He still got a flutter of trepidation in his chest whenever news arrived from the front. He broke the seal on the message and unfurled the letter, letting his breath out through his teeth when it was just a regular report, all was well.

"That will be all, thank you," he said.

"If I may, Lord Marshall, my lord Tytos asks when you will be rejoining the host for the attack on Storm's End?"

Loren had been expecting that, Lord Tytos Brax was not the first of his field commanders to ask when he would be joining them, after all, he had promised he would be back shortly when he returned to King's Landing weeks and weeks ago. "You may tell Lord Tytos that I will return to the field as soon as I am able to do so. My father's untimely and unfortunate demise mean I must remain here for the time being. Once the King has wed Margaery Tyrell, I will rejoin you in the field to bring the Stormlands back under control."

"I'll pass the message on, my lord," the messenger bowed and Loren waved his hand, dismissing him. Loren sat back when the messenger left and looked out of the window. He wished he could return to the front. Some of his commanders had proven themselves in the war like Lord Florent, Lord Rowan, Ser Addam. However too many times he had been absent only for stability to turn to disaster and then he had to spill and shed more blood to put things to right. But he couldn't leave, not yet.

The messenger left, but the door did not close the whole way before it swung open again. "Is there something el- Tyrion?"

"Hello, my lord brother." Tyrion smiled up at him.

"I've told you that you don't need to call me that," Loren replied, standing up and heading to a table set under the window where a pitcher of wine stood. "A drink?"

"I would appreciate it very much, my lord." Loren held the pitcher out over Tyrion's glass but did not pour. Tyrion stared at his cup for a few seconds then looked at Loren and saw the single raised eyebrow. "Loren."

Loren poured the wine into his brother's cup. "How can I help you?

"I was just in the grand maester's chambers," Tyrion said.

"How is he?"

"Sleeping, so I decided I would check the rookery myself to see if there were any letters. I found these waiting there." He held up three raven scrolls.

"What do they say?" They had to be important for Tyrion to bring them straight to him. The rookery and the grand maester's chambers were on the other side of the Red Keep, near the tower of the hand, rather than the chambers given to him as the King's Marshall.

"This one is from Riverrun," Tyrion said, holding up the first scroll. "King Robb says that the northern delegation has left and is on the way for the wedding."

"Does he say who is leading it?"

"His brother."

Loren groaned. "I don't suppose by some fortune it's the cripple or the baby?"

"No, the twin," Tyrion replied.

"Just what we need, the Tyrells will be thrilled. Have you told them?"

"I am many things, dear Loren, but not suicidal."

Loren smiled to him. "No, that you aren't. Leave it with me, I'm dining with Ser Garlan and Lady Olenna this evening, I'll tell them then."

"And Lady Margaery?"

"She will be with the king tonight."

"A pity for her."

"Just wait until she has to bed him." Tyrion snorted into his wine and even Loren let out a chuckle.

Tyrion mopped up the wine around his lips before it dripped onto his tunic. "You know, I could just take the scrolls back to the Grand Maester, let him deliver them."

Loren shook his head. "No the less stress inflicted on him, the better. The Grand Maester may have been born before Aegon the Dragon, but he is at least loyal to our House. I would keep him around for as long as possible. If he were to die, we don't know who the Conclave would choose to replace him, and I don't like the uncertainty. Let him sleep off his old age for now, and let's not force him to confront the Tyrells with this."

"Loyal to our house? He was loyal to our father, certainly, will that translate to us?"

"We are our father's legacy, and he wasn't just loyal to our father, they went further than that, you heard his eulogy to our father at his ceremony." Apart from Kevan, Pycelle's eulogy had been the most touching and thoughtful of all the tributes given while their father lay in state in the Great Sept. So many had given respectful words, but only those two had truly spoken with love.

Tyrion raised his glass. "To our father's legacy."

Loren waved that away. "What about the other scrolls?"

"This one is related to our father's legacy," Tyrion said, placing a second scroll on the table.

"Is that blood?" Loren asked, nodding at a red stain on the scroll.

Tyrion held up his finger where a thin red line ran from the tip to the first knuckle. "The bird bit me, shows me the price of trying to help," he said "Especially since I probably know the bird, it came from Casterly Rock, our Aunt Genna. She says that father's body has arrived and been interred in the Hall of Heroes. She has strong words about us not being here. But Tion and Myrielle performed their roles well and she says are coping well with the loss."

