Chapter 21 Petyr

(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!)

Ser Loras Tyrell was in obvious pain as he was helped to a chair at the table outside the large pavilion in the midst of the Tyrell camp on the Roseroad. Petyr Baelish had known Ser Loras for almost five years now, since he had come to Kings Landing as a twelve-year-old boy to squire for the then sixteen-year-old Renly Baratheon. Since that time, Petyr had kept a close eye on them and he knew that after a while they had become more than just lord and squire. Now Renly was dead and Ser Loras was badly wounded, his left leg sliced open by the sword of Renly's supposed assassin, Brienne of Tarth. A large bandage was on his upper left thigh, and Baelish could see it still seeped a bit of blood. Ser Loras had always been a handsome lad, some said the most handsome in all the Seven Kingdoms. But now he looked pale and wan and his eyes were bloodshot. Too much dreamwine or milk of the poppy, or perhaps both, Baelish thought.

At the table already was his sister, Margaery Tyrell, the widow of the late Renly, looking very radiant. Sitting at the place of honor was their father, Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South. Or so he was until he decided to join Renly in his foolish quest to become King. He was a large man, gone to fat, and had curly brown hair and a beard streaked with grey. It was said his wife and mother ruled him, and that he lacked in intelligence and most of the decisions he made were made by others in his family for him. While the final decision about joining the King or not would be his, Baelish knew the other lords would have much to say about that, especially the two now sitting with Lord Tyrell, Randyll Tarly and Mathis Rowan. Tarly, a balding man with a short grey beard, was considered one of the best soldiers in the Seven Kingdoms. Rowan was more stout than Tarly, but was clean shaven. He was also considered a fine soldier, but did not have the reputation of Tarly. Baelish knew all three southern lords slightly, from various visits to King's Landing over the years.

When Baelish and his guard of twenty knights and two hundred gold cloaks had arrived that morning he was led immediately into the camp while his men were ordered to wait outside the barriers on the Roseroad. Baelish agreed with a smile and was taken right away to Mace Tyrell. As he walked through the camp he took note of how many men were present and of what type. There were many foot soldiers, thousands, maybe even tens of thousands, he knew not. But of horse there were few, and most of them he saw were draft horses for pulling supply wagons, not made for charging into battle. Of supplies there was plenty, with many wagons filled with casks and barrels and wooden boxes of food stuffs. There were also a few large animal corrals, with cows in one, pigs in another, and flocks of chickens and caged geese in a third.

At the Tyrell pavilion he met Mace Tyrell and was offered wine and bread, which he took and now relaxed a bit as guest right had been establish. They waited some short time for the other lords to arrive for the meeting. Baelish now sat across from the other lords at the outdoors table, which was covered in much fruit and bread and cold meat and wine and honeyed mead, all the produce of the south which as yet had been untouched by war. The wine was poured, and then Ser Loras join them, and as he sat it was time to begin.

"Ser Loras," Baelish said with a slight bow of his head. "I see you are recovering."

"The gods be good," said Mace Tyrell. "A foul business this woman, killing Renly and almost killing my son."

"Foul, yes," said Randyll Tarly with a glare at Baelish. "It smells of a Lannister plot."

"I assure you, those in King's Landing were equally as surprised as you were," Baelish told them.

"Of course you would say that," said Mathis Rowan, his eyes full of suspicion.

"It was not them," Ser Loras said in strained voice, the pain on his face obvious. "Brienne did love Renly, as we all did. His armor was sliced clean through. His neck was laid bare to the bone. No man could do that so easily, or woman, even one as strong as her. Would that I had given her a chance to explain, but the fury was on me."

He looked devastated and Baelish knew it was not because he had killed Brienne, but because his one true love was now dead. "We have heard many rumors about his death. Some even claim it was sorcery."

"It was not sorcery," said Margaery quickly, her eyes strangely calm for one who had just lost her husband.

