"You look annoyingly happy." Cersei scowled as Tyrion strode into the Small Council chambers, a skip in the small Lannister's step.
Tyrion grinned. "And you're as charming as ever, dear sister," he replied easily. "Not even your beautiful scowling face can threaten my mood."
The acting Hand to the King had every right to be happy at that particular moment. Over the past week, he had received several messages which had only brought good news for the Lannister cause, which had been on the verge of collapse not too long ago. Now, perhaps there was a chance that Joffrey could keep his spoiled ass still planted on the iron monstrosity.
Tyrion hopped into his seat, instantly pouring himself a goblet of wine as the other members of the 'very' small council, as Bronn called it, took their seats. Besides the Queen Regent, the only members still present in King's Landing were the Grand Maester and Varys. Baelish was in the Vale, Jaime was imprisoned in Riverrun, and there had been no candidates named to the Master of Law position. The new Master of Ships, Lord Celtigar, was currently at sea battling the Onion Knight and his small fleet.
When the council was assembled, Tyrion spoke first.
"My lords, I am happy to say that I have quite a bit of good news," he announced. "My father's plan to marry my niece, Princess Myrcella, to the Martells has worked. Oberyn Martell and ten thousand riders are currently cutting across the south-eastern part of the Reach on his way towards the capital, where he shall turn north and ride to Harrenhal to meet with my father."
"Great news indeed." Varys simpered. "It is good to see such great houses like House Lannister and House Martell working together once again."
Cersei shot a glare at the eunuch for comparing the Lannisters and the Martells. The Daughter of Tywin Lannister had very similar thoughts with her father when it came to where House Lannister stood amongst the other great houses of Westeros: they were first, and there was a very wide margin between them and second.
Tyrion continued before his sister could complain and derail the conversation. "Furthermore, my father has managed to turn both House Frey and House Bolton to our side. Lord Bolton is currently in the North, gathering more allies while House Frey holds the Twins and Moat Cailin, baring the Stark boy from his homeland, which is still being ravaged by the ironborn."
"I believe the king's proclamation stripping House Stark and House Tully of their titles and status had a part to play in turning the Freys and Boltons," Varys commented. "Nevertheless, Lord Tywin continues to amaze."
Tyrion held in a snort. Joffrey's declaration had been made out of spite as Robb Stark had gained more allies. It had been Tyrion's father who had made it useful as it turned the Boltons and Freys against their former overlords, turning a boy's jealous complaints into political weapons.
"Indeed." Pycelle wheezed. "His grace must have foreseen that his grandfather would use his proclamation in such a way."
"What has father promised them in turn?" Cersei asked curiously.
Tyrion checked his reports before answering. "Each house will become Lord Paramounts of their respective homelands. For the Freys, there are a few marriages, squireships, things of that nature. For the Boltons, Lord Bolton's bastard will be legitimized, giving the man an heir."
"I do have news regarding the Boltons." Varys chimed in again. "It seems word of Lord Bolton's cloak turning did not reach Lady Stark."
Cersei raised an eyebrow. "Explain." She snapped.
"Theon Greyjoy, the last son of Balon Greyjoy, seemed to enjoy attacking the North. So much so that he took Winterfell itself." Varys answered. "He proclaimed himself 'Prince of Winterfell', a title he did not hold long as a host of northmen soon besieged the castle."
"Get to the point." Cersei barked, tired of the story.
Varys simply bowed his head. "My little birds tell me the Greyjoy boy tried to buy his freedom by bartering with Lady Stark's freedom. Ramsay Snow, Lord Bolton's natural son, was in command of the army and took both prisoner before burning Winterfell to the ground, killing the ironborn and all others within."
There was only silence that followed the eunuch's story. Winterfell, the heart of the North, the stronghold of the ancient and powerful House Stark, had been burned to the ground by the bastard son of their rival house. For all of Robb Stark's accomplishments thus far in the war, that had to have been another arrow into the young warrior's heart.
"Send word to Lord Bolton that I want Catelyn Tully sent here," Cersei ordered, breaking the silence.