"Was there any news of Alysanne and Lelia?"

"None, but raven scrolls can only contain so much information," Tyrion pointed out.

Loren pressed his lips together, hard. "Perhaps, but I'd hoped that their escort would cross paths with the procession taking father's body home."

"You're worried about them."

"Of course I am. I commanded that they come with an escort of at least two hundred, but still, they are crossing lands still bearing fresh wounds from the war, and wounded lands are often ripe with bandits and outlaws who prey on what remains. I doubt many would attempt an attack on two hundred armoured riders, but I worry that some will be brave or desperate enough to try." This kind of chaos had happened after every war in the disputed lands, every war in history. Some soldiers can't unlearn what they have experienced, for them the war never ends. Some see an easier living, and some do only what they must to survive. Nevertheless, the full restoration of order after the calamity of war took time. Loren wanted the matter of the stormlands resolved quickly so that the lords of the Reach might return home to start restoring order and allow the healing to begin.

"If you're so worried, then why did you ask them to come."

"This wedding will be the event of decades, the first great ceremonial event of the fourth century. I should be present with my wife, and I wouldn't want Lelia to miss out of this. Besides, I need to start looking for a husband for her, and where better than the wedding where all the great and the good will be there to find her a suitable spouse." Loren looked pointedly at his brother and smiled. "And I'm sure she would be more than pleased to see you again."

"I wish more took after her in that regard," Tyrion said, but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Have you heard anything more about Joanna?"

Loren closed his eyes and shook his head. He still had the raven scroll she had written him from Winterfell in a pouch at his side. He had reread is so much that it no longer rolled up into a scroll. It told him that she had arrived, and that Brandon Stark and King Robb's Castellan were treating her with kindness. She was receiving lessons from the castle maester and prayed every day in the sept with the septa there. She got on well with the other hostages and the younger Stark boys, in particular Desmera Redwyne and Joy Hill, her bastard cousin. That was a mercy that his father had given Joanna at least. She and Joy had grown up together, so there was at least one familiar face, although he doubted that his father had intended that particular kindness. One letter. How he wished she were safe at the Rock still.

Tyrion didn't ask anymore on the matter. "When are you expecting Alysanne and Lelia to arrive?" He asked instead.

"If all is well, it should be soon. They will send a rider out to inform me as soon as they enter the crownlands. I'll ride out to see them in the rest of the way."

"May I join you?"

Loren was surprised at the request. "So eager to get out of the city?"

"You may be used to the smell, brother, I am not."

"We'll see," Loren said. "If all is well here, I don't see why not, but I may need you to help uncle Kevan hold things in check here."

"My dear brother, our sister is not a thing."

"The third raven scroll?" Loren asked pointedly.

Tyrion chuckled "The third raven scroll comes from the Marches. The Dornish embassy has crossed the border into the Reach and is making for King's Landing."

"Another reason for the Tyrells to be displeased," Loren muttered. Enmity between Sunspear and Highgarden went back centuries. But with the Stormlands at war and the Baratheon fleet controlling the seas, there was no other path for the Dornish to take. This left little reason for Mace Tyrell to object, even if he were here. "Let's just hope Prince Doran doesn't do any damage on the way."

"Have you ever met Prince Doran?"

"Only his brother and sister, and then only once. They were coming to Casterly Rock, looking for betrothals, but arrived shortly after mother died, it didn't go well."

His father had delegated rule of Casterly Rock to Kevan while he shut himself up in his high tower, where the rooms he had shared with his wife lay. He had come out with his hear hardened to stone. It had been Kevan who had told him to be pleasant, but the focus of the trip had been Oberyn and Elia meeting with Jaime and Cersei as much and often as possible to try for a marriage alliance. Loren had by that time been moved back to his own rooms from sleeping in Jaime's and he spent most of the visit far away, until the day when Lord Tywin had finally emerged and the mother of the Dornish Prince and Princess had broached the topic of marriage between their children. Perhaps if they had arrived a few months later Lord Tywin would have had more tact. Instead he had brushed off both suggestions, claiming that Cersei was to marry Prince Rhaegar, and offering the newborn Tyrion in place of Jaime. Another moment in Loren's childhood where he had just been the other Lannister. It had been a slight, an intended one. Kevan tried to fix things the next day, dressing Loren up in his finest clothes and presenting him to the Princess of Dorne, clearly trying to nudge a potential betrothal between him and Elia. But the Princess had told her that Elia was to wed the heir of a great house, not a spare. Loren had tried to keep his face stoic but failed.