Loras shook his head. "As she died she said she saw a shadow cut his throat. How can that be?"

"Lord Varys says a red priestess from Asshai rides with Stannis," Baelish told them.

"We have heard the same," said Mace Tyrell. "But enough on what is done and cannot be undone. We want to hear what you have to say Lord Baelish, so say it."

"I have been authorized to speak on behalf of the King and Queen Regent."

"False king," said Randyll Tarly immediately.

"Let us hear him out," Mace Tyrell said to his bannerman. Baelish produced a scroll that had his written authority to act in the name of the King. He handed it to Mathis Rowan, who sat closest to him. Lord Rowan opened it, read it and all were satisfied that Baelish had the power to make decisions for the King in these negotiations.

"What do they want?" Mace Tyrell asked him next.

"Peace," said Baelish. "Like we all do. Ned Stark has seen the wisdom of this and has made his peace and gone home."

"A peace made with a sword at his throat and his daughters' heads in nooses," growled Randyll Tarly.

"Perhaps," said Baelish. "But you know the Stark words, and dear old Ned felt that there was no time to lose before the fury of winter is on us. The maesters of the Citadel agree that our long summer is over. The time for war should be as well. But Stannis is still out there and his power grows every day. If we join our forces, we can destroy his army."

"You would have us join with Tywin Lannister?" asked Ser Loras in an angry tone. "To defend a bastard king and his whore of a mother? I think not."

But his father was looking at Baelish in a curious manner. "I would hear what terms you bring for such an alliance."

His son made a sound of disgust as Baelish spoke. "A place on the small council for you Lord Tyrell, or one of your loyal bannermen. A return of the Redwyne sons now held in King's Landing, plus any others we now hold. And a royal marriage for your daughter."

As he said this his eyes shifted to Margaery Tyrell, whose face now lit up. "To Joffrey?" she asked, the interest in her tone unmistakable.

"Yes," said Baelish. "Joffrey has renounced his engagement to Sansa Stark and she has returned to her family. If your family accepts this offer, you will now be queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Not a real queen," said Ser Loras in disgust.

His father stared at Baelish. "We all know that Stannis has spread these rumors of Joffrey's false parentage. Ned Stark believed the same, did he not? I would have the truth of this. Is there any strong evidence to back up Stannis' claim to the throne?"

"None that I know of," Baelish replied. "Stannis and Stark base their claim on slim evidence. They found one of Robert's bastard sons in King's Landing, and claimed because he looked like Robert and Cersei's children did not, that Robert was not their father. Well, my lords, and lady, if every child who did not look like his or her father was declared a bastard, we would be overrun with bastards, would we not?"

"True enough," agreed Mathis Rowan. "Lord Renly gave the same story to us."

"It was not a story," Ser Loras spat out. "Robert is not their father. The Kingslayer is!"

"But without any real proof of such a crime by all the laws of the Seven Kingdoms Joffrey is still King, brother dear," Margaery told him. She really wanted to be queen. Baelish could see it for certain.

"Not if Stannis cuts off his head," Randyll Tarly quickly said. "He has more horses than we have now, and more ships. He can attack King's Landing from land and sea."

"Lord Tywin is marching south with his host and Ser Jaime as his right hand as we speak," Baelish said. "Stannis cannot bridge the Blackwater Rush near the city. It is too wide and too fast, and its currents too uncertain. He must go upstream or have ships ferry his men and horse across. It will take time."

Tarly nodded. "If we hit him from the south while Lord Tywin hits him from the north we will crush him."

"It is a sound plan," Mathis Rowan declared. "But if Lord Tywin is still on the other side of the Blackwater we will face Stannis alone."

"All the better," Ser Loras stated firmly. "Then all the glory for defeating him will be ours."

"It is not Stannis that worries me," said Randyll Tarly. "Tywin Lannister is not a man known to forgive his enemies. What will stop him from striking at us after we defeat Stannis?"

