Arya stood by the window, her gaze fixed on the departing litter carrying Olenna, Loras, and Lady Margaery. As it vanished into the distance, she turned to Jon.
"I've got a meeting with Tyrion in an hour," she informed him.
Jon nodded, his brow furrowed. "What do you need me to do?" he inquired.
Arya knew her concept for the wedding gift required refinement. With only four days remaining until the royal wedding, achieving the desired design for the golden goblet would prove challenging.
"Here's the idea for the goblet," Arya said, reaching for a piece of parchment and a quill. She swiftly sketched an image, detailing her vision. "The inner bowl will be crafted from red glass, encased in gold and adorned with garnets. Alternating panels will feature a golden lion motif. Surrounding the bowl, I envision intricate gold latticework. The stem will be pure gold, with a central garnet, while the base, matching the bowl, will boast red glass with gold lattice-work. The bowl must have a hole to allow the wine to flow into the stem, where the poison will be hidden."
Jon's expression morphed into one of incredulity. "You want me to commission this?" he asked, his tone tinged with disbelief.
"I want two to be made. If you pay the glass-blowers enough, you should be able to get those made today. Maybe even before my meeting ends with Tyrion," Arya instructed.
"How much will this cost?" Jon inquired.
"I don't know," Arya shrugged. "Does it matter? Littlefinger can afford it." She jotted the measurements and handed the parchment to Jon.
"I don't know my way around King's Landing," Jon lamented.
"I'll drop you off at Dragon's Square. That's where the Market Hall and Jewellers Guild are located. It should be the best place to start. Once the meeting is concluded, I'll stop off there and try to find you," Arya assured him, as she retrieved a tin from a drawer and plucked out a mint leaf. Jon grimaced.
"Sansa told me he chewed mint leaves for fresh breath," Arya explained.
"Shall I ask Ros to order a litter?" Jon offered.
Arya nodded. "Yes, best to get started as soon as possible. We can't carry out the plan without those goblets," she emphasised.
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Half an hour later, they reached Dragon's Square, a bustling hub where one could find just about anything. The square boasted a market hall, a bathhouse, the infamous Red Stag Inn, a theatre, the masons guild, and, most importantly for Arya's purposes, the jewellers guild, near the Street of Sisters.
The jewellers guild building stood tall, around four stories high, constructed from sturdy red brick. Its imposing entrance was adorned with a large door made of ironwood, known for its exceptional strength, unmatched by any other wood in the known world. All sixteen windows were shuttered, with ironwood to match, preventing any curious onlookers from peering inside at the precious jewels within.
Flanking the door were two burly guards, clad in light armour and armed with hefty swords. Arya assessed them, noting their vulnerabilities. Too easy to overpower, she thought. They would be slow and clumsy, and considering the heat, they would tire.
Still wearing Littlefinger's face, Arya approached the Jewellers Guild, poised to knock on the formidable ironwood door, when one of the guards turned to address her.
"Lord Baelish," he spoke through his helm. "What brings you to our guild today?"
"I wish to procure a gift for the King," Arya replied, maintaining her guise. "Having recently returned from the East, I found no jeweller with a reputation as sterling as our esteemed guild here in King's Landing." jeweller
The guard cast a sceptical glance at Jon. "And who might this be?" he inquired.
"He is my head steward," Arya explained without missing a beat, gesturing toward Jon. "I trust him implicitly with both my life and my possessions. He's here to oversee the production of the wedding gift."
"Go fetch Master Ernie; he'll be able to assist," the guard instructed his companion, who hurried inside to locate Master Ernie.
Arya felt a pang of nervousness; she needed to meet with Tyrion, and Littlefinger was known for his punctuality. If they waited too long, she risked being late, which could arouse suspicion, especially if Tyrion had no other distractions during their meeting. Arya could only hope that Littlefinger's tardiness would be overlooked by a man who cared little for punctuality, especially given the reasons for his delay.
After a mere five minutes, a diminutive man with white hair and spectacles appeared. He wore a dark brown leather jerkin over a white shirt, paired with matching breeches. His attire was both smart and functional, reminiscent of something Arya herself might wear.
"Lord Baelish," the man greeted in a gruff voice. "Good to see you again. It's been a while." He peered over his glasses at Jon. "And who might this young one be?"
"Ernie, this is my assistant, Jon Sand. He serves as my steward and will oversee the production of the gift," Arya explained.
Ernie nodded. "If you say so. Well then, let's get you inside and look at this urgent and expensive gift of yours."
