When Littlefinger walked into the small council chambers, all eyes were on him in an instant. As usual, he refused to drop the blasted smirk from his face. Even when facing the collective glare of both Tyrion and Cersei, the man never showed an ounce of remorse or fear. When he took his seat, the room was ominously quiet.
"You had one job, Lord Baelish." Tyrion sighed, cradling a chalice of wine in his hands. "Bring the Tyrells to our side and we win the fucking war."
Baelish put his hands together on the table. "I was under the impression from our….esteemed Master of Whispers that Robb Stark would be incapacitated," he explained. "Unfortunately, he was all but."
Cersei turned her glare on Varys. "Lord Varys, Lord Baelish does have a point. You said the Stark boy had a broken back."
"I believe I said it was a rumor," Varys said, defending himself.
"So much for your little birds," Cersei muttered.
"What else did you learn, Lord Baelish?" Tyrion asked, turning the conversation back to the Tyrells.
Baelish sighed. "I thought I was meeting with Lord Mace and his heir, Willas. Turns out the heir is smarter than the father."
"Not a surprise," Tyrion grumbled. "Olenna Tyrell's intelligence apparently skipped over her son and went to her eldest grandson."
Baelish nodded. "Indeed. Our meeting was interrupted by the arrival of Ser Garlan Tyrell and Robb Stark himself. Apparently, the day before I arrived, the Reach pledged themselves to the King in the North."
"Traitors." Cersei hissed.
"Furthermore, when the Queen of Thorns entered the room, I learned that not only did the Reach pledge their loyalty to the Northern king, but Mace Tyrell's daughter is set to marry him." Baelish continued, ignoring the queen.
Tyrion sighed and leaned back in his seat. "How fucking perfect," he said. "Now we have a host of enemies to our north and a host of enemies to our south. And we are stuck in a hungry, impoverished city with our only hope of victory stuck in the Ruins of Harrenhal."
"I do not believe Robb Stark will march on the capitol," Varys said.
"Why wouldn't he?" Cersei scoffed. "We have nothing to stop the boy."
"My little birds…." Varys began.
"Stop with your fucking birds." Cersei hissed. "We've seen how reliable they are."
Varys made a vague gesture. "Forgive me, your grace, but my little birds are not infallible. This, however, is true. Robb Stark has convinced the reachmen that Stannis Baratheon is to blame for Renly's death."
"That would be kinslaying!" Pycelle gasped.
"What proof did the boy have that Stannis committed the crime?" Tyrion asked.
"He said it was blood magic performed by the priestess that the man now has by his side," Varys explained, his face darkening slightly as he mentioned blood magic.
"Blood magic is nonsense," Pycelle grumbled. "Charlatan trickery."
Varys glared at the old maester, his perfectly controlled facade breaking for just a moment. "I assure you, Grand Maester, blood magic is very real," he said, his voice deadly serious. "My little birds have since fled Dragonstone, but the last ones told me that Stannis is now firmly under her control."
"Stannis is not a godly man," Tyrion pointed out. "Whatever control this priestess has over the man, I'm sure it's not as bad as it may seem."
"He's burned the sept and all the statues of the Seven." Varys deadpanned. "His banner is now a black stag in a flaming heart. He has been converted to the Lord of Light. There is no denying it."
Baelish rolled his eyes while Cersei drained the last of what was in her goblet. Tyrion swished the wine in his glass thoughtfully. "So Renly is dead. What's happened to the Stormlander lords?"
"They've gone over to Stannis. He now has over twenty-five thousand men outside of Storm's End." Varys answered.
Tyrion nodded slowly. "You said Stark pointed the finger at Stannis. You think he's going to attack Stannis to avenge the younger baratheon?"
Varys nodded. "I wouldn't put it past the King in the North. He is his father's son."
"Neither would I." Tyrion agreed. "Keep an eye on the boy. I will send a raven to my father at Harrenhal. He needs to know that the odds are greatly stacked against us."
"That will be all for now, my lords," Cersei said, stopping the meeting dead in its tracks.
The other members of the council glanced between the siblings, but followed the Queen Regent's order, putting their papers in order before filing out of the room, leaving the two Lannisters alone.
