The Kraken and the Lion

Chapter 26

by Technomad

Tyrion Lannister

Whatever else he could say of his new good-niece, Tyrion had to admit that Margaery Baratheon was no fool. Nor was she a coward. When she was apprised of the situation, she went pale, but kept herself under rigid control.

"Who knows of this?" Her voice was even, with not a quaver of fear. Tyrion thought that having her as part of the family might not be a bad thing, not at all. It was a pity, he thought, that she couldn't have married Jaime! Seeing her wasted on his prepubescent nephew was rather sad, even though, as a happily married man, he had no designs on, or desire for, her himself. "Has this become generally known?" She was clearly as worried about a scandal as they were, which was all to the good. Had it come out that Oleanna Tyrell had poisoned the King, the scandal would have engulfed the Tyrells as well as the Baratheon-Lannister faction.

"So far, only we and your grandmother and her guards are aware of this situation," said Jaime. His green eyes were hard as emeralds as he stared at her, and the Queen-elect squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. "That is how we want things to stay."

"If this becomes generally known, the wars will start up again," explained Tywin. "Winter is coming, if you'll forgive me quoting the Starks' motto, and we cannot afford more of this endless, pointless, stupid war!" Whatever else his father was, Tyrion reflected, he had been Hand of the King under three different monarchs, and had done a generally very good job of keeping things going. He probably thinks of this war as a personal failure of his own.

"I know," Margaery said quietly. "What do you need me to do? I want peace in the land, too!"

"In public, the line will be that King Joffrey was poisoned by a die-hard adherent of Renly Baratheon, who managed to slip through our screening to be hired as a cook for the wedding feast," Tyrion said. "We had to do a lot of hiring for that lavish feast, and an unreconciled enemy could have slipped through."

"That ties in to the fact that I was married to Renly," mused Margaery. "It would be plausible that such a person might have got through security, possibly by being vouched for by a relative local to Kings Landing."

"For that matter," said Asha, who was sitting in on the conversation, propped up in a padded chair and bundled up thoroughly by her scandalized caretakers, "we could even say that the murder attempt was directed at you, for your 'betrayal' of Renly's cause." Tywin and Tyrion looked at her, eyes widening with respect. "This way, any Tyrells or Tyrell supporters who're having a hard time reconciling to the new alliance with our faction will have reasons to accept the way things are now."

Tyrion smiled. Turning to his father, he said: "Do you see why I love her?"

Tywin nodded. "Your mother would have approved of her completely."

"Do we have any expendable prisoners that we could behead, and show to the people as the guilty party?" asked Margaery. Tyrion looked at her with surprise; he'd thought she was sweet and gentle. Compared to many noblewomen, she was, but she was still a noblewoman of Westeros, and he knew all too well how ruthless the nobility could be.

"I don't know, offhand," mused Tywin, "but I can ask the keepers of the dungeons about it. Nobody will miss a murderer or raper, will they now?"

"We'd do better to find a scapegoat somewhere in the kitchens," said Asha. "There are a lot of servants in this castle, and they might say something if someone they've never seen is selected as our 'murderer.'"

"An excellent point," said Tywin, giving Asha another approving look. "I don't have close control or knowledge of the kitchen areas, but I'm sure the chief cook can point me in the right direction." Suddenly, his tone turned very grim. "Or, for that matter, serve as our scapegoat!"

Tyrion thought that a trifle excessive, but he remembered the fate of the innkeeper at the inn where he had been taken captive by Catelyn Stark. Even though there had been literally nothing the woman could have done to prevent his being taken captive, since the Starks and Tullys had quite a few followers present who would follow Lady Stark's orders without question, his father had had her hanged outside her inn. To such as his father, the common people weren't quite human.

When called in, the castle's chief cook proved very helpful, indeed. Tyrion speculated that he'd been shaking in his shoes ever since Joffrey's death, fearful of taking the blame.

"Your Grace, my lords, my lady, of course I'll help! We've several people in the kitchens who'll do just fine if you need some heads to put on spikes!" He wrung his hands together, looking from Tywin to Tyrion to Asha to Margaery as though he expected his head to be among those requested. Tyrion could smell the fear-sweat pouring off him.

