Chapter 22
Tyrion’s reading was interrupted as Morrec said Ser Mandon Moore was without, come to escort him to the king. A stab of fear went through him. He had been very careful and he was confident no one other than Cersei and Jaime knew of his preparations. Cersei would have nothing to gain from betraying him, as it would destroy her as well. Jaime would never knowingly endanger him, but though he loved his brother, he was not always the wisest.
“Ah, Ser Mandon. I will be delighted to have you escort me to His Grace. Might I inquire as to the reason for my summons?”
“He didn’t say, my lord.”
Hmm. If I am to be accused of treason, he would likely have sent more than just a single knight. He could just as easily send the City Watch or his household guard.
Slightly less terrified, he was escorted not to the throne room, but to one of the sitting rooms in the Royal Apartments. Another good sign. Ser Barristan was at the door, and upon entering into the room he saw his siblings, Sansa, and the king.
“Your Grace,” Tyrion bowed his head.
“Take a seat, Imp. We are waiting on one more.”
Cersei looked impatient.
“What is this about?”
“I’m not repeating it. Wait till Baelish gets here.”
Baelish?
Tyrion took his seat, still confused. Sansa’s presence here was an oddity. Her hand moved through Visha’s fur with lazy ease. The girl didn’t look nervous, but save for that one time, she never did.
Littlefinger strode in and gracefully bowed his head. “Your Grace.”
“Good, we are all here. Sansa and Arya Stark are my wards. We all know why they are still in King’s Landing, but nonetheless I am still responsible for them both, and I will act in her father’s stead. Sansa, child, tell them what you have shared with me.”
Jaime’s expression was bewildered. Littlefinger looked faintly amused. Cersei’s face looked pinched. Tyrion was just relieved this had nothing to do with his assassination plots.
“You have all treated me quite kindly. Several of you have attempted to find my marriage matches. I’ve tried to tell everyone that I have no interest in a betrothal at this time, nor would it even be my choice, since it is my Lord Father who would make that decision. I know… I know why you fear for my future, but it made me uncomfortable to try to beg our king’s indulgence in such a thing. So soon after my golden prince was so cruelly taken from us.”
Sansa turned to Tyrion’s sister.
“I know you would say that Joffrey would want me to find someone, but I must repeat, it is too soon. It will be many years before I am wed. And who can outshine a prince? The thought gives me little joy altogether. I thank you for the kindness you have shown me, but please, no more.”
Cersei’s eyes roved from Sansa to Robert.
“If that is what you wish, sweetling. I will not bring the matter up. Ever again.”
Sansa smiled brightly, as if she did not hear the implication in Cersei’s words. Tyrion knew she fully took the queen’s meaning; she wasn’t stupid. Even Robert seemed to catch it and shot his wife a baleful glance.
“Thank you, Your Grace. But I must also press on an issue that burdens my heart. Your brother has been so very kind, and yet you have warned me against Lord Tyrion. Both you and Lord Baelish have. And I do not understand why. I want us all to be friends, but he tells me not to trust Lord Baelish, and you two warn against him, and I have never been directly told as to why.”
Cersei’s eyes widened in shock. Tyrion did not see any hint of discomfort in Littlefinger, but Jaime was now frowning. A few awkward moments of silence passed by, and then Robert spoke.
“Well, out with it. Why are you quarrelling with your brother? Why is my master of coin warning my ward against my good-brother?”
Tyrion almost snorted in mirthful disdain. That was most like the first time Robert had ever called him anything other than ‘Imp.’
“Because he’s a vile dwarf whose mouth overruns with filth, even when around our children. Because he cavorts with whores, brings shame to my house, and speaks poison into a young girl’s ears. Lord Baelish has been a leal servant to your small council and my brother spews naught but venom against him.”
Tyrion felt his cheeks heat up. He was not one to be embarrassed about his debauchery, but it was different with Sansa there.
“I’ll not deny it. I am a dwarf who enjoys the inappropriate jape or two. As for Littlefinger… I stand by my counsel to Sansa.”
Sansa looked confused.
“But why, my lord? Lord Baelish’s push to be sent to the Vale may not be what I wish, but he surely means no harm. He loved my mother greatly, and she still thinks highly of him, even after everything.”