"As always, dear sister, you are as sweet as honey," Tyrion muttered, taking a drink of his wine.
"Shut up." Cersei snapped. "As much as I hate to see the Stark boy gain more power than he had any right to have, I am pleased to see your clever little plot fall apart in front of your eyes."
Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "My clever little plot? And what would that be?"
"You tried to sell my son off like some piece of livestock." Cersei snarled. "He is the king of Westeros."
Tyrion scoffed. "I hadn't noticed," he said. "Oh, and as of right now, he is the king of the crownlands and the Westerlands….well, half of them that is."
"We would be winning this war if Father would finally move and attack the Starks and Tullys," Cersei said, leaning forward. "Instead, he sits on his ass in some ruin, watching the war happen around him."
"In case you haven't noticed, Father is a little preoccupied trying to win the war your son started," Tyrion argued. "Besides, if Father goes north, who's going to protect the capital from our enemies to the south?"
"Varys just said that the Stark boy is going into the Stormlands with the army of the Reach. The northern host is without its leader." Cersei said.
Tyrion propped his head on his hand, regarding his sister. "You do know how many men the Reach can field, don't you?"
Cersei frowned in confusion. "A hundred thousand," she answered.
Tyrion nodded. "A hundred thousand men with swords and spears and bows who would like very much to kill you and me and Father and your son, the King of Westeros as you say," Tyrion explained. "If Father goes north, then all the Stark boy has to do is split the current force he now controls, which he is more than capable of doing. He has the numbers, and the commanders I might add, to completely overwhelm Stannis Baratheon and attack King's Landing while Father is stuck in the Riverlands trying to deal with the northern host."
Cersei glared at Tyrion, knowing that he had just scored a point in their verbal battle.
"Even you must admit, in your little brain, that Father must do something," Cersei said finally.
Tyrion nodded. "I do, but that is not to say that Father is doing nothing." He said. "With the number of allies that the Stark boy now has, do you believe that they are all getting along?"
Cersei shook her head.
"Exactly." Tyrion continued. "Robb Stark is not a god, nor a werewolf as the singers like to believe. He is a boy who has stunned the realm. That does not mean that he is perfect. He has a weakness, and that is currently being exploited."
Cersei frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Tyrion raised a message that he had in front of him, passing it to his sister. "Before you sent our little band of friends away, we never got to talk about what is happening in the North."
Cersei read the message, looking back at her brother. "The ironborn have invaded the North."
Tyrion nodded, snatching the message back from her. "Indeed. The Stark boy sent Balon's son back to him in the hopes of creating an alliance with the Iron Islands. Robb Stark has just learned a hard lesson: never trust a Greyjoy." Tyrion said. "And now his people are bleeding because of it."
"Stupid boy." Cersei said idly.
Tyrion nodded, taking another drink of wine. "Yes, it seems that the Stark boy is capable of making a mistake after all." He said. "Now, the northern lords will not stand by while their homeland is attacked. Not for all the gold in the Rock."
"They'll go home," Cersei said, a light of hope shining in her eyes.
Tyrion nodded. "Exactly. Robb Stark's most ardent supporters will march on home, leaving the boy with a large army and no support base."
"The boy still has a hundred thousand men." Cersei commented. "We need allies."
Tyrion grinned slightly. "Why, dear sister, that might be the smartest thing you've said since I arrived in this terrible place," he said, taking a small amount of pleasure getting under his sister's skin. "You're right, we need allies and I believe I might know where to find them."
Cersei raised a languid eyebrow. "Would you be so kind as to inform me?" She asked dryly.
"The Vale has been oddly quiet," Tyrion said. "I rather expected them to immediately join the Stark boy in going after Joffrey's head, but they haven't. Varys tells me that Lady Lysa is remaining neutral. I then asked our Master of Whispers to find me everything he could on the Lady of the Vale, and he came back with some rather interesting rumors."
Cersei huffed. "I fail to see why you're talking about that woman."