"Even Lord Tywin would not be so black-hearted," Baelish announced. "King Joffrey has promised pardons for all those who took Renly's side. After all, he surely cannot declare his new wife's father an enemy. But if you hesitate my lords, and Lord Tywin defeats Stannis alone, then the time for forgiveness may have passed."

"Wise words," said Mathis Rowan thoughtfully.

"Very well, Lord Baelish, you have stated your case," said Mace Tyrell. "I would talk with my children and my lords now. You will have your answer by morning. The hospitality of the south is yours and your men's. We will speak on the morrow."

Baelish knew he was being dismissed and stood and bowed slightly. "My lords, my lady, I bid you good day."

As he left a man in Tyrell colors and with their rose sigil on his chest led him through the camp to a large tent. "All is prepared inside for you, Lord Baelish," the man said. "We have also provided your men with food and drink. If you have need of anything, please ask."

"Thank you, my good man."

Baelish entered the tent. It was well-suited for one of his position. There was a bed with a mattress and blankets, a table with a bowl of fruit and a flagon of wine and two cups. Candles were in holders on stands and a nice porcelain chamber pot sat in one corner. Baelish sat and poured some wine and nibbled on some delicious peaches and grapes as he thought on all that had brought him here.

Getting arrested for treason had been the only blemish on his otherwise remarkable rise to power these last ten years. He had been surprised by that, and only had himself to blame. If only he had been able to convince Joffrey to have Ned Stark's head taken off, all would have worked out better. The idea he planted in Joffrey's head, but then he had taken ill and before Baelish knew it, Ned Stark was on his way out of the city. Taken ill or had been poisoned, Baelish knew not which it was. Could Varys have been so reckless to poison the King? Had one of his little birds overheard Baelish and the King talking the night before Ned Stark's confession?

It mattered not now. Baelish had played Varys' game and had beaten him at it, for the moment. Varys would not support the Stark claims, and Baelish was too indispensable to the realm as its master of coin. Making himself useful had been a game Baelish had been playing for many years, since the time as a young man his love for a young girl was thrown in his face. He had been foolish and reckless then, but for Catelyn Tully he would have done anything. But not anymore. Cat, you were always so easy to believe anyone, especially me. Her and her husband were too trusting, and believed him when he told them it was Tyrion's dagger that had been used by the assassin. Actually, he knew it was one of Robert's daggers, some minor gift given to him by some visiting lord. How it made its way to Winterfell was something he did not know, but once there someone in Robert's party took it and gave it to the footpad along with a small sack of silver. It really could have been the Imp. Or anyone else with a grudge against the Stark's.

When he learned of the attack and then found out Cat was in King's Landing, it was an easy thing to set the next part of his plan in motion. The plan of course, was to destroy House Stark and House Lannister, one at least or both if possible. Lysa Tully had made the beginning of this all possible. When she heard her loathsome husband was planning to send her weakly son to be fostered on Dragonstone, she came running to her beloved Petyr and begged him to help her. Poor Lysa. All those miscarriages and still births had taken a toll on her mental health. Not that she was stable to begin with. He had taken her maidenhead and had gotten her with child, he found out years later. Her father forced her to drink the moon tea, and then had begged Lord Arryn to take his sullied daughter. Jon Arryn needed Tully swords to help Robert's Rebellion and had reluctantly agreed. A marriage made in the heavens, to be sure. Convincing Lysa to pour the poison in her lord husband's wine and write to her sister that the Lannisters had murdered Jon Arryn had been the easy part. What would come next he did not know, but slowly the pieces fell into place.

In the game of thrones one had to be ready for such opportunities. The attack on Bran Stark and Cat bringing the dagger to him was the opportunity he had been waiting for. It all felt too good to let go so he acted and blamed the Imp. What Cat did next surprised him, but it set House Lannister and Stark at each others throats. The realm staggered toward war and blood began to flow.