I’ve already explained this to her in private… why would… Ah, is that it?
“He’s not a friend to your family, Sansa,” Tyrion said. “Ask yourself why he is so keen to want you out of the city.”
“I think it becomes clear,” Littlefinger said softly, “why I mislike you. I was aware of Tyrion’s poor opinion of me, as it was quite obvious when Lady Sansa rejected my invitations. She enjoys hearing tales of her father when he was young, why wouldn’t she like tales of her mother from that same time? I know a thing or two about putting two sums together, and it all added up to Lord Tyrion’s calumnies against my character.”
Sansa leaned forward. “That is what caused your ire toward him? It was only a response to Lord Tyrion giving me a warning?”
Tyrion smiled as Littlefinger stilled nicely, for the first time hesitating.
“I have long doubted his good character,” Littlefinger hedged.
“But why?” Sansa pressed. “Is there a grudge you have between the two of you? I do not understand and I tire of grasping around in the dark, listening to each of you speak ill of the other.”
“I, too, would like to know why you dislike my brother,” Jaime said.
Baelish was eying Sansa as if trying to divine something just by her appearance. A small bead of sweat appeared on his brow, and Tyrion was dying to know what made him so nervous.
“I’ve not shared details of his exploits. He is a little man, but he has large appetites. The acts he enjoys at my establishments are not things I would wish to speak of in the presence of Lady Sansa or Her Grace.”
Robert guffawed. “You cannot expect me to believe that his taste in whores is something that offends you.”
Littlefinger bowed his head. “Your Grace, I can only say that I do not trust the dwarf. I said as much to your former Hand, and if Lord Royce was in this room, I would say the same to him.”
The king rubbed at his forehead. “Was it you? Were you the reason Ned was so suspicious of my wife’s kin?”
Tyrion was watching everyone very carefully. Sansa was quite good at masking her expression, but for a moment there, she blinked in brief astonishment.
“Lord Stark has never liked the Lannisters, but yes, I counseled him that the Imp was a danger. Capable of all sorts of foul deeds.”
Jaime stood up, hand on the hilt of his sword.
“He’s a Lannister of Casterly Rock and my brother, you little shit.”
“Sit down, Jaime!” Cersei ordered, but it looked as if Jaime was paying her little heed.
Gods what an absolute mess. This would put a mummer’s show to shame.
“Aye, sit your arse down, Kingslayer. If anyone is going to wring Littlefinger’s neck, it will be me.”
“Your Grace,” Sansa objected, “please do not say such things. Lord Baelish has been very kind, and while I disagree with his view of my friend, Tyrion, I think his concern was genuine. Someone set fire to my library, and I’m sure whatever whisperers he employs must have mentioned Tyrion spending considerable time there.”
Wait what?
Robert also looked shocked.
“The library? At Winterfell? What’s this?”
Sansa looked surprised. “No one has told you? Not even Father? I… I fear I have said something I should not have.”
Robert was bewildered. “No, say on. What fire?”
Tyrion was positive that Sansa was playing the mummer, but for the life of him he could not fathom her purpose.
“My father told me that someone tried to murder my brother Bran. The culprit set a fire in the library to distract the guards and then tried to kill him. It was only thanks to my brother’s direwolf that he yet lives. I thought… I thought everyone knew of it, why would my father not share that with you?”
Did my idiot sister try to have Bran murdered? Why?
Robert was the one standing and pacing now in an odd mirror of Cersei just some days ago.
“SEVEN HELLS! Why wouldn’t Ned tell me? Surely this news must have been known by others? Did you know Littlefinger?”
More sweat was now visible on the master of coin’s brow.
“I would have thought Lord Varys had told you. It seemed well known… forgive me for not telling you, Your Grace.” Littlefinger simpered.
“DID MY ENTIRE COURT KNOW OF MY HAND’S SON BEING NEARLY SLAIN AND NO ONE SAW FIT TO TELL ME?”
Tyrion was also flabbergasted. What was everyone doing in this damned city? Why wouldn’t Varys have informed the king? Why wouldn’t Stark have?
Cersei looked caught off guard as well. Tyrion couldn’t tell if she was demonstrating some of her low cunning, or if it was genuine. The way she was looking at Jaime was alarming.