With that, Ernie turned and strode back through the ironwood doors, with the visage of Littlefinger and his steward, Jon Sand, following closely behind. A loud thud of the door, letting them know they were locked inside.
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Maegor's Holdfast proved less intimidating than Arya expected. The previous night, she had to let Jack roam, allowing her to familiarise herself with the layout of the building, and enabling her to navigate its halls without giving away her uncertainty.
Just as she approached Tyrion's door, a striking young girl with long blonde hair and emerald green eyes, reminiscent of her mother's, passed by, flanked by two Kingsguard. "Lord Baelish," the girl greeted with a respectful nod.
Arya returned the gesture with a polite bow. "Princess Myrcella," she replied with a smile, watching as the princess disappeared from view. Arya furrowed her brow in confusion; Myrcella was supposed to be in Dorne, betrothed to some Dornish prince. She wondered what could have prompted the sudden change in plans, but before she could dwell on it further, the door to Tyrion's chambers swung open.
"Lord Baelish, I was beginning to think you had forgotten about our meeting," Tyrion greeted, ushering Arya into his chambers and closing the door behind them.
"I was delayed, I'm afraid. The wedding gift for King Joffrey and our future Queen Margaery must take precedence. I'm sure you understand," Arya explained, slipping into her role effortlessly.
"Of course," Tyrion replied, rolling his eyes before gesturing towards the table, which had been set for lunch. "Are we expecting any other guests?" Arya inquired.
Tyrion shook his head. "Just you and me. I want to hear all about this Queen in the east and her magnificent dragons," he declared.
For the next half hour, they delved into discussions about Daenerys and her dragons, all the while enjoying a meal of partridge and spiced vegetables, followed by almond cake.
Arya couldn't shake her concern over Tyrion's curiosity about the dragon Queen. If they aimed to weaken Daenerys before she arrived in Westeros, it would be prudent to eliminate her key allies, with Tyrion being one of them. As Arya pondered this, an idea formed in her mind. However, their conversation took an unexpected turn when a knock sounded at the door.
"Come in," Tyrion called out, and Pod entered.
"Lord Tyrion," Pod greeted with a respectful bow.
"Yes, Pod, what is it?" Tyrion inquired.
"The party from Dorne has been spotted. Lord Tywin requests your presence at the city gates to greet them," Pod informed Tyrion.
"Would you care to join us?" Tyrion extended the invitation to Arya.
Part of Arya wanted to decline; she had her tasks to attend to. However, she also recognised the importance of being introduced to the key Dornish figures. Eventually, Jon would need to meet them, and Arya's ability to identify them at a glance would be invaluable.
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Ten minutes later, Arya, Tyrion, and Podrick stood outside the King's Gate, awaiting the arrival of the caravan from Dorne. Podrick held a sigil bearing both a stag and a lion to signify their role as the welcoming party. Meanwhile, commoners continued along the dusty road, going about their daily routines in the dry, rain-starved air, causing Arya to feel the urge to cough.
After a few moments of silence, the rhythmic hoofbeats of approaching horses filled the air. The Dornish party was approaching.
"Ah, here they come," Tyrion announced, clapping his hands together before turning to Podrick. "Can you identify the sigils?" he inquired.
"Wild lemons on a purple field, House Dalt of Lemonwood. A vulture clutching a baby in its talons, House Blackmont. A crowned skull, the Manwoodys of Kingsgrave," Podrick recited confidently.
"Quite impressive," Arya remarked, casting a glance toward Podrick.
"The lad knows his Dornish Houses," Tyrion boasted. "And what about House Martell, the red sun pierced by a spear?" he asked.
Podrick shook his head. "I'm sorry, my lord, I can't make it out."
Tyrion nodded and stepped forward to greet the first Dornish lord who approached on horseback. "Well met, my lords. His Grace King Joffrey welcomes you in his name. My lord father, the King's Hand, sends his greetings as well. I am Tyrion Lannister of Casterly Rock, Master of Coin. Forgive me, but I don't see Prince Doran in your company," he remarked.
"The prince's health forces him to remain at Sunspear. He sends his brother Prince Oberyn to attend the royal wedding in his stead," the Dornish lord explained. Tyrion noticeably winced at the news. It was a clear slight against the Lannisters and the king, even Arya recognized that.
Tyrion nodded, regaining his composure after the unexpected blow to his family's honour. "Yes, the king will be delighted to have the company of a warrior as renowned as Prince Oberyn at his wedding feast," he replied, though the doubt lingered in his tone.