Then House Lannister suffered setbacks to everyone's surprise. Robb Stark proved more than a match for them. So Ned Stark had to be freed, his daughters as well. Then the Imp escaped and Ned Stark was taken by Lord Tywin, words were spoken, blame assigned and he ended up in a black cell.

Not for long, but still, it was a bit of a shock. It only took a short time to work his way out, and then a few days later he was free. After that Cersei came to him, asking for him to negotiate with the southern lords. Oh, how the tables were reversed and how Baelish had relished the moment. Of course Cersei had made threats, that was her way, saying his head would soon be off if a trial proved him guilty. But he may just redeem himself with a successful mission as an envoy. Baelish, however, exacted his price from her. His freedom he knew they would give already. He had heard through ears he owned that Tyrion Lannister had no other evidence about Baelish blaming him for the attack on Bran. There was just the word of Ned and Cat Stark, one a traitor, the other a kidnapper.

So he demanded a reward for his services. Cersei was angered at first, but she finally agreed, if he was successful that is. He asked for Harrenhal, and she had laughed and then said it had already been promised to Janos Slynt. She was the Queen, was she not, Baelish reminded her, and such promises could be broken. She finally agreed and the next morning Baelish had left King's Landing. And now he awaited word on whether his offers were acceptable or not.

Many hours later as night fell Baelish was visited by Margery Tyrell. He asked her into his tent and they sat at the table with a cup of wine in hand. She was fifteen or sixteen years old, he had heard, and was one of the great beauties of the kingdoms. Baelish was a connoisseur of beauty, looking far and wide for young ladies of great beauty and no fortune for his whore houses. But this daughter of the south was no whore. She was bred to be a queen, and he knew she wanted it badly.

"How thinks your father?" he asked right away after pleasantries had been exchanged.

"He is in favor of the pact," she said right away. "So is Lord Rowan and many other lords."

"But not Lord Tarly or your brother."

"Not yet."

Baelish now knew what was up. They had sent her to sound him out. They were too proud to come themselves. "Perhaps some rewards for their services might sway them?"

She smiled. "My brother says you are exceedingly clever and to be careful when I talked to you."

"Ser Loras is too kind. I am clever, but I would not try to deceive my future Queen. That would be a bad way to begin our relationship."

"You are clever!"

Baelish laughed a bit. "I can't help myself, force of habit. Now what do they wish as a reward for joining the King and defeating his uncle?"

"My brother would like to be a member of the Kingsguard. My father also insists. If I am to live in King's Landing and be Joffrey's Queen he wants Loras there to protect me."

"A reasonable request. There is just the problem of the Kingsguard itself. There are already seven members and they serve for life."

"We have heard how Joffrey forced Ser Barristan Selmy to retire."

Baelish grinned. "How true. Perhaps some other elderly member may wish to rest in his final years. I am sure it can be arranged. Now, for Lord Tarly?"

"He wants lands and incomes. Details to be decided after Stannis is defeated. My father and the other high lords also wish the same. Such lands can be taken from the Storm Lands."

"And Storm's End itself?"

"No, I think not. It is the Baratheon home seat. My father thinks King Joffrey will wish to keep it for his own."

"I am sure he will," said Baelish, even though he is not a real Baratheon. Baelish knew the truth of that as well. "Tell your father and brother and the others that all of this is agreeable. We should draw up terms and sign them in the morning."

She stood. "I will convey this message. Thank you for the wine, Lord Baelish."

"You are welcome. I will see you out."

He held the tent flap open for her and to both of their surprise there was a grey mist in the night air. The two Tyrell guards that had come with her were looking about in suspicion.

"What is it?" Baelish asked. He sniffed and thought he smelled smoke. "Is there a fire?"

"No, my lord," said one man. They were on the edge of the Kingswood, about a mile away from it in an area of farmer's fields and villages on the Roseroad.

"Is the forest on fire?" Baelish asked, looking off to the east over fields of high grain where the forest was.