No…
Things were coming together in his mind. Things that roiled his stomach. Bran, the able climber falling from an abandoned part of Winterfell during one of the king’s hunts. A time when Cersei and Jaime would have felt safe to…
Jaime’s face had closed off and that made Tyrion even more worried.
The king was calling for someone to fetch Varys and the rest of his small council. Things had just gotten far more interesting and far more dangerous.
***
“Grandmother, what am I to do now? The king has made it clear I will not wed him, and Lord Renly says there is little chance of a match being made with Tommen.”
“’Tis for the best about the king. You’d not want to wed a man who would set aside his wife just because another woman caught his eye. He’s a great drunken oaf, only a bit better than the Mad King.”
Margaery had been confident she would never set her aside, but the issue would never come to pass. The king had been clear.
“Then who am I to wed? I will need to leave shortly after my name day if no betrothal is announced.”
Her grandmother eyed her. “Do you truly wish to stay in King’s Landing?”
Margaery sighed, they had been over this before. “This is where everything important takes place. I enjoy spending time with my brother, and my ladies-in-waiting attend me here as easily as in Highgarden. Sansa is… different, but she has the king’s ear, it is useful for me to remain friends with her.”
Olenna’s eyes had not dulled with age. She watched Margaery as a falcon on the hunt.
“The city is a nest of vipers, and more dangerous than I would like. Did you know that two of Lord Royce’s household have simply gone missing? Servants who have served him for years.”
Margaery frowned. “What happened to them?”
“I just told you, they went missing! Either they ran off with gold, though none was reported missing, or perhaps they were slain. If you mean to stay here, you must understand that the Lannisters are dangerous. I can only protect you so much.”
I’m the daughter of the Lord of Highgarden, not some smallfolk. You mean well, but you worry over much!
“I’ll be careful. If I am to stay, I must convince my father to find me a proper husband. I do like the look of Ser Beric, though, and I understand that his betrothal is soon to be broken.”
Olenna made a rather unseemly noise in her throat, something she would only do in the relative privacy of their manse.
“The man will have upset the Martells. Giving his betrothed’s nephew away to the king? Did none of these fools realize how that might look? There is a reason Dorne has wanted nothing to do with King’s Landing and the union of stag and lion. And those two oafs made Edric Dayne the king’s squire? But you must think more clearly, Margaery. News may travel fast, but not that swiftly. Someone is spreading tales of anger over making Edric the king’s squire. I suspect Dondarrion will still marry Allyria Dayne.
Margaery knew well the story of Dorne’s animosity. They were the House of the Dragon’s most loyal subjects, which was quite the ironic twist given the older history between Dorne and the Targaryen family. Elia Nymeros Martell had been wed to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, the heir to the Iron Throne before Robert’ Rebellion. She was killed by the Lannisters, as were her two young children. If the stories were true, she had been brutally raped by Ser Gregor before her death.
“Can it not be twisted to show that Robert seeks better relations with Dorne? That this was a conciliatory gesture?”
The older woman gave a wry near-mirthless laugh.
“Oh, some fools may believe that, but no one who actually knows our king would believe it. With his newfound desire to acquire hostages, Dorne will view it as a threat. Prince Martell isn’t going to interfere with a Dayne marriage, but that is a separate issue. You are quicker than most, girl, but you need to heed me more, and remember what I’ve told you.”
Margaery patted her grandmother’s arm. She did listen, but the amount of information she was expected to remember was just absurd, especially when so much of it changed from season to season! Unfortunately she’d also lost a great deal of trust when Margaery told her about her failed attempt in Robert’s tent. That had earned her quite the scolding.
“Very well, not Ser Beric, then who? Who can I ask my father to open negotiations with?”
“Edmure Tully or Andar Royce would be best. In the Riverlands you’ll get your fill of politicking, I assure you, and the Tullys are quite well connected. If this Hand lasts for longer than Stark, my son will be well-pleased with the match. Andar is a widower, but his wife only gave him daughters, so as long as you give him a son, it will be your blood that rules Runestone one day.”
Neither were ideal. Andar wasn’t as comely as his brother, and a bit of a bore from their limited interactions. While his father would wield power as the Hand of the King, Andar would likely not. Edmure was said to be better looking, but hated singers for some mocking songs. Both seemed a downgrade compared to becoming queen, but she had no wish to depart King’s Landing.
