Chapter 19 Tyrion

(Hello everyone! So, this is a fanfic that I've been working on for a while now. I borrowed several elements from Game of Thrones and A Song of Ice and Fire. This is my first fanfic on this site, so constructive criticism is welcome. Appreciate!)

The road south from Harrenhal to King's Landing was long, hot, and very dusty, but for once in many weeks it was safe, and Tyrion Lannister and his group encountered no marauding bands and no enemy armies. They did encounter many small folk, wearily making their way home, and more than one group had run away through field and forest when they saw their Lannister banners. But gradually the idea that peace had come to the region seeped through and the further south they went the more activity they saw and the less afraid people were. They were cleaning their farms, burying their dead, and trying to plant another crop before winter came. Many angry sullen stares were sent their way and more than one person spit in the dirt after they passed. But none dared to lift a hand against them.

Tyrion made sure he was comfortable throughout the journey, and every night when they stopped he drank his fill and bedded Shae and slept very well, for he knew he would soon be in the capital and he did not look forward to that at all. Bronn was with him, of course, and Podrick, plus Shagga and Timett and the rest of his wildlings. They had been paid some already, by his father, and Tyrion thought some might leave him but they all stayed and talked endlessly about what riches would come in the battles ahead, if they lived that is. Fear of death did not seem to bother them in the least, and they were all of one mind that this life was better than living a meager existence in their stony hills with little Lord Arryn and his ilk barring them from the fertile Vale.

Ser Jason and his men had come along as well, plus an addition five hundred men on horse, to reinforce the capital. Tyrion led a grand host south, almost a thousand men and thirty wagons. Well, not so grand a host as his father would soon lead, as soon as Jaime was freed.

On the sixth day in the afternoon, more than half way to King's Landing, Bronn and Tyrion were riding side by side in the middle of the column, debating how to prepare King's Landing for war, when they saw smoke on the horizon.

"Funny," said Bronn. "I thought the war was over in these parts."

"Indeed," Tyrion replied. "Maybe someone didn't get the word." Then he saw a rider heading back to them from the front of their long column.

"Ser Jason needs to have a word, Lord Tyrion!" the rider said in a hurry and soon Tyrion and Bronn, with Pod not far behind as usual, went riding hard to the front of the column.

"Scout just came back, my lord," said Ser Jason. "Reports a large body of horse ahead, our banners, attacking a small village. Also, he saw Ser Gregor Clegane's banner."

"Clegane," Tyrion said with a shake of his head. "That fool is suppose to be riding hard to King's Landing. What's he doing stopped here making war?"

"Suppose we ride on and find out," Bronn answered. "But I wouldn't call him a fool if I were you. They don't call the man the Mountain for nothing."

Twenty minutes later they reached the rearguard of Clegane's command and soon enough they met the great Mountain himself in the midst of the village, where a few houses were on fire, the source of the smoke. There were many slain men on the ground, some Lannister men that had been riding with Clegane, but a great deal more were not. They were all in some type of armor and with weapons lying nearby their dead hands. About thirty others were on their knees, now prisoners. They were on the side of the Kingsroad where it passed through the village,.

"Ser Gregor," Tyrion said as he, Ser Jason, and Bronn approached.

"Imp," Ser Gregor replied in his deep voice. Well, so much for courtesies, Tyrion thought as Clegane continued speaking. "Your father will be pleased to know I have finally captured the outlaw Dondarrion. Now all I need is a stout tree to hang him from."

"Oh?" said Tyrion. "Where is he?"

"Dondarrion!" the Mountain shouted. "Get your arse over here, you whore's son!"

In the midst of the prisoners one man stood. He was tall, had long reddish blond hair and a growth of beard. One side of his head seemed as if it had been injured, and was slightly caved in. There were marks around his neck, as if he had once been hung by a rope. One eye was covered in a scar, and the good one looked lifeless. He was thin and wan, his skin so pale to be almost the color of dead flesh. One look at him as he walked over with two guards flanking him made Tyrion's skin crawl. This was a man who should not be alive.

"Are you Beric Dondarrion?" Tyrion asked, wondering how this man could have survived so much.

"I am," Dondarrion replied. " You are Lord Tyrion Lannister, are you not?"

"I am. What happened here?"

"My men and I tried to surrender and Ser Gregor attacked us instead of listening to reason."

"I need no reason to put a rope around your neck," the Mountain growled at him. "Ser Amory hung you once and you still live and I killed you once before as well, Lightning Lord. This time I will burn you to make sure you don't rise again."

This was a delicate point, Tyrion thought, and he had to walk carefully here. The Mountain was not known to be a man of patience or reason. "I think it would be best if we bring him and his men to King's Landing to await the King's justice."

The Mountain growled and glared at him. "Waste of time to drag him so far when he will only die by the King's command."

"We will not go to King's Landing," Dondarrion said quickly and Tyrion thought him mad to tempt the wrath of the Mountain. "We have been pardoned and are free men."

"You are outlaw scum!" the Mountain shouted.

"No more than you," Dondarrion said back calmly. Now he looked at Tyrion directly. "We have been pardoned by your lord father, Tywin Lannister. When these men approached this village we displayed a peace banner and asked for a parley to explain, but they would not listen. Apparently word did not reach Ser Gregor of our pardons."

This business about a pardon puzzled Tyrion. "Nor I. Perhaps you had best explain."

Dondarrion turned to the other prisoners. "Thoros, the papers!" he shouted and then a large man in faded red robes arose from the group of prisoners and walked forward, hands out to show he meant no harm.

"Thoros of Myr," Tyrion said in surprise. "You are a long way from King Robert's banquets and melees."

"Quite so," said Thoros. "You as well, my lord."

"The banquets I enjoyed but I was never one for the melees," Tyrion replied and then got down to business. "Dondarrion is blathering on about some pardon my father gave you. Your proof?"