The other man got up on a nearby wagon and peered to the east. "I see no flames. Just the grey mist. I can't see far. It's getting thicker."

All around them men were peering towards the east. Gradually the mist rolled in and became so thick Baelish could barely see the next tent over. Through the fog, he heard shouted commands. Men were moving in the mist out there, and the sounds of voices became muffled.

"I'm afraid Lord Baelish, "Margaery suddenly said as she cowered near him. "I wish to go back to my father's tent."

"I fear we would lose our way in this mist," he told her. "Come, stay in my tent until it passes. It must be a simple fog."

"This far from the ocean, my lord?" one of the men said. "I'm from Old Town. We get fogs often, but they never reach up to Highgarden."

"He's right," said Margaery as she shivered in fear. "I…"

And then it happened and Baelish new that sorcery was no longer a myth. The air suddenly crackled with the flash of a single bolt of lightning to the east with a clap of thunder immediately following and then the very mist seemed to catch on fire. It started in the east and spread toward the camp. Men screamed and horses cried in fear. The fire rolled toward them, unstoppable, and suddenly it was on them in a few seconds. The man up on the wagon burst into flames with a sudden shriek.

"Get down!" Baelish shouted to Margery and he pulled her to the ground as the flames passed over their heads and moved on through the camp. It was over in an instant but as he raised his head Baelish knew the damage had been done. All around them was chaos. Men were on fire, horses as well, tents were burning everywhere, supplies going up in smoke, and all around was the sound of screams of frightened men and animals.

"What is it?" Margaery shouted in fear.

"I know not! Come on! We must get to safety!"

He picked her up from the ground and they ran, back the way he thought her father's tent was. "No, this way," she said and she took his hand and pulled him another way and they moved through the chaos, and the air was filled with smoke and flame and screams and it was hard to breath.

Then came the sound of charging hoof beats and screaming men and from behind them came an army, an army bearing down on the camp from the forest and fields to the east, and in the light from the fires Baelish saw a strange banner, a fiery heart in a field of yellow. Men were fighting and falling and running away and arrows and crossbow bolts shot through the air and commanders were trying to form up lines of pike men and swords were slashing and people were falling and dieing. Off to his left he heard the roar of a voice, loud and commanding, above the din.

"FORM ON ME!" shouted the voice, the voice of Randyll Tarly on a large warhorse, his massive sword in his hand and men flocked to him and formed up around him and made a compact mass of infantry.

"To Tarly!" Baelish shouted to Margaery and they ran that way but as they ran someone charged behind them on a horse and then something hit his head and Baelish fell into the dirt and saw blackness come before his eyes.

A long time later, he knew not how long, he awoke, in pain, lying on some carpets with a pillow under his head. He was inside a tent. His throat was dry and it was hard to see. Slowing he perceived it was daylight outside and he gradually sat up. He felt his head and found a bandage wrapped around it and a very tender lump on the back of his head.

"Lord Baelish is awake, Your Grace," said a voice. It was a man in chain mail, standing by the door of the tent. He had the same sigil on his chest Baelish remembered seeing on the banner. A fiery heart. Stannis Baratheons' man, he now knew.

And there was the man himself, sitting at a small table, eating a peach. He was wearing plate armor with the same sigil. His head and hands were bare. Stannis looked grim as he always did. "They grow good peaches in the Reach, don't you think, Lord Baelish?"

"I believe so, my lord." It hurt to talk.

"Your Grace is his title," growled the soldier by the door. "He is your King!"

"Forgive me," said Baelish as he stood and bowed slightly, which made his head spin. "Your Grace," he said and then he fell. The soldier rushed forward and helped him and put him in the chair opposite Stannis.

"Leave us," Stannis commanded in a harsh tone and the soldier left. Stannis nodded to a flagon of wine on the table. "Arbor gold I believe. Be my guest."

With unsteady hands Baelish poured himself a cup and went to do the same for Stannis and then remembered he did not drink. He gulped the wonderful wine and poured another cup.