Shortly after that Lord Tywin had made the point clear by seeking out a daughter from the Westerlands houses for him, while Jaime was sent to Highgarden and Riverrun to find an appropriate bride. At a time when high lords were intermarrying like never before, with Winterfell binding itself to Riverrun and Storm's End, who in turn bound themselves to the Eyrie, Loren Lannister was betrothed to the young Alysanne Lefford. It had not been a good beginning on his part, and he looked back on those early days of dutiful resentment with shame. In the end, both he and Alysanne had ended up wedding higher than they could have dreamed. Jaime joining the Kingsguard meant that Loren became the heir to Casterly Rock, and Alysanne's father had sired no sons before his death at the Battle of the Fords, leaving the Golden Tooth to her. Meanwhile, Elia Martell was dead, Oberyn Martell unwed, Jaime could never wed and Cersei wished she had never wed at all.

"I'm sure they won't try anything rash," Tyrion said.

"I hope you're right, brother," Loren replied. "Was there anything else?"

"There was one matter," he said. Loren sat back, raising his eyebrow again. "My chambers in the Red Keep are sparse," Tyrion continued.

"You want some new furniture?"

"You think so small Loren, no I had another idea in mind. Lord Baelish has let me stay in one of his manses in the city, it's near the Red Keep but far better furnished than my rooms here. I stay there from time to time when I need to clear my head."

"You aren't worried, being outside the walls of the Red Keep?"

"I don't go unguarded," Tyrion replied, looking at Loren as though he were a fool. "And besides, most of the refugees have left the city, fewer people means less crime."

"Well take some guards with you when you do go, I'll inform the captains that you have the right to requisition some."

Tyrion was stunned into silence for a minute before his quick tongue lashed back into action. "I will, thank you brother, but it wasn't security I wanted to speak with you about. I was asking about the manse itself."

Loren waited for Tyrion to say more. "It's a good manse. It has high walls, with spikes on the top so not easy to climb into. It has its own garden and well, a wine cellar, several bedrooms, a well-stocked larder and kitchen, a bathing pool-"

"I'm sorry Tyrion, why are you telling me this? I'm sure it's lovely, but I don't have time to enjoy a bathing pool right now, and the keep's cooks are probably the best in the city."

"Not now perhaps, but at some point you may like to."

Loren frowned. "What are you suggesting?"

"A simple thing, Lord Baelish is letting me stay there out of the goodness of his heart, and to curry favour no doubt, but the staff are his. Why don't we make them ours?"

"Because I don't think that we'll learn much of Baelish by bribing the staff at one of his manses."

"You can be so slow sometimes brother-"

"Careful," Loren warned him. "You are about to ask me to do something after all."

Tyrion pointed to his wine cup by way of excuse. "I propose we buy it."

"Buy it?"

"Yes, buy the manse, have a place to stay that's ours in the capital. And with Joffrey soon to reach his majority, perhaps a retreat from his worse days."

It sounded pleasing, there was no denying that. And it would be a nice place to keep Lelia and Alysanne while they were in the city. He might have to inspect it first though, make sure it was safe enough for them. "Alright, ask Lord Baelish, see what he is willing to sell for. But make it look like you're interested, not me, he'll charge more if he knows I'm paying for it."

Tyrion shook his head in amusement. "You know for the richest man in the world you can be very stingy."

"You think I'd be the richest man in the world if I was careless with my wealth? Just let me know how much it is, I'll arrange the payment." He had often thought back to the vaults beneath Casterly Rock, filled with gold bars ready to be minted into coins at a single command. The thought that it was all his now was strange. What he could do with it. If the war against the Starks was still raging and Stannis' fleet didn't control the Narrow Sea, he might have sent a letter across to the disputed lands, brought the Golden Company across. They had a bad reputation in Westeros as the servants of the exiled House of Blackfyre, invading westeros three times on their behalf. But with such a force at his back, he would have marched against the Young Wolf and expected victory. But his father died too late for that.

Loren frowned when Tyrion didn't reply. "Is there something else?"

"Yes. Joffrey."

"Ah. Joffrey." Loren picked up the pitcher of wine and poured them both a glass this time. "What about him?"

"What do we do when he comes of age?"

It was a question Loren had pondered more often now he was in the Red Keep. "Advise him, guide him, try to offset his worst tendencies and keep him in check."