Thoros pulled two small scrolls out from his robes and handed them up to Tyrion on his horse. "We captured a rider in the night. He said he was from Harrenhal and Lord Stark and Lord Tywin sent him out to find us. He gave us these papers. We tried to tell these men but they would not listen and attacked us."

Tyrion unrolled the first scroll and it was a letter signed by Eddard Stark saying that the peace had been made and all men under arms fighting for the Starks or the Tullys were pardoned and free to return to their homes. The second was from his father and said basically the same thing, except under his sigil and signature. He read both out loud and then Ser Gregor spat on the ground.

"Piss on that. Stark is a traitor. His word means nothing."

"No, but my father's does," Tyrion told him. "These men have been pardoned by him. They are free to go."

"Only the King can give such a pardon," the Mountain shot back.

He truly wanted to kill them, Tyrion thought. He shook his head. "My father is Hand of the King, and as such his word has equal weight as the King's."

"I want to see him dead!" the Mountain shouted as he looked at Dondarrion and then his massive sword was out. Tyrion could feel Bronn move his horse closer to his, but no one else made a move, which Tyrion was thankful for.

"That we cannot allow," said Tyrion calmly. "My father would be quite angered if he found his pardons were ignored. And you know how my father is when he is angered. Peace has come to these parts, Ser Gregor. It is time to move on to the next war in the south. There will be plenty of men for you to butcher there."

The Mountain said nothing, glared once more at Tyrion and then Dondarrion and Thoros. Finally, he sheathed his sword.

"My men!" he shouted. "Ride!" Soon the long column of cavalry and wagons was gone down the Kingsroad, a cloud of dust marking their passage.

"See, gentlemen?" Tyrion said after Ser Gregor was gone. "He's a reasonable fellow after all."

"My thanks," said Thoros as Tyrion handed back the scrolls. Tyrion could see his hands were shaking. If they had been ten minutes late these men would have all died.

"I think we both need a drink," he told Thoros.

"Yes, indeed," the red priest said with a big grin.

"We have some wounded and all are in need food and drink." Dondarrion added.

"Of course," said Tyrion. "Ser Jason, see to their needs. And we may as well make camp here for the night. But a little ways upwind from the smoke, if you don't mind."

"Yes, my lord," Ser Jason replied and went off to give the orders.

An hour later camp was set up and they set to work taking care of the dead and wounded. The dead they hastily buried in a common grave at the edge of the village. Soon after supper was prepared, Tyrion had Dondarrion and Thoros as his guests in his tent along with Bronn as Pod served wine and food.

"What now, my lords?" Tyrion asked after they had eaten and were served more wine. "Your war is over. King Robert is dead, Ned Stark is sworn to take the black, and his son and the Tullys have made their peace with my father."

"Many of our men's homes are in the south," said Thoros. "And mine was at King's Landing. I don't suppose I'd be welcome there."

"I wouldn't advise returning," Tyrion told him. "Joffrey is apt to ignore any pardons and my sweet sister enjoys tearing up any important documents. As for the south, I wouldn't go there either. With my father soon free to move, I am sure it is a matter of time before Renly and Stannis and he come to grips."

"Where is Ned Stark now?" Dondarrion asked. He had barely touched any food and drank no wine, Tyrion observed.

"On his way north," Bronn answered. "The Kingslayer was supposed to be traded for him and his girls by now."

"Yes," said Tyrion. "If you wish to join him I would head for the Twins. Robb Stark is to marry one of the Frey girls."

"There's a fool's idea," said Thoros with a laugh as he drank deeply.

"Actually his mother's, so the rumor I heard at Riverrun said," Tyrion told them and then explained what had happened. For a long few hours they drank and talked on the war and all the news and what had gone on in the south and the north and even in the far east. Tyrion found them both amiable fellows, Thoros more so than Dondarrion, who looked as if he had just come from a funeral. Maybe his own, Tyrion thought. There had been many rumors that the Lightning Lord had been killed, twice or maybe even three times. The Mountain made one such claim, Amory Lorch another. What had really happened to him?

"You seem to have taken some wounds, Lord Beric," Tyrion observed.

"A few," he replied. "None so grievous as the ones I felt when I heard Robert was dead and Ned Stark a prisoner."

"Yes, that was a terrible business," Tyrion answered as Pod poured him some more wine. "I have been riding all over the Riverlands these past weeks trying to set that stupidity to rights."

"Is it true what happened to you?" Thoros asked.

"If you mean did Lady Stark take me prisoner to her beloved sister and her terrible little child, then yes. I would not recommend the Vale to anyone on a tour of the Seven Kingdoms, my lords. The hostess is a bit mad, the people clamor to see your blood, and the accommodations have only three walls."

Thoros nodded knowingly. "The sky cells."

"If not for Bronn here, I might have jumped," Tyrion told them, and then they started with more stories of their adventures, and as they drank and talked Tyrion found it was hard to believe he and they had once been prepared to kill each other, and had nearly met in battle at that village were Stark had found his daughter. They were quite happy to hear the news that Tywin Lannister was angry with Vargo Hoat and meant to see him dead before long.

"He's a real bastard, that Hoat," said Thoros in an angry tone. "We almost had him, at that village where we found Lord Stark and those boys."

"One of them was a girl, his daughter Arya," Tyrion told them.

"One of my men, Harwin, he told me after," said Thoros. "He's from Winterfell. He recognized her, even in her boy's clothes and under all the dirt on her face. Shame he's dead now. One of those we just buried."

Not long after that it was time to bed down for the night. Shae came to his tent as usual and after making love they lay under the blankets and talked.

"My lion, what will happen in King's Landing?" she asked and he sensed some worry.

