THE REGENT

The Small Council was assembled in total silence, absent any of the usual jibes between the masters. When Cersei arrived, they were sitting and acting as if not another soul was in the chamber. Varys was staring at a Valyrian sphinx opposite him, lost in thought. Pycelle and Baelish attended to large tomes, the Grand Maester reading and the Master of Coin writing. Janos Slynt was inspecting the threads of his yellow cloak closely.

Only the Strongboar rose to his feet on seeing Cersei, the others not registering her presence. Her annoyance at this lack of decorum stung at the back of her eyes, but the behaviour of the men in the room was so unusual that she did not remark on it. She gave a small bow of the head to Ser Lyle Crakehall for his acknowledgement of her entrance, and made her way to her own seat. Ser Meryn stayed outside, guarding the way.

The Hand of the King's arrival was announced by the sound of the iron tip of his cane hitting the stone floor. Cersei felt each of those sounds like they were the tolling bells for her own execution. Her father had not spoken of Stark's accusations since awaking, though they had very little opportunity to meet. She had been locked up in the Maidenvault for the most part, on her father's orders, 'for her own safety'.

Now Cersei had been summoned with the rest of the Small Council, and Lord Tywin Lannister strode into the room, back straight and eyes clear but his gait difficult. It would have been a relief, except that she had been the one to put him in danger. Now we shall see what it has cost me.

The whole room rose to their feet to greet the Hand. Lord Tywin, stronger than Cersei had seen him since his arrival in the capital, replied only to the Strongboar before he went to his own seat. The chair was less comfortable and less ornate than Cersei's own… but it was at the head of the table, where hers had been. She bristled again at the thought of being supplanted, but there had been no resisting it.

The Lord Hand did not even look at his daughter before put his cane on the table in front of him and spoke to the council.

"Lord Baelish," Tywin began, "I understand that negotiations did not go as expected."

The Master of Coin's face contorted ever so slightly as he fought down what was quite obviously an ugly grimace. "The Canadians gave us several unpleasant surprises," he said, "Lord Duquesne was not present to negotiate, though it appears he has been empowered to do so, and the one they did send presented demands that were not mentioned in the messages we received before."

"Demands that must be met before the Canadians will negotiate on anything at all," Lord Varys added softly, "And their representative they did send presented us with a warning, a history lesson about her people. She said that Canada does not negotiate with a realm that keeps children as hostages…"

Lord Tywin's green eyes aimed towards the Master of Whispers and narrowed. "I shall hear that from you later," he said, "For now, I would hear their demands."

So would I, Cersei thought impatiently. A history lesson about foreigners was of no import.

"They want you to negotiate in person," Ser Lyle explained, running his hand through his hair, "And they want the Stark girls, along with any other hostage below the age of eight and ten years."

Lord Tywin remained impassive. "And what shall they say will happen if we do not meet their demands?"

That is obvious, Cersei thought.

"They will attack the city," Ser Lyle said, "With or without the Starks."

Slynt rumbled out a laugh. "Suicide!" he proclaimed, "Even the full might of the North and Riverlands would be hard pressed to take the city."

Cersei couldn't help but agree. The pyromancers had already prepared much wildfire for defence of the city. We'll burn the foreigners and wildlings from atop the walls.

The Strongboar laughed, but his mirth was false. "You have not seen their weapons, goldcloak," he said to Slynt, "And you should restrain yourself from speaking as if you have."

"Indeed," Lord Tywin agreed, causing Lord Slynt to pale, "That would be best."

The Commander of the City Watch closed his mouth, though he made a face like his tongue had swollen up.

Cersei shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with the reminder of the Canadian armaments. "Are the foreign weapons truly impossible to counter?"

"Not impossible," her father replied without a look towards her, "But the Canadians do possess the power to smash the walls of this city. Underestimating them will be our doom, and I will never again make the mistake of fighting an enemy without understanding him first."

The Grand Maester cleared his throat three times as he closed his tome. "My lord, if these foreigners represent such a threat, what do you intend to do?" he said, "Breaching our walls would be a catastrophe even if we were to repel them afterwards. The traitor lords Renly and Stannis could arrive before repairs were made."

"Word has come that our enemies are on the way here," Lord Varys agreed, "Renly's host coming from Highgarden met with his Stormlords at Bitterbridge some days ago, some thirty thousand men. Lord Stannis is mustering his fleet as we speak."

"And Robb Stark is already in the Crownlands," Lord Baelish added, "Lady Anne Cloutier of Canada gave us that little piece of news, for what it is worth."

Cersei's fingers tapped on the table, her impatience growing. "So what shall our response be?"

