Chapter 33
What the hell was wrong with the Lannisters? I’ve heard of shitty families, I’ve heard of incestuous families, but this completely takes the cake. I worried over Tyrion’s mental state after such a horrible reveal. I knew how much he cared for his brother. The fact that he was breaking down was a bit awkward for me, but if just letting him hug me while he wept kept me in his good graces, that was a small price to pay. I was never one to be a shoulder to cry on, but I was nothing if not adaptable.
Discomfort is fleeting, use what works. He’s merely an important fulcrum for this current issue. Well, more than that, he has a claim to Casterly Rock in the future, and he’s intelligent enough to help me out with my other projects. Yes, he really is too important to not indulge for a few minutes of comfort.
I was a bit aware of the guards looking on awkwardly. I patted Tyrion and murmured softly that the maester would come help soon. After a few more minutes, he wiped at his eyes.
“I… forgive me, I’ve sullied your dress. Let us be away from this wretched place.”
By the time we went up a few levels Pycelle had arrived and I explained Ser Jaime would need seeing to as well, but first some milk of the poppy for Tyrion and then fixing his fingers again. Tyrion was returned to his confinement, and I stayed with him the whole time until he had been given a generous dose. He was quite emotionally vulnerable, but I was deeply curious to see what he shared with me later.
I was beginning to rethink some things on how I wanted to play the hand dealt to me. Lots of potential possibilities swirled in my mind. Jaime and Cersei dying was the default state if I did nothing. Trying to convince Robert that there was value in sparing one or the other might be possible, but I’d probably have to go in hard, and I wanted to save emotionally-charged trump cards for when they truly mattered.
So I considered it. Jaime being able to take the Black would get me Tywin and Kevan’s good graces. Tywin was one twisted and sick fuck. There were plenty of ways to teach his son an object lesson that didn’t involve gang rape. Combined with the fact that he also let his men run free to rape the smallfolk of King’s Landing and a really disturbing pattern was beginning to emerge.
I am angry enough to be tempted to test out my kamikaze falcon idea on his face.
When I had gone hawking with Margaery I wondered how much damage a swooping bird could do while descending at speeds of a hundred miles an hour and slamming directly into a human face. Calculating the math behind the amount of impact damage and I could easily see it causing a broken neck or potentially a traumatic brain injury. Death was absolutely a possibility, but there’s also the possibility of missing or a last second flinch throwing it off.
I shook my head. I needed to pull myself together, killing Tywin didn’t do me any good unless I knew he had made Tyrion the heir. Since Jaime was in the Kingsguard it would normally fall to Tyrion, but a lord could disinherit their normal heir and simply select someone else.
I noticed Visha was emitting a low growl and I focused on clearing my head and avoid getting sidetracked by lords who abuse their families. Because there was so much more to consider than what happened to Tyrion’s wife. Jaime was responsible for crippling my brother. Weighing that against only a theoretical favor from the Lannisters wasn’t balanced at all. That piece of shit had nearly killed my brother and doomed him to a life that had significant limitations.
Jaime had also confessed to fucking his sister. That meant I was certain that Tommen and Myrcella were the product of their illicit union. That also annoyed me. A lot. I had spent so much time with both of them, and with Tommen being the next in line for the throne, I had already made inroads to the next head of the Seven Kingdoms. Even if I left King’s Landing soon, he would look fondly on our interactions. With Robert being so absurdly unhealthy, I only gave him another two decades, tops, of life.
If Tommen and Myrcella were disinherited, there was a real possibility they would be killed. Children born of incest were considered abominations. What was worse was that if Tommen lived, he would be a threat to any future children Robert had. Going to the Wall might resolve it, but that was no place for a child. Even Myrcella’s children could be a threat. The Targaryen dynasty was rife with examples.
Renly would probably push for their heads. My read on Royce is less clear, but I believe he would lean toward removing them as a threat. He did not seem aggrieved about the king spending coin on sellswords to hunt down the Targaryen princess.
I knew Robert was waffling on Tommen and Myrcella. He had begun to drink far less, until that damned letter arrived. I still felt like I could push him the way I wished to on the matter, but I wasn’t certain. If it wasn’t for Being X’s undead assassins, I would have just made a hard push to end the hostage situation and head back to Winterfell.
