Chapter 18
Arya was very pleased with herself after she finished her training with Syrio. She had managed to complete the half-step lunge to his satisfaction. It involved a tricky piece of footwork that gave every indication to your opponent that you were taking a backstep, but instead you were thrusting forward. The other thing that satisfied her was how she could feel her body changing as she mastered the stretches and poses he required.
Arya could do a handstand like a mummer, and also complete other fun tricks. In a corner of a room she could press her limbs to either side of each wall and actually fit herself above eye level. Her sister was always so prim and proper, utterly unflappable, and serene at all times. Arya loved her, but just once, she’d like to see her when not wearing that air of ultimate confidence.
This is going to be great!
It was difficult to stay in place for long. It wasn’t just about legs or arms, but also about her middle. But Arya knew Sansa was always prompt, and the time had been arranged for her to do more warg training, so she knew she wouldn’t have to wait long.
As Sansa entered the room, Arya grinned. Her angle was such that Sansa couldn’t see her unless she looked up. As her sister walked into the room, Arya sprang from her spot, aiming to avoid actually hitting her sister, but coming close. Sansa moved, one hand flashing fast and suddenly naked steel was within it, while the other shielded her body. Arya landed and then the knife disappeared almost as if it had never been there.
“Arya! Don’t do that, what were you thinking, I could have…” Sansa shook her head, anger written on her face, but it slowly dissolved. “I’m sorry, you frightened me.”
Arya’s eyes were big, and Syrio’s lessons thundered in her head.
‘The seeing, the true seeing, that is the heart of swordplay.’
Sansa was not frightened when Arya had sprung. The momentary expression on her face… there was no fear, it was… excitement? Like when Father had allowed her leave to expand the library. Fear had come after she had drawn the knife and removed it.
“You… you’ve been trained too! Why didn’t you tell me? Who’s your instructor? Is he like Syrio? Is he from Braavos?” Seeing Sansa’s expression, she lowered her gaze, “Oh, I’m sorry, I just wanted to scare you for once. I wasn’t going to land on you, I promise, I practiced it several times!”
“Do you remember how I made you swear by the old gods not to speak of our ability? Remember that others too have sworn oaths and they cannot always speak freely.”
Arya’s eyes narrowed. “You aren’t going to tell me? How did you get your knife out so quickly? And where did it go? Where do you even hide it?”
“Arya, lower your voice,” she hissed.
Arya did so. “Sorry, but I want to know!”
“I have no solid proof, but it may be the master of whisperers has a warg in his employ. It would make sense how his ‘little birds’ are so effective that some in the court claim he uses sorcery. I doubt we’re important enough to be bothered spying upon, but you never know, especially with the king fond of me. As to where I secret my blade, I can show you. I started keeping it on me after… the Trident.”
Arya suddenly felt shamed. What had she been thinking? Trying to scare her sister after what had happened? Sansa didn’t remember it, but of course any sort of surprise potential violence would be something that could very well terrify her.
She wasn’t terrified though.
That didn’t change the fact that she should have thought of that before attempting her jape.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”
“No, you shouldn’t, but mistakes happen, and I understand the desire to show off. Hiding in the upper corner of a room couldn’t have been easy. The core strength alone is quite impressive. Your ‘dancing’ master has improved you considerably. Please keep quiet about my dagger. It is better that others do not know I have it, since if I am ever attacked again, it is my final measure of defense.”
Arya nodded solemnly. “I swear it. Now… can you show me how you drew it so quickly and replaced it?”
“Yes, and now that I think about it, you should probably carry one on your person as well. Nymeria is an excellent protector, but an ounce of prevention is well and good. But after, I want to try something new. A partial slipping of your skin instead of a full one.”
“Partial?”
“Yes, I’ve been able to start giving Visha nudges without fully embodying her. This could be really useful. This is all still guesswork, but since you are only bonded to Nymeria, I wonder if you might have a stronger bond with Nymeria than I do with Visha since I also have Anna and Eyes.”
Arya was willing to try. It was a very different type of training than what she did with Syrio. His training was precise; it made you aware of your body and focused on the senses. This was more like fumbling around in the dark. By intuition and thought as opposed to a focus on the physical self. Hours passed as they both took turns trying to do a ‘partial’ slipping.