"Will he, indeed?" the Dornish lord responded sceptically.
"And where is Prince Oberyn?" Tyrion inquired.
"He arrived before dawn. Our Prince isn't one for welcome parties," the Dornish Lord explained.
"Very well. My lords, these fine men from the City Watch will escort you to your quarters in the Red Keep," Tyrion announced, but the Dornish lords rudely advanced before he could finish his welcome.
"You must be weary after such a long journey," Tyrion attempted to continue, but the horses forced them to step aside to make way. All the while, Podrick struggled with his sigil. They began their walk back to the city amidst the chaos.
"We must find Prince Oberyn before he kills somebody or several somebodies," Tyrion lowered his voice.
Arya offered a suggestion. "I could ask my spies, see if anyone has seen the Prince," she proposed. But Tyrion shot Littlefinger a strange glance, and Arya knew she'd messed up.
"You're famous for fucking half of Westeros. You've just arrived at the capital after two weeks of bad roads. Where would you go?" Tyrion inquired pointedly.
"An establishment like my own, Lord Tyrion. Although I can say with some certainty, that he wasn't at my establishment this morning," Arya admitted.
"Considering you were entertaining Lady Tyrell and our future Queen, I'm not surprised," Tyrion remarked dryly. "However, that doesn't mean he won't stop at your establishment. After all, it is reputed to be the best in all of King's Landing."
"A fact you are well acquainted with," Arya retorted. "That reminds me, are you planning a visit soon?"
Sansa had informed her that Tyrion had fallen deeply in love with a whore named Shae. But without the wars against Robb or her mother capturing Tyrion, he had never met Bronn the sellsword or Shae the whore. This would alter the course of events, and Arya wasn't certain whether her plan for Tyrion would succeed. Regardless, she couldn't return to Winterfell with Jon and Shireen.
"One must be... discreet," Tyrion whispered as they continued walking towards the Street of Steel, near Littlefinger's establishment.
"I can arrange it to be discreet," Arya replied with a smile. "I happen to know of a certain redhead who caught your eye in the North."
Tyrion glanced at Littlefinger in surprise. "It's true. Ros, I believe her name was," he confirmed.
"She's currently in my employ here in King's Landing, though not for much longer. She's returning North. I'm opening a new establishment in the burgeoning town of Queenscrown," Arya informed him.
Tyrion nodded, impressed. "Clever move, tapping into a new market," he remarked. "I visited Queenscrown in its early stages; it was quite the hovel."
"Lord Whitestark claims it's been transformed beyond recognition," Arya told him, deciding to risk telling Tyrion about Jon's whereabouts.
Tyrion frowned. "How do you know Lord Whitestark?"
"He's here in King's Landing. I've offered him accommodation at my establishment," Arya revealed, noting Tyrion's surprise. "Not with the girls. He's as honourable as Ned Stark," she added with disdain, aware of Littlefinger's animosity toward her father. "We crossed paths while he was procuring Myrish glass for the winter gardens. I couldn't mistake a Stark. He's the one who suggested I establish a brothel in Queenscrown."
"Is he staying for the wedding? I'm sure Joffrey would accept Lord Whitestark as an envoy for Lord Stark. You ought to have mentioned it in the Small Council meeting," Tyrion remarked.
"Lord Whitestark won't be staying for the wedding. His Lady wife was attacked a few days ago. He does little else but brood. He just wants to return home. His ship leaves on the morrow," Arya explained.
"Ah, pity," Tyrion responded. "It would have simplified matters for the northerners. Tell Lord Whitestark I send good wishes to his Lady wife and hope for a swift recovery."
"I will relay your message back to Lord Whitestark, Lord Tyrion. I am certain he will be most grateful for your concern," Arya smiled.
Tyrion halted and extended his hand, ready to shake. "Well, I'm going to procure a litter back to the Red Keep. My legs won't carry me all the way there."
Arya observed several litters awaiting paying customers by the side of the road. "I think I'll do the same. I have much to organise. If I find Prince Oberyn in my establishment, I'll let you know," she said, offering a smile.
"Farewell, Lord Baelish. It's been a most pleasant encounter," Tyrion said, shaking Arya's hand.
"You too, Lord Tyrion," Arya replied. With that, they each entered different litters to carry them to their next destinations.