Then there was the delightfully terrifying question of wildfire. I wanted to question Jaime more on that, surely he had taken the time to do more than just murder the alchemists, right? The possibility some of that volatile substance was just buried within the Red Keep and King’s Landing at large made me deeply uncomfortable. It wasn’t an immediate concern, but I’d feel far better if I could get some confirmation from Jaime, and if I didn’t get it, at least get his story out so I could get the Pyromancer’s Guild and the guard to do a detailed sweep.
I had to do some thinking before Tyrion woke up. I had promised to meet with Margaery. Tyrion should remain knocked out from the drugs until I could be done with her. Then he would wake and we could talk. The nice part of him being drugged was that I could always say he murmured a few things that I heard. It wasn’t perfect, or all that realistic, but how else would I have possibly learned of the private conversation?
I’ll still need to be careful. He’s sharper than most, even emotionally compromised.
***
Robert despised not being sure of what to do. Sansa had been horrified at the idea that anyone would believe Tommen and Myrcella weren’t his, but the more he considered it, the more he struggled to see himself in their features. In contrast, Edric Storm was said to be his very image.
Ned’s eldest didn’t have much of Ned in him… mayhaps Sansa has a point there. And yet…
Ser Barristan announced Renly.
“Brother, how is your wound?”
“Well enough. What do you want?”
Renly laughed. “Am I that obvious? I do want you to be mended, but yes, I have come to speak of things.”
“If it is about my… if it is about Tommen and Myrcella, I do not want to hear it. I am still considering it and we have sent a raven back to Dragonstone demanding an explanation from Stannis for his disloyalty and if he has any other proofs to consider that could back his mad sounding claim.”
Renly gave an artful shrug. “Cersei is a mad woman, you’ve said it yourself, one would expect a mad woman to do mad things.” He held up his hand. “But my king has given me a command, and I will obey it. It is not them that I came to speak to you about. It is in regard to Sansa. I’ve spoken with our Hand and we are concerned that you may be doing too much to accommodate her. It is right that you see to her comfort, it was a horrifying ordeal for her, but she is a child. Her understanding of the ways of court is limited. By letting her run around as if she were your Hand instead of Lord Royce does no good for anyone, least of all her.”
Robert gave his brother a glare.
“Bah, you know she is well-read. I’ve no love of books, but the things she speaks of work. You cannot argue with the results. A maid and an angry knight working together can do much good to loosen tongues.”
Renly made plain his disagreement. “That depends on your purpose. Why are you pleased that traitors are not properly punished for taking part in an attempted murder of their king. We will look weak if we let three of the four Kingsguard live after high treason. We had no need for them to confirm who was guilty, just behead every single Lannister and the Kingsguard that were serving Cersei that day. You’ve let your fondness for Sansa muddy your thinking.”
“And risk executing someone not guilty? I needed to be sure, and now I am! Confidence is good, but you can’t just assume you are right about everything and damn the consequences. That’s what the Mad King did!”
Renly faltered for a moment, pausing to consider.
“There were other options. The squeamishness of a maester is poor reason not to put likely traitors to the question.”
“More Mad King talk. He was fond of that, too. What’s done is done. Disapprove all you want – I’ll not change my decision to send those three to the Wall.”
“Your Kingsguard needs filling. I was quite surprised that you knighted one of Sansa’s guards and are raising him to the white cloak. What’s next, let Lord Manderly be master of ships and make Lord Karstark master of coin?”
Robert threw his cup at Renly, who ducked.
“Watch your tongue or I’ll knock you on your arse. Ser Alyn has a quality better than the likes of Ser Mandon. He’s loyal and not in anyone’s pocket.”
“The point, brother, is that you dance to the whims of a child. Why?”
Robert looked away. “Because if I get my mind straight on if Tommen is my son, I intend to make a match between him and Sansa. Her father will have a say, of course, but I’d not wish her to be unhappy with the arrangement. Giving her the things she desires, when they make good sense, will lead her to being more taken with the idea. I hope. And before you ask, if I decide Tommen is not my blood, then I’ll legitimize Edric Storm and marry her to him.”
Renly looked like he had been struck by a mace.