"I know of a nice place where you can wait until I settle affairs. Then I will find a way to bring you into the Red Keep."

"Don't be too long," she said as she snuggled next to him and Tyrion kissed her hair and smelled her feminine scents and sighed deeply.

"No, it will be swiftly done. I am afraid I should miss you too much if I waited too long."

The next morning Tyrion gave Dondarrion and his men a wagon to carry their wounded and some supplies of food. Then they said goodbye as Dondarrion's men rode north and he and his column rode south again. Four days later they arrived late in the morning at the Gate of the Gods at the end of the Kingsroad.

They smelled the city long before they saw it, and then as they rounded a bend in the road and came over a small hill the whole of King's Landing came into view. Immediately Tyrion noticed the smell of burnt wood and decaying human flesh. Before them was a scene of desolation, with many burnt wagons overturned, bodies laying everywhere and the scattered belongings of a mass of humanity now dead or run away. As they came up the road they found a group of men working under the supervision of some gold cloaks, clearing bodies and debris off the road.

"What happened here?" Tyrion asked right away.

The leader of the gold cloaks dipped his head and looked up at Tyrion. "Lord Tyrion, you and your men are a welcome sight. We have been ordered to clear the road."

"Yes, but what happened here to clutter the road?" he asked impatiently.

"Two nights ago Ser Gregor arrived and the King immediately ordered him to clear away the remains of the rabble that were befouling our gates. Ser Gregor led a sortie of over three hundred men on horse and…well, this is the result."

Tyrion shook his head at the folly of it all. Smallfolk run down under the hooves of charging war horses, impaled on lances, slashed by swords, and forced to flee, if they could.

"Where are Ser Gregor and his men now?"

"The Queen sent him and half of them across the Blackwater to patrol yesterday and to scout on movements of Stannis' army that's supposed to be soon coming up the road through the Kingswood from Storm's End."

Before he left Harrenhal a raven arrived from Varys saying that Renly and Stannis were at each other's throats outside of Storm's End. But that was over nine days ago. At least Cersei had the sense to send out patrols. That was a wise move at least, to get the Mountain out of the city and let him do what he was best at. "And what of Renly's force, where are they now?"

The gold cloak looked at him in surprise. "Have you not heard, my lord? Renly Baratheon is dead."

A long hour later after they made their way to the Red Keep, Ser Jason got busy settling the soldiers and hill tribe warriors in the empty Hand's Tower while Tyrion went in search of his sister, with Bronn at his side. At her quarters they were told she was at a small council meeting. Outside the doors Ser Arys Oakheart stopped them and then allowed Tyrion to enter, but refused entry to Bronn.

Tyrion arrived without ceremony and simply walked to the council table, where Cersei, Pycelle, Varys, and Janos Slynt sat at the table. Tyrion thought on them all and wondered who would be foe or friend in their coming battles of wills. Cersei, his beloved sister, looking radiant as always, had despised him since birth, and would no doubt be a foe. Pycelle and he had never been friends, and had no reason to really, since he had little contact with the maester except for the need of an odd hangover cure. But he was a Lannister man and so he would do as Cersei commanded, and therefore he was a foe as well.

Varys was someone Tyrion was always wary of, wondering what secrets of Tyrion's he knew and who he told them to. He was slippery and he played all sides against each other, with his survival his main goal. How else could he have lasted so long in such a place with such a position? Friend or foe, Tyrion knew not yet. Tyrion knew little of Janos Slynt except he was an upjumped commoner who was now promised Harrenhal for his part in arresting…no, betraying…Ned Stark. How could he trust the man not to do the same to him one day? No, he needed someone he trusted in charge of the gold cloaks. Slynt would soon be a foe.

Of Petyr Baelish there was no sign and for that Tyrion was glad. He was definitely a foe. Tyrion hoped he was rotting in a black cell. As he took account of them, Tyrion realized he had no friends here at all. Ned Stark was right. I was a fool for taking on this task. The time for regrets was past, Tyrion knew, so he put on his game face and smiled broadly as they suddenly became aware of his presence.

"No need to get up," Tyrion said as they looked at him in surprise. "Greetings, my lords and my Queen. Why, dear sister, I think war becomes you. You look more lovely than ever."

"You've taken your time getting here," Cersei replied without even a hello. "Father wrote me weeks ago saying you would take his place."

"Yes, and I would have been here much sooner but I had a few things to sort out," Tyrion told her as he sat at the table directly across from her, with Varys and Slynt on his right and Pycelle to his left at the far end. "First, I had to find Ned Stark, then save him from some fools you sent to take him back here. Then I had to ride to Riverrun to make the peace, and finally to return to our beloved capital."

"I sent Ser Marcus to find Ned Stark after I learned Jaime was a captive," Cersei told him, her eyes hard as steel as she glared at him across the table. "I did not know Father had already sent you."

"Well, Ser Marcus is dead, and Ned Stark and his daughter Arya barely survived his stupidity. Thank the gods for that or luck or whatever you like for we would never have made peace with Robb Stark without them. Oh, by the way, Jaime says hello."

That peaked her interest, as he knew it would. "You saw him? He is well?"

"Yes, on both counts," Tyrion said. "He was enjoying the comforts of a lord's prison cell at Riverrun when I last saw him. We had a long discussion on many things. Family history for one, and especially about our adventures since I last saw him in Winterfell."

Cersei narrowed her eyes, and he knew she knew what he was referring to when he said 'family history'. For a second he thought she would be angry, but then she relaxed, knowing it would not do to have a family squabble in front of the others. "When will he be freed?"

"It should have already happened."

They were all looking at her now, and Tyrion knew they all knew the stories about her and Jaime. But she just smiled, making her look more radiant. "That is good to know. Then father and he will be free to fight Stannis' army."