"We shall agree to the Canadian terms," Lord Tywin declared.

Staring at her father, Cersei could barely believe the man would say such a thing. He's truly afraid.

"My lord," Baelish objected, his voice nearly cracking, "We cannot give up our hostages. Without Lady Sansa to hold over Lord Stark, he shall repudiate the terms we have set upon him to turn against the wildlings."

"And we do not in fact have Arya Stark to give," Ser Lyle said, scowling at both Lord Varys and Lord Slynt. Both had failed to find the girl. Knowing the capital, the girl was likely dead or worse.

"We shall offer back Lady Sansa, her handmaiden and her attendants," Lord Tywin said, "I shall explain to the Canadians that Lady Arya was lost in the chaos of Lord Eddard's attempt to seize power and we have been lying about it. If as Lord Varys says, what the Canadians want is proof that we are civilised men, then that shall suffice."

"My lord, what about your health?" Pycelle asked, "It is true, you have recovered greatly in your slumber, but…"

"I am fit to travel the few miles to the meeting place," Tywin intervened, "But I shall of course take your recommendations on how I do so most seriously, Grand Maester."

Pycelle nodded repeatedly at that. "Excellent, my lord, excellent…"

Littlefinger put down his quill, drawing Cersei's gaze, and set aside his own tome.

"My Lord Hand, it would be a grave mistake to hand over Sansa Stark and Jeyne Poole. The King has … not been kind to Lady Sansa. Lady Jeyne and the servants were given to me as a reward for my service, and I have treated them as such. Given what they have experienced, I fear they would ruin our reputation as civilised men among a people who do not understand the necessity of holding hostages or for whom anyone with fewer than eight and ten years is a child…"

Cersei's jaw set. Giving Littlefinger his prizes had been her decision, and she sorely regretted both allowing that and not inquiring as to what he planned to do with the chits. His whoremonger ways may have doomed our chances…

Lord Tywin bared his teeth in anger. "Lord Baelish, do not mistake your reputation for that of the realm," he said sternly, "You were given noble hostages for use in our cause, not to indulge or enrich yourself. You are free to remain in the city when I go to talk to them."

Baelish blanched and sat heavily against the back of his chair, defeated. Cersei would have appreciated such a thing, except that the man was correct. If the Canadians did care about the treatment of little Sansa and the rest, giving them back to tell the tale was foolishness.

"All of you must understand one thing," Lord Tywin continued, "Thus far, among the great houses, only House Lannister has faced the Canadians in battle. In order for my grandson's rule and all of us to survive the coming days, we must redirect their attention to those that have not yet felt that fury. The only means we have to do that is to give them what they want."

"Shall we bend the knee to these foreigners, Father?" Cersei burst out, "Like the West bowed to the dragonlords?"

Lord Tywin finally looked at her, eyes furious. "We need do no such thing," he said, "Unlike the Targaryens, the Canadians have no interest in ruling soon, or they would have sent far more than a hundred to join their original four. As such, they are the only faction we can come to an arrangement with, and the threat of their alliance with the wildlings shall cow the Starks. But I promise you, I have no intention of allowing their interference forever."

Lord Tywin rose to his feet, picking up his cane. "We have experienced a Field of Fire once more," he said, "It is time for Lords Renly and Stannis to feel theirs."

The Strongboar slapped the table three times hard, smiling like he had just killed an enemy. "Yes, my Lord Hand!" he called.

If only it were so easy, Cersei wanted to snarl at her father.

Lord Tywin's face relaxed, clearly pleased at the reaction. "Ser Lyle, gather the hostages to be released. Lord Baelish shall assist you," he said, "I shall go tell Lord Eddard Stark the news that he is crowned."

"No doubt he will reject it, my lord," Lord Varys tittered.

"Neither I nor his own lords shall give him any choice," the Hand said with amusement, before he walked around the table to leave.

Cersei watched, plotting how she might kill Jeyne Poole and the servants. Lord Eddard and Sansa were out of reach, a hundred Crakehall men guarded them at all times. But their stories paled compared to whatever the whoremonger had done to the others. The goldcloaks might be bribed to end the girls before the Strongboar got Littlefinger to cooperate, and the Master of Coin might be glad to assist in the matter.

Lord Tywin stopped by the door and returned to the table.

"And a warning to all here. If any harm should come to the hostages tonight or tomorrow before we leave, you shall be punished most severely," he warned, before looking at Cersei one last time, "All of you."

A shiver went up Cersei's spine, and she set aside her planning at once. Her fate was now out of her hands, she realised, and she had never felt more alone.

Jaime, come back to me…