"Have you been in battle before?" Stannis asked him.

"Only with Brandon Stark many years ago."

"Stark? Oh, yes, a duel over the Tully girl. Foolishness."

"At the time I thought not," Baelish replied.

"Now he is dead, and she is married to Eddard, so it matters not."

"Many people are now dead," Baelish replied. The wine made his throat better and his head cleared somewhat.

"Yes," Stannis replied. "My two brothers as well."

"A sad loss for the realm."

Stannis snorted. "You know I loved Robert not. But a boar? What a stupid way to die. Renly, he should have bowed to me and taken his place by my side. I offered him a seat on the council, all his old titles and position as heir until I have a son. He refused me. Then he ate a peach. How odd. A peach. What does it mean?"

"Perhaps he liked peaches," said Baelish, who had no idea what it meant.

"Maybe so," said Stannis as he put the peach pit on the table and wiped his hands on a cloth. "Now to business. What are you doing here?"

No sense in lying to him. "I came to negotiate a pact on behalf of Joffrey. Are they all dead or your prisoners?"

"We have the Tyrell girl and her brother. Tarly managed to form up a stout defense and he and Rowan and Mace Tyrell escaped to the south with about a third of their men. My cavalry pursued then for a while but each time we attacked they formed a hedgehog of spears and pikes my men could not break so I called off the attack. Many more are scattered and many thousands are dead. Many of them burned." He looked around. "This is one of the few tents still standing."

Now Baelish wanted to know how it had all been done. "The mist. The fire. How did…?"

Stannis cut him off. "It matters not how. It is done. How is your head?"

"Painful."

"You are lucky to be alive. The Tyrell girl shouted out who she was and who you were and my men were smart enough to take you both prisoner."

"Am I a prisoner?"

"For now. Until I decide what use I can make of you."

"And how did you take Ser Loras?"

Stannis shrugged. "Asleep in his bed. The maester said he had dreamwine. When he awoke he was quite ashamed he have been captured in such a manner. The great Loras Tyrell. How was he wounded?"

"Killing your brother's assassin, Brienne of Tarth."

"Who?"

There was no lie there. So, he did not know. Maybe there was a shadow after all. "Brienne of Tarth. She was one of his guards."

"I think I remember a woman came with him when we had our parley before he died.'

"Maybe it was her. In King's Landing the whisperers say she was with him alone when his throat was cut. Ser Loras and the others thought she had done it. But she claimed it was a shadow."

Stannis grunted. "It matters not how he died. He was my brother. He is dead, and I grieve for him in some small way. He should have come to my side."

"Yes, he should have. One question, Your Grace. I came with twenty knights and a party of two hundred gold cloaks. What is their fate?"

"My men reported a group of men riding fast off to the north as we attacked. It may have been them."

Baelish gave a short bitter laugh. "My bodyguard, running away at the first sign of trouble. They abandoned me."

"Not their battle maybe they thought," Stannis replied.

"Perhaps," Baelish said. "Now what will you do?"

"Tell me what is happening in King's Landing. Tell me where Tywin Lannister is."

Baelish knew what game they were playing now. "My information for my life?"

Stannis nodded. "You are no man of war, Lord Baelish. And I know you don't care which side you are on. I know you know I could make good use of you when King's Landing falls and I take the Iron Throne."

"Yes, that is true. But you also know I own half of the whore houses in King's Landing."

Stannis bristled. "You know me well from my years in King's Landing, so you know I do not approve of such. But many men are weak. They must have their whores, then so be it. But you will keep a tight control of it. If any infamy results, I will burn every last whore house and every last whore."

"Agreed. I have heard you have a priestess who loves fire."

"I have. You had best take care with your tongue when you meet her. She is…she is…powerful, in ways you and I cannot imagine."

"Where is she now?"

"Resting. Enough of her. Do we have an agreement?"

"I am to be master of coin on your council and continue all my other businesses? How can I refuse."