It was disorienting the first time things clicked. She retained her ability to see, her hearing, her touch, but suddenly she smelled not from her own nose but from Nymeria’s. Other senses began to bleed and the chaotic confusion made her dizzy. Sansa was thrilled and said they would take time to continue experimenting in the future.
Along with that, Sansa demonstrated how without slipping her skin she could ‘push’ simple commands mentally to Visha. Nothing complex worked, but Arya managed to get Nymeria to move from the ground to the bed.
Sansa was quite pleased.
“This has been productive. Tomorrow, I’ll need to speak with Father and the others through Anna, but the day after, we’ll have you practice these things again. We’ll get a blade for you as well, something you can keep hidden.”
Arya grinned. She liked pointy things.
***
Jory moved around the narrow turn in Flea’s Bottom. The tight streets and the even fouler smell made this unpleasant. Harwin was with him, and sure enough, there was the person Sansa had described. Lady Sansa had explained that a friend at court had shared that Alyn was being followed and that Sansa wanted information about who that person was working for. That they were being spied upon meant that someone likely wished them or Lord Stark’s children harmed.
Lord Stark said to obey her commands.
Uneasy with the task, he nonetheless carried it out as he was instructed. As Alyn ducked into yet another street, his shadow followed. That’s when Harwin turned and rushed him. Jory was used to fighting in plate armor. With his current garb of boiled leather and hooded cloak, he eliminated the space between him and his prey with ease.
He grabbed the thin man and shoved him against the wall with Harwin just two steps behind. Jory’s dagger came out and he pressed it against the man’s neck.
“Easy now, friend. We just want to know why you were following a Stark guardsman.”
The dirty man looked at them in fright.
“No, no, ‘twas coincidence as all.”
Jory rammed his fist into the man’s belly.
“That’s the wrong answer. Someone already gave you up and you’ve been spotted thrice now. Who?”
The man ended up giving them a name, not one they recognized. Jory didn’t wish to truly put someone to sharp question, and Sansa’s instructions were to ensure he remained in good health. To scare him as opposed to doing significant harm. A part of him wanted to just kill the man, because if he was employed by the enemy of the Starks, then it was better a dead foe than one who could trouble them. When he had delicately broached the matter with his liege lord’s near twelve-year-old daughter, she had not recoiled from the notion outwardly but had insisted that he not be harmed.
A will of castle-forged steel, but with a soft heart.
Jory was reminded of Lord Stark’s words. Obey her as if she were her father. That meant that even if things might be safer to just gut the wretch, or give him to the gold cloaks at least, he would not. A leal servant was his lord’s arm, not his head.
“Do not follow us again,” Jory said, voice carrying as much menace as he could muster, and the man scrambled away.
“Should we pay a visit to this other fellow?” Harwin asked.
“No. We are just to provide the information back to Sansa.” Jory scratched at his face. “Might be some court game. She’ll give whichever friend she has that information and then perhaps they will deal with it? These southern games are not to my liking, but as Lady Sansa says, we are in the south now.”
“Aye, more’s the pity.”
***
“Robert will do nothing!” Cersei was pacing and shouting loudly.
Tyrion almost didn’t want to be part of this at all, but he felt a pull to be involved. That Jaime had asked was what had made him decide to listen and try to help.
“Did he say what Lord Royce had discovered? What says the eunuch?” Tyrion asked.
“Little and less. Varys has searched high and low, and other than rooting out my own spies who helped keep me informed of others in the Red Keep, there was nothing productive. They have not discovered how it was given to me either. It is obvious that the Tyrells are responsible, and they will try again. Or,” she continued bitterly, “Robert will replace me anyway.”
“I say we just kill the lot of them,” Jaime said with a grin. “Ser Preston escort Loras and Margaery to see the king. Only, I’ll be there with Tregar. We’ll kill Robert, Loras, and Margaery and say it was Loras who did the deed, and I simply avenged them.”
Tyrion groaned.
“Brother, the Tyrells would never believe it. The city is crawling with their retainers. Renly certainly won’t.”
Jaime shrugged. “What of it? We’ll have the City Watch, which will be all the numbers we need. And my sword arm will do the rest.”
“Easily bribed gold cloaks is not something I would find comfort in depending on,” Tyrion remarked pointedly.
“We are Lannisters,” Cersei hissed, “we have more than enough gold to bribe the likes of Slynt and his officers. He’s been accepting our coin for some time now.”
