Knock, knock, knock!
The rapid knocking on the door interrupted Tyrion Lannister, the "Imp," as he was savoring the lingering taste of wine on Shae's lips.
"Someone's here for you, my lion," Shae teased with a smirk.
"Ignore them!" Tyrion replied, feeling Shae's firm, delicate curves pressed against him, already losing interest in anything else.
Shae laughed lightly, pushing him away. "Go on, my Lannister giant. It might actually be important."
"In King's Landing, 'important things' never end. It'll drive me mad one day," he complained, but reluctantly slipped on a robe, his two crooked little legs carrying him to the door.
Outside was Bronn, his sellsword. Since arriving in the capital, Bronn had earned himself a spot in the City Watch. Now he was Ser Bronn of the Gold Cloaks.
"What is it?" Tyrion demanded irritably.
"The queen regent's returned and is calling for a Small Council meeting. She wants you there."
"My sister's back?" Tyrion grumbled. "And what gives her the right to call a Small Council meeting? She's not the regent anymore."
Indeed, the power of regency had officially passed to the new Hand of the King—Lord Tywin Lannister.
Bronn shrugged. "How would I know? She wants you there. Go or don't."
Despite his gold cloak, Bronn had never fully shaken off his sellsword edge, the boldness that only Tyrion seemed to tolerate.
Tyrion had no desire to see Cersei but was cautious enough to go. When she was in one of her moods, there was no telling what she might do.
More importantly, Tyrion was harboring a secret that could give his sister ample fuel for scandal—Shae. Shae was, after all, a whore. Tywin Lannister despised whores and would be furious if he learned Tyrion had brought one into the Red Keep. Such anger could easily lead to a repeat of the "Tysa incident."
Tyrion still remembered Tysa, the daughter of a farmer, whom he had once taken as his wife. But when Lord Tywin discovered the union, he revealed a horrifying "truth"—that Tysa had been a whore Jaime had hired to give Tyrion his first experience with a woman. Tywin then had his men take turns with her, paying each time. At the end, Tywin made Tyrion go last, offering her a gold coin, because "Lannisters pay well."
Since that day, Tyrion had never dared to let his father know about his dealings with women.
"Fine, wait a moment. I'll change," he told Bronn, heading back inside.
As he dressed in something respectable, he turned to Shae, who was still lounging on the bed.
"Tomorrow, I'll arrange a place for you to stay outside the Red Keep. Don't worry—I'll visit as often as I can."
Shae bolted upright, her expression crestfallen. The blanket slipped, revealing her bare shoulders, but her voice was sharp.
"Are you abandoning me?"
"That's not it at all—"
"I thought you were different!" she said, a tear forming in her eye. "You're just like the rest. Once you've had your fill, you throw coins and leave!"
"It's not like that." Tyrion rushed to soothe her. "I just can't let my father know you're here—"
"Of course. Because I'm just a whore!"
"It isn't that." Tyrion pleaded, "Please, give me a little time. I swear I won't abandon you."
Eventually, he managed to calm her down, and with a heavy sigh, he left for Maegor's Holdfast.
Behind him, Bronn said, "She's just a whore."
"I know." Tyrion shrugged. "But who else would willingly spread her legs for a dwarf like me?"
Though he said it, Tyrion felt anger bubbling within—at himself. She only cares for your money and your status. Wake up, Tyrion. Since when do whores fall in love?
"Find her a place outside the castle walls," Tyrion finally said, despite knowing better. "Make sure it's close by."
"Sure."
At the Small Council chamber, Tyrion found his sister, Cersei, along with two other council members—Varys, the Master of Whisperers, and Grand Maester Gormon.
Gormon was a recent addition to the council, hailing from the Reach, specifically from the Tyrell family. While all maesters were supposed to renounce their family ties, anyone who believed that was the true mark of a fool. Tyrion doubted the Citadel would send a Tyrell as Grand Maester without some ulterior motive. The Reach was already eager to seize power, he thought.
"Why are you so slow!" Cersei's green eyes bored into him as he entered.
"Dear sister, surely you know dwarfs have short legs. We don't move fast," Tyrion replied with a sardonic smile, clambering into his seat. "Where's our uncle? Isn't he coming?"
"You mean Kevan?" Cersei frowned. "What for? He's not a council member."
Tyrion bit back the retort he wanted to make—that Cersei herself wasn't an official council member either—but he opted for diplomacy.
"He's here to oversee things while our father is away. He's the acting Hand."
"While Father is away, I'm the one overseeing things!" Cersei snapped.
Tyrion rolled his eyes inwardly but refrained from escalating the argument.
For now, at least, he preferred not to expose the rifts within the Lannister family to Varys and Gormon. Then again, he thought grimly, the divide was hardly a secret by now.
