Author's note - In response to reviewer Moshi: do you find it unlikely that a single person's presence changes the outcome of a war? (for that's how I read your review). If so: apart from the fact that Robert still came out victorious, Joanna being alive resulted in the betrothal of Jaime and Elia Martell. There was therefore no reason for Dorne to choose the side of Aerys Targaryen. The Sack of King's Landing didn't take place because Joanna persuaded her husband to present Baratheon with a prosperous rather than a plundered city (and where Cersei was kept at the Rock, she didn't have the opportunity to make Jaime join the Kingsguard).

JOANNA

"You will be mine bitch. Lay down and open up for the Dragon," a voice whispered.

Joanna's eyes flashed open. The words weren't the same, but they were similar enough. Until she'd moved a piece her nights in the Red Keep had only been disturbed by her own worries. Not anymore. There's always a countermove.

"You're just a whore," the voice whispered with venom.

Joanna pressed her upper legs together and touched the knife in the shaft on her left arm. Threaten a woman to destroy her home and you can call her a whore when she stops fighting you.

"Lions are nothing to dragons! DOWN!"

The sound of a whip made Joanna hold her breath for a moment. Perhaps I should tell Varys that Aerys didn't leave permanent marks on my body? Despite his claims to the contrary he was frightened of Tywin.

Between her encounter with Aerys and going into confinement she'd not said a word about what had happened to anyone. She hadn't asked Tywin whether they'd talked afterwards, in the years now lost to her.

The voice started to moan and that sound, more than the improvised words she'd heard, made Joanna's heartbeat increase. With some difficulty, for her hand was trembling, she took a kerchief from the pocket of her night dress and pressed it to her nose. Tywin had worn it on his chest before sending it to her and though the scent that remained after a journey of several days might be imaginative, his token helped her through the night.

GERION

The girls looked healthy and the place was clean, with cotton sheets free of lice. It wasn't Chataya's but the boy couldn't afford that anyway. Gerion nodded at the brothel owner, a woman with a scar on her neck. "First time?" she guessed. Gerion smirked. From the way Tion was hopping from one foot to the other you didn't need to be a mind reader to conclude that. "A woman in her early twenties, youthful yet accomplished would do him good," he softly said. The woman nodded and beckoned a red haired girl nearby. She had long legs and a small waist and looked quite innocent, which was mostly due to her freckle covered nose and cheeks. Gerion gestured for his nephew to come close. "This is Daisy," the woman told her young client. Tion could just stare. Daisy smiled and took his hand, leading him to a small corridor. Gerion handed the woman some coins. "She's all paid for Tion. Enjoy!" he cried out. He then made it for the neighbouring inn. He'd barely seated himself or a slender man with a small pointed beard entered. After looking around he smiled at seeing Gerion. "Would you mind if I join you ser?" he asked through some patrons singing the first lines of 'The Lion bit the Dragon'.

"By all means do Lord Baelish."

"It's a surprise meeting you here. I would have guessed you to frequent fancier places. But then: you will find a warm welcome all around King's Landing. I wish I'd been there on that glorious day. It is said that your esteemed cousin was the one who came up with 'The Toast'."

"In those days, who knows," Gerion replied, raising his cup to the patrons who were fortunately done singing.

"She changed after her concussion?"

When Joanna had warned him that people would make inquiries disguised as concerned questions or chitchat, he'd thought her to be caught in memories of Aerys's rule. Still, he trusted his cousin and he felt that Sandor Clegane, had he been here with him, wouldn't have been pleased by the master of coin's appearance. With Baelish keenly observing him Gerion recalled a night in Myr when he'd won a game of poker from a man without eyelids. He bit his lower lip, a trick that had served him well back then. "She has."

"She hasn't lost her poise, or so the Grand Maester keeps telling me. Poor man."

Gerion smiled at that and drowned his drink. Baelish gestured at the innkeeper, who provided them with more ale.

"She handled the prince admirably, though if she weren't who she is… You were there weren't you?"

"I was."

"On both occasions?"

Gerion frowned as if he had to think. "Ah yes. You refer to the incident in the stables. She seemed herself there. She still hasn't regained her memory sadly enough." Gerion was sure that Joanna was up to something and grateful that she hadn't trusted him with it: that way he couldn't reveal things that needed to remain a secret. He fed Baelish some information Joanna had shared with him in the Red Keep: "She's inviting former companions to Casterly Rock in hopes that they'll trigger it."

A man started to play 'Fifty-Four Tuns' on his lute and Baelish had to talk straight into Gerion's ear. "Young Tion, who won't be so green ere the night is done, will be delighted to meet his mother there."

Joanna's right. He is a mockster. Gerion laughed and raised his drink to salute Baelish. By the time the song was done, their goblets had been refilled once again. "I'm sorry for having interrupted you," Baelish said. "You were telling me about the way your liege lady changed."

"I believe you spoke to her. I should like to hear your opinion of her. What did you talk about?"

Baelish smiled pleasantly. "She was impressed that at my age I'm master of coin."

"Rightly so," Gerion said, raising his drink once more.

"Thank you ser. She's a charming lady. Let's see if I can recall our conversation. Ah yes, she asked me why I wasn't using my House's sigil."

Gerion hit the table. "I wondered myself!"

"I will tell you, as I told your lady, that once upon a time I saw a maiden bath in the river and then I heard a mockingjay. Your lady said it was romantic."

Gerion sighed.

"What is it dear ser?" Baelish asked. "Have I said something wrong?"

"You haven't Lord Baelish. It's just that your words make me think of… She used to… Romance seems to be on her mind these days. I fear she longs to find me a wife. Me!" He shook his head in disgust. Baelish burst out laughing.