Tyrion poured himself a cup of wine.
“Still, you then have a situation where the Reach and the Stormlands will raise their banners. No one is going to believe Loras slew his own sister, and suggesting that it was accidently done in the struggle is quite absurd. They may even allow Tommen to be king, but they will unite with their allies to see our family destroyed.”
Jaime gave him a steady look. “What do you suggest then? We cannot do nothing and just wait for the Tyrells to try again.”
“The safest course is to seduce Robert. You haven’t grown too old to get with child. Create an inflection between the time before the poisoning and now. Tell him that your brush with the Stranger has made you realize what matters most. Warm his bed properly. Get quick with child, then beg him to send the Tyrells away.”
Cersei wrinkled her nose, and Jaime glared at him.
Irritated at his siblings he drained his cup in disgust.
“What do you want of me? To tell you the best way to commit regicide or murder the Tyrell girl? You risk everything, including your two remaining children, by not taking the easiest course ahead.”
Try as he might, there was no getting through to them.
What I need to do is limit the damage. Jaime always pushes for open conflict, but Cersei only wants her position protected.
“All right, an actual suggestion then. If you think the king will for certain set you aside in time, then striking at the Tyrell girl is useless. Someone else will come along as you grow older and less fetching. The years come for queens as well as peasants,” Tyrion said, enjoying being able to insult Cersei in this way. “So the real target must be Robert. He needs to die, but also done in a way that doesn’t make it obvious you are the one who killed him.”
Cersei’s momentary anger at the barb left her as she leaned forward. “How? Tell me, Imp. How would you kill him. I’ve tried the subtle approach, and I have been stymied several times now.”
Tyrion closed his eyes briefly. He could only wonder at what Cersei thought was ‘subtle.’ Though, given that he hadn’t heard of any failed assassination attempts, perhaps he was giving her too little credit.
“The actual killing of the king is simple. You dine with him. You have half the white swords loyal to you over the king. Only Barristan and Arys would side with Robert over you, most like. What matters is how to make it appear so that it either wasn’t murder or that it was done by a potential enemy.”
Tyrion was beginning to warm to the idea and the challenge of it. He didn’t bear Robert any ill will, he actually quite enjoyed seeing Cersei discomfited by the king’s antics. In the end, his family, particularly Jaime, and one or two others, were all that mattered.
“The small council has made it known that a lordship awaits the man who brings them Daenerys Targaryen’s head. Plausible enough for some Targaryen loyalist to make the attempt on the king’s life. We need only a suitable mark to pin the blame upon. Through intermediaries, we might bring forth a man with a true grudge from the rebellion days, and give him the means to strike. We may even need to sacrifice one of our own noble Kingsguard to lend it credence, but give me time enough and I could find the right man. Darry, perhaps. Or someone from Dorne.”
Cersei looked intrigued, but Jaime didn’t react at all. Tyrion could not be certain if he had zoned out or truly did not care one way or another if his sword wasn’t necessary.
“And how much time would that take, brother?” Jaime asked. “The accusation that Margaery wants to become the new queen has been made, and yet Robert has not sent her away. It is best to do this quickly.”
Tyrion was pacing now. He needed his siblings to not be rash.
“Give me six months and I can arrange something that will see Robert dead and our house not seen as the killers.”
Cersei’s eyes glittered. “You have three, and I will continue my own careful attempts as well. Lancel will give Robert fortified wine on the hunt. Perhaps the gods will see us rid of him through a fall from his horse.”
Hmm, that could work. No guarantee, but Robert is frequently drunk. Three months was scarcely enough time to arrange a proper murder. This will be difficult, but I must make the effort or Jaime and Cersei will do something rash.
***
Jory had done as I had asked and I now had a more complete picture of the network of informants within King’s Landing. It appeared that one of the main information brokers was Petyr Baelish. The man had his fingers in quite a bit of the skin trade. His agents had been the ones following the Winterfell guards. The layers were relatively minor. Almost everyone I’d followed with Eyes reported to one of three different individuals, and all three met with Baelish regularly.
The real question was who Petyr was funneling that information to and why bother with watching my guards? If Jon Arryn had mistrusted Lord Varys, then perhaps he had established a secondary network of his own that Petyr managed. Since Jon was the one who pushed Baelish to the post of master of coin, the pieces fit together neatly as to how and why it was created. It didn’t resolve the answer as to why my guards were being so closely watched.
