XLIII.

After Arryn's unforeseen and fateful death, His Grace had insisted that the wake for the late Lord Hand should be held in the Iron Throne room. Place where the body of the late Lord of the Vale was being tended by silent sisters, while Arryn's former foster's ward kept vigil.

King Robert seemed to had been possessed by a strange mix of melancholy, grief, and rage. As well as he sobbed over Arryn's body, so he raged under his breath about the damned dragonspawn. The same Robert accepted the hand of Tyrion's sister in a gesture of affection rarely seen between the two monarchs, that the King immediately demanded the withdrawal of everyone from his sight,

especially Cersei.

So once Ser Barristan arrived with the silent sisters and a couple of acolytes, the King was left in the Iron Throne room, keeping vigil for his foster's father.

It was after leaving the Iron Throne Great Hall, when, really without a fixed destination at that moment since he still had no intention of facing his niece and his wife, a page appeared on Cersei's behalf, inviting him to lunch with her.

After hesitating about what to do, since Tyrion undoubtedly knew that his sister had ulterior motives beyond having a mere sibling lunch, he opted to went with Cersei.

'Never in her life has she invited me to anything. Perhaps our lord father has told her about the true cause of mother's death. Or maybe it's because she knows about Tywin's offer to me. Or plain and simple is to rant against Myrcella, in addition to now, against the Targaryens.'

Through the door came the soft sound of the high harp, mingled with a trilling of pipes. The singer's voice was muffled by the thick walls, yet Tyrion knew the verse. 'I loved a maid as fair as summer,' he remembered, 'with sunlight in her hair...'

Ser Preston Greenfield guarded the queen's door this noon. His muttered "My lord" struck Tyrion as a tad grudging, but he opened the door nonetheless. The song broke off abruptly as he strode into his sister's bedchamber.

Cersei was reclining on a pile of cushions. Her feet were bare, her golden hair artfully tousled and she had changed her garb. Now she donned a robe green-and-gold samite that caught the light of the light filtering through the windows and shimmered in her prominent belly.

"Sweet sister," Tyrion said, "how beautiful you look for our lunch." He turned to the singer. "And you as well, cousin. I had no notion you had such a lovely voice."

The compliment made Lancel sulky; perhaps he thought he was being mocked.

This pretentious boy, who was still shorter than Tyrion's sister, was the one who held, at least for the moment, the title of heir to the Rock. It had been that way for more than seven years. It had been that way ever since Tyrion decided he cared more about Tysha than the Rock.

'But at that time I had no idea what power was, or what was attached to being the heir or not. Or if I had an idea about it, I didn't have the same vision that I have now. If not, I wouldn't be wondering if Lancel will be Lord Tywin's heir apparent for much longer.' Tyrion mused, while pondering at the same time about the presence of his cousin in the Queen's chambers.

'I doubt that he had come to give Cersei the condolences about Arryn. Wonder why he's here.' He thought. 'If my sister wasn't pleased about Arryn's death, she was neither pissed or sunken in grief as Arryn's widow about it.' Upon learning of the death of her husband, Lysa Arryn ordered her entire household to pack up the family possessions and prepare to march towards the Vale and the Eyrie.

Lancel had thick sandy hair, green Lannister eyes, and a line of soft blond fuzz on his upper lip. At fourteen, he was cursed with all the certainty of youth, unleavened by any trace of humor or self- doubt, and wed to the arrogance that came so naturally to those born blond and strong and handsome.

His elevation to the Heir of the Rock at young age and being one of the king's squires had only made him worse. "Did Her Grace send for you?" the boy demanded.

"As is the case, why, yes." Tyrion smiled while fixed his mismatched gaze on his cousin's. "My sweet sister has invited me to lunch with her after the tragic incident by which the whole court is mourning. You could have not choose a better song for the Lord Hand mourn than that, cousin."

His sister peered at him with the same expression of faint distaste she had worn since the day he was born, but shot a reproachful glare towards Lancel. "I've invited him, dear cousin. Nowadays more than ever, the family must be united. Every day that past, it seems brings more foes at our threshold and behind our backs..."

"According to some of Flea Bottom's preachers, the end of the world is also coming too, dear sister. Don't forget to add that to your kingdom's list of problems." Tyrion swiftly interrupted Cersei's beginning of rant. "We've have tidings we need to talk, sweet sister, but they are best spoken in privacy."

"Very well." Cersei said while raised her left hand. The harpist and the piper bowed and hurried out, while she kissed her cousin chastely on the cheek.

"Leave us, Lancel. My brother's harmless." Cersei said with a fake smile "After all, it's not that my brother has killed anyone. At least on purpose..." she paused for a moment, scowled and looked with anger and resentment contained in her emerald gaze. "Isn't it, Tyrion?"

"That's what some could say. Others might say that the biggest harmed of all was me..."