"Really? What have they done?" Tyrion was ruthless, and from a ruthless family, but he did think that too many of his noble kin were too ready to deal out death. Having stood in the shadow of execution after being falsely accused himself, he did not like to think of others in the same dilemma.

"We've an assistant cook who was caught in the act of trying to rape one of the kitchen wenches, for starters. He apparently succeeded with some others, who were afraid to tell on him for fear he'd have them fired. They only came forward when we'd caught him in the act. Then some people who were selling castle supplies to the smallfolk…"

"The raper will do just fine, I think." Asha's eyes were like obsidian. "I dislike rapers. Can you see to it, good-father?"

"Of course, Asha," said Tywin. His eyes were like flint.

Asha Greyjoy Lannister

Asha stood on the battlements of the Red Keep, looking out at the world with a smile of grim satisfaction. The Black Wind was still at anchor at the quay where she'd been moored when she and her husband had come back to Kings Landing to deal with the murder of King Joffrey. Not far away, the shrivelled head of the scapegoat they had chosen to punish, ostensibly for regicide, actually for his other crimes, was providing a feast for the harbor birds.

Lady Oleanna was spending her days in some well-guarded apartments in the castle, with nobody allowed near her who was not first cleared for it by Tywin and Tyrion. Asha had expected her to put up a fuss about it, but she seemed to be accepting it philosophically. As long as her granddaughter was safe, and engaged to young King Tommen, she was apparently content. Asha hoped that she'd be forgotten, and one day, if she didn't cooperate to the extent of dying under her own power, she might have a surprise. Possibly something in her food, or else a quiet visitor in the middle of the night, and nobody who would say anything.

She put her hand on her burgeoning middle. She was close to her time, and she looked forward eagerly to the day that she was delivered. While she had enjoyed the process of making her baby enormously, and looked forward to resuming that activity with her husband as soon as the maesters said it was safe to do so, the latter stages of pregnancy were no fun at all.

The maesters, or "fussbudgets," as she liked to call them, knowing that it annoyed them, raised an unholy rumpus when she so much as took weapons practice with her crew. The thought of her raising sail on the Black Wind and setting out for a refreshing sail gave them palpitations, and in deference to her husband's feelings, she submitted to their dictations.

She was also curious about just what it was she carried. She was neutral about sex; a boy or a girl would please her equally, although she thought that her husband would particularly welcome a girl. She wondered sometimes if it were twins; twins were far from unknown in her husband's family, after all. She thought of Cersei and grimaced. Then she thought of Jaime and grinned. The evil and the good, as plain as could be, she said to herself.

Cersei had been bundled off to Lannisport some while ago, over her outraged protests. Tywin had overridden her howls, giving orders that the Queen Dowager was to be treated with the utmost respect, but that her orders were only to be obeyed if confirmed by him, in his capacities as Hand of the King and head of her birth house of Lannister. The things Cersei had said when this was brought home to her…Asha grinned. If she, Asha, had dared speak so to her elder relatives, she'd have had her stern overhauled with an oar until she couldn't sit comfortably for a year! The Iron Islanders were a free people, but they did esteem their elders. Blatant disrespect such as Cersei had shown would draw stiff punishment!

Thinking of the Iron Islands made Asha shudder. Her father had died recently, and she had not been able to put her bid in to rule. Instead, her nuncle Euron, who had not been seen in the Islands for years, showed up on the day her father died, and put in a successful bid at the Kingsmoot. Asha thought that was a recipe for disaster. Euron had never given up on the Old Ways of the ironborn, not for a second, and with Westeros in disarray he almost certainly thought that the time was ripe to resume raids on the Westrosi mainland.

Asha had warned her good-kin about Euron the second the raven from the Iron Islands had reached her, and they were as ready as anybody could be. While Iron Islands freighters were still welcome in the harbors at Lannisport and Kings Landing, any longships that showed up not flying the correct colors - meaning, mainly Lannister or Baratheon - would be liable to being sunk without warning. She had sent word to that effect to Pyke. If the captains thought their chances were better under "King" Euron, that was their choice to make, and they could lie in the beds they made for themselves.