"Yes, Stannis' army," Tyrion said next. "All by himself now, I understand. I have heard Renly is dead. The gold cloaks at the gate babbled on about some story about a woman killing him in his tent. The only thing that surprised me more than his death was the fact that a woman was in his tent to begin with."

Varys tittered. "We have just been discussing this, my lord. I have new reports from the south. She was not bedding him, she was one of his guards. A tall, strong woman, named Brienne of Tarth, so one of my little birds told me just last night. Stories differ on what happened but apparently in the early morning six days ago as Renly was in his tent preparing to go out to fight Stannis his throat was cut, through his armor, if you can believe that. She was the only one in the tent with him, helping him put on his armor. Ser Loras, as you can imagine, was furious and there was a terrible fight in and around the tent. She took on five of them and killed three and Ser Loras took a wound to his leg, but Brienne of Tarth died by his sword. As she lay dieing she claimed it was not her, that she loved Renly. She claimed it was a shadow, a shadow had entered the tent and killed Renly."

"A shadow?" Tyrion asked in puzzlement.

"She is blaming sorcery for her treachery," Pycelle stated.

"No such thing as sorcery," Slynt said swiftly. "She was spurned. She says she loved him. Renly married the Tyrell girl so she killed him. Happens all the time."

"I would not dismiss sorcery so lightly," said Varys thoughtfully.

"If she wanted to kill him, why wait till he put his armor on?" Tyrion asked. " And why did she not flee once the deed was done?"

"She had not the sense to flee, I suppose," Varys replied. "She was in shock, and then stayed and tried to proclaim her innocence but they gave her no chance. There may be more to this shadow report than we can dare imagine. I have learned that a red priestess of Asshai is now with Stannis. She prays to the Lord of Light and now so does he and his wife. Such priestesses are said to know many foul arts."

"I care not how he died," said Cersei with an air of impatience. "He is one less enemy to deal with. What of his bannermen? Have they all gone home?"

"Unfortunately not, Your Grace," Varys answered. "The reports now coming to me are that almost all of Renly's bannermen have gone over to his brother. Except for the Tyrells of Highgarden, the Tarlys of Horn Hill, the Rowans, and a few others."

"Bad news indeed," Tyrion said, his mind thinking fast on the new angles these events made possible. "There may be an opportunity here. Ser Loras does not love Stannis, much less so now if he thinks Stannis sent this assassin. If we can get Ser Loras to our side, perhaps we can get all of Highgarden and the others who did not go over to Stannis to join us."

"How?" Cersei asked, immediately interested.

"We must offer him something," Pycelle said. "The young man is a fearsome warrior. If he recovers from his wound, perhaps he would like a spot on the Kingsguard."

"That is up to the Lord Commander, Ser Jaime," Cersei said swiftly. "And the Kingsguard already has seven members."

"He has a widowed sister," Varys put forth next. "And Joffrey has broken his engagement with Sansa Stark."

Cersei seethed. "The King does not take the leavings of pretenders. Besides, she is certainly not a maid after being married almost a month past."

Varys giggled. "Do not be so sure, Your Grace. I believe the marriage was somewhat of a sham, a way to get Renly the support of Highgarden, while the Tyrell girl got what she wanted."

"A crown," said Tyrion, understanding what Varys was driving at. "Perhaps we can get to Loras through his sister. Someone must go to the Tyrells with an offer."

"You are suited for such a task," Cersei said with a sweet smile that hid her true purpose, to get rid of him. "After all, dear brother, you have had some experience at negotiations these last few weeks."

"No," Tyrion shot back quickly. "I have neglected my duties here far too long. Why, dear sister, why not you? Who better to offer a marriage contract than the mother of the King?"

"You're a bigger fool than I thought if you think I am leaving the city," she replied with venom.

"My lord, Your Grace," said Varys as he looked from one to the other. "Perhaps there is someone else who can do this for us. Lord Baelish."

"No," Tyrion said at once, feeling his anger rise.

"Why not?" Cersei countered. "If he does this task for us maybe we can forgive his whispers in the Stark ears, if they are even true."

Tyrion flushed with anger. "Oh, it is true, for certain. Do you think Catelyn Stark seized me and started a war that almost destroyed her family because she was a trifle bored with life? Baelish is responsible. I will see him punished!"

"We can always deal with him later, my lord," said Varys in a calming tone. "He will be sent with an armed escort, with orders to make sure he returns."

"Yes," added Pycelle. "We can give him a chance to prove his loyalty. And if he fails, then deal with him as you wish."

"Agreed," said Slynt.

"There brother, you are out voted," Cersei said with a smug smile. "We shall approach Lord Baelish and see what he can do in this matter."

Tyrion knew as Hand he had the power to override them but he had just arrived and did not know what was what yet. He had expected to have to butt heads with them but not so soon. He was also tired and weary from his many travels. He forced himself to calm down. "Very well. We have other matters to discuss. Now as for the city's defenses I…"

"Just a minute, brother dear," Cersei said. "What news from father? When will he arrive?"

She won her point about Baelish. It was time, however, to set things right. "First, here are my orders from our lord father," Tyrion replied, handing Varys the scroll his father had given him so many weeks ago. Varys opened it and read quickly.

"As expected, Your Grace," Varys told Cersei. "Your father has named Lord Tyrion to be acting Hand of the King in his stead."

"Yes," she said impatiently to Tyrion. "You have your scrap of paper. But know this, little brother, Joffrey is King and I am Queen Regent and I am in charge here. Now, what are father's plans?"

Still not ready to give up power, are you? Tyrion thought. No, especially not to him. He needed more time to understand what was happening here so he played along, for now. "Of course, Joffrey is King and you are Queen Regent. As for father, he did not tell me his plans."