With a heavy sigh, she said, “I’ll write to father and see if Lord Tully will consent to match me with Edmure. Unless they think they can marry him to Myrcella, there’s no match that would benefit their house more than ours.”
The old woman gave a firm nod. “Yes. I’ll write separately to your brother Willas to try to reason with him. If I were to appeal to my oaf of a son directly, he’d be even less likely to consent. He is fond of you, but thinks little of his mother these days.”
That much was true. Her father was a proud man, and doted on her. Grandmothers chiding was tolerated, as he did love her, but only to a point. It did warm her that in at least one small way, she had more influence than even the Queen of Thorns.
***
Renly was bemused at the urgent summons. The small council was to attend Robert in one of the rooms of the Royal Apartments, instead of their typical meeting place. When he arrived, there was more than just the small council. Cersei, Sansa, and Jaime were also present. Cersei appeared fit to spit poison, Jaime looked grim, Littlefinger looked nervous, and Robert was red-faced and furious. Sansa and Tyrion were the only ones who looked at ease. Lord Varys entered behind him with Lord Royce. All they were waiting on was Grand Maester Pycelle.
“Did you know?” Robert thundered at him.
“Know what, brother?”
“About Bran. That while he lay still asleep, halfway in the Stranger’s embrace, that someone tried to kill the boy?”
Renly shook his head. “No, I know nothing of it.”
Robert looked past him. “Varys! Damn you, did you?”
The master of whisperers spread his hands. “My little birds did sing a song, but our Lord Hand begged me not to speak it to anyone, lest the potential culprits know their scheme had failed. After he was no longer Hand, it seemed wise to let matters rest.”
“And you didn’t think to advise me of this when I considered taking his children as my wards? Did you not think this might explain Lord Stark’s suspicions and paranoia? His son was nearly murdered, of course he jumped at every possible shadow! That and the heat… Seven Hells, I’ve wronged my friend and all of you are to blame!”
“I’d like to note,” the dwarf said wryly, “I provided no such counsel.”
“Shut your fucking mouth, Imp!” Robert roared. “This is no time for your japes.”
“Why is Lord Tyrion here?” Yohn asked solemnly.
“I am to blame for all of this,” Sansa said quietly. “I had hoped to see some of my close friends no longer at odds with each other, and now I have created a mess of everything. I had no idea that my father hadn’t spoken of what happened to Bran to the king.”
Renly was still confused and even more surprised when Robert shook his head vigorously.
“Sansa, child, no. ‘Tis not your fault. And it is never wrong to share things with your king. I can’t blame you for thinking otherwise,” Robert’s eyes turned toward the rest of them, “considering my OWN SMALL COUNCIL is of a different mind.”
“I would have told you, brother.” Renly said.
“Would you have? I know you scheme with the Tyrells against my wife, you’ve admitted as such. Why not tell Cersei to her face what you intended?”
Renly could scarce believe his brother’s words. Nor could he ignore the murderous glare Jaime was giving him. He realized that given Robert’s current mood, it was best to display tact and humility than try to argue directly with him. He had seen with Stark what trying to gainsay Robert to his face led to.
He turned to Cersei and bowed his head. “Your Grace, I owe you an apology. It was not right for me to try to intervene with you and my brother’s marriage. It is no secret both of you are at odds, but it was not my place. If it is any comfort, your husband rejected the notion immediately and chastised me for making it.”
Renly caught Sansa’s disbelieving stare out of the corner of his eye. Cersei was still furious, and seemed uncertain as to what to say.
“I’ll not forget it, good-brother.” Cersei said in an icy tone.
“Advise me, Lord Royce, tell me what should be done with councilors who hide information from their king?”
“I have just arrived, Your Grace, but it would depend on the purpose and reason. Who all kept it from you?”
“The Spider, Littlefinger, and Ned. Perhaps Pycelle if that old fool ever arrives, I know not as of yet.”
“Your Grace,” the master of coin said contritely, “I assumed Lord Varys would have shared that information with you.”
The bald eunuch glanced at Baelish with amusement.
“Oh, is that so? Have you told all to the king, then? Of your secret meeting with Lady Catelyn? Of your accusations toward the Imp?”
