chapter 40

Jaime's father was coming, and Jaime could not wait to relinquish the office of the Hand to him. Mace Tyrell was marching with a massive force up the roseroad; fortunately, the Lannister army under Tywin would arrive in King's landing first. Being able to fuck his sister had been a tremendous relief for him, as was allowing Cersei to do what she wished. For the most part, she had tried to have orders sent to storm Duskendale, clearly with the intention of getting Ser Addam killed. Fortunately, he had managed to convince her that losing any number of soldiers on storming a well-defended keep would put the city at risk, and she had relented.

Tywin had sent instructions ahead. He wanted no fanfare or reception at the gates; instead, he wished to make his way to the Red Keep quickly and meet with the Small Council immediately. Or what was left of the Small Council.

Tywin strode in with his younger brother Kevan. That made it four Lannisters, Maester Pycelle, and Varys. Jaime always expected his father to look stern, but the look on Kevan's face drew more concern from him. His uncle's expression was of a man barely keeping a formidable temper in check, not at all how Jaime knew him.

Varys rose, "My Lord Lannister, all the city is relived that you have come. Candles in the septs have been lighted, and the Warrior has been inundated with prayers for your martial success."

His father glanced at the man but did not respond. Cersei rose, "Father, it is good to see that you are well. Is Myrcella with you?"

"No," Tywin replied. He took a seat, and Kevan took the one next to him. "We do not have time to dawdle on pleasantries. How stand the cities' food supply?"

Jaime and Cersei looked at each other. Jaime knew that they had enough food for their guard, and in the event of a siege of the Red Keep, they would be fine, but he never had a good head for numbers. Cersei paused, not sure either.

Grand Maester Pycelle came to their rescue and recited information on grain, meat, and other foodstuffs.

"Ahem, my Lord Lannister, with the steady influx of venison and pork from the Stormlands, we have staved off outright starvation. But only for the moment. The city has, ahem, too many mouths to feed." The Maester stroked his long beard as he collected his thoughts. "There has been no food coming in now from the sea, from the Riverlands, or the Reach. The Crownlands have never been able to support the population of King's Landing alone."

Kevan nodded. "The naval blockade is not something that can be fixed. If we are besieged, then no further imports from the Stormlands can arrive."

That suited Jaime fine; sieges were shit. He much preferred a straight-up fight than weeks of waiting around and doing nothing. He'd done enough of that already.

"Expel the useless creatures of Flea Bottom and seal the gates save for delivery of goods. We have no need for their like here. Ensure that the Red Keep is more than adequately provisioned," Tywin commanded.

Jaime supposed that the Gold Cloaks forcing the poorest commoners out of their homes would blood them a bit. It was cruel, but so was starvation. Maybe the wretches could live off the land or find some village that needed their labor. It wasn't completely out of the question, as many able-bodied men had been called to serve as levies. Or, they may turn to banditry. Regardless of his feelings, Tywin had spoken.

Tywin demanded answers on a variety of subjects – the disposition of the Crownlands levies and knights, the state of the walls, and the absence of the Master of Coin. Tywin had been annoyed that Ser Addam was besieging Duskendale and ordered him immediately recalled. He was furious with Littlefinger's departure, taking soldiers with him as well as a not insignificant amount of the available free coinage of the treasury.

"What rank madness came over you? Lysa Arryn is Lysa Tully. Her sister is wed to Stark. Her father is Hoster Tully. If Lysa cared for Littlefinger, and it was not just some scheme to remove himself from the city, she now has no reason not to join our enemies. You have done nothing but multiply our enemies, reduce the coin available to pay the Gold Cloaks and our soldiers, and strip yourself of defenders."

Jaime saw Cersei wilt under their father's caustic barrage.

"It was our only hope! We need the Vale, or we will be outnumbered!"

Tywin pinned her with a glare from his gold-flecked green eyes. The weight of his contempt felt like a physical weight. Jaime cleared his throat, coming to his sister's assistance.

"Father, what's done is done. Now that you are here, you can take over as Hand, and we can move forward."

Tywin turned his eyes to regard Jaime. "I will take over as Hand and as Regent. I understood the need to fight in the Trial of Seven personally to ensure victory, but you left the city without adequate leadership."

Jaime blinked in confusion. "Father, I…" he began, but Cersei interrupted him.

"What!? I am Joffrey's mother! I am the Regent. I will of course defer to your wisdom when…"

"This isn't up for debate; this is how it will be. Now be silent, daughter."

Jaime winced, almost expecting an explosive outburst from his sister, but this was father. This was Tywin Lannister. If there was any man in the Seven Kingdoms who could cow Cersei Lannister, it was him.

