The Kraken and the Lion
Chapter 21
by Technomad
Tyrion
First on the order of business was arranging better quarters for Oberyn Martell and Sansa Stark. Tyrion could hardly believe his sister's stupidity. Even though they were under accusation, they were both still very prominent nobles, and Sansa was the nearest thing they had to an heiress for the North. They walked into the office where the Warden of the Dungeons worked, finding him slumped over his desk, asleep.
"Aw, look," Asha snickered. "He looks so harmless and innocent when he's asleep!"
"Innocent? Like a baby viper," Tyrion replied. He slammed his fist down on the desk, and the Warden jumped, rubbing his eyes and staring in horror to find who had come into his nice safe office. He had thought himself safe from the high-ups and their whims, but then this had to happen! Guards came in, wanting to see what was going on.
Tyrion snapped: "You will transfer the Lord Oberyn and the Lady Sansa to apartments suitable for people of their rank. They will be guarded, and not allowed to move about freely, but they are to be removed from the dungeons at once!"
"Yes, my lord!" When Tyrion "put on his Lannister," he could make even the most recalcitrant underlings obey. Asha had joked with him that it was like a garment he put on and took off as it suited him. Of course, Asha had her "captain's" voice, which meant "This is serious; no fooling around!"
Saluting, the guards marched out to put Tyrion's orders into effect. A few minutes later, Cersei swept in, clearly intending to be awesome and dignified, but spoiling the effect, at least to Tyrion's eye, by staggering very slightly and leaving behind the unmistakable smell of Arbor gold wine.
"What's all this I hear about you countermanding my orders regarding the prisoners? Have you forgotten that I, not you, am the queen?"
"I never forget anything, dear sister," Tyrion drawled, leaning back in his chair and wondering if he could provoke her into such a rage that she'd burst a few skull-side blood vessels. Would that count as attacking a kinswoman? he wondered. "Occasionally, I ignore things. Just as you are doing right now."
"And what do you think I'm ignoring, you pestilential little wretch?" Cersei sat down, and when her face came into the light, Tyrion could see that her eyes were red. Had she been crying, or consoling herself with too much wine?
"Wel-l-l…" Tyrion drew out the word, relishing the way his sister's rage clearly grew and grew, "in the first place, you are not and have never been the queen-regnant. You were the queen-consort, and the second my poor good-brother died, you became the queen-dowager. The current queen-consort-elect, I believe, is the Lady Margaery Tyrell. You may be queen-regent, but that's a temporary role at best; our father, as Hand to the King, will do any ruling that needs doing. You have been superceded. You are now superfluous to requirements, dear sister."
At that bit of information, Cersei's face began working, as she turned red and then redder with rage. Tyrion went on, his voice all innocence: "After all, dear sister, your own son is now the king! For you to marry him, and become queen-consort…that would violate all laws of gods and men alike! We are not the Targaryens, after all!" Cersei's hands began working convulsively upon the table, as though she were wishing they were around her brother's throat.
Down inside, Tyrion was gleeful. He and Cersei had always despised each other, and a chance to make her squirm and squirm and squirm was not to be missed. Without saying a word that couldn't be explained innocently, he had rubbed her face in the fact of her long incestuous liaison with their brother, and reminded her of just what would happen should the facts of that be made public.
Not that he had any intention of making Cersei's guilt known. He'd not mind seeing her thrown into prison by the Faith, or have her beautiful blonde head chopped off. But her exposure would inevitably lead to Jaime's exposure and disgrace, and Tyrion would have rather cut off his own hand than do anything to hurt Jaime. Remembering how his brother had been wantonly mutilated, Tyrion reminded himself that once the Case of the Poisoned Princeling had been solved to everybody's satisfaction, he wanted to catch up to dear Vargo Hoat and express his whole family's appreciation for the Goat's sense of humor. Something lingering and particularly humorous, with boiling oil in it, or melted lead, thought Tyrion. Of course, if the Bloody Mummers and their psychopathic leader could be brought to Kings Landing as captives, he could send across the sea for the proper assistance. The Braavosi, he had heard, boasted some extremely skilful torturers.
