Hand's Study, Red Keep - King's Landing, CrownLands
It has been almost two days since Visenya spent her day with Sansa. After their return, the Dragoness had become quite busy with the latest problem of Robb Stark. Most specifically, with his plan to marry his uncle to one of the daughters of Lord Fray to regain the alliance he lost when he broke his betrothal.
Eventually, a plan was formed and two days later they received two letters. One was from Lord Frey, coded but claiming their success and the other was from Roose Bolton; ironically their latest ally.
Upon reading the letter of Lord Bolton, Visenya felt the blood in her veins boil and her gaze hardened. She glared at the piece of paper with such ferocity; one might expect it to burst into flames any moment now.
She slammed the paper on the desk with enough force to make the ink pot shake and as she pulled her hand back, she started to curse in High Valyrian; something rare and happening only when she was really furious.
She marched up and down like a caged animal, fuming while Tywin sat in his chair without truly being affected by the news. "You can be angry but the point remains. Robb Stark is dead and this 2-year-old war is about to end, very soon," he reminded her, watching and letting her voice out her temper.
"I know that," she argued and took a deep breath, not wishing to snap out at him. She passed a hand through her hair in an attempt to occupy herself but also push away any strands that fell in front of her eyes. "He went out of plan though. Robb Stark and his loyal men were to die. Catelyn Stark was supposed to be left alive for us to control the Tullys and there was no need for Robb's pregnant wife to perish that way. She should have been unharmed, taken prisoner."
Tywin did not comment on her temper and did not seem to be influenced either. "This is war, Visenya. You remember too well that plans do not go accordingly when you are at war. The child would be a competitor for the one that Stark girl will bear for us. It is better that way." He said, leaning back on his chair.
Visenya did not seem to fully agree. "It could still be used by us once it was born. The child did not have to die and neither had the mother."
"Our orders were apparently not thorough enough for Lord Frey, which allowed him to take liberties," he concluded.
Somehow, this made them both realize the irony of the situation; a sense of déjà vu hitting them at the same time. A long time ago, Tywin had not given clear enough orders to the Mountain and the incident with Elia Martell happened.
Now, Visenya had not clarified to Lord Frey how each member of the Stark family had to be handled; and the blood of an unborn child and its mother was now staining her hands.
She sat down on the chair and grabbed her goblet, emptying it all in one go. She then lowered it slowly and let out a heavy sigh. "What now?" she finally asked him, unsure how to proceed.
"Now," he stood up slowly and walked around the desk. "We have a Small Council meeting to summon." He offered his hand to her like he always did. "Better not delay it. It is getting late and I do not wish to deal with more than I have to for today."
His wife looked up at him and placed her hand into his, allowing him to help her get up. He did not let go of her directly and his eyes locked on her face, checking on her and ensuring she was good before he ordered the servants to summon all the members while they would move to their respectable places to the table; being not that far away from his desk.
She locked eyes with him and she nodded her head twice, to let him know that she was good. Her temper was still there and so was guilt but she hid it all behind the poker mask she had long perfected.
The Small Council Meeting, Chambers of the Hand, Red Keep: King's Landing, Crown Lands
The small council had started and everyone was present, almost everyone. Tyrion was absent and Visenya had sent Podrick to fetch him before taking her seat by Tywin's right as per usual.
Tywin was at the head of the table and Cersei was at his left. There was an empty seat for Joffrey, with Varys next to him. At the other side of the table but close to the end was Pycelle, who was currently holding the coded letter of Lord Frey.
However, the boy-king was up and moving around after he learnt the news. He was even grinning but anyone could see that there was something very wrong with his smile.
Eventually, Tyrion did grace them with his presence and noticed the odd excitement of his nephew. "Killed a few puppies today?" he asked him as he sat in his usual chair, right across from his father.
"Show him. Come on, show him," Joffrey ordered, practically jumping up and down as he could not truly stand still for a minute.
Pycelle offered the scroll to Tyrion. His hands were shaking and eventually, he ended up dropping the rolled-up paper to the floor, forcing Tyrion to bend and grab it.
"Oh, apologies, my lord. Old fingers," he apologized.
Visenya arched an eyebrow and exchanged a silent glance with Tywin, who met her gaze but eventually all focused on the dwarf.