“What? Why the hurry? He may have been nobly raised, but…”
“But what? What? You made clear you wish to strip our brother of Dragonstone, no doubt you also wish for him to be removed from the succession as well. Eager to wear the crown yourself if I drink myself to an early grave?”
Renly’s face darkened. “You don’t think these thoughts, Robert. And a legitimized bastard as heir to the Iron Throne? What a jape, that should only be done if there are no potential heirs! Who put them in your ear?”
“Do you think I am witless? Do you think that I am ignorant of what happens on my court? Some of it, aye, to be sure. I didn’t care. I let you, Cersei, Littlefinger, and all the rest, play your stupid little games. It didn’t matter to me, none of it mattered. But now we are beset by the ice of the North and the fire of dragonspawn in the east. Now my own wife and Kingsguard sought to kill me. I care now, and I see.”
Sansa had not spoken poorly of Renly at all, or made any suggestion about his bastards. It had been Varys, but he'd be damned if he admitted he'd needed someone else to open his eyes. Not when the truth was there for the seeing. Renly was a grasper. He wanted to raise his own station and those of who he befriended. It was common enough among nobility, but he hated having his own brother try to maneuver him.
“As you say, Your Grace. Then as a member of the small council, I have a request for one of the open Kingsguard positions.”
“Ser Loras, yes I know. And yes he can take the white. I was told the Tyrells mustered swiftly when they heard I was in danger. He’s a knight, put Ser Jaime on his ass at that one tourney… ah maybe we’ll need to do another soon to wash the stench of treachery from the streets. After I lop off some heads.”
Renly looked surprised, then pleased.
“Thank you. My former squire will be pleased and he has earned it. You have made your view clear, brother, and I will not chide you further about Sansa, other than to say, there are times when a soft approach is necessary. Sansa is good at that. She is gentle, has more wits than most, and her womanly heart is a balm to those who grieve. But our house words are not about any of that. Ours is the Fury. You have been wronged. They murdered your squire. I will light a candle in the sept and pray that you find your fury again.”
***
Tyrion woke up slowly. The lingering effects of the milk of the poppy made it take longer for his head to clear. He was still confined in the furnished quarters and there was a pitcher of watered wine beside him along with a platter of food. His broken fingers had been seen to again.
I have never been filled with more fury.
He had shamed himself. Jaime was the king’s prisoner. Assaulting him was a crime, though considering the accusation of taking part in a regicide plot he was facing, it scarcely mattered. Knowing Robert, he might even laugh and use it as a barb against his father. Tyrion was of the opinion that anything the king wanted to do to hurt his father was fine with him.
A knock came at the door. “We heard stirring, are you awake, my lord?”
He frowned, trying to place the voice. Ah, Harwin, of the Stark guards.
“Yes, I am.”
“Lady Sansa stepped away for a moment, but will be here shortly.”
Did she watch over me?
It was an odd thought to think that anyone other than Jaime would care for him. Oh, his father would care if someone mistreated him, because that meant a Lannister was being mistreated, but he didn’t care. If he was feeling charitable, he would say that his Aunt Genna was also fond of him. He had a dead uncle who had taught him a few things, but those interactions were few and far between.
Jaime and Cersei were responsible for his potential execution. Jaime and Tywin were responsible for ruining his marriage to Tysha. It infuriated him. He couldn’t rightly blame Jaime for the rapes, that was all his father, but Jaime could have told him afterwards. Tyrion could have provided for her at least. Ensured she had some comfort after the ordeal. Maybe he couldn’t have gone to her, his father would have prevented that, but regular coin could be sent. A place and a few guards to keep her safe.
She was my wife!
He was tempted to tell the king that Tywin had been the one to order the plot. For a few black moments, he thought of truthfully letting the king know that Tommen and Myrcella were Jaime’s. It would feel good to twist the knife, to ensure every last thing that Cersei loved would be destroyed. To see Casterly Rock reduced to rubble. The thought was a heady one, but Myrcella and Tommen were innocent in all this. They had never wronged him or mocked him as Joffrey had.
As he was thinking through it all, another knock and Sansa entered.
“Lord Tyrion, Maester Pycelle said the additional damage was not too great, that your fingers would most like still heal properly. They mayhaps always have some reduced flexibility, but you should still be able to do everything else.”