She stared at him, and Tyrion knew she was trying to see if he was lying, hiding something from her so he could have more power. That was how Cersei thought, he knew that from years of experience. She never trusted anyone.

"How many men have you brought with you?" she asked next.

"Less than a thousand."

"Less than a thousand?" she repeated, seething. "Of what sort?"

"Six hundred Lannister cavalry, a few dozen knights, and close to two hundred men and women of the hill tribes from the Vale. Oh, and Bronn. He counts for a few dozen at least."

"Who is Bronn?" Slynt asked.

"A soldier of fortune in my employ," Tyrion replied.

"A sellsword," Cersei said with a sneer.

"A very skilled sellsword," Tyrion countered. "He saved my life several times and he captured Harrenhal almost single-handedly."

"Sounds like a fearsome fellow," Slynt observed.

"Quite so," said Tyrion, with a slight grin. Maybe you will find out how fearsome, he also thought, once I learn how you betrayed the last Hand

"I hope no damage came to the castle," Slynt continued. "It is now my seat, after all."

"Why, no additional damage, I assure you," said Tyrion. "Have you ever seen Harrenhal Lord Slynt?"

Now he looked embarrassed. "Er, no, actually, only once, from afar."

"Well, I'd hate to disappoint you. But it has been three hundred years since Aegon and his sisters attacked Harrenhal, and I dare say it may take another three hundred years to repair it."

"I will do my best to make it grand again," Slynt swore.

"If you are quite done discussing history, my lords, you may leave us," Cersei said in a cold tone. "I would like to talk with my brother alone. We will meet again on the morrow at the same time."

"Just a moment," Tyrion said. He looked at Slynt. "What has been done to ready the city for war?"

"Lord Slynt will report to you later," Cersei said and Tyrion was too tired to argue and let it drop. She wanted to discuss Jaime, he now knew, and she wanted no other ears around. The others rose, gave their goodbyes, and soon Tyrion was alone with his older sister.

"How is Jaime?" she asked right away.

"Soon to be back in your arms, sweet sister." Oh, he had wanted to say that for years. What would she do now?

She stared at him and for a moment he thought she might reach across the narrow table and slap him but then she relaxed. She didn't even look guilty or ashamed or anything. If anything she looked relieved. "How did you know?"

"I think I have known for years. Well, rather suspected I should say. Ned Stark could talk of nothing else. Claims you confessed when he confronted you."

"I did," she said without shame. "Apparently, Jon Arryn and Stannis discovered one of Robert's many bastards here in King's Landing. Stark followed the same clues and also found him. It now seems all three came to the same conclusion."

"That your children are not Robert's, but are Jaime's." He wanted to hear her admit to it.

"Yes," she said at once. "Does Father know?" Now Cersei did seem worried.

"Ned Stark mentioned it. Father does not believe it, he told me later, saying it was just Stannis' way to strengthen his claim for the Iron Throne."

She seemed relieved at that. "He must never have reason to believe it. It would kill him."

"I shall not be the one to cause his demise, I assure you. But he did meet this bastard Joffrey wanted dead. At Harrenhal. Name of Gendry, an armorer by trade. Wields a hammer well, like his father. Stark promised him a place in Winterfell and insisted that no harm come to him or there would be no peace. Father told me he could see right away the boy was Robert's son."

"And? Did he draw the same conclusions as Stark and the others?"

"If he did, he did not tell me. Did Stark ever get a chance to tell Robert?"

"Do you think I would have my head if he had?" Cersei replied. "Once the boar did him in, Stark had not the heart to tell him his children were not his as he lay dieing."

"Yes, the boar. Father said that was a shameful way for such a man to die."

"Such a man?" Cersei bristled. "What does Father know of it? Robert Baratheon, the great hero of the realm, was a drunken pig who called me another woman's name on our wedding night. He could barely remember one day from the next he was drunk so often. My great husband bedded every whore and tavern wench from the Arbor to the Wall. Did you know Varys says he has at least eight bastard children…no, seven…one is now dead."

That did not surprise Tyrion so much, since he already knew Joffrey was after these bastards. "Which one?"

She looked away before speaking as if ashamed of something. "A baby, daughter to one of Littlefinger's whores. Joffrey…he ordered Slynt's gold cloaks to do it. And they went after the other one, the one at Harrenhal now, but he had already escaped the city."

Killing babies would not bring him the love of his people, Tyrion thought with a shake of his head. "What other foolishness has my nephew been up to?"

Cersei looked at him now and he could see she was upset. "Beating Sansa Stark for one."

That surprised him. Could Joffrey be so unfeeling as to beat the woman he was supposed to marry? "How do you know this?"

"When he dismissed Sandor Clegane so easily I wondered what had gone on. I had the story from Ser Meryn. He was the one who did the actually beating."

"On Joffrey's orders, no doubt," Tyrion said as he shook his head in disdain.

"Clegane was quite put out at seeing her being beat and stopped him," Cersei continued with the tale. "Apparently one person in the Clegane family has some small measure of honor after all. After that Joffrey took a dislike to his pet dog."

"A disloyal dog is not much use to its master," Tyrion replied. But Joffrey was the real problem here, not the Hound. "We must take your son in hand before any more such foolishness costs us the support of the population of this city. I saw the remains of the mess outside the Gate of the Gods."

"It was happening before I knew Joffrey had even ordered it done."

A cruel idiot boy King giving foolish orders and blind fools were listening to him and obeying without question. It would ruin them all, Tyrion knew. "And where is our beloved King now?"

She shrugged a bit. "Probably playing with his latest crossbow, shooting birds or rabbits or whatever. He finds council meetings quite boring. At least he takes after Robert in that regard."

"He is not Robert's son."