He had started to read the coded letter out loud. "Roslin caught a fine fat trout. Her brothers gave her a pair of wolf pelts for her wedding. Signed Walder Frey." He read and looked at his father. "Is that bad poetry or is it supposed to mean something?"
Joffrey could not remain quiet any longer. "Robb Stark is dead" he explained and laughed a sort of sick one that made most of the people present to feel uneasy. "And his bitch mother" he laughed some more and then turned to the Grand Maester. "Write back to Lord Frey. Thank him for his service and command him to send Robb Stark's head. I'm going to serve it to Sansa at my wedding feast." He said his idea with pride, looking at his mother and expecting praise.
His words made Visenya narrow her eyes faintly at the boy, who was still willing to torture that poor girl even after she was no longer his betrothed. It was sick and she could finally see the true colours of the boy-king.
No wonder Olenna doesn't want her granddaughter to be married to him, she thought but remained silent.
The one to speak and voice everyone's thoughts was, surprisingly, Varys. "Your Grace, Lady Sansa is your aunt by marriage." He reminded the boy.
Cersei, who realized this, was bad, tried to fix the situation. "A joke. Joffrey did not mean it." She said with a fake smile.
Her son frowned and looked at her. "Yes, I did. I'm going to have it served to Sansa at my wedding feast and make her kiss it."
Visenya was about to open her mouth and stop him but Tyrion beat her to it.
"No." He exclaimed with so much seriousness that one would think they heard Tywin and not his Imp son. "She is no longer yours to torment."
"Everyone is mine to torment," Joffrey argued as he walked towards him. "You'd do well to remember that, you little monster." He almost spat and then walked back to his mother.
Tyrion, however, had grown under Tywin's insults and Cersei's daily threats. He was not unfazed by a teenage boy, whose voice had not even changed an octave to be more fitting for someone of his gender.
"Oh, I'm a monster. Perhaps you should speak to me more softly, then. Monsters are dangerous and just now kings are dying like flies." He said, his face being the most serious one had ever seen and even his attempt at a joke sounded more like a threat.
This caused the room to go silent. Cersei glanced at her son, afraid he would snap and Varys did the same. Pycelle looked at Tywin, who was watching in silence but with some small pleasure that someone at last chose to speak back to that spoiled boy.
The only person smirking was Visenya, who gave the faintest of head nods to her stepson for defending Sansa and putting the boy back in his place. Tyrion noticed as his eyes adverted to hers for a moment and felt pleased to see it but he quickly focused back on Joffrey, who seemed to finally snap out of the small state of shock.
"I could have your tongue out for saying that." He reminded his uncle, trying to threaten and scare him but failing to do so by how his own voice was shaking from fear.
Cersei took Joffrey's hand and held it with both of hers, in an attempt to calm him down. "Let him make his threats. Hmm?" she said, looking up at him but then she looked at Tyrion, sending him a silent glare. "He's a bitter little man."
"Lord Tyrion should apologize immediately," Lord Pycelle said. "Unacceptable, disrespectful, and in very bad taste."
Visenya turned her head to look at the Grand Maester with an unimpressed and annoyed look since his interference was not really needed. Pycelle noticed and withdrew his body a little more on the chair while avoiding her gaze, playing the scared, stupid old man he was supposed to be.
Joffrey pulled his hand free and pointed a finger at himself. "I am the King!" he reminded everyone and then pointed the same finger at Tyrion. "I will punish you."
Getting tired of this back-and-forth game that served no true purpose, Tywin decided to speak and end this once and for all.
"Any man who must say, 'I am the king' is no true king." He commented in his usual tone as he sat normally on the chair, both hands resting on the arms of the chair. "I'll make sure you understand that when I've won your war for you."
However, the boy king was still angry. He turned to face his grandfather and spoke words that no brave or even stupid enough person would ever dare to speak to the mighty Tywin Lannister.
"My father won the real war," the boy said, talking about Robert. "He killed Prince Rhaegar. He took your trophy wife as his prisoner on the battlefield," he started, pointing a finger at Visenya, who had narrowed her eyes dangerously. "He took the crown while you were a coward, afraid of Aerys and chose to hide under Casterly Rock!"