"Patience is a virtue." Tyrion chuckled. "The reason I am talking about Lysa Tully is because Petyr Baelish grew up with her in Riverrun. Did you know that? No, you probably didn't. It's beneath you to know such information. There's even a rumor spread by Baelish himself that he took both Tully girls maidenhoods."
"Get to the point," Cersei growled.
Tyrion rolled his eyes. "Sweet as vinegar," he muttered, amending his previous statement. "We can send Lord Baelish to the Vale to make an alliance of our own."
"The Vale lords will never ally with us. Ned Stark grew up in the Vale." Cersei pointed out.
Tyrion nodded. "Correct, but when their lady said that they would remain neutral, they did. Even when their dear Ned Stark had his head chopped off. If Lady Lysa ordered them to attack the Starks and Tullys, I am willing to bet that a number of them would obey."
Cersei tapped her finger on the table thoughtfully, looking towards the wall. After a few moments of thinking, she looked back at her brother.
"Do you think it'll work?" She asked, all the venom in her voice gone.
Tyrion knew that, at her core, Cersei was a woman who was driven by her instincts to protect her children and those she cares about. If there was even a slight chance to win the war, she was willing to try it.
The acting-Hand to the King nodded. "It won't hurt to try. We need friends to win this war. If this doesn't work, we will have to look elsewhere."
"Where?" Cersei asked.
"Across the Narrow Sea," Tyrion sighed. "We can hire a few sellsword companies."
"But we're in debt." Cersei pointed out.
Tyrion shrugged. "Father has an account with the Iron Bank. More than enough to pay for one or two companies. Perhaps the Golden Company. Ten thousand trained sellswords. That would be nice."
Cersei nodded, standing up. "I'll go inform the king of what is happening."
"I hear you already found a replacement for Ser Preston Greenfield?" Tyrion mused, stopping his sister.
Cersei nodded slowly. "I did. Ser Osmund Kettleback."
Tyrion sighed. "You know the Kingsguard are supposed to be the best knights in all the realm." He said, a slight hint of annoyance in the small man's voice. "Not the Queen's lackeys."
Cersei was seething. "They are not…."
"Meryn Trant, Boros Blount, Osmund Kettleback," Tyrion said, cutting off his sister. "These are not knights, they are your informants, put in the Kingsguard for little political gain."
"Make your point." Cersei hissed.
"If we win this war, we need to change many things." Tyrion pressed. "The Small Council and the Kingsguard to start."
"Why would we do such a thing?" Cersei asked. "Robert did just fine with these men."
"Robert was fine because he was known as the men who destroyed the Targaryen dynasty and tore the crown from Balon Greyjoy's bloody head." Tyrion countered. "He also had Jon Arryn to rule the realm for him, and he still managed to drive his fucking kingdom in millions of debt."
Tyrion stopped himself, taking a deep breath before he continued at a more reasonable tone. "Joffrey is not his father. He does not have Robert's charisma nor has he earned a reputation at the battlefield. He will need good, no, great protection and loyal and smart men on his council." Tyrion explained. "Let's be generous here Cersei. Joffrey does not want to rule, he enjoys the power that comes from the crown on his head. Father won't care because as soon as the war is done and he takes his place as hand, the realm will be ruled by him."
Cersei looked like she wanted to argue, but didn't. The two siblings knew what their father was like. He kept the realm together for decades while Aerys Targaryen fell to madness next to him. He more than anyone would be able to keep Joffrey in line and bring the realm back to stability.
"What do you have in mind?" Cersei asked finally.
"Baelish, Varys, we must keep an eye on them. Them and many others will be like rats from a sinking ship if Robb Stark beats father." Tyrion said, keep his voice low. "Father won't let the Stark boy win, but if we can get some evidence that shows if either of them are helping our enemies, or anyone else for that matter, we can get rid of them and fill their spots with men more capable. More loyal men."
Cersei nodded slowly. "I will think about it." She said finally, walking out.
"Cersei?" Tyrion called after his sister, causing her to turn. "Try to keep Joffrey from beating Lady Sansa again, would you."
Cersei glared at her brother before sweeping out of the room. Tyrion watched her go. The acting Hand of the King drained the last of his wine and hopped off his chair. He needed to go see Shae.