"Not possible." Tyrion countered, shaking his head. "Lord Bolton, from my understanding, does not control any ports on either coast. Besides, there are still Ser Davos and his raiders in the Blackwater loyal to Robb Stark. They will most certainly jump at the chance to save the mother of their king."
Cersei waved her hand angrily. "Then strap the woman to a horse and have her brought here down the Kingsroad."
"If you think that Robb Stark and his men will not ride through all manner of country and swim through rivers to save Lady Stark, then you are sadly mistaken." Tyrion drawled, wishing that his sister would finally use her brain for once. "Lady Stark will stay in the North under Lord Bolton's supervision. After the war, we will decide what to do with her. Now, I am curious what our friend Baelish has been up to in the Vale?" Tyrion asked, looking at Varys.
The man known as the Spider folded his hands over his belly. "Lord Baelish, according to my birds, has done little to win over the Lords of the Vale. Except for Lysa Arryn, whom he is now betrothed to marry."
Tyrion's jaw nearly hit the table as Varys broke the news. How in the seven hells did the man manage to convince the woman to marry him? At least now he could take what he's seen in his bloody brothels and put it to use.
"While that's all well and good for him," Tyrion choked out, "how does that help us? I sent the man there to get soldiers, not a fucking wife."
Varys sighed. "Lady Lysa has declared that Baelish will take over as Lord Protector of the Vale as soon as the two are married." The Spider explained. "Such a position would put him in command of the forces of the Vale."
Tyrion rubbed his jaw, annoyed that Baelish had been so successful. Then again, the fact that the Martells had agreed to a marriage with a girl who is half Lannister is still more unbelievable.
"Pycelle, send a message to Baelish. Tell him he has a week to marry the woman and send the knights of the Vale to my father's aid in the Riverlands." Tyrion ordered. "Now, what else must I know about?"
"Margaery Tyrell and Robb Stark have finally married," Varys answered. "The King in the North has also split up his army."
"Why would he do that?" Cersei asked.
"Stark is being attacked on two fronts," Tyrion answered. "He has no choice. How is he dividing his host?"
"My little birds say that the men of the North and the Riverlands are heading north under the command of Jon Snow and Ser Brynden Tully," Varys explained. "Lord Tarly is taking the majority of the reachmen and is heading into the Westerlands to presumably finish what the Blackfish had started. Finally, the northern king himself is taking the rest of the reachmen and the stormlords and is preparing to march towards Lord Tywin."
"Fool." Cersei snorted. "He would have been better off sending Lord Tarly to face my father."
Tyrion tapped the table thoughtfully. "Perhaps it is a blessing in disguise," he suggested. "Removed from men like Tarly and the Blackfish, Robb Stark is more vulnerable than he has ever been. This is the ideal time to cut the head off the snake."
"And with no younger brothers left behind to take up the mantle of King of the North, the resistance will falter and break apart," Cersei said, catching on.
Tyrion nodded. "It seems that, once again, all of our hopes lay on my father's shoulders," he said. "This war is entering the endgame. We will need to act and act fast to ensure that we are in a better position to end this war than the Stark boy is."
"Or else we will meet our ends."
Line Break
Tyrion looked down from the battlements as Bronn sparred with Pod. The rugged sellsword was practically chasing the poor boy around the yard, yet Pod did seem to be learning. There were moments where the sellsword looked genuinely impressed before he attacked with even more ferocity.
"Your sellsword is quite handy with a blade," Varys commented as he strolled up to the little man. "It's a shame the boy is less so."
"What is the benefit to watching my guard and the boy?" Tyrion asked curiously. "I would have thought that you would have your little chicks on much more interesting prey."
"You are a very interesting man, my lord Hand," Varys answered. "And a very dangerous one at that."
Tyrion scoffed. "Scared of a dwarf?"
"More so his brain," Varys replied easily. He looked out at the square where the two fighters were still training. "I hear you have named a temporary Master of Laws?"