Tyrion nodded. “Thank, and thank you for earlier. I… that is to say… gods, my brother and I quarreled. I know not what to share with you. I know you sought word of Bran, of further information as to why they did what they did, but I don’t know if it will help or not.”
Visha’s bulk pushed forward and she rubbed her massive head across Tyrion’s face. The fur was sleek and well combed. The warmth was comforting. It was startling to realize that the wolf that ripped apart men was so gentle. He stroked the fur as Sansa spoke to him.
“We will not know until you explain it. From there, you may need to repeat it for the king, but I would like to listen to it first.” She lowered her voice to a low whisper. “In truth, our earlier meeting with Cersei and Littlefinger does your cause good. The king may even spare you just to taunt your sister, but still, any additional consideration may be helpful.” She eyed him. “And I would like to know the truth about Bran.”
He took a gulp from his cup to hide his unease. He couldn’t tell Sansa the full truth. It twisted his insides. She had done so much for him, but if he revealed that Bran observed Jaime and Cersei fucking and that was the reason for throwing the child off the tower, it would doom his niece and nephew. As much as he hated Cersei, and… appreciated Sansa, he could not do it.
“My brother acted as we suspected. He is willing to say as much, for what that is worth. Grand Maester Pycelle gave Cersei a letter from Stannis accusing Jaime and Cersei of sleeping with each other and that Prince Tommen and Princess Myrcella are not Robert’s. She quickly told my brother and begged him to kill Robert before he could kill her and his own trueborn children.”
Sansa was nodding. “Yes, that fits what the Grand Maester has stated. He blames himself, and rightly so, that letter should have gone to the king directly.”
Tyrion thought back to how quickly and effectively the man relayed information to him when he first saw to his fingers. Pycelle was loyal to the Lannisters above the king. And while this was just a drop in the ocean of what he intended, he would begin.
“Jaime said that Pycelle did that often. Anything of import, he would bring to Cersei before the king or the small council.”
Sansa blinked. “I wonder if letters from my family came to Pycelle and then to Cersei before back to Pycelle and into my hands now. It feels invasive. If Jaime is willing to say as much, that might be the final straw and Robert will refuse his services and demand another maester from the Citadel.”
Yes, that will do nicely.
“As for Bran… he also confesses to hiring a man to murder him.”
“But… why? What did my brother ever do to him?”
Tyrion drew in a heavy breath as he lied.
“If you can believe it… he thought it a mercy. Said that he would not want to abide a life like a cripple. I even told him that cripples, dwarves, and broken things still had lives worth living, but never realized it was not him just making a passing comment. He felt strongly about it for some reason.”
He lowered his head.
“I can only say that in my defense, he spoke of it openly at the breakfast table. None there thought he would do something so rash and mad as to violate guest right and murder an unconscious boy.”
Sansa had kept an even expression on her face for most of what he said, but here she seemed somewhat doubtful.
“And you think he was being honest?”
Tyrion spread his hands, hating the fact he was lying to her. “As best as I could tell, though, my family has lied to me on more than one occasion.”
Sansa nodded. “What else did he say?”
“That was all in regard to the assassination attempts on the king and Bran.”
“Was it for the attempt on my brother’s life that you struck him? For the scars on my mother’s hands? Or something else?”
Tyrion looked away. “Something else. It… it is of a personal nature. Though if the king decides to take my head, I will have a favor that I must ask of you. But only in that event. I… I’d not speak of it now.”
“Of course, my lord. Only, if this is a personal matter that you would not like to speak of, I understand, but you were muttering a few things.”
Tyrion clenched his jaw. He was not prepared to speak of it.
“You said a few names, one of them was Jaime, but others I didn’t recognize. But what intrigued me was you mentioned wildfire. It was one of those fascinating subjects that I had read about previously. A substance that would create a flame that even water could not put out.”
Tyrion breathed out in shaky relief. That was less vulnerable ground for him.
“Jaime slew several members of the Alchemists Guild after he killed the Mad King. They intended to burn the city down. I suppose that slipped my mind, perhaps he shared that with me to curry favor with the king.”
