"Are all your friends like him, Jon?"

He knew who Dany meant. Sam Tarly. It was two years since he'd thrown him out of that apartment, after discovering the spy camera in the bathroom. He'd kept the camera, and the creature's computer, locked away. He'd had a feeling he hadn't seen the last of Sam Fucking Tarly, and he might still have need of them. It turned out, he was right on both counts. The hard-faced policewoman, Lieutenant Greyjoy, had taken them away, as evidence, following the arrest. He'd examined them previously, and the details had shocked him. That Tarly was a pervert, he knew full well. It would never have occurred to him that the beast had fantasised about Dany's rape, torture, and murder, yet he had written tens of thousands of words about these things.

Were his other friends like Tarly?

"Robb? Of course not." His half-brother and his wife had always got on well with Dany. "Pyp, Grenn, Edd, Willas, Garlan, No, never."

"How well do you know any of them, Jon? You thought you knew Tarly."

"I knew he was a bright student, and he seemed friendly enough. I can see now, he latched on to me, because he thought I'd introduce him to women. He was obsessed with sex. I knew he was a coward, and socially inept. But, a rapist? No, I'd never have thought it."

"A coward can be the most vicious of all, Jon. Reading this man's fantasies about me, it makes me feel like … I don't know, maybe like being raped. Not as bad, obviously, but I feel sick. There are times, I'm just panicking over it, wondering who else is out there. He actually planned to force a broken bottle into me, after he'd finished raping me, according to Lieutenant Greyjoy. Then, I was going to be dissolved in acid. Why didn't you tell me about the camera in the bathroom?"

"I didn't want to upset you. How could I?"

"Jon, if you'd told me, we could have gone to the police, right away. If we're to marry, you can't keep things like this from me. I'm not a damsel in distress. I need to know."

"I was wrong, Dany. I can see that."

He boiled with rage, inwardly. Dany had insisted on going into work, she said that it helped take her mind off things, but at home, she was listless, staring into space, or else obsessing over cleaning things. He'd found himself fantasising about the things he'd do to Tarly. Breaking his kneecaps, gelding him, gouging out his eyes. He'd killed him in a dozen imaginative and prolonged ways, in his mind's eye. The Lieutenant had read his mind, the last time she visited.

"You've probably thought of getting revenge on the fucker. Don't. You're squeaky clean, and you wouldn't have a clue who to approach. And if you did, you'd like as not find yourself being blackmailed by them. Be as supportive as you can to Daenerys, and help her recover. She will, eventually. "

"What will happen to Tarly?"

"He's lawyered up. His mouthpiece is Baelish, the best in the city". Jon swore. "But, there's a limit to what even he can do. He'll try to arrange a plea bargain, so I'm afraid this piece of shit will probably serve less time than he deserves. But, he can expect a very hard time inside, I can assure you of that. He'll be looking over his shoulder, twenty four hours a day. And, what your future brother in law will do? Let's just say, the rule of law doesn't hold as much sway in Tyrosh as it does here. Don't be surprised if Tarly meets an "accident" during his time inside. But, you steer well clear of it, understand?"

Jon had nodded. As well as police protection, two bodyguards from the Tyroshi embassy were guarding Daenerys round the clock. They were staying in the flat, one of them on guard all the time, and accompanied her to and from work. He and Dany had also bought guns, and were practising with them.

"Do you still want to go through with it?"

"What?"

"The wedding? " It was scheduled in three months' time.

"Honestly Jon? I just don't know."

About this time, Sam was exploding with anger, as Petyr Baelish explained the deal.

"Twelve years? You told me I'd get eight, at worst, six if I was lucky. What the fuck am I paying you for?"

"What is your father paying me for, you mean? Baratheon is a very tough negotiator. He started at twenty, but I got him to come down. You're what, twenty eight years old? You'll only be forty when you come out, that gives you plenty of time to rebuild your life. Take the deal. Take this to trial, and I'd rate your chances of acquittal no higher than one in four. Is that a chance you really want to take?"

"I've heard Tyrion Lannister advertise on the radio. He says he can get anyone off?"

"Tyrion Lannister? Don't make me laugh. The man's a shyster, who fancies himself a lot more clever than he really is. Still", Baelish admitted grudgingly, "he's not completely without ability. He's mainly a civil litigator. Retain him, by all means, to defend the lawsuits coming your way?"

"Lawsuits?"

"Yeah. I imagine Ms. Targaryen will be bringing actions for defamation, sexual assault, and breach of privacy against you. Jon Snow will also sue for defamation - you used his name online. The Iron Bank will be suing you for breach of copyright, for using her picture without their permission. Banks and bankers aren't usually the most sympathetic of plaintiffs, but you'll find the juries will be very firmly on their side in this case. Compensatory damages will be, perhaps five million or so, and then of course, there'll be punitive damages on top. They could easily top a hundred million.

"A hundred million?" cried Sam, appalled.

"Probably reduced on appeal. But, far more than you can afford, unless your dad chooses to settle with them." No chance of that. "You'd probably be best advised to make yourself bankrupt. That means you're going to lose membership of any professional bodies you belong to, but they'd throw you out anyway."

"But, you said, the online evidence was inadmissible."

"Inadmissible in a criminal case. It's very admissible in civil cases."

"This is so unjust, Mr. Baelish. " The lawyer stared at him in disbelief. "I'll need a few days to think it over." He pondered the matter in his cell. He'd been moved on to isolation, which was a huge relief. The guards were hateful towards him, but at least he could take a shower now, without fear of being buggered senseless. The more he thought, the more it became clearer to him. Of course Baelish would want to discredit a rival. No, Tyrion Lannister would be the man. All it would take is a call.