Tyrion returned to his room deep in thought, only to find Cersei striding toward him.
"Have you caught Loras yet?" she demanded.
"Not yet."
"Useless," she spat, lifting her chin disdainfully. "You have three days to capture him, or else—"
"Or else what?" Tyrion interrupted. "What will you do to me?"
"I'll throw you back in the dungeon!" Cersei snapped. "Don't forget, Tyrion, your crimes haven't been absolved."
"And what about your crimes, dear sister?"
"I've committed no crimes!"
"Haven't you?" Tyrion sneered. "For a grieving widow, your bedmates seem rather numerous."
"What are you insinuating?" Cersei's voice wavered, her expression finally showing cracks of uncertainty. She lowered her voice and hissed, "Surely you don't believe the lies of Eddard Stark and Samwell Caesar? Tommen is your nephew—are you going to destroy him?"
Tyrion caught the note of desperation in her words, but his heart had hardened.
"You destroyed him," he said coldly.
"You have no proof!" she retorted, clinging to her defiance. "Even Eddard Stark admitted that the book from the previous Grand Maester was a forgery!"
"Father's sword was at his throat—of course he admitted it. But you're right, I have no proof. There's no witness to your incest with Jaime. But what about the others? Would they keep your secret as steadfastly as dear Jaime did?"
"Others? What others?" Cersei's eyes darted nervously.
"For instance, our darling cousin Lancel. Or Ser Osmund Kettleblack. Or, heavens help us, Moon Boy." Tyrion watched the terror spread across her face and chuckled. "Oh, sister, your tastes are truly peculiar. Lancel and Osmund I can understand, but Moon Boy? Tsk, tsk. If Jaime ever finds out you chose him as a replacement, he'd probably lose his mind."
"That's slander!" Cersei's voice rose uncontrollably, drawing the attention of the nobles gathered nearby.
She instantly realized her mistake. As the weight of their gazes bore down on her, Cersei lowered her voice again and whispered, "You have no evidence. You cannot ruin the reputation of the Queen Regent without proof!"
"I don't," Tyrion admitted. "But Varys does. Otherwise, how would I know about Moon Boy? And let me ask you, dear sister—if we were to apprehend your lovers and put them on trial, do you think they'd die to protect your secret?"
Cersei began to tremble. "You… You can't do this. You'll ruin the Lannister name."
"If you want to avoid disgrace, you'd best stop opposing me." Tyrion finally made his intent clear.
Cersei didn't argue this time. Fear had silenced her.
"Good," Tyrion said with a satisfied nod. "I much prefer the quiet version of you."
Cersei lowered her head, her lips trembling as though she wanted to retort, but no words came out. For now, she appeared to have conceded.
"Let's proceed," Tyrion declared. "Escort my father's remains to the Great Sept of Baelor."
The gathered nobles exchanged glances. Some obeyed without hesitation, while others instinctively looked to Cersei for guidance. When she said nothing, they too acquiesced to Tyrion's orders.
At least for now, I've seized control of the Westerlands, Tyrion thought. But there are still three other regions to deal with…
Seven knights of House Lannister lifted Tywin's coffin and carried it out of the room, followed by the other attendees.
Tyrion mounted his small mare and slowly descended Aegon's High Hill.
At the front of the procession rode the seven Kingsguard knights on white horses, followed by the Lannister guards dressed in red and gold. Tywin's coffin was carried behind them, its weight both literal and symbolic.
Armed guards lined the streets to prevent any disturbances, but to Tyrion's surprise, the city was eerily quiet.
The people of King's Landing showed little interest in mourning the death of the Hand of the King.
Father, it seems you weren't as loved as you imagined, Tyrion mused.
He recalled something Tywin had once told him:
"Love is the most useless thing in the world. You can't eat it, you can't wear it, and it won't keep you warm on a cold night."
You were right about one thing, Father. You never loved anyone, so it's only fitting that no one loves you now.
The procession reached Visenya's Hill and entered the opulent Great Sept of Baelor.
Tyrion dismounted as the High Septon awaited them on the steps.
Under the High Septon's guidance, they passed through the Hall of Lamps into the central nave. Seven wide aisles radiated from the marble center, each leading to an immense statue of one of the Seven.
In the sacred space beneath the glittering dome of crystal, stained glass, and gold, Tywin's body was laid to rest in a grand marble coffin atop a raised platform.
The assembled nobles knelt behind the boy king Tommen.
Tyrion scanned the crowd, searching for the Lord of the Dreadfort, Roose Bolton, but the man was nowhere to be seen.
His brow furrowed in irritation.
The High Septon began reciting prayers for the dead. Tyrion suppressed his unease and bowed his head.
---
Outside the Great Sept, a small crowd of commoners had gathered.
It was unclear whether they were there to mourn the Hand of the King or simply to watch the spectacle.
"Can we go inside and see?" Arya Stark asked eagerly.
"We have to wait for the nobles to finish mourning first," Sansa replied. "It'll be our turn by evening. And stop smiling! Someone might see you!"
"Oh, right." Arya straightened her face but couldn't hide the mischievous glint in her eyes.
At that moment, a squad of guards approached them.
"They saw you smiling! We're doomed!" Sansa whispered anxiously. "I told you not to come here!"
"Run!" Arya grabbed her sister's arm and prepared to flee.
But the soldiers quickly surrounded them.
"Don't worry," a calm voice assured them.
Arya spotted the speaker—Varys, standing just behind the guards.
"It's you! You betrayed us!" Arya shouted.
"I'm helping you," Varys replied with a pleasant smile. "And I have an opportunity for you to deal with the traitors in the North. If you want revenge, come with me."
"Really?" Arya's eyes widened in suspicion.
"Of course," Varys said. "Caesar's army is at the gates, and the Lannisters are finished. It's time to settle some old scores."
"What do you want us to do?" Sansa asked, still wary.
"All you have to do is reveal your identities to the Northern lords," Varys explained. "Leave the rest to us."
"And the Lannisters? Will they try to harm us?"
"Tywin is dead. Tyrion is in charge now. Between us, he's already decided to surrender to Caesar. But first, he needs your help to deal with some disobedient nobles."
The Stark sisters exchanged a look. Sansa hesitated, but Arya made her decision.
"Fine! We'll go with you!"
(End of Chapter)