"No, he is not. I told Ned Stark that I thanked the gods for that small mercy. Now I wonder if I had been wrong to say so," Cersei said. Her face was full of worry. "Joff, he's…he's…something is not right with him. He enjoys being cruel. The Targaryens, they wed brother and sister, and had madness in their house. Have the gods chosen to curse me because of my crime?"

"I know not," Tyrion said quietly, feeling a bit awkward. Was she seeking comfort? That he could not do. There was too much hatred in their past. "Speaking of crimes, Jaime told me all of what happened in Winterfell."

"Did he?" she said with a small sigh. "So much has happened since then I have almost forgotten that act of stupidity was the start of all this."

"Not the start," Tyrion told her. "Jon Arryn's death was the start. His wife thinks I somehow was involved in his death. While Jaime was quite ready to tell me all about you and him and Brandon Stark, he was quite adamant that you and he had nothing to do with Jon Arryn's death. Nor the footpad who tried to slit Brandon Stark's throat."

She bristled once more. "Jaime did not lie. We are blameless in both cases. And now Ned Stark accuses Lord Baelish of planting the idea that you provided the dagger to the assassin. Tell me true, little brother, since we are being so painfully truthful today. Did you try to put the little Stark boy out of his misery?"

"You wound me with such accusations, dear sister," Tyrion said in a slight mocking tone. "You know me not at all it seems. I have a soft spot for cripples, bastards, and other broken things. I am as blameless as you and Jaime. But someone wanted the Starks to think our family had something to do with the death of Jon Arryn and the attack on their son. Where is Baelish now?"

"Under house arrest, performing his duties, while awaiting trial."

Tyrion felt his anger rise. "I'd prefer if he rotted in a black cell."

"I am sure you would," she countered. "But his skill with coin is needed."

"Are there no other men in the city with a love of money? I am sure we can find someone."

"Not as skilled as he is. Not in time."

She had him there. "Perhaps. As for this foolish idea of sending Baelish to the Tyrells, he would enjoy such an opportunity to escape."

"Why should he escape?" Cersei countered. "He claims he is innocent. Claims the Starks are making the whole thing up. I have been waiting for you to give us any further evidence. Do you have any, besides stories Ned Stark has been telling you?"

"I have a letter from Ned Stark stating his case. I believe him and so does Father."

"Yes, the honorable Ned Stark," she said in a mocking tone. "He would never sully his honor with a lie."

"I see. A traitor's tale will not stand up. Are there no other witnesses?"

"Yes, to the fact that Catelyn Stark was here asking about a certain dagger. But no one saw her with Baelish. Even Varys failed to turn up any evidence of the conversation."

Tyrion shook his head. "Then this is pointless. If there are no witnesses, and if Stark's word is not to be believed, there is no point in bothering with a trial."

"I suppose we shall have to release our master of coin."

"Not yet," Tyrion replied. "Let him stew a bit on his future. Perhaps he will make a better envoy if he thinks his neck is still in a noose."

"Maybe all our heads will be in nooses soon enough," Cersei replied bitterly. "Father drags his heels at Harrenhal and all you bring me is a few hundred men."

"And me, dear sister. Don't forget that."

Now she laughed. "You? What possessed Father to name you acting Hand? Is he mad? You are no warrior or leader of men."

"Hands do not lead armies, at least not this Hand. They advise the King and do his dirty work. So I had best start my duties by seeing Slynt and the city's defenses before Stannis starts pounding on the gates. I shall be residing in the Hand's Tower as it is quite vacant at present." He stood to go and then stopped. "Oh, one more thing. I am sure this will make you happy."

"What is it?" she asked impatiently.

"Father told me to tell you not to worry about Myrcella."

Now she got very angry. "I do worry about her. My only daughter shipped off to Winterfell to be a hostage for six years! Of course, I am worried!"

"You did not let me finish. He said to tell you that she would never go to Winterfell. She will stay at Harrenhal until the war is finished."

That did surprise her, in a pleasant way. "But…what about his treaty with Ned Stark?"

"Well, like you dear sister, Father places little value on the written word. He did not tell me exactly what he has in mind, but he assured me Myrcella would be safe."

Cersei seemed relieved. "Good. And when will he march south?"

Tyrion shrugged. "I said I know not. So we had better be prepared for what Stannis Baratheon is bringing. I shall seek you out on the morrow after I have had time to look over the situation."

He left her then and directly outside the doors he found Bronn, leaning against a wall, looking bored.

"Pleasant talks?" he asked as they walked away.

"As well as can be expected. I am famished. And thirsty. Let's break bread and then we have much work to do."

They found the Hand's Tower a hive of busy activity, with his men moving in everywhere. The wild men and women took over several barracks, and the dining hall rang with laughter and the sound of drinking and eating. Inside he ate with them but only stayed a short time, leaving soon after with Bronn close behind him. First he found Slynt at the Mud Gate and then for the next two hours they talked and walked and looked over the defenses. There were plenty of weapons but too few men to man them. With Clegane's men in the Kingswood preparing to harass Stannis' march, there were less than eight thousand defenders for the city. Stannis could have ten times their number.

The next morning bright and early he and Bronn were outside the Mud Gate looking over the small naval force at anchor there. The ships were large and well manned, but were too few.

"Not enough ships," said Tyrion as he and Bronn looked at the Blackwater Rush from one of the busy wharves. Tyrion stared across the wide river and could see in the distance the beginnings of the Kingswood and the road that ran from the ferry landing point. Stannis Baratheon could be coming up that road any day now with a desire to kill anyone named Lannister.

"Bronn, how will he attack?" Tyrion asked as he brooded on things to come.

Bronn snorted and spat in the water. "Fucked if I know."

Tyrion rolled his eyes. "Make an educated guess if you would be so kind."

"Right," Bronn replied. "So…you got the Blackwater Bay out there and you got this river here. So he's got to get across both to get to the city."