It did make the decision to proactively start spying on Baelish an easy one. The day prior to the hunt I would spend most of it in my rooms in an extended slipping of my skin with one of the rodents in the keep. With Arya’s help, I mapped out the likely spots cats may be a problem on the route to the small council chamber. I would listen in on the discussion, and then from there follow Baelish for the rest of the day as best as I could. My cover would be that I was resting before the ‘exciting excursion’ into the Kingswood.
Slipping into a rat was uncomfortable. There was a nagging sense of anxiety and hunger that filled me constantly. It would not be a skin I would ride often if I could help it. I mentally ‘gripped’ tighter on its psyche in some way I could not adequately explain, and the instincts within it quieted.
The small council chamber did not hold the king. Within were just Baelish, Renly, Yohn, Varys, Pycelle and Ser Barristan. Yohn was curious as to why Stannis still had not returned to King’s Landing.
“Has he chosen to abandon his post? The king is in no hurry to have him return, but we should have a master of ships present at the small council,” Yohn said bluntly.
“No word from my brother as of yet,” Renly said, “thank the gods. We could probably convince the king to strip him of his post, but that would most like just bring Stannis here to complain in person. I say let him stew on Dragonstone and be grateful he isn’t here.”
Yohn frowned. “He is your brother and a part of this council. The king is concerned about an attack from Essos if no one slays the girl, we should have a master of ships here.”
“I concur,” Ser Barristan agreed.
“Stannis is no friend of mine, but it would be good for him to be here. Send a letter, invite reply, or we will assume he has forfeited his post,” Baelish replied.
“Are you all against me?” Renly said with a bit of jest in his voice.
“Oh, never that,” Varys replied, “I am still your champion. I must disagree with the others. Stannis has a way about him that would increase our king’s ire and frustration. With such delicate matters in play and so many accusations being made, his return can be delayed. For the good of the realm.”
I could only see about half of the facial features present, but it seemed some were surprised by his words.
“He should be here,” Yohn said bluntly. “I’ve also shared with Robert what we learned, or precisely what little we have discovered. We uncovered several who were taking coin and sharing information with others, but nothing regarding an assassination or anything to do with poison. New servants are now employed, trusted folk vouched for by some of my own leal servants. For now, there is no basis to accuse the Tyrells, an honorable and noble family, of anything untoward. Given the state of our queen, her brother’s reckless accusations, can of course be forgiven.”
Smart to hire new staff. Cleaning house when new management arrives is a long-honored tradition in business for a reason, and the attempted murder gave the perfect excuse.
I also noticed Pycelle hadn’t spoken at all. Was he… asleep? I couldn’t tell he was even alive but for the very subtle rising and falling of his chest.
“But what cannot be ignored is the potential for violent conflict between the Reach and the Westerlands. Any holdfasts and towns attacked will lead to censure and harsh penalties imposed. Ravens will leave tonight to explain this to Mace Tyrell and Tywin Lannister,” Royce commanded.
There was some silence and then the new Hand raised his voice. “Pycelle!”
“Ah, ahem, yes, I’m sorry my lords, could you repeat what was just said. I fear, ahem, my hearing is not as it used to be.”
Renly’s shoulders shook in a gentle laugh. Royce repeated himself.
“Yes, well, letters can go out, but let us, ah, work on not offending either party. I am sure that neither Lord Lannister nor Lord Tyrell would sanction breaking the King’s Peace, but to be sure, ahem, free riders, sellswords, and brigands may well seek to do mischief without either lord commanding them to.”
Doubtful. Hmm, if I had to guess, he most likely thinks some sort of attack will be made to at least symbolically allow House Lannister to save face. But if the Lannisters then are forced to make amends, it ruins that.
“I wasn’t born yesterday, Grand Maester. Send the letters by the evening bells,” Yohn said sternly.
“Of course, you are the Hand.”
Some other minor business was heard and vague rumors supplied from Varys about different subjects. A rumor about the Dothraki horde moving, the Night’s Watch reporting Benjen Stark was missing, and issues related to a small uptick in the cost of transporting goods.
Yohn focused on the news of Benjen. “Benjen Stark was the First Ranger, and likely looking for my own boy who has gone missing. The Night’s Watch is an ancient order and the wildlings have grown overbold of late. Littlefinger, find some coin in the treasury to send supplies to the Wall.”