Sansa nodded. “Forgive me, he is your brother, even if you are quarreling. But Jaime has always seemed a bit… unserious about his duties. And wildfire is known to grow less stable over time. Was he certain that he rounded up all of it?”
Fuck me, she’s right. If no one else knew about it… there might still be caches of it around the city.
“I did not question him too closely about that.”
Sansa looked a bit worried now. “I’ll speak with the king about it. And what you’ve shared as well. Please, Tyrion, I know you think your sister has doomed you, but it has become clear Cersei despises you. Ser Kevan has spoken on your behalf and he was the one who got Royce into Maegor’s Holdfast so quickly. There is hope, and I promise to do all I can to get His Grace to see that you are innocent of the charges.”
***
It was time to march. Three thousand soldiers of the North and three score men of the Night’s Watch would seek out and investigate the wildlings and any sign of the wights. A secondary force under the command of Ser Wylis Manderly would search the eastern shore with ten ships. He would send scouting parties only a day’s march from the shore, avoiding going too far inland. As for Eddard’s own host he would be making for Caster’s Keep first.
Qhorin had little and less to say of anything good about the man. He was a friend of the Night’s Watch, in that he provided them information and provided rangers hospitality on their rangings, but he was also a man of a vile nature. He married his own daughters.
Worse than the Targaryens.
Before he set out Maester Aemon had a fresh set of letters. Ser Guyard Morrigen and Brienne of Tarth were setting forth and would make for Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. A score of knights and twice as many guards was not a sizeable force, but it was still good that additional help was coming. Ser Beric Dondarrion had made it to Winterfell with his own group and would be riding hard for Castle Black and they hoped to catch up with Ned’s own force.
Compared to the final letter, all of it was unimportant.
“Gods.”
“My lord?” Ser Rodrik asked.
“The Lannisters, they tried to murder His Grace.”
“What? And your daughters?”
“Safe.” His face hardened as he continued to read. “Sansa’s wolf is being praised for helping in the battle. She would not have been far; she never separated from her after the Trident.”
Rodrik swore. “Is there any word on what is to be done? Is the king calling the banners?”
“Not yet. All the Lannisters in King’s Landing have been taken captive. He is not calling for any to summon a muster, and will treat with Tywin. Damn the man, he says nothing more about Sansa and Arya other than they are both unharmed. I was right to investigate Jon’s death, if they would try to kill the king, they most certainly would also not falter at murdering a Hand. Lord Arryn was murdered.”
“Well, they’ll pay for it now.”
“Aye, that they will.”
I wish Anna was with me. I hunger for more information, but I do not want to risk the bond between Sansa and her cat being broken like her and her raven. We have been given a mighty tool, but then a hidden enemy prevents its use when it is most needed.
“Nothing changes for us at the moment. We will have a string of riders and small camps set up between our location and the Wall to allow word to be sent swiftly. Ravens trained to seek Winterfell and other ravens trained to seek Castle Black are with us.”
Ser Rodrik bowed his head. “As you command, the men are ready.”
Qhorin greeted him at nearly the head of the column.
“Lend me some of your best outriders. I ought to teach them something and range ahead.”
Ned frowned. “Is that wise? I had hoped to keep you by my side. You know the wildlings and this region better than any other.”
Qhorin shrugged. “I need to see what is out there. I won’t go too far. Ser Mallador Locke is a better fighter than a tracker, but he knows the lands well enough and can advise you when I’m gone. I shan't be gone more than two, maybe three days at a time.”
Ned was uneasy with that, but the purpose of their task was obtaining information. Seeing more wights and finding wildlings to question what they know of them were their priorities. He carried a written list of questions Sansa wished answered should they find wights. It was rather lengthy. Not all of it was practical, but she really wanted them to capture one and then test everything from their durability to their senses. Tests like hacking off the head and seeing if the body still reacted to ‘stimuli.’ The feel of how hot or cold the corpse felt. Did they move with the same urgency and power during day as well as night? On and on it went.
It is useful. She seeks to understand and then we can determine the best means of slaying them. I had similar thoughts, but not nearly so detailed. I never suspected that when I agreed to let her expand the Winterfell library that she would make use of all that reading to help plan strategy against a foe such as this.
He took one last glance back at the massive Wall and set his eyes toward the north.