While Tyrion and his father had their differences, Tyrion knew that this was one place where their thoughts ran in exact agreement. Tywin had expressed himself on the subject of the Bloody Mummers, Vargo Hoat, and his own damnfoolishness in bringing them to Westeros in scathing terms.
"What was I thinking? I must have been insane, to think that I or anybody could control those monsters! Well, I've been well paid out for that, haven't I just?" snarled Tywin. "The things poor Jaime went through…they've unhinged his mind!"
"How so, Father?"
"I offered to release him from his oaths to the Kingsguard, and make him the heir to Casterly Rock and the Westlands, and the fool refused!" Tywin sat down heavily, taking a glass of wine from the carafe on the table and drinking. He looked at the carafe, visibly considered refilling his glass, then shoved it away decisively.
Maybe he's finally breaking away from you, Father? That thought remained unspoken. While Tyrion was in better odor with his father than he'd been for most of his life, he was always aware that that could stop at any time. Aloud, he said "Give him time, Father. He'll likely come around. He's been through all the seven hells since he was captured. It might be that his confidence is at a low ebb."
"Yes, it might be," muttered Tywin. He shook his head. "I never thought to see Jaime in such a state."
"He's long faced the possibility of death, Father, but not of losing that which defines him," Tyrion observed. As long as Tyrion could remember, Jaime had defined himself as not just a warrior, but the finest knight, the finest warrior, in all Westeros, if not all the world. And a great deal of that had rested in the incredible skill he had in his sword hand. What could he do now that that was taken away?
There was nothing Tyrion could do for his brother at that time, except bleed inside for him. In any case, he had the Case of the Poisoned Princeling to worry him. "With your permission, Father, I'd like to withdraw to our quarters. My lady wife is up there, and I wish to check on her." Tywin waved, dismissing his dwarf son.
Asha
Asha set herself the task of finding Ellaria Sand. She knew that with her lover in prison on charges of regicide, the girl was in serious danger in Kings Landing, and Asha and her husband had promised to see her safe. If that's possible, one part of her mind warned. While they had made top speed from Lannisport to Kings Landing, there had still been plenty of time for Cersei or Tywin to take out their loss on the Red Viper's mistress. Hopefully, they had been too distracted to think of her.
The logical place to begin to look for Ellaria was with the Dornish delegation. Unsurprisingly, they had not been permitted to leave Kings Landing, and were honorably confined to their quarters in the Red Keep. They had been given rooms in one of the inner towers, comfortable and well-furnished, but deep enough in the castle that escape would be all but impossible. They were under guard by men in royal livery, and Asha nodded approvingly. Having Dornishmen on guard was all but asking for an escape, and with Tyrell men-at-arms, the chance of "accidents" thinning the Dornish ranks was all too good.
"Who comes?" asked the commander of the guards, one of the Kingsguard that Asha hadn't met. Two other guards brought their spears up crosswise, barring the door to her.
"Asha Greyjoy Lannister, to speak to the Dornish delegation. My lord husband, Tyrion Lannister, has been tasked by my lord the King's Hand with the investigation into the death of his late majesty, King Joffrey. I am assisting in the investigation." Asha wrapped herself in the mantle of dignity she had always been able to assume. She was a Greyjoy, a daughter of a house as noble as any in Westeros, and by marriage, a Lannister, and she had found that simply assuming that underlings would obey often worked miracles.
As it did this time. The commander looked at her, confirming her identity, then snapped to attention. "You may pass, Lady Asha!" The guards all snapped-to, holding their spears out in salute, as she passed by. She gave them a salute and entered the Dornishmen's quarters.