Cersei took his silence as surrender and continued smugly.
"So, how much support does Stannis Baratheon still have among the Seven Kingdoms?"
Tyrion counted on his fingers. "The North, undoubtedly, with Eddard Stark's firm support. Riverrun and the Tullys have also thrown their lot in—"
"That old trout isn't dead yet?" Cersei interrupted furiously.
"Rumor has it he's close," Tyrion replied with a shrug. "The Vale has yet to make a formal declaration, but my guess is Stark will sway them eventually. As for the Stormlands, they're in turmoil. And now that Father's appointed a new Lord of Storm's End, it's even messier. Officially, though, they support us. The Reach is also undecided—"
"That fish will back us," Cersei interjected confidently. "Jaime's gone to Highgarden, and Mace promised he'd hand that cursed Caesar over to us!"
"Splendid. With the Reach on our side, we'll have an eighty percent chance of winning," Tyrion whistled cheerfully. "And Dorne has also aligned with us, at Father's behest. They're already pressing us to send Princess Myrcella to them."
"Absolutely not!" Cersei's response was instantaneous. "I won't send my daughter to that forsaken place!"
Tyrion stared at her. "My dear sister, that's part of the agreement. You can't—"
"I said no, and I meant it!" she leaned forward, her tone threatening. "Tell Doran to ask for something else."
Tyrion sighed, deciding not to press the point. Once Father returned, he'd handle Cersei.
"So, our primary opponent is the Northern wolf now?" Cersei summed up.
"Yes, but we shouldn't ignore the Riverlands and the Vale," Tyrion advised.
"Didn't the Riverlands and Vale armies get trapped in Dorne? What are you worried about?"
Because you're about to antagonize Dorne too! Tyrion thought sourly.
"The Riverlands and the Vale can still raise new armies, so we mustn't be careless," he cautioned. "Word is that Eddard Stark is already rallying forces near the Trident. He could gather fifty to sixty thousand soldiers."
"On the Trident?" Cersei paled. "That's close to King's Landing! What about our forces? Where is Father now?"
"In Harrenhal."
"Why is he in Harrenhal? Why isn't he back in the capital?"
"It's strategic, dear sister. Harrenhal is the most logical position. It blocks the Northern army's advance, and it creates a stronghold—"
"I don't care about strongholds! What if the rebels bypass Harrenhal and attack King's Landing?" Cersei snapped.
"Then they're doomed," Tyrion replied, hoping to simplify the strategy for her. "Think of it this way—if they come for King's Landing, the city walls are our anvil, and Father's forces at Harrenhal are the hammer. We'll crush them."
Cersei nodded slowly, though not entirely convinced. "But shouldn't we keep our main army here?"
"King's Landing has stronger walls, and our priority should be to secure the capital." Tyrion felt his patience waning. "Look, you could write to Father yourself if you insist on him returning."
"Fine!" Cersei snapped, still unconvinced. "I'll have the King send an order."
The idea of using her own son as a pawn made Tyrion wince. Does she ever stop using her own children as leverage? He shook his head, unwilling to argue further. Tywin would never be swayed by an order from a nine-year-old King.
"By the way," Cersei said suddenly, as if a brilliant idea had struck her, "aren't Eddard Stark's two daughters still in King's Landing? We could use them as hostages, force the North to withdraw."
"Those two little wolves vanished ages ago."
"What do you mean, vanished?"
"They probably escaped."
"Escaped? You couldn't even keep two girls under control?" Cersei's fury ignited once again.
"I'm the Master of Coin, not a nanny! I don't have time to babysit two children," Tyrion snapped, then glanced over at Varys, his eyes narrow. "Besides, even Varys here doesn't seem to know where they went."
Varys's fat face was full of innocence: "Before the incident in Skyreach, the two young ladies of the disappeared. I didn't know to keep an eye on them at that time."
"I guess Eddard Stark is prepared! Damn Wolf!" Cersei said gritting her teeth.
Tyrion looked at Varys with suspicion and said, "Your little birds know exactly how many times I went and shit in the toilet, but they have no idea where the two little wolves went. Who are you trying to fool?"
The Spider's face wore a hurt expression. "Lord Tyrion, you wound me. I genuinely have no idea where the Stark girls went. I agree with the Queen; this was likely planned by Lord Stark himself. If the Hand of the King wanted to quietly remove two girls from the Red Keep, what could I possibly do?"
"Very well," Cersei said with an irritated sigh, "if they escaped, they escaped. Stark's daughters won't matter once Father returns to King's Landing. With him here, the wolf won't dare come near."
Tyrion suddenly felt a strange sense of relief at the thought of his father's return. Perhaps Tywin's presence in King's Landing might indeed not be such a terrible thing—if it meant keeping his sister in line.
(End of Chapter)