"Lord Varys, I need all information about Melisandre of Asshai that you have. I also want your little birds to listen for any who have dealings with dark magics or knowledge of shadowbinders. Arrest Thoros of Myr if he is still in the city."

Jaime saw Varys look a bit discomfited for once. "My lord, I will certainly obey – may I ask what has caused this curiosity?"

"Stannis has a witch in his employ, who sent a creature of shadow to assassinate me. I want knowledge on how this was possible and what we can do to prevent a second occurrence."

Maester Pycelle sputtered, "Impossible, my lord, it was likely a faceless man who had some dark tricks that he used. Magic is just superstitious stories that…"

"Do not speak of things you do not comprehend, Pycelle." Tywin interrupted with a cold tone of chained fury that Jaime had only heard twice in his life. "That creature was of supernatural make, and only Valyrian steel could harm it."

It was the Maester's turn to wilt under the eyes of the Lord of Casterly Rock. The elderly man could only nod, not daring to say another word. Jaime had little care for stories of snarks and grumkins and things that went bump in the night. Yet, dragons had once existed, and so had other strange creatures. His father was alive and well, so whatever this creature was could clearly be killed.

Tywin continued speaking, "Pycelle you will gather any Valyrian steel in the city, be it from a Maester chain, an ornament, or a knife – find me it. I want as many small blades forged as possible; if not enough exist, then have crossbow bolt tips fashioned."

"As you say, my lord."

Tywin had given his orders to Varys and Pycelle and then dismissed them, leaving the room to just the family. Tywin motioned to Kevan.

"I need to know. What happened? Why is my eldest child dead?"

Cersei stared at her uncle. "I regret what happened to your son. I gave explicit instructions to the mercenaries not to harm any of Lannister blood. I do not regret acting. Had I waited, it would have been Jaime, Lancel, Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen dead."

Jaime kept his face smooth; he knew his lover was lying, but he would not be the one to expose her. And with Littlefinger gone, there really wasn't anyone to gainsay her falsehoods.

Kevan bristled. "I've spoken with Tyrek; the mercenaries made no effort at all to avoid attacking him or Lancel."

"I used what I had to work with, uncle. I weep for Lancel as well, but sellswords are notoriously unreliable."

Kevan scoffed. "Your incompetence got my son killed. It nearly got your daughter killed. It nearly got Tyrek killed. It nearly got Tyrion killed. How much Lannister blood was nearly lost with your idiocy? There were a hundred other ways you could have ended Robert's life outside of this sort of massacre. Robert's life shouldn't even have needed ending; how could you not have him wrapped around your finger? The most beautiful woman in the world, with a simple man of simple lusts."

"You weren't here! You and father were in the Westerlands, where no one now dares challenge you. You have no idea what he was like; he dishonored me at every turn, the fat, miserable, drunken oaf!"

Tywin interjected, "If you were not able, you should have sent word. With both of my children here, and high appointments for our family, I assumed that you had things well in hand. Clearly, I was wrong to have ever trusted you. This is why you are done as Regent. You will not be part of Small Council meetings. You may be present at court, if you are silent."

Cersei trembled, and Jaime's heart went out to her. He was still cross with her for putting their brother at risk, but she was so beautiful, and it was not right for her perfect visage to be marred with sorrow, fear, and outrage.

"Father, my sister speaks true. Robert was uncontrollable. Even Stark and Renly could not convince him to do anything once his mind was made up."

Tywin regarded him. "Cease defending your sister. You at least have some competency about you, but you diminish yourself by standing by her. Lannisters will stand by Lannisters in public, but here, alone, we will not indulge in baseless nonsense."

Jaime's jaw clenched, but he did not speak further.

Seeing no further argument, Tywin turned back to Cersei. "You will make amends, daughter. I intend to offer your hand in marriage to any neutral party who will rally their banners to us. Oberyn Martell, Trystane Martell, Lyonel Corbray, Harrold Hardyng, or even a damned Frey."

"WHAT?" Cersei lost her composure and shrieked.

"Oh, worry not," Kevan muttered bitterly. "The Martells hate us, the Vale will likely side with Stannis, and the Freys won't dare muster themselves while we are on the back foot. You simply would not be worth it."

Jaime winced. He had no desire to see his sister wed again, of course. Yet, the idea that the beautiful Cersei Lannister wasn't 'worth it' for a marriage alliance in the current circumstances would gall his sister to no end.

"Nonetheless, we will try; your hand and the hint of an absurdly generous dowry could tip the scales. Regardless of your feelings on the matter, Cersei, you will do your duty to House Lannister. As will your son."

Cersei still sat in stunned, horrified silence, so Jaime spoke up. "What do you mean?"

