."

"I would be honored, Lord Tywin, but I must respectfully decline. I have already promised to accompany Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell in their journey to return Ser Harlan's bones to his family in Grandview. I shall be gone but a fortnight. Mayhaps we can postpone such discussion for that time?"

Tywin tried to not show an affront to such a slight, "Of course, my Prince. We can take up the matter upon your return."

"Thank you again, Lord Tywin, for taking up this cause with my father."

Rhaegar gave Tywin a quick nod before he and Ser Arthur turned to leave. The boy still mistrusted him. That was certain. However, Tywin knew now more than ever that the Prince was indeed up to treachery of some kind. A crown prince does not travel all the way to the Stormlands to simply return the bones of a fallen guardsmen. If he was ever going to discover what Rhaegar had planned he had to get someone into the Prince's inner circle or perhaps, turn the loyalties of someone who already was. After a moment, a wide grin grew across Tywin's face.

He knew exactly what he had to do.