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After the meeting with Tyrion and the dusty wait for the Martells, Arya returned to Littlefinger's brothel. Jon still hadn't returned from the jewellers, but Arya wasn't concerned. He was perfectly capable of handling the jewellers and arranging for delivery. Meanwhile, Arya had found another scrawny cat outside the brothel, with a coat the colour of dragonglass. Her hope was for Jon to skin-change into it, allowing him to explore the underground network of tunnels throughout the city and the Red Keep, as well as keep an eye out for Prince Oberyn.
This skin-changing exercise would provide the perfect opportunity for Arya and Jon to familiarise themselves with King's Landing better than anyone else. The city boasted a vast network of underground tunnels and secret passageways in the Red Keep awaiting exploration. They would have three days to explore if only Jon could skin-change into the new cat.
Arya found herself browsing through the ledgers, though the numbers seemed to float before her eyes without much meaning. Her mind was consumed with thoughts of her plans for Tyrion and the potential consequences of her actions. Should she save him or let him die? Jaime had aided Tyrion's escape before. Perhaps Arya should approach him herself? Or should she wait until the trial? The repercussions would be immense. Tywin would survive, as would Oberyn, creating a new set of problems for them to contend with.
An hour after Arya returned from her meeting with Tyrion, Jon finally arrived, finding Arya with a headache from all her thinking. She glanced up at him as he removed his cloak, noting the fatigue in his demeanour. Deciding to spare him the details of the Dornish contingent, she quipped, "Aren't you hot in that?" Jon shrugged and shook his head. "Bloody Targaryens," Arya smirked.
"Thank you," Jon muttered as if trying to keep himself from saying more.
"When will the goblets be ready?" Arya inquired.
"The day before the wedding," Jon replied, pouring himself some ale and settling on the desk opposite Arya. "I've ordered a walnut box with red silk lining to present them in."
"Nice," Arya nodded. "How much?"
"The goblets and box will cost about five thousand gold dragons," Jon revealed.
Arya winced at that. "Ripping us off because of the urgency and the inflated prices around the wedding," she huffed. "But never mind, it isn't our money. It will belong to the crown," she added with a smile.
Jon gestured toward the books. "Have you figured out how much Littlefinger is worth?"
"Enough to repay the Iron Bank, the Lannisters, and still have some leftover for a fleet of one thousand ships," Arya informed him.
"So, just as we suspected, he's been siphoning from the crown," Jon concluded.
Arya nodded. "He's been Master of Coin for the last ten years. Before that, he was already fairly successful, but ever since then, he's thrived. I don't think he's paid a penny in tax to the treasury. The coin has disappeared slowly. A couple of thousand gold dragons here, a couple of thousand there. It's all added up. He's opened businesses that would directly benefit from tourneys and such. Every time the crown needs to spend the coin, he seeks out existing businesses, identifies the cheapest ones capable of doing the job, buys them at rock-bottom prices, and then charges the crown as if they're the best in the business."
"A quick way to double your money," Jon surmised. Arya nodded in agreement.
"Anyway, on to other business. We have a new friend," she said, picking up the black cat and handing him to Jon. "I thought we could explore King's Landing together."
"Do you not have any other meetings to attend?" Jon inquired.
Arya shook her head. "I'm no longer Master of Coin. My services are not required, well, not until the wedding. This meant as long as you could skin-change into this little one, we could explore the city and the Red Keep. It'll prove useful not only for rescuing Shireen but also for when we attack King's Landing."
Jon nodded in agreement. "Let's give it a go," he said.
"Before we start, what are you going to call your cat?" Arya inquired.
Jon picked up the little black creature and frowned. "Onyx," he replied with a smile.
"Alright, Onyx it is," Arya agreed. "Now, go lay on the bed. It's time to see if you can skin-change into him."
A knock at the door interrupted them. "Come in," Arya called out casually.
The door opened, revealing Ros. "Lord Baelish," she greeted with a lowered head. "There's a man from Dorne downstairs, with a woman he claims to be his paramour. He wants the whole place to himself," she exclaimed with excitement.
Arya's stomach dropped. "And who does our generous guest claim to be?" she inquired.
"He says he is Prince Oberyn Martell, my Lord," Ros replied.
Arya glanced at Jon, who suddenly looked nervous, before turning back to Ros. "Give him everything he wants. If we don't have it, ask me, and I will find it for him," she instructed. "If he wishes to join us, he is welcome."
"Of course, Lord Baelish, I shall see to it," Ros nodded before leaving.
Arya turned back to Jon. "Seven fucking hells, Jon, it's the Red Viper!" she exclaimed.