Just then, she felt a cramp in her middle. She had felt those before, off and on over the last few days, but this was the worst she'd ever felt. Her black eyes went wide as she felt her trousers get wet. She turned to the servants who, these days, were never far from her side; her husband and his father were emphatic that "accidents" such as the one she had suffered at the hands of Erryk would not happen again as long as they could prevent them. "Help me downstairs to my chamber, and send word to my husband and the midwives that my water's broken!" she gasped.

Tyrion Lannister

As a high nobleman, and sometime acting King's Hand, Tyrion Lannister was used to having his way. As a dwarf, and sometime prisoner of Catelyn Stark and Lysa Arryn, he knew that wasn't always going to happen. And this was one of the times he knew it wasn't going to happen. Angrily, he paced up and down in front of the thick oaken doors of the chambers that had been taken over for his wife to give birth in. "Damn it, let me in! I was good enough to be there for the sowing, so why am I not fit to be there for the harvest?" he snarled.

The female assistants that had been placed on guard duty outside the door had dealt with many anxious fathers-to-be, and they were unimpressed by his rank. His father had warned him that this would be the case, but he had not quite believed Tywin's words. Tyrion made a mental note to apologize to his father for disbelieving him. For all his faults, Tywin Lannister was not untruthful.

"None shall pass," one of them intoned. Either of them could probably have intimidated Sandor Clegane, and the two of them together were more than a match for one dwarfish nobleman, no matter how much he wanted to push past them and be with his wife in her hour of travail. Westerosi custom was that childbirth was women's business, with men strictly kept away. He cursed the traditions that forbade him from offering his wife what comfort his presence could provide in her hour of travail. A loud groan came from within, and he shuddered involuntarily.

Some while later, the midwife came out, and when she saw Tyrion, her eyes lit up as she smiled broadly. "Rest your mind, my lord. The Lady Asha is well, and delivered of fine twins! Would you like to see them?"

"Would I?" Tyrion was in the room so fast he never quite remembered just how he had done it. All his attention was on his wife.

Asha was sitting up, paler and more drawn than he had ever seen her, but with a smile of utter triumph on her face. Her bedgown had been discarded in the throes of labor, and she held two squirming infants to her breasts. She husked: "Would my lord like to greet his son and daughter?"

"Would I?" Tyrion was over by the bed, looking at his son and daughter with utter wonder. They were so tiny, and so perfect! They both squirmed as they nursed, their loins already wrapped with cloth to deal with their eliminations. They paid their father no mind, being utterly absorbed with their mother's breasts and the milk she was giving them. "Oh, Mother be thanked! They're so beautiful!" His vision blurred, and he sat down suddenly in a chair that had appeared behind him. For an unguessable time, the four of them sat together, their happiness complete.

A timid knock interrupted their time together. "My lord? My lady? Lord Jaime would like to enter," came a voice. "He says he would like to be introduced to his nephew and niece."

"Let him enter!" Asha's voice was weak, but had the same old snap of command that Tyrion remembered from when he'd seen her commanding the Black Wind. The servants leaped to obey, opening the door to admit the commander of the Kingsguard.

He looked rather haggard; Tyrion wondered if he'd been on-edge during Asha's labor. He remembered that Jaime (and Cersei, never forget her!) had lost a mother in labor, many years ago. Tyrion chided himself for his selfishness. Instead of wallowing in his own feelings, he should have been comforting his brother!

Jaime looked down at his new nephew and niece, and a broad smile lit his face up. For a second, he was every inch the heartbreaker he had always been. "Well! I am so happy that this turned out so well! Do you have names for them?" He sat down, tentatively extending a finger of his one good hand to touch one of the babies. If it weren't impossible, Tyrion would have thought that his brother was shy.

"I talked with Father about names," Tyrion said. "He liked my choices: Balon for a boy, in honor of Asha's father, and Joanna for a girl…in honor of our mother."

Jaime's eyes went wide, as he stared at something no one else could see for a second. "That…was very well-thought-of, Tyrion. Our mother should never be forgotten." He wiped at his eyes. "I'll write Cersei and tell her the news."

"Yes," said Asha, grinning wickedly. "Tell her that I've outdone her-two at once!"

Tyrion and Jaime looked at each other, and shook their heads. Tyrion reflected that female rivalries were things that sensible men stayed well out of.