“Me?” Tyrion said with confusion.
“Secret meetings?” Cersei asked in confusion as she rounded on Baelish.
Littlefinger licked his lips. “Ah, well, my childhood friend sweetly begged my indulgence not to share her presence within the city. But this matter has quickly gone out of hand, perhaps this should be discussed more privately, Your Grace.”
“No.” Robert said firmly. “This involves everyone here, so let’s have it out. What was this meeting with Cat about? She was here? What else has been transpiring in MY city without my knowledge?”
The thin man bowed his head.
“Of course, Your Grace. The Spider learned of Catelyn’s arrival in the city. Lady Stark was already suspicious of the Lannisters. I thought it best to redirect the Starks toward someone who if they were accused openly, would be something that would cause the least disruption. Cersei is your wife, the queen of the Seven Kingdoms. The Imp… well, I’m uncertain if he is even loved by his father.”
Renly laughed, for it was true enough.
Before anyone else could speak, Sansa did. “That was cruel of you, Lord Baelish. Lord Tyrion has been my friend since he arrived at Winterfell. Are you saying you misled my parents and tried to place the blame on an innocent party merely because it was expedient?”
Renly almost laughed again at the way Baelish twitched.
“Forgive me, Lady Sansa, but there are times when there are no good decisions, and we must choose from the option that causes the least ill. You are still young, but the ways of the world are often cruel.”
Lord Royce was grave. “Your Grace, I will make no friends when I say this, but perhaps you should do away with all of your advisors. Your master of ships leaves the city and abandons his duties. Your master of coin and master of whisperers work with your Hand in secret and make spurious claims without your knowledge. Your master of laws seeks to break your union with your wife. All of this is dishonorable.”
Renly moved to object, but so did all the others named at the same time.
“ENOUGH!” Robert roared over the talk, getting them all to quiet down.
“This is utterly unseemly. I need my small council to rule, but all of you are proving to be backbiters and worthless.”
“You selected them,” Cersei jabbed. Renly never ceased to be surprised by Cersei’s foolish timing. “I wanted others for the small council, but you told me that it wasn’t my place to make any such suggestions.”
Robert practically quivered with rage and Renly was quite glad for the queen’s idiocy.
“Get out.” Robert said in a low voice to his queen.
She stood regally. “Enjoy your pack of fools, and compound your folly. Come Jaime, Tyrion. Let the king and his wise small council attend to their business.”
Tyrion remained seated. “I was invited by the king, not you, sweet sister. After all, I am the wronged party here. I was the one who was falsely accused of trying to murder a crippled boy as a guest. I would like to see some satisfaction from Lord Baelish for such slander.”
The lions aren’t so unified. I wonder if I could use that in some way.
“One thing at a time, Imp.” Robert scowled, but did not throw Tyrion out as Cersei and Jaime departed. “Lord Royce has the right of it. You have all failed me, but the realm will not be better off with half the small council fucking off at the same time.”
Renly felt a bit mollified at that. He felt his position should be safe; he was Robert’s brother after all. Ideally, Varys and Littlefinger would go.
“Your Grace,” Sansa said diffidently. “I fear this sort of discussion has grown much further than was intended. I perhaps should also leave.”
His brother looked uncertain.
“Ah, pardon for all the yelling, my lady. As someone who was injured due to the actions of my small council, it is, ah, perhaps best for you to have a say.”
He cannot be serious.
The maid’s face took on a look of confusion. “Injury? Your Grace, I have enjoyed my time in King’s Landing. The hunt was a wonderful affair. Everyone has been nothing but kind to me, and that is why what you ask of me is difficult. I… I’m just a girl. My father always taught my brother Robb that a lord must rule wisely and consider well all the ramifications of their actions. How am I to judge something as large as the small council? Whatever decision you make, I’m sure will be the right one.”
Renly shook his head. The girl had been given the opportunity to be owed immense favors or even reshape the governing body of the realm, and she just pissed it away.
She truly is her father’s daughter. Fools, the lot of them.
Robert had that stubborn look on his face as Sansa was speaking, but then seemed mollified.
“Ah, very well, go on Sansa. I know this wasn’t what you wanted, but you’ve done me a great service this day, even if it was by accident.”
