Deep Den, the seat of House Lydden, sits atop a hill overlooking the Goldroad, flanked on both sides by the mountains that make the Westerlands the wealthiest region of Westeros, in minerals anyway. It is also one of the few major holdfasts on the route and therefore a mandatory stop on our way back to King's Landing. Lord Lewys Lydden and his family were there to welcome us with a sumptuous feast - fifteen years of almost uninterrupted peace under Robert as well as the longest summer in living memory meant that all treasuries save for that of the Crown were full to bursting, and so they were more than able to show the wealth and power of their house to all three children of their liege lord, as well as yours truly, the future King.

We were, as always, welcomed to a feast. I hated feasts. The food was always the same, the music was far too loud and I always disdained spending time with large groups of people. Seven courses were served and all were well cooked, though they were missing some of the spices I'd gotten used to in my old life, and that were to some extent maintained in Casterly Rock and King's Landing. After having to entertain everyone of any importance present at the feast I was finally able to extricate myself from it and return to my chambers. Thoroughly drunk in order to stave off boredom, I decided to read a book until I fell asleep. The library was far away, but there was one book inside my chambers which I'd always wanted to read: The Seven Pointed Star. I'd read the Bible in my old life, both testaments, and I was just starting to read the Quran when I was transmitted into this new world. By virtue of being inserted in the middle ages, I'd need to convince people that I am religious myself. Understanding that I would probably not have the time to do so at any other time, and that doing it drunk would make it far more interesting, I picked up the tome and cleaned a layer of dust with my thumb. The title read The Seven-Pointed Star and The Book of Holy Prayer and below it Edition by Septon Robeson.

Just like the bible, it started with the story of creation.

The Father reached his hand into the heavens and pulled down seven stars, and one by one he set them on the brow of Hugor of the Hill to make a glowing crown…

The Maid brought him forth a girl as supple as a willow with eyes like deep blue pools, and Hugor declared that he would have her for his bride. So the Mother made her fertile, and the Crone foretold that she would bear the king four-and-forty mighty sons. The Warrior gave strength to their arms, whilst the Smith wrought for each a suit of iron plates…

And so forth. Of course, I kept drinking while I read, and I did so out loud.

I had gotten to the following passage

The King is father to the realm but he is not the Father. The King speaks for the King. The High Septon speaks for the Gods. When the Gods speak, the King must listen. What the Gods demand, the King must provide. How the Gods judge, the King must submit.

When I heard a creak of the door and a pair of feet making quick and light but uncoordinated steps. I raised my head too quickly and spots danced in my eyes for a few moments before I regained my sight and found Tyrion waddling into my room.

"Why are you hic here, Uncle?" I asked, deep in my cups.

"Reading the Seven Pointed Star, are you? Don't tell me you're planning on taking the vows." He said, sitting down next to me, his little legs hanging off the ottoman.

"I'm not Baelor the Blessed, uncle. If I ban prostitution Littlefinger will have me suffer a hic tragic accident within a sennight." I answered, eliciting a bark of laughter. "You wanted to be High Septon once, right?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. His crown adds a foot to your height. I ended up finding that I quite enjoyed worldly pleasures, though." he answered wistfully, and I knew just what he was talking about.

"I was just in the mood for reading, and not in the mood for going all the way to the library." I explained.

"You do know what your grandfather says about the gods, don't you?" he asked

"The gods have no mercy, that's why they are gods." I replied.

"What do you think of it?" he pressed.

"I disagree. In my experience, they are not only merciful, but incredibly generous." I answered, and he raised an eyebrow. It went very high up, but still didn't travel very far on his gigantic forehead.

"Why do you say so?" he continued.

"Isn't it obvious? Here I am, an abomination of incest and the Crown Prince besides." I regretted it as soon as it slipped my mouth, and Tyrion looked at me in shock. "I shouldn't have said that."

"You know?" he asked, befuddled.

"Do you take me for an idiot, uncle? Of course I know." I said, trying to keep my horror from showing. Realisation flashed in his eyes.

"That's why you knew." he said "You killed Jon Arryn." Tyrion got up out of the ottoman.