"Good. Now, tell me it all."

"The city has about seven thousands defenders. Many of them are half trained gold cloaks that will run if you breach any gate. I have heard Gregor Clegane and one thousand men are in the Kingswood south of the capital."

"We ran into their patrols before we turned this way. I left behind some men to give the impression we are probing for a weak point to get up the Kingswood road."

"A wise plan. Now, Tyrion Lannister is Joffrey's acting hand until Lord Tywin can arrive."

"The Imp?" Stannis snorted in disgust. "All he is good for is books, wine, and whores."

"He may surprise you. He led an attack on Harrenhal which seized the castle by surprise. And he negotiated the peace between Robb Stark and his father."

"Stark," Stannis said in disdain. "He is why I am here."

Baelish took a sip of wine. "You mean he is why you choose to attack here?"

"Yes," Stannis replied. "If he had stayed in the field to hold Tywin in check I would have marched on King's Landing at once. But with Tywin Lannister free of the Stark threat I decided that I must defeat Tyrell before I moved against Tywin."

"You mean to meet Tywin Lannister in open battle?"

"There is no other way to take the city. I must defeat his army in the field first. Then the city will fall of its own accord."

"Tywin Lannister has never been beaten in the field."

"You think not? Perhaps not beaten, but he was certainly outwitted by the Stark boy."

"Quite true."

"Where is Lord Tywin now?"

"Marching south to the city the last I heard. Where he is and when he will arrive I know not. My news is four days old."

Stannis grimaced. "He could already be there!"

"Indeed."

Stannis stood. "Come. It is time to make plans."

Baelish slowly stood and felt able to walk and followed Stannis out of the tent. Outside it was chaos. The smell of smoke was heavy in the air. The sky was blue and the sun was shining but the day was not beautiful. Dead men lay everywhere, mostly Tyrell men, with a few of Stannis', and in the heat they were beginning to rot. Dead cows and pigs and horses also lay about, many of them burnt. Supply wagons had burnt to their axles, and many supplies had burnt as well. But much had been saved and Baelish could see a mass of barrels and casks and boxes in a central area where they were being redistributed on the wagons and horses which had survived. Everywhere they walked men dipped their heads and said "Your Grace" and then continued with their work. Stannis shouted some orders and his officers came up and asked questions and gave reports and off they went with new orders.

As they walked they passed a fenced off area, one of the corrals, now empty of animals. In their place many prisoners were sitting on the ground covered by many guards. Stannis stopped here and had many men with bows and crossbows surround the prisoners as he addressed them. "You men are prisoners of war. I would ransom you if I had time but I do not. And I do not have food or drink for useless mouths. Many of your southern lords have already come to my side. Any man who now bends the knee and agrees to fight for me against the Lannisters will have my pardon and his freedom and land when this war is over. What say you?"

Almost immediately many men got up and bent the knee and soon many others followed. At the end only about three dozen refused. After the others swore the oath of fealty and were released from the pen, Stannis looked at the men remaining inside. "Kill them," Stannis said to his men and then all around the pen bows and crossbows twanged and arrows and bolts flew into the men. There were screams and cries for mercy and some tried to flee but were cut down by swords, and in a minute it was all over.

After it was over he looked at Baelish steadily. "Now you know what kind of King I am. Would you still serve me?"

Baelish grinned. "Your Grace, I always knew what kind of King you would be. I have no trouble serving you."

"Good. Come, we must speak with the Tyrell whelps and then my commanders."

They found Ser Loras and his sister in another intact tent. Four guards were outside and four more were inside. Ser Loras was lying on a bed with his bandaged leg propped up on a pillow. His face was full of bitterness and he looked like he wanted to kill every man in the room. Margaery sat by his side on a chair, looking a bit disheveled and tired but otherwise unharmed.

"Leave us," Stannis said to his guards as they entered the tent.

"How are you, Lord Baelish?" Margaery asked in concern as soon as the guards left.