"Is that all?"

"What else are we to do, he is king, by right of inheritance. You can't just unking someone. Not without cause. A very just cause."

"Like the Mad King?" Tyrion asked.

"Exactly. If Joff starts trampling on ancient, sacred rights like the right to trial, or guest right as the Mad King did, then we would have to act. But we can't act before he does so." Loren shook his head. "Tyrion, I still have a war to focus on, and we have some years yet before Joff reaches his majority."

"Less than two," Tyrion said.

"What?"

"Less than two years. Joffrey is fourteen now, and every delay lets his sixteenth nameday sneak up on us more and more and then we'll be asking ourselves why we didn't act sooner."

"You think this war is just a distraction from Joffrey's actions?"

"No. But Joffrey's actions are not distractions either."

Loren sighed "What am I supposed to do, Tyrion? I am the King's Marshall, not his Hand." There was of course one thing he could do. One that, until a few weeks ago had been unthinkable. No. Once was too much as it was.

"I've been thinking on this."

Loren frowned. "What have you been thinking?"

"The realm rose up against the last Mad King. In a way they have already risen up against Joffrey. It's very clear that the realm will not tolerate the edicts of a madman."

"Joffrey is a child, a petulant, spoiled child made worse by a poor upbringing, but that doesn't make him mad the way the Mad King was. I remember the Mad King, Tyrion, trust me when I say that they are not alike."

Tyrion nodded, but then spoke. "But the Mad King wasn't always mad either."

Loren sighed. "Alright, it's clear you won't let this lie. Let's say Joffrey's mind deteriorates and he does fall into madness. What do you propose?"

"Simple, we extend the regency. Keep Joffrey confined to ceremonial tasks and to father children on Margaery, meanwhile we keep a regency council in place to make the decisions of state."

"You think Joffrey will take that easily?" Loren asked. He could imagine the raging Joffrey now, he didn't even need to think him mad to do it.

"Confine him to the keep, how would he resist, he has few skills in arms and fewer friends. His Kingsguard will keep him safe and we can provide him endless entertainment to last him his years, meanwhile, we rule for him."

"Few friends, perhaps, but he has a mother who would do anything for him," Loren pointed out.

"That mother would be offered prime place in the regency council, and as long as her son lived, I think Cersei would like the power."

"I know she would, I suspect half the reason she hasn't named a new Hand of the King yet is to keep that power. But I don't know that she will handle that power any better than Joffrey. She has spent much of the war restrained by father or lurching from one mistake to another. We are about to see her heading an unrestrained regency, do you want her to have that power for life?"

"During the long regency of Aegon III, regents came and went. If Cersei steps out of line, she can be removed."

"As could any of us. Joffrey in power would at least keep his family close. A regency council might have little need of the Lannisters."

Tyrion conceded that point. "But they could not so easily refuse the man who holds the largest portion of the crown's debts."

That was true, when the war ended and Joffrey came of age the debts owed to the Lannisters would give him a lot of influence. "Perhaps. But the only one with an ironclad claim on a regency seat would not be me, it would be Margaery Tyrell as Joffrey's queen. And the Tyrells have quite enough power already." Despite his captivity, Mace Tyrell remained Master of Ships, a position he would reclaim when he returned from captivity. Margaery may hold no official council position but she remained the only one who could cajole Joffrey into willingly doing as the council wished. Tyrell food kept the capital from starving and their soldiers made up six of every ten soldiers in the field, and another force remained camped around the capital to protect it. Loren knew that Kevan was tiring of his post and regretted not travelling back to Casterly Rock with Tywin's body. He would want to return soon, and when he did, the Tyrells would no doubt push for one of their bannermen to take the position of Master of Laws.

Tyrion raised his hands in submission. "Alright, I was just thinking."

"And it was good that you did," Loren assured him. "But for now, let us pray that it doesn't come to that, and that we can forge Joffrey into something of a competent king before he takes his full powers."

Now it was Tyrion's turn to raise an eyebrow. "We are talking of the same Joffrey, how do you propose to do that?"

"When I next see Cersei, I intend to propose that Joffrey join us at our Small Council meetings after the wedding. That was he can have some experience of governing the kingdoms before he has to rule them."

Tyrion looked at him as though he had proposed leading a band of a hundred knights to conquer the seven hells. "Well. If nothing else it will make our council meetings more interesting."