The Dornishmen had managed to find or bring enough things that the rooms had a flavor of their distant home. They had found some Dornish tapestries somewhere to hang up, and they had some Dornish cooks along. Asha's stomach rumbled at the smells of Dornish food; unlike what she had heard of pregnancy from her female relatives, she had never had morning sickness, and found that she was hungrier than she had ever been. She just hoped she wouldn't gain too much weight; she was proud of being able to keep up with her male crewfolk in all nautical activities, and wanted to keep that for as long as possible.
Ser Deziel Dalt came forward to greet her. "My lady Asha! We have heard your good news! Congratulations!" At this, all the Dornish present came forward to offer Asha formal congratulations on bearing her first child, as well as traditional Dornish blessings on the unborn babe. "How may we serve you, my lady?" asked Ser Deziel. While they were being formally friendly, they were all watching her with fierce black eyes, reminding Asha of ironborn looking at a target and deciding whether or not to raid it.
"It is good to see you all again," Asha responded to their greetings. "My lord husband and I have fond memories of our stay in Dorne, and hope to sojourn among your people again." This won her some smiles. "However, my lord husband and I are currently investigating the death of the king. And you know that Lord Oberyn has been accused of bringing that death about."
"He didn't do it! He couldn't have!" That was Lord Dagos Manwoody. "He was never anywhere near arm's reach of the king! How could he have poisoned the king?"
"And why would he do it in such a stupid, dramatic, obvious manner?" chimed in Lady Larra Blackmont. "Whatever else the Viper is, he's not even a little bit stupid! He'd know perfectly well that if someone at that shindig turned up poisoned, he'd be the first suspect!"
"That's a good point!" Ser Deziel nodded. "In any case, that feast was crawling with Tyrells; why would he bother with a Baratheon when there were so many Tyrells walking around, breathing air, taking up space that could be put to better use?"
Now, that was a cogent point. While the Martells had good reasons to resent and detest the "Usurper's" house and family, that was nothing compared to the way they and the Tyrells loathed one another. Asha wondered which genius had decided that having large numbers of both Houses, and their followers, together at a big feast was a good idea. She thought she detected the fine hand of her good-sister in that decision. It had all the characteristic good common sense and sound thinking that she had long since learned to expect of Queen Cersei.
"We shall be questioning each of you shortly. In the meantime, I have been asked to inquire into the whereabouts of Elleria Sand. Where is she?" There was a stir among the Dornish, and Oberyn's concubine came forward. She was still darkly attractive, but she had clearly been crying. She apparently did care for Oberyn; of course, having four children with the man was one good reason for her to do so.
Elleria's eyes locked onto Asha's, and the Dornishwoman fell to her knees, grabbing Asha's hand and startling her. "Please, my lady, Oberyn didn't do it! Please find who did this! He didn't do it!" She kissed Asha's hand, and Asha could feel a few hot tears on her skin.
Unwillingly, Asha felt pity for her. It was lucky that we were so far from Kings Landing when that pestilential brat died, or I might be in this woman's place! She reclaimed her hand gently. "We will do all we can to see that justice is done." As she helped Elleria to her feet, she continued: "In the meantime, even if you are allowed to roam the castle, I would advise you very strongly to stay here with your countrymen and –women." She fixed Elleria with a hard stare, and went on, in her "captain's" voice: "My good-father and good-sister are, neither of them, fond of extra-marital alliances, or of bastards. And this castle is an accident-prone place."
Like most bastard-borns Asha had met, Elleria was no fool. Bastards did not have the luxury of being fools in their world. She nodded soberly. "I shall do that, my lady. And I thank you for your concern."
"Think nothing of it. We promised Lord Oberyn that we would keep you safe, and a Lannister always pays his debts." The last words were emphasized; although Asha was only a Lannister by marriage, she was determined not to give her censorious good-sister any valid grounds to sneer that she, Asha, a daughter of the ancient and noble Greyjoys, was somehow unworthy to bear the proud Lannister name.
As she turned to leave, Ser Arron Qorgyle, who had been keeping in the background, spoke up for the first time. "If you can prove Prince Oberyn's innocence, and win his release, my lady, you will find that we Dornish also never forget a debt. Or a friend."