"I have a terrible headache, but will live I hope."

"We have things to discuss," Stannis told them brusquely.

"I have nothing to say to you," Ser Loras snapped. "You killed your own brother. How could you?" The last was almost like a plea for understanding.

Stannis did not deny he had a part in the killing. "Renly should have come to my side. You were there at the parley. You know I would have made him heir and given him back all his titles."

"He was a king. Why should he bend the knee and take your leavings?"

"I am the elder. I have the better claim," Stannis told him. "Where is his body?"

"Buried, under a tree," Ser Loras told him. "Only I know where and it shall stay that way till I die."

"Very well," Stannis told him and Baelish wondered if Stannis knew about his brother and Ser Loras' true feelings for each other. "You are beaten," Stannis continued. "Your father and Tarly and many other high lords ran off south. Your army is broken, your men dead or scattered and running away. You two will stay with me as hostages of your father's neutrality in my coming battles. If he raises another army to come after me then you will die."

"Put steel in my hand and we will see who will die!" Ser Loras shouted.

"Perhaps it will be me," said Stannis to Baelish's surprise. "Your prowess as a swordsman is unparalleled, Ser Loras, even with a wounded leg I am sure. But the time for such foolishness has passed. You and your sister will write letters to your father. You will tell him you are alive and are being treated well. All this will remain true as long as he remains neutral. When I win the war he and you and all the others will have your pardons."

Ser Loras bristled but said nothing and Baelish knew he did not fear death but also knew he feared for his sister's life. Margaery spoke softly. "Bring us ink and parchment and we will write the letters,"

"Very well," Stannis said and turned to Baelish. "Come."

"Baelish!" Ser Loras shouted as he turned to leave. "Are you his man now?"

Baelish grinned. "I am my own man, Ser Loras. But I serve where I am needed."

Ser Loras looked at him in disgust. "Death is preferable."

"Yes, for you perhaps," Baelish said. "But unlike you, I still have much to live for."

Their next stop was an outdoor table, the same one where he had met the lords of the south the day before. This time Stannis took center stage with all his lord high bannermen around him. Many looked at Baelish in wonder and then listened as he told them all he knew of King's Landing and Tywin Lannister. After he finished Stannis had a guard lead him away and he was given some food and mead. The food was beef stew, not his usual fare, but it tasted wonderful because he was so famished. After he ate a maester came and looked at his wound and took off the bandage and washed his wound and the blood out of his hair with warm soapy water. Then he told him to sit in the sun and let himself dry and not to drink so much mead or wine as it was bad for head injuries.

They stayed there for the rest of the day, cleaning the battlefield of the dead, taking care of the wounded, gathering supplies, sending out patrols, and preparing to move north. Ser Loras refused to write a letter so his sister did it for them and then Stannis sent one of the former prisoners on a fast horse to the south with the letter.

The next morning they broke camp and headed north on the Roseroad. Baelish was given a horse and he and Margaery rode side by side as her brother lay in a nearby wagon on some sacks of grain, his fall from fame complete, as far as Baelish could see. He was still handsome, but without his armor and sword and a horse to sit on he was much less fearsome. All day Ser Loras sat and said nothing and barely ate when they stopped for meals and Baelish knew if his sister wasn't there he would have tried anything to escape or at least kill some of Stannis' men before they cut him down.

They were surrounded by many guards and as they rode north Baelish did not see Stannis much. He caught a glimpse of him on the first day with the red woman, as his men called her in whispers, but Stannis did not introduce them yet. Baelish did not really care. He had much more on his mind. Like how to play this the right way. If Stannis won, then all would be well. But if the Lannisters won, he would have to somehow convince them he was a prisoner. But Ser Loras and Margaery knew he was not, and knew he had thrown in his lot with Stannis. If they survived the battle and told the Lannisters, he might well lose his head. So he would just have to make sure Ser Loras and Margaery did not survive what was to come.