Once again, the room went silent as the depth of the insult slowly sank in. Every small council member and even Cersei exchanged a look of worry, everyone fearful of what Tywin would do next.
Tywin Lannister had killed men for lesser insults and it did not matter to him if the one insulting him was of his own blood. He kept glaring silently at his grandson, his head tilted ever so faintly and his gaze sharp, like a lion about to pounce on its prey.
The intense staring made Joffrey uncomfortable, who tried to keep looking back but felt more and more uncomfortable. At the same time, he felt an intense burning glare coming from Visenya, whose eyes seemed to almost glow with a silent warning.
She was a patient woman with children but that boy had managed to insult her in two sentences and then go as far as to insult her husband, for his strategic and wise thinking.
To say that she was furious, that would be an understatement. With the annoyance from Lord Frey and his incompetence to follow the plan and now this...her temper was flaring and it was hard to keep in control.
The muscles in her body stiffened subconsciously and her heart rate increased just a tad as she barely blinked. Her stare combined with the one of her husband was too much, too lethal and the boy knew he had fucked up.
Everyone had noticed and wondered who would snap first. Most were about to say Visenya since she did pull her back a little bit forward like a lion preparing to pounce.
To their surprise, Tywin placed his hand over her wrist that was on the table and let his fingers tighten around it. It was a way to pass a message, telling her to remain down and not act but also to keep check of his temper.
He sensed how much hotter her skin was than usual, as if fire was burning through her veins instead of blood but he did not comment or pay it that much attention since he still had to teach that boy a lesson.
"The king is tired. See him to his chambers." Tywin said in a calm voice...too calm, everyone thought.
They all knew that on rare occasions he would respond to insults not by yelling but by speaking with measured and cool words. It was because he was deliberately willing himself to appear calm when he was in fact suppressing homicidal anger.
Cersei stood up rather quickly, seeing where this would lead and she did not wish to bring the storm upon them. "Come along." She said and started to lead him away.
"I'm not tired." Her son argued but allowed her to gently nudge him towards the door.
"We have so much to celebrate. A wedding to plan. You must rest."
Tywin kept looking at the two of them, his anger still growing inside of him but he did not show it. He did not remove his hand from Visenya's either but both knew the faintest of finger markings might remain on her skin for a while due to the force.
However, the Dragoness was thankful for it because when she was so deep into rage, she needed a stronger force to make her focus and regain control. She knew that and Tywin did too, which was why he did it.
Yet, the Old Lion was not done yet. "Grand Maester, perhaps some essence of nightshade to help him sleep," he said and looked at Pycelle.
Joffrey, who heard him, turned to face him from where he stood further away. His body was shaking and so was his voice, either from frustration or fear. "I'm not...tired!" he argued, sounding more and more like a child throwing a tantrum than the one responsible for multiple kingdoms.
"Come." Cersei urged him in a lowered tone and led him out of the room.
Pycelle took the scroll and stood up, walking in his own way towards the door while his chains clinging echoed across the now silent room.
"I did not fight a war to seat 'Robert the Second on the throne'. That boy will require a sharp lesson," Tywin said in a low tone, mostly to himself but maybe also to his lady wife.
Tyrion froze for a moment upon hearing those two words because he recognized them. They were the exact same phrase which Tywin used when he forced Tyrion to watch as his guards took care of his first wife; a whore that Jaime had hired and Tyrion was apparently 'foolish' enough to marry and love.
The dwarf knew that Tywin would never kill his own grandson, due to the taboo associated with kinslaying but he did steal glances at a silent but also angry Visenya. She could kill him but that would be kingslaying, not that she truly cared at that point.
Yet, one thing was certain. Tywin truly realized just how crazy Joffrey was and did intend to bring him to heel with a horrific punishment.
The silence in the room was a sign for Varys to leave, who gave a small formal bow to the couple and exited. Tyrion was left last and was about to also cautiously exit when his father stopped him.
"Not you," Tywin said and withdrew his hand.
He glanced at it for a moment, seeing his fingers a faint reddish hue as if he had been holding something extremely warm or were placed close to a fire source. He glanced at Visenya's wrist, seeing the faint marking of his fingers on her skin but nothing else.