"We cannot afford to be besieged and stay on the defensive. I intend to use Joffrey as bait to get the fat flower of Highgarden to commit to battle. With as many enemies as we have, a protracted war will do us no good. We defeat Mace Tyrell and take him captive. Then we turn north and defeat Stannis. Both battles will have us outnumbered, but this is the best course."

"No… I won't let you," Cersei hissed frantically. "He won't be used as bait – it is too risky; he needs to stay in the city."

Kevan snorted in amusement. This was not how his uncle typically acted, but he seemed to take joy in Cersei's consternation.

"The boy will soon be five and ten," Kevan pointed out.

Cersei looked around wildly. "No, tell them Jaime; he isn't ready for war. He isn't like you; he is a ruler, not a warrior."

Tywin's level gaze showed that there was no room for dissent here. "This isn't up for discussion. The Kingsguard will be there to protect him, of course. And if Jaime could take the time to teach Myrcella to fight, surely he also taught Joffrey."

The twins blinked in unison, and both said, "What?"

***

Oberyn Nymeros Martell rather liked being referred to as the Red Viper. He enjoyed the way people grew nervous when they dined with him, fearful of his reputation and talent for poisons. It was one of the little delights he enjoyed when he insisted a dinner partner try a particular wine. The look of concern, alarm, and uneasiness was always amusing. Particularly because he had never actually poisoned anyone's food or drink. Nor would he violate guest right, but they didn't know that, and it made conversation so much more intriguing when the other party feared death.

Recently, he had overseen Sunspear, the capital of Dorne. He had done so to assist his brother, who was now housed in the Water Gardens. His elder brother's gout had grown worse, and the tranquil nature eased his Doran's pains. Twice a month, Oberyn visited his brother to keep him informed and to listen to his decisions. There was no mistaking who ruled Dorne, and it was not Oberyn. The Water Gardens were not far, less than 10 miles away, and could be travelled to in a day.

Moving past the guards, he arrived in his brother's chamber, which had a clear view of the pools where children were playing.

"Doran, there is news."

The ruler of Dorne pulled himself away from his view and looked at Oberyn, bidding him to continue.

"Viserys Targaryen is dead."

Doran's eyes widened. "What? How?"

Oberyn scowled, "The Dothraki savages crowned him with molten gold atop his head, or so the stories say. The fool drew steel in a Dothraki holy place. Your scheme is in shambles, and we are the better for it. We have no need for a Targaryen restoration to get justice for Elia."

Doran was quiet, and Oberyn, like always, filled the silence.

"I find myself wondering if we ever will have vengeance. Ser Gregor Clegane, the murderous rapist, is dead, but not at my hand. The Lannisters are fighting a nigh-unwinnable war, a war we are not even in!"

"Surely you are not upset that the Lannisters are facing a dire struggle?"

"I rejoice at their suffering, but I must be a part of it. Why is Dorne neutral? Declare for Stannis and let us take some small part in the Lannister downfall."

Doran sighed. "Brother, I share your thirst for vengeance, but I also seek to restore the rightful rulers of the Seven Kingdoms. Viserys is dead, but there are other…"

"No! Whatever scheme you have will come too late. The Lannisters will be destroyed before then; I do not want to hear of more waiting, more endless deliberation and stalling. I swear to you that if you do not give me leave to go with the banner of Dorne, I will go as myself and serve with any army that will have me!"

Doran fixed him with a harsh stare.

"You are set on this?"

"I am. I want your blessing – I want Dorne's blessing. If we are partners, we can ensure that there is no peace without Tywin and Jaime's death."

"Stannis is a Baratheon; do you not wish to lay low the usurper's dynasty?"

"In truth, I care not. The Targaryens failed to keep Elia safe. The Mad King failed in his duty; do you not recall Elia's letters and fear of his mad rages in court? You dream of the Iron Throne; I do not."

Doran's face twisted for a second and then returned to its usual composure.

"I am disappointed in you, but there are advantages to siding with Stannis at this juncture. If I gave you an army to go north, what would you do with it?"

Oberyn rubbed his jaw as he considered. "Depending on how many men, I'd either sail for King's Landing and join Stannis, or I would march up the Prince's Pass and attack the Marcher Lords. With their armies away, we can do much. We could expand the borders of Dorne."

Doran had a contemplative look on his face. Then, he came to some internal decision.

"Very well, you will have what you desire. I have some conditions and specific instructions for you. I will not have you alienating the Tyrells. Ravens will go out; Dorne will declare that Cersei's children are baseborn. Get vengeance for Elia, but remember, you are also a Prince of Dorne, and you have your duty."

Oberyn felt a smile glide upon his face. The Red Viper of Dorne was going to war.