“Even with Lord Stark now returned to Winterfell? Isn’t that the purview of the Warden of the North? Coin can always be found, but it involves borrowing sums. With the Lannisters no doubt unhappy as things stand, the interest we will have to pay with others is heavier than I’d like.”
Yohn made a sour noise in his throat. “Nothing excessive, but something symbolic. The Wall has less than a thousand men, a few casks of ale, some warm furs, and more horses will not beggar us, and will lift their spirits. I owe a debt to the Lord Commander for sending the rangers out so regularly to find my son, and I now have the means to do so.”
Baelish lowered his head. “I will make the arrangements.”
As the small council ended, I did my best to move unnoticed as Baelish went about his day. It was somewhat difficult to keep up with him while also avoiding being seen or pounced upon by cats, but I narrowly managed it. Ensconced in his chambers he began writing a letter. I couldn’t make out what it said, but I could follow his hand movements and sort of got the gist of it. A request to the Iron Bank of Braavos for funds at a potentially discounted rate.
Afterwards, he received two visitors. One was a guard he handed a small handful of coins to, and another whom he accepted a trio of scrolls from that he placed within his desk. I was annoyed that he hadn’t read them right away. This was probably going to be a bust as far as useful information when a final visitor knocked.
It was the queen and with her was Jaime Lannister.
“What a pleasant surprise, Your Grace, Ser Jaime.”
Cersei strode in confidently and took a seat, while her brother kept sentinel behind her.
“Lord Baelish, you have been helpful in the past, and I will require your assistance again.”
“We all do what we can, little though it may seem,” he replied.
“Varys had swept away many of the servants that I depended on to keep me informed. I need you to get to Royce’s household. If they can be bribed, threatened, or otherwise coerced, so much the better. If not, remove some of the more fully loyal in one way or another. And among your whore houses, I want talk spread of Dornish visitors and all the usual stories of how Elia Martell was raped and her children brutally killed. These are old tales, but I want them told more fiercely and graphically than before.”
It was the Lannister bannerman who killed Elia and her two young children. Is this an intimidation play?
Baelish also seemed a bit taken aback.
“As to the first, I can certainly see to it. I may be the master of coin, but my resources are not unlimited, especially with our Hand wanting supplies sent to the Wall. If you could arrange for more gold to be provided, for not just the costs of doing it, but a little something extra for my leal service, Your Grace.”
“Yes, fine, whatever you need.”
Is everyone in this city a spendthrift? I suppose I can’t throw stones at what Baelish is doing, he’s even being honest about it.
“The second matter. It is easily done. The common rooms of inns are fertile ground for such talk. Mummers for a bit of silver will tell and reenact the stories and my whores can whisper in the ears of highborn and low alike. How the tale is told matters as much as the tale itself. It would be helpful to understand what the purpose is.”
Cersei seemed about to speak, but Jaime spoke over her.
“The savagery and Dornish anger over it, that’s all you need to know for now.”
The queen gave her brother a glare. They shared a look, and then she subsided.
“I will see to it, Your Grace. Perhaps you can help me with a personal matter in turn. Our little wolfing seems to be avoiding me, and given the close nature she has with Tyrion, I suspect he might have had a hand in it. Since you won’t tell me why the Imp doesn’t want you to know the reason for the Dornish rumors, perhaps you can at least tell him to stop interfering. Our prior agreement still stands, I assume, and when the time comes I would like her to go to the Vale as a friend and not feel aggrieved.”
“How did you…” Jaime looked a bit shocked.
A satisfied smile appeared on Baelish’s face and I had a sudden suspicion he had not known, but had now confirmed it.
“He’s fond of her,” Cersei explained. “Catelyn Tully raised at least one of her daughters to hold a courtly mask properly. Most ladies can’t help but be properly disgusted by the Imp’s features, but she keeps her composure, and they like talking about their silly books. No doubt he thinks he’s being noble and protecting her from whatever it is you want with her.”
This was getting interesting. I was happy to know my previous suspicion of Baelish working with the Lannisters to discredit my father was correct. Something still felt off about my theory, though. If I was right, then Cersei was supremely confident that Robert would not set her aside, but that wasn’t the read I was getting from her. If she was not that confident, why risk even a false story of poisoning, or risk Littlefinger pushing the bastards in front of Father’s nose? Giving the king a perfect excuse, accurate or not, to set her aside and save face.