JON

As Jon was waiting in the Small Council's meeting room footsteps neared. "You've had another conversation with Lady Lannister?" Baelish asked. It was Lord Renly who replied: "Aye. Brief though it was. She appreciated my work for the crown." The man sounded as if admiration for his person was a matter of course. Knowing that any moment now the men could enter Jon, not quite knowing what prompted him to do so, closed his eyes and dropped his chin on his chest.

"Lord Hand," Baelish greeted him. Jon heard him take a few steps toward him.

"Asleep," Baelish whispered. Renly made a throatily sound of amusement.

"What else did you talk about?" the master of coin softly asked.

"She asked me whether I thought her grandchildren would like it if she took them for an outing. Of course I said yes: I can't wait to learn what Joffrey will do to anger her on the occasion." Jon detected a smile in Renly's voice.

"What do you make of her?" Baelish asked, placing some files on the table.

"A feast for the eye like her bitch daughter, but hardly as formidable as the old goat describes her."

"Could you spend time with her? She's buying Myrcella a trousseau. The two of you could visit seamstresses and the like?"

"I wouldn't tolerate him at home," Lady Lannister had said about Baelish, back in the inn where she'd explained her plans. Jon, feeling a bit offended by her criticism, had told her that the man had his uses. "So does cow-dung," the lady had said. "I wouldn't sit in it."

Jon jerked his head to add some flavour to his sleepy state.

"The old sot," Renly whispered with contempt. "She'll be charming company for sure, but why invest time in granny Lannister?"

"She might… change things."

"Change, change… That thing with Myrcella being a bride instead of Joff being a groom that's because she was pissed with the boy. She's not a lioness but a pussycat."

"The Lion sent her a shield."

"Because his son left and Ser Gerion is not much of a swordsman. The Old Lion wants his property protected."

"Perhaps. Stannis's daughter will arrive tomorrow, or today if the winds are favourable. I'm not sure she doesn't have a hand in that."

"So you mentioned," Renly softly said. He sounded impatient. "I heard that she questioned Myrcella about having friends her age here. There's no more to it I'm sure. Still, I told Stannis that it's unfortunate that Shireen's supposed companion will soon move north. He barked that if he'd known of Lady Lannister's plan he'd not have summoned the girl."

"Did he?"

Jon was impressed by Stannis's lie. Well, it was not unsimilar to what he was doing right now. He worked some saliva to his lips.

"Still… Have I mentioned I acquired new staff from the Summer Islands?"

"You did? Of course if you want me to spend time with the lady, I'll gladly do that. By the Seven look at that. Pathetic."

The distinct sound of Ser Barristan's footsteps neared. Jon 'woke up' with a jolt.

"No need to blush Lord Hand. We all know your job is a demanding one," Renly said. Had Jon not heard him talk he'd be fooled into thinking that the young lord was all kindness. He mumbled a bit about refreshing naps, wiped his mouth and – his cheeks red with anger, not shame – busied himself by seeing if his quill needed sharpening. He longed for the Eyrie. Mountain clans were better to handle than the likes of Renly and Baelish.

ROBERT

"Isn't there a meeting of the Small Council now?"

"Yes there is good-mother."

Instead of complaining that he ought to spend more time ruling the country, like her daughter did on occasion, the fair lioness gestured at a flask. Robert nodded. He rather liked it that his good-mother personally poured him a drink, not that she had much choice: there weren't any servants around. The two of them were comfortably seated on a lawn under a huge parasol. At a distance his squire Tyrek and two White Swords stood by as well as his good-mother's shield.

"It barely ever happens that I come across a man who's taller than I am," Robert told his hostess.

"I think the same applies for Ser Gregor," she dryly replied, handing him his drink. Robert grinned and drank deep. He could barely keep it in.

"Gods be good, what is this?!"

"Cold tea. Don't say yuk, it's good for you. A king shouldn't be a drunkard."

Before Robert could respond, Lady Lannister added: "Did you know that your people are styling you the Fat King? I prefer Demon of the Trident."

"Fuck!"

"That's part of the problem. The only muscle you use these days."

"Seven Hells woman! Do you speak to your lord husband like this?" Robert thundered.

"I don't need to," his good-mother calmly replied. "He doesn't run his lands by drinking, hunting and whoring."

Robert didn't know what he would have done had he seen anger or contempt on the lady's face. She sounded matter-of-factly though and despite her harsh words it was as if she wasn't criticizing him.

"More tea?"

He automatically held up his cup. His good-mother poured herself a cup too.

"It's refreshing on a warm day as this. I broke my fast with Tommen. He's a sweet boy."

Robert made a disapproving sound. "He doesn't care for fighting."

"If you taught him, he might gain an interest. My grandsons at the Rock love it when their father practices with them."

If I do that, I might regain my stamina. The Mountain that Rides is a mountain too high for now, the Seven be damned, but Tommen I can handle one-handedly. Hells, with a single finger.

"Joffrey would surely be eager if you sparred with him."

I could handle Joff as well. The boy is growing to be tall, but he isn't half as muscled as I was at his age. Robert nodded at his good-mother, who smiled in reply.

"How's Tyrek for a squire?"

"He's doing fine."

"And Lancel?"

Robert shrugged. "No complaints."

He drained his cup, having forgotten what it contained, and managed not to make a face. "Do they really call me the Fat King?"

Lady Lannister nodded. Robert looked at his stomach. Beer and rich food. Ah, but they tasted so damn fine! He glanced at the Mountain. It was one he needed to conquer.