The naming ceremonies were elaborate by most people's standards, but muted by those of royalty. The city was still recovering from the war, and food was tight, causing Asha to turn thumbs-down on Tywin's idea of a huge feast to celebrate his grandchildren's advent.

"No, good-father, five courses should be more than enough. Instead, how about doubling the ration of food given to the small-folk? That way, they'll celebrate, too, and sincerely!"

Tywin nodded, clearly taking his good-daughter's point. "We do depend on them to keep our position in this city, Lady Asha," he said. He turned to his amanuensis. "Make a note of what my good-daughter said. We'll have five courses, no more, and announce that food rations will be doubled for the day in celebration."

"Will there be musicians?" asked Tyrion. He generally did like music, and would welcome some good players, if they could find any.

"We've got several of them who're more than willing to play for us, in exchange for a share of the 'broken meats' from the feast," Tywin answered. "And, before you ask, we're not going to stint the servants. This horrible mess with my late grandson brought it home to me how much we depend on them, and how dangerous they could be if disaffected. The broken meats are their prerequisite, but there should be enough to go around."

"How are we found for wine?" That was Jaime speaking. Since his return he had been drinking more, Tyrion noticed. Of course, with his dreadful injury and the loss of Cersei, who had visibly shunned him almost completely since he'd been back, Tyrion couldn't much blame his brother.

"There should be plenty, my lords," the castle's chief cellarer assured them. "Thanks to the Tyrells opening land routes to the city, and the ironborn continuing to bring in supplies, we've plenty of food. We could even make the feast more elaborate…" He, and the chief cook, both put on pleading looks. Tyrion grinned to himself; they did so love to show off what they could do! No different from nobles, he supposed. He thought of all the nobles who injured or killed themselves showing off their skill in the tourney lists, or in the hunt.

That made him think of his late good-brother, the late King Robert. He had always been suspicious about that death; for all his weight gain, the King was a very skilled horseman and had more experience and skill at hunting game than many professional huntsmen. Had there been more in that skin of wine than just wine? The King's death had been very well-timed indeed.

Tyrion made a mental note to question people about the late King's death. Kings had developed a habit of dying unnaturally, and he wanted no such thing to happen to his nephew! He also made a note to speak to Jaime; his brother had embraced his role as commander of the Kingsguard with considerable fervor, and was devoted to improving it. Tyrion wished he'd been present when the question "Where does it say in our charter that we are to beat women and children?" had been asked. The Kingsguard had had too much deadwood in its ranks for some time, and Tyrion hoped that it would one day be an elite force again.

Asha Greyjoy Lannister

The feast was everything that Asha could have asked for. The food was wonderful, but not so insanely excessive as royal feasts she had heard of, and she ate with very good appetite. Beside her, little Balon and Joanna stirred and cooed in their cradles; they'd been exclaimed over and loudly praised by everyone present. The women in particular had been very approving. Of course, Asha thought, they would be, since these were the most perfect babies ever born!

The maesters all told her that they were strong and healthy, and bid fair to grow up into fine young people. The twins both had her dark hair, but shared the green eyes common to the Lannisters, and she thought (perfectly objectively) that they would be strikingly good-looking when they were older. Not that they weren't beautiful now, she added mentally.

Tyrion had told her, strictly privately, that not letting them get too unhealthily close would be a very good idea. That reinforced Asha's own determination to not allow her good-father's mistakes with Jaime and Cersei to be repeated.

Toward the end of the fourth course, as a harper was singing the song about how Tyrion and Asha had heroically saved the day at the battle of the Blackwater, his song suddenly faltered to a stop. A strange silence came over the hall, and Asha instinctively reached for one of her axes.

"What is it?" All the guests were looking at some newcomers. They were wearing Iron Islands clothing, but that wasn't unusual; many of the guests were ironborn themselves. Then she saw who led the newcomers, and her blood froze in her veins as he swaggered up to the high table, his black cloak spreading behind him like great wings.

Euron Greyjoy, the Crow's Eye, smiled at his niece with his blue lips. "Why, Asha! I haven't seen you in far too long! Dare I hope that you can make a place for your old nuncle and his men at this feast?"

END Chapter 26