"Sounds right," Tyrion said. "He has the ships to enter Blackwater Bay in strength if Varys' reports of his numbers are true. And he has the men to invest the city by land as well."

"He won't invest," Bronn said with certainty. "A siege would take too long. Your father will kick him in the arse if he tries that. No, he will come across the river and land on the shore and attack with all his strength. They will try to take the city in one go and then hit your father's lot when they get here."

"Sounds logical. Which gate will he attempt to breach?"

"Several at once if he's smart. He's got the numbers. You don't. Be like trying to stamp out a bunch of fires before they grow into one big one."

"But how will he cross the Blackwater?" Tyrion asked waving his arm to the river. "There are no bridges and no fords this close to the city. We control the few ferries at this point and I have given orders to have them sunk once the battle begins."

"He can cross upriver, but that means a long march up and a long march back down," Bronn explained. "Maybe he will send his ships in here to ferry his men across."

"That will be difficult to coordinate," Tyrion observed. "And we do have a small naval force here that would make Stannis' ships bleed if they enter the Blackwater Rush."

"Not enough ships."

"No, not enough. Well, let's hope Stannis spends too much time trying to take Storm's End so my father's armies can get here before he does."

As they walked off the wharf a messenger was waiting for them by the Mud Gate. "The King commands your presence Lord Tyrion," the messenger told them and they followed the man into the city. Twenty minutes later Tyrion and Bronn found Joffrey in a small inner courtyard of the Red Keep firing a crossbow at some running rabbits. He was surrounded by members of his Kingsguard and several members of court, all relaxing and eating and drinking from a small table filled with food and wine.

"Dear nephew," Tyrion said in greeting. "How fare's the hunting today?"

Joffrey looked at him as if he was something under his boot that needed scraping off. "You're late."

"So your mother has already told me, Your Grace. I had business to complete in the Riverlands. Business that helped secure peace with the Starks and freed your grandfather's army to come here."

"You should have reported to me at once," Joffrey said as he reloaded his crossbow. "You are my Hand and I am the King."

"Yes, you are," said Tyrion. "I did report, to the small council, but you were nowhere to be seen."

"I...I was busy. Those meetings are so boring anyway."

"Quite. By the way, your sister is fine and is now at Harrenhal."

"Good," he said. "And my uncle Jaime?"

Your father, don't you mean? "Should have been freed by now."

But Joffrey wasn't paying attention. "Loose!" he shouted and at one end of the courtyard a rabbit cage was opened and a small brown rabbit ran as Joffrey fired his crossbow. The bolt took the rabbit in the hindquarters and a cheer rang from all as Joffrey raised his fist in the air. "Did you see that?" Joffrey said in delight. The rabbit was making pitiful squealing noises and one of the men nearby cut its throat with a sharp blade, its blood spilling onto the dusty stones of the courtyard.

"That's what I'll do to Stannis when he gets here!" Joffrey shouted to all and they cheered again. He turned to Tyrion with a look in his eye Tyrion did not like one bit. "My uncle Renly is dead. Soon my uncle Stannis will be too."

"Yes," said Tyrion dryly. "Seems like uncles are in season this year."

Joffrey looked at him in confusion and then laughed a bit, finally getting the joke, and then started reloading his crossbow. "When will my grandfather and his army get here?"

A question everyone wants to know the answer to, Tyrion thought. And they seemed to think I know. "He did not divulge his plans to me."

"Then what use are you?" Joffrey said with a sneer. "He should be here, not you."

"I couldn't agree more. But waging your war against the Stark's has kept him quite busy."

"My war?" Joffrey said in surprise and then turned angry. "I didn't start it. The Starks did when they captured you. It's your war more than anyone else's."

It was pointless to argue with him. "There may be something to that. Your Grace, I beg leave to depart. I must be off to attend a small council meeting before the noon hour. Will you attend?"

"No," he said as if that was a stupid idea. "I have things to do."

"Well, not to worry, we will make sure all is taken care of, Your Grace," Tyrion said and then with a short bow he waddled away, and Bronn fell in beside him.

"So that's our king," Bronn said with a snort.

"Yes," Tyrion replied through gritted teeth. "And may the gods have mercy on us and allow me to do my job without any more interference from that little shit."

The meeting was long and spent mainly in discussing the defense of the city and the movements of Stannis' army. "One of Clegane's men came with a message this morning," Varys said. "Stannis has broken off his siege of Storm's End and is half way through the Kingswood. He could be here in less than five days if they move fast."

"We must find a way to stop him," Cersei said and Tyrion could see the fear in her eyes. "Or at least delay him more. Who can we send to the Kingswood?"

Tyrion knew at once what he must do. "My wildlings would relish some action. I will send them across the river and set to making plans to hit Stannis' army on the march." He called Bronn in from the hallway and told him to get Shagga and Timett and the rest ready to move out in a few hours. Once that was done they set to talking about the Tyrells again.

"Baelish must be sent today to the Tyrells," Cersei commanded.

Varys spoke up. "I have learned that the remains of Renly's infantry which did not go over to Stannis are still massed twenty leagues to the south on the Roseroad, between here and Bitterbridge. Ser Loras is there recovering. His sister and father are there as well. Baelish could be there in two or three days."

"He must be told at once," Cersei ordered.

"Shall I?" Tyrion asked and she shook her head and snorted.

"You? No, I will not have your anger at him ruin this opportunity. I will do it myself. He will not refuse me."

"Be careful, Your Grace," Varys advised. "Lord Baelish is a slippery eel who will bandy words with you forever until he gets what he wants. You may think you have him in your pocket but in the end it is he who will come out ahead."

Cersei laughed. "Not to worry, Lord Varys. I have handle men all my life. Baelish is no different from any other. Excuse me my lords, I must attend to this at once."