Tyrion nodded. "Ser Jacelyn has done quite a magnificent job with the Watch, I figured I would put him on the council until this war is over."
"Ah yes, the Ironhand. A brave and honorable man. Too bad there is not more like him." Varys mused. "I must say, I am rather surprised with Littlefinger's success in the east. Then again, there have been rumors about the man and Lysa Tully."
Tyrion nodded. "So you've informed me. Now the man has the might of the Vale in his hands. As much as I enjoy the knight's aid, I do not enjoy the man controlling them."
"Nor do I." Varys agreed.
Tyrion sighed and shook his head, walking away from the square and towards where the battlements looked out over the Blackwater. Varys followed, his slippered feet barely making a sound.
"How is the Targaryen girl?" Tyrion asked as they walked.
"After losing her Dothraki husband, the girl found herself back in the company of one Illyrio Mopatis, one of the magisters of Pentos," Varys answered. "She has few allies and fewer still to come to her aid should she sail for Westeros."
Tyrion glanced at the Master of Whispers, not sure to believe the man or not. "It seems I will have to trust your judgment on the matter." He said carefully.
Varys smiled softly. "As always, my lord, I try to give you only the information I know. I do not presume to pass judgment. I leave that to men such as yourself and his grace."
"Yes, my nephew does enjoy passing judgment," Tyrion muttered. "Particularly when it means someone dies because of it."
"Does his grace mean to step out onto the battlefield?" Varys asked curiously. "The minstrels would have their work cut out for them."
"Yes, the unbeatable Young Wolf, King of four kingdoms and leader of an army over a hundred thousand strong. The man who duped the mighty Lion of Casterly Rock and captured the Kingslayer." Tyrion said with mock enthusiasm. "Versus the King on the Iron Throne, woman beater and whore murderer. The minstrels would not have much to work with if the two fight."
"I heard the king has been training with his cousin and Ser Meryn," Varys said.
Tyrion scoffed. "You've heard the king training, I've had the unfortunate honor of watching it. He hacks at a straw target while Lancel and Trant choke on his balls."
Varys sighed, leaning against the battlements as Tyrion looked out over the water. "Well, there are reasons for men like Sandor Clegane and his brother. The Mountain will kill the other kings while the Hound protects ours, such as he is."
"Varys, I assume you came to me for more than your comments about my squire and the king," Tyrion said finally. "As much as I enjoy your ball-less company, I would suggest you get to the point."
Varys sighed again, folding his hands inside of his sleeves. "Lord Tywin has gained quite a few allies in a remarkably short amount of time."
"So I've noticed," Tyrion grunted. "Now get on with it."
"What will happen once Lord Tywin has won the war for the king?" Varys asked.
Tyrion shrugged. "The Boltons and Freys will take over for when Houses Stark and Tully go the path of the Tarbecks and Reynes." He explained. "The Reach can be bought, and the lords of the Stormlands will fall in behind Joffrey as King Robert's right heir."
"And what of Stannis's proclamation?" Varys asked.
Tyrion rolled his eyes. "Once we have power again, most will forget Stannis's proclamation. If they don't, then we'll make examples of a few."
"They may not talk about it, but they will remember it," Varys said gravely.
Tyrion scowled. "That is a headache I prefer to leave to my father. I am rather preoccupied making sure my sister keeps her son in line and the city doesn't go all to hell."
"And doing a famously good job at it." Varys praised. "I have seen nary a bruise on the young Sansa Stark nor tears from Prince Tommen."
"Yes, the king has some troubling tendencies, but again, that is a problem for my father. Who better to deal with our young king than the man who kept the realm together under the rule of the Mad King." Tyrion chuckled grimly.
Varys bowed to Tyrion. "I will take my leave. So many little birds returning to the next."
Tyrion held up a hand to stop the man. "Varys, I do not need to remind you that, if you hide anything from us and it leads to the Starks besieging the city, I will make sure that this is a nest you can not fly away from."
Varys gave Tyrion a little smile and strode away, the little man's gaze burning a hole in the silk robe he wore.