Is Baelish playing his own game?
“A dwarf with the heart of gold? The singers would make a merry tale of that. Sansa being with the king is one thing, but her time in the company of a lecherous scoundrel like your freakish brother is another. I’d hate to see her value as a bride plummet further.”
Jaime moved.
Fast.
He had crossed the distance in less than a heartbeat and his hand had grabbed onto Baelish’s doublet in an instant, scrunching it up as he tightened the fabric and partially lifted him from his chair.
“Kindly remember, that I love my sweet brother. Hold whatever opinion you want of him, but don’t share it within my hearing.”
“Jaime,” Cersei hissed.
“Of course, my apologies, ser,” Baelish said with a bit of discomfort in his otherwise smooth voice.
Jaime nodded, released him, and returned to where he was previously standing. Jaime Lannister was considered one of the best swords in the Seven Kingdoms and I could see why. Like most great warriors of Westeros, he towered over normal-sized folk. Within the presence of the likes of the Clegane brothers, the king, and our new Hand, it wasn’t obvious, but he was quite tall when not next to literal genetic freaks. His broad chest and muscular frame meant he also had significant striking power. When you combined that with his near preternatural quickness, I could see that he had well-earned his reputation.
“Sansa never refuses my invitations,” Cersei said.
Obviously, you are the queen.
“You’ll also be my guest and you can work your charms, such as they are, on the girl. You really have little to worry about, Lord Baelish. She’s quite biddable. I didn’t even put much effort into being kind to her and she was already revealing everything her father told her. Sansa has more wit than most girls her age, but she remains trusting and innocent. Could she but remember what the bandits did to her, she might have learned more of the ways of the world. Still, whoever you intend to wed her to should be well content. She is not ill-favored for a Tully or a Stark.”
Baelish was nodding. “That will do. It is a delicate balance, but while the Starks may not like her being wed without their consent, at the same time because Lord Stark was raised in the Vale, her value despite no longer being untouched, stands higher than what most would think. It will further some of my own ambitions to be able to use her. Tell the Imp… ah, your sweet brother what you will, but have him stop casting me in such a poor light. She will marry highly and be safe in the Vale.”
“What of Arya?” Cersei asked.
“As still promisingly eligible, I thought you’d have some purpose for her. I deal in damaged goods, not ones more traditionally of value. All the courtly grace Sansa was given, Arya missed. Though she’s also far less trusting and wilder. It isn’t my place to advise you, but when things resolve themselves here, you might tie her to your house through someone like Lancel, Tyrek, or mayhaps even Tyrion. Could you imagine the look on Ned Stark’s face when he receives the news that his youngest daughter is to wed a dwarf?”
Cersei was laughing, but Jaime was not. I had to calm down, the rage suffusing my tiny body would make me get sloppy.
But what did he mean when matters are resolved?
“My father would even approve of the match as he’s had no luck marrying Tyrion to anyone. Gods knows I’d rather strangle my own child than let her marry someone like that.”
“Cersei.” Jaime said, real anger in his voice.
“We can decide when the time comes,” Cersei said with a backward glare. She stood up. “You’ve been helpful as ever, Petyr. Continue to be our friend in court and your position as master of coin will be yours as long as you wish it. Lands can also be found for you, if all goes well.”
They left and I was torn between staying there and following them. I chose to follow and zipped out of the door right as it closed. They had only gone a dozen paces when Jaime’s quick glance behind me had me scurrying away.
“Filthy vermin, the cats have grown lazy.”
As eager as I was to get more information from the queen and her brother, I didn’t want there to be even a hint of animals acting oddly. Tales of wargs and skinchangers were more common north of the Neck, but they weren’t quite unheard of. If Varys did employ a skinchanger, I did not want my presence to be noted.
Things aren’t as clear as I wish them to be. Baelish is a problem, but also an advantage. Since I know he wants me for some scheme in the Vale, I have value. And having value gives me protection from other schemes. His explanation sounded like bullshit to me, which also calls into question how honest he was with the rest of what he told the Lannisters. And then there’s the idea that matters being resolved given Cersei full ability to do whatever arrangements with me and Arya? There’s only a couple of ways that could come about, and none of them good. Ugh, what a mess.