"I didn't do it. It would've been far too difficult. I just overheard Lysa and the Master of Coin talking about it." I continued, trying to convince him. By some miracle, it worked, at least to some extent, because he sat back down and his legs returned to dangling.

"Hmm." he hummed, not thoroughly convinced. "Do they know?"

"No." I immediately answered. "Please don't tell them. I need to deal with that… mess on my own." He brought a hand to his heart and feigned insult.

"This is an affront! Do you think me a lackwit?" Tyrion said and I smiled warmly in response.

"Leave, uncle. I need to read this if I'm ever going to convince you to set aside your whores." I japed and received a bark of laughter as he left the room in exchange.

I fell asleep with my head pillowed on the book, deeply and without dreams.

— — — —

"Your Grace, the Queen is breaking her fast and requests your presence." was what I awoke to the following morning. My head seemed ready to split apart, my throat was hoarse and I generally had all the symptoms of a man who had drunk a bit too much, which I certainly had. In between the moaning and groaning and twisting on the bed I wondered if the fact that I was drinking as much as I did in my past life while still being twelve, or two-and-ten as they say here, would affect my intelligence. I dearly missed my old life in this instant - there I would've been plucked out of bed and forced to wake up, but here the servants walked quietly in order to not disturb me. It proved to make the process of actually getting up and about much harder. I had somehow been transferred from the table to my bed, by whom or how I hadn't the faintest clue. Somehow I was able to win the tug of war and drag myself into standing, after which dressing was just a matter of trying not to fall asleep while a group of servants put on an entire outfit as I did everything in my power to not move a muscle. Soon after I was herded out of the room, regaining a bit more of my conscience with every step, while the Hound followed close behind, a dull thud flowing through the air every time his feet hit the ground, hammering my ears and almost causing my eyes to spin.

After walking for an indeterminate amount of time, I entered a room and found a group of people sitting around a table. Cersei and Jaime were seated on one side, with Tommen and Myrcella on the other, a space open between them. A few rays of sunlight penetrating through the window caused their hair, woven like spun gold, to glitter as it shined. I sat down between my now-siblings, trying my damndest to not appear too drunk, and picked up a small loaf of white bread, cutting it in half with my knife before filling it with cheese and ham. My invention of the sandwich this morning raised a few eyebrows, but nobody said anything to my relief.

"We received a raven in the night while you were… carousing with your uncle." Cersei said, her voice full of disappointment.

"I'll have you know I was reading the Seven Pointed Star, mother." I retorted, flashing a weary smile.

"Yes. You were also found using it as a pillow while you snored at your table, a flagon of wine at your side." she answered.

"I learned from the best." was my response. Before it could escalate, howered, Jaime dove his hand into one of Cersei's many pockets, retrieving a letter. He passed it to me, the crimson seal bearing the lion rampant of Lannister already broken, and I unrolled it before reading it.

To Her Grace the Queen,

His Grace the King accepted Lord Lannister's generous offer of fosterage for Lord Arryn. Lady Arryn tried to escape King's Landing in the night with her household guards and her son. The City Watch and Lannister guardsmen in the city prevented their absconding from the Capital after a tense standoff during which Knights and men-at-arms sworn to House Arryn refused to break the King's Peace at their Lady's command. Lord Commander Janos Slynt said that the City Watch will continue to follow the orders he was given, and that Lord Arryn and his mother are safely within the Red Keep.

Maester Creylen

"Huh. I didn't expect it to work so well." I said as I put the letter down.

"What do you mean?" Cersei asked as she scooped it up before Myrcella could grab it.

"It worked perfectly. Nothing ever works perfectly." I explained. "There was no conflict, no bloodshed. Lysa admitted defeat and returned to her chambers."

"You don't go far against a Lannister betting on who has the bigger purse." Jaime said, his tone not betraying any hint that he actually gave any importance to what was happening. I could do nothing but shake my head in response.

"Slynt is hiding something. I know it. This isn't so cut and dry."

"I'm sure it's nothing, my dear." Cersei replied, trying to soothe me.

It failed miserably.

— — — —

Thanks for reading!

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Plot points are welcome, as always.