Sansa left, just as Pycelle was finally arriving. Robert’s already frayed patience was wearing even thinner as Royce explained what was going on to the old man.
“Perhaps it is good that she’s gone, because she’s like to defend you, Baelish, despite the shit you’re mired in. You and your overly fond touches have much to explain.”
“Your Grace? I… I am caught off guard. You say Sansa would defend me, and that makes me glad, but what then am I being accused of other than in trusting the Spider to do his duty.”
Robert loomed over Baelish. “Sansa is an innocent girl, but she tolerates much. If she said you made her feel ill at ease with how free you were with your hands, then I need answers.”
“Your Grace, you must believe me, I would never do something untoward to Cat’s daughter. She was my childhood friend, if I was overly affectionate it was merely the warmth and esteem I had for her. I’ve done nothing but try to find her a match where I think she might be happy.”
“So much esteem that you lied to her face and tried to obscure who the real would-be murderer was?” Tyrion interjected. “So much esteem that you seem to have conspired with the rest of the small council to ensure Sansa was separated from her mother. If Lady Stark was here and knew that you pressed to have both her daughters taken hostage, what would she say of you? Oh, wait, her son too as well at a later date? Yes, esteem.”
“Sometimes I must provide counsel for the good of the realm, though it may pain me greatly,” came the sharp reply.
Renly knew Littlefinger was slippery, but his dancing here was quite adept, even if the frustration was beginning to show.
“I’ve rescinded that, Rickon Stark can stay at Winterfell,” Robert said gruffly. “Baelish, I have little reason to trust you any longer. It is only because Sansa herself has said you’ve not placed hand anywhere inappropriate that you are keeping your hands and your head. As to your position… that remains to be seen.”
“He’s untrustworthy. I admit I have erred with Margaery,” Renly said smoothly, “but he kept things from you and drove a wedge between your wife’s family and Ned Stark. As much as I value the good that Lord Royce has done so far, I fear that the only reason discord exists between you and the Starks is due to him.”
Renly didn’t actually believe that, but he was eager to see Baelish’s back. Mace Tyrell or perhaps one of his other son’s could take this place as master of coin. Littlefinger turned often with the wind, but Renly had long suspected he was closely wedded to the Lannisters.
Though after today…
Littlefinger bowed again.
“Your Grace, if you no longer trust me, then perhaps I am ill-fitted for the role. I only ask that you allow me to work with my potential successor. I would not see the realm suffer needlessly.”
A bit of motion caught Renly’s eye, but it was just a rodent.
The place needs more cats. I should probably get some for Tommen. Since my weeping nephew is now not like to have his claim displaced due to a new wedding, I should attempt to get on his good side.
“Ahem, Lord Baelish, ahem, he has done good service. The real person to have failed you is Lord Varys.” Pycelle said slowly. “Trusting him was a mistake, ahem, Your Grace.”
Renly had little love for the Spider, but the man was useful. His ‘little birds’ or however he learned of the comings and goings of the realm, were seemingly everywhere.
Varys spread his hands. “Your Grace, the situation was delicate, and Lord Stark believed there was a credible threat not just to his family, but to you as well. You are not known for your subtlety and he wished to be able to investigate quietly.”
“I need a damn drink… no,” Robert corrected himself, “no, I need a clear head for this. First, I need to know everything, Varys. Leave nothing out of it.”
Varys gestured toward Tyrion. “Not all here are part of the small council.”
“Oh, must I leave? I’ve so enjoyed seeing Petyr prance about desperately trying to avoid ruin.” Tyrion said in a mocking voice. Renly grinned, they were of like mind, it was quite satisfying.
“No, the eunuch is right. Off with you, Imp.”
“And my satisfaction, Your Grace? I’m a patient man, but I’ve been accused of abominable things and for no cause. Lord Baelish has wronged me and I demand satisfaction.”
Robert let out a curse. “I’ll discuss this with you later, now get out.”
Renly watched the dwarf walk away, and toasted the rest of them, cup in hand, as he closed the door. The small council was hopefully about to get smaller. Things were working out quite well, and he had Sansa Stark to thank for all of it. The little girl may be clueless about the ways of court, but she had a gratifying way of stumbling into situations that ruined Renly’s enemies.