She thinks too highly of herself, Tyrion thought, as his sister rose and was soon gone. Pycelle and Slynt then made their goodbyes and Tyrion was left alone with Varys.

"It is time we talked," Tyrion said immediately.

"Past time, my lord."

"Tell me what you know of this Baelish business and Catelyn Stark."

Varys sighed. "A tragic tale of love spurned. He was raised as a ward at Riverrun, did you know? He and the Tully girls grew up together. Was it no surprise he fell in love with one of them? But she was promised to Brandon Stark and when he died in this very castle, she was handed over to his younger brother. Littlefinger fought a duel with Brandon, a duel he lost. He still has the scars to prove it."

"I have heard parts of this tale," Tyrion said. "Baelish has oft bragged about taking the maidenhead of both Tully sisters."

"A tale Lord Eddard has not heard I am sure, or Baelish would have one more scar, one across his neck, a scar that would not heal. But it would be for nothing. Baelish may brag of his manly prowess but I happen to know Catelyn Tully went to the marriage bed a maiden. Baelish bedded only one Tully sister, Lysa."

"Not my favorite person in the realm."

"I should think not. I have also heard she was in love with Baelish and never stopped loving him, even when wed to Jon Arryn."

"An arranged married, was it not?"

"Yes, arranged by her father, who is now dead I have learned."

Tyrion was not surprised. "He was near death when I was at Riverrun. You may be surprised to hear this, but Catelyn Stark actually apologized for taking me prisoner."

"Indeed? Has she come to her senses and realized you had nothing to do with the attacks on her son?"

"Apparently," Tyrion answered. "You never believed that I was responsible, did you?"

"Not for a moment," Varys told him and Tyrion could not help grinning.

"Who do you think it was?"

Varys smiled. "If you say a name I may nod or I may shake my head but I will not say the name."

Tyrion laughed. This was a man he could spend days talking with. "If only I could shake you Lord Varys and all your secrets would fall to the floor to be gathered up and revealed."

"That would not do at all," Varys quipped. "I should have to leave in a hurry if that day comes. If certain people knew that I knew many things they thought secret, well, they would soon make me short a head."

"No doubt," Tyrion replied. "Now, back to my original query. Did Baelish tell the Starks I owned the dagger used in the attack on their son?"

"He did not, as far as I know."

Tyrion stared at him for a long moment, then grunted. "Ned Stark seems like a man who would not lie about such a thing."

"I am sure he did not lie."

"I am sure also," Tyrion replied. "But there is no proof what he says is true and because of recent events his word would mean little."

"Quite," Varys said. "I think a question you should be asking, my lord, is if Ned Stark tells the truth, why would Baelish tell such a story?"

"He wants animosity between House Stark and Lannister."

"Very good. Animosity he wanted, a war he got," Varys said. "Much better than what he expected, I am sure."

"But why?" Tyrion asked in frustration. "What is his game?"

"The game of thrones."

Tyrion scoffed. "Baelish? He is a minor nobody from nowhere. He could never claim the Iron Throne."

"That is true," Varys replied. "He may have someone else in mind with him behind them, pulling the strings. Who, I know not, and perhaps we will never know. Your father's army comes soon, battle will be joined, and if Stannis is defeated all will be right again."

"Not all," Tyrion seethed.

"You want vengeance for the wrongs done to you, my lord. That is understandable."

"Unfortunately, I shall have to put my vengeance aside for the moment. Cersei has need of Littlefinger to run her errands."

"If he leaves today we may have a chance of securing the Tyrell alliance."

"Yes," Tyrion said, an idea that was mine, he thought, but seems to have been taken over by my sweet sister. He was tired, so tired and he had only been in the city for less than two days. He needed Shae and he needed her tonight. He looked at Varys and then decided to risk it. "Speaking of leaving, is there a way to come and go from the Red Keep without anyone knowing?"

"There are many ways," Varys replied. "Now would this be for you to go or for your lady friend now sitting in a certain building in the city to come here?"

Damn the man! He was sure the surprise on his face was clear for Varys to see. "You are good at your job, I must say," Tyrion said, and could only chuckle over it. He should have known he could never keep her secret from Varys for long. "I think for now I would like to visit her. It is too soon to bring her in here."

"Very well," Varys said. "When shall you visit?"

"Tonight."

"I will arrange it."

"And what do you want in return?"

Varys giggled. "Why your friendship, Lord Hand."

"Is that all?"

"For the moment. Now, if you don't mind, I have many…"

"Just a moment. Do these secret ways leave the city as well?"

"Some do."

"I need you to do something for me, in case the city falls."

"Will the city fall?" Varys asked.

"Surely I do not know the answer to that."

"Nor I," Varys said. "But a man like you surely wants a plan of escape if it does. It so happens I am also such a man and have a plan already in place. How many will be going?"

"Myself, Bronn, my squire Podrick, Cersei, Tommen, and the King, for the moment." Yes, he would have to save his idiot nephew the King, much as it loathed him to do so. He had no desire to save Cersei either but if he escaped and he left her behind, his father and Jaime would not take that well.

"And the lady friend?" Varys asked.

"Yes, if possible."

"Then I shall arrange matters," Varys told him. "Just as a precaution, of course."

"Of course."

Later that night, as Shae lay sleeping in bed in the secret apartments he had acquired in the city, Tyrion crept quietly to the balcony and looked out over the sleeping, stinking capital. What will happen on the morrow? Or the day after? he thought. Where is my father? Why hasn't he sent word of his plans? And most of all, where was Stannis Baratheon and his army and ships? Tyrion drank some wine and sat and for long into the night he pondered, and worried. He now understood why Ned Stark had said the position of Hand was cursed. It had been but two days and already he regretted it. Yet, there was nothing to be done for it. He had to get on with the business of saving these fools from themselves, if possible.