The Dragoness was taking silent breaths to calm down her temper, mostly staring at the empty air. There was no other sign of flushness or any sign of red on her skin, to indicate fever. It was odd for the Old Lion, who was certain he felt her skin burning but chose to focus on it later since he had more important things to deal with.
"You just sent the most powerful man in Westeros to bed without his supper." His son said as he was stopped while standing.
His words amused his father and earned a small scoff from his good-mother. "You're embarrassing your intelligence if you believe he's the most powerful man in Westeros." The Dragoness said, her temper slowly subsiding.
"A treasonous statement. Joffrey is king." Tyrion argued as if any nearby servants or guards would dare to snitch on them.
"You really think a crown gives you power?" Tywin asked him next.
Tyrion sat back down at the table and thought for a moment. "No. I think armies give you power." He replied, clearly not pleasing his father with his answer.
Did none of my children truly remember their lessons? he wondered in his mind but did not voice it out. "Mm-hmm," he exclaimed.
"Robb Stark had one, never lost a battle, and you two defeated him all the same." The younger Lion continued, beating around the bush before he would make his point.
"Mm-hmm."
"Oh, I know. Walder Frey gets all the credit. Or the blame, I suppose, depending on your allegiance. Walder Frey is many things, but a brave man?" he asked his parents rhetorically and then adverted his gaze to the side for a moment. He could look in the eyes of his father for that long before needing a quick break. "No. He never would have risked such an action if he didn't have certain assurances." He continued and looked back at the Old Lion, who had only blinked and did not move a single muscle or even look anywhere but him.
"Which he got from me. Do you disapprove?" Tywin asked him as his father watched.
I never said you specifically Tyrion thought, realizing that this time his father did not include Visenya. "I'm all for cheating. This is war." He said, not to let his father wait too long. The Dragoness had already stood up and headed to fill a goblet of wine but kept hearing them both as they discussed about the topic, bringing up morals into the equation. "But to slaughter them at a wedding"
"Explain to me why it is nobler to kill ten thousand men in battle than a dozen at dinner," Tywin asked him.
"So that's why you did it? To save lives?"
"To end the war. To protect the family. Do you want to write a song for the dead Starks? Go ahead, write one. I'm in this world a little while longer to defend the Lannisters, to defend my blood."
"The Northerners will never forget."
Tywin did not seem to care about that as he started to gather his papers.
"Good. Let them remember what happens when they march on the South. All the Stark men are dead. Winterfell is a ruin and House Frey is loyal to us. The Crown will grant Riverrun to Emmon Frey as soon as the Blackfish yields, while Lancel and Daven will marry two Frey girls. Gerion's bastard daughter Joy will be wedded to one of Lord Walder's natural sons, once she is old enough. Roose Bolton will be named Warden of the North until your son by Sansa comes of age."
He stood up as Visenya approached him with a goblet in hand, ready for both of them to leave.
However, before they could, Tyrion decided to speak up. "One last thing," he said, chasing his luck.
"Hmm?" His father exclaimed and remained standing but looked at his son, Visenya by his side.
"You know, I noticed something particularly strange about your speech, Father," Tyrion pointed out.
"Which is?"
"You referred to yourself an awfully lot when we discussed all of this. Now, this is odd because," Tyrion paused for a moment to cause tension and drama. "You usually work such things with my good-mother. I truly doubt you acted such a plan on your own without her knowing," he said and then noticed the small quick glance Visenya sent her husband.
Tyrion might be a dwarf and might often try not to think or bother with things but rather get drunk; yet he was still the son of Tywin Lannister. He had his intelligence, he had his keen eye and he could notice things when he truly wanted.
Ever since the tent after their battle against Roose Bolton, Tyrion had been careful to observe his parents better. He noticed a lot of small and almost passive looks, leg and hand moves and nudges between them. All silent, too quick for anyone to notice unless they were truly knowing what to look for.
He had started to pay more attention and he noticed a few of those while the whole thing about the Red Wedding was discussed between them, and how oddly his good-mother chose to drink and take a step back instead of being present like always.
At last, the pieces fell into place and he had the full picture in front of him.
"Because it wasn't you, was it, Father? The whole idea of the slaughtering during the wedding was of my good-mother, wasn't it?" he asked, partially rhetorically, and looked at the Dragoness.