"Don't even think about saying that your malformation is worse than what you stole from me, even if it was without meaning to." Cersei practically snarled. She breathed deeply, recomposed her facade and spoke sweetly "Lancel, after you leave, mayhaps the king needs of his squire's help in these trying moments." the Queen concluded while slightly tilted her head.

After the door was closed, Tyrion gazed his sister and said, "So you know about the real reasons in our mother death?"

"Yes." she answered dryly. "In my eyes, you are still guilty, though. You could have died instead of resisting the poison. Then I would still have a mother and you would not exist to put insidious ideas in my daughter's head. Vermin that everything you touch is poisoned." she spat venomously.

"Even knowing the truth behind our mother's death, do you tell me these things? I wasn't even born, Cersei! How in the seven hells do you expect me to do what you have proposed? Blame your sorrows and your rage on whom do you owe. I didn't expect even apologies on your part, but this time you have outdone yourself, dear sister."

'And with this I should live every day if I accept father's offer...' Tyrion mused bitterly and angry. 'Why can't Cersei see me as her brother? Not even with the truth in her power is she capable of respecting me. Why can't she love me like a sister loves a brother?'

"I know everything, Tyrion. I know our lord father's brilliant plan, which I opposed." Cersei sneered. "But Lord Tywin ignored me." she scowled and fixed her gaze on him "Apparently, even to the almighty Lord of the Rock, matters more that you have a cock and balls, than you being a dangerous vermin for the family, full of envy and jealousy, full of lust for power."

"Do you hear yourself Cersei? If I would accept our father's proposition, do you know what is it that I should give up? Something that I must give up, despite the fact that in the first place what is offered to me is legitimately mine!!" Tyrion spat with rage and almost breathless. "If I accepted, wouldn't that contradict everything you accuse me of? Wouldn't that prove that I put our family's interests before my own? Wouldn't I prove to you for once in your life that I am not your enemy,

but your brother?"

"Much shouldn't be what you have to give up, if instead of being with your little peasant girl having lunch, you're doing it with me. Why? Perhaps, I thought that yours was true love and now you hide from it, baby brother..." was the sly reply from Cersei.

"My reasons for having lunch with you and not with her are mine, and only mine own. Besides, and since you are aware of our father's schemes, I thought you had summoned me to discuss the tidings, not to offer me a range from your typical insults and slights against me. Because you haven't called to tell me that you had something to do with what happened to Arryn...right?"

"Right...you tend to rile me up...what do you say if we sign a truce? I have some red Arbor to drink on the table..." she said while pointed with the chin towards her right side.

Waddling, Tyrion made his way to the table where the wine was in a pitcher, along with foods and sweets. After pouring himself a generous goblet, he turned on his heel and asked mildly interested, "How are you faring without drinking, sweet sister? You've must been sober for almost four moons. Certainly a new experience for you. I can't say I've ever seen you show so much restraint."

Cersei scoffed, but replied anyway.

"For your information, imp, I've done it before with the pregnancies of Myrcella and Orys. Only this time is even worst than in the previous ones. Robert is more an oaf everyday, so without wine is difficult to endure his daily activities and follies. The last one we've seen this morning...I still can't believe that the old falcon died in such an undignified way, being Robert the guilty for it."

After taking a sip of his goblet, Tyrion raised his right eyebrow and half pursed his lips. "Do you think Robert is responsible for Arryn's death? You, precisely you, don't you see a shadowy hand responsible for the old falcon's death?"

Tyrion's sister shrugged and answered, "Even to me, who stopped caring about him a long time ago, Robert and his way of living have taken a toll. I don't want to imagine Arryn having to put up with him for more than half of Robert's life. Today's follies were the proverbial nail in the coffin."

"I suppose one can only bear a certain number of nonsense and rudeness..." Tyrion sighed. "And today Robert exceeded the limit with the spectacle that he has put on for the entire court. As Lady Olenna has said, Arryn's heart might had give up due to Robert making a fool of himself. Good riddance in any case." Tyrion replied to his sister, while raising his goblet before taking another sip.

'Maybe I'm drinking too much today, but with everything going on I need to stay calm and level headed somehow. I need to numb the next pain that this damn day will bring me.'

Tyrion pondered with inner anguish, unable to get out of his head the thoughts of when he would see his wife and niece again.

'I know it will certainly be something that brings me more pain. Even knowing the truth, I knew Cersei wouldn't change her ways with me. And yet, to see that this is so, it hurts me. What will be the pain I will suffer when I see the disappointment on Tysha's face? Or in Myrcella's gesture of reproach and betrayal?'

"The cheekiness in that old woman. If the circumstances had been different, I would have put her in her place. Who will she think she is to dare to talk me like that." ranted his sister. "I even helped Renly and old Arryn to convince Robert from the advantages of Myrcella's marriage to the crippled

flower, and she thanks me with contempt. As if I had any fault in Robert's way of being."

'I knew that my sister was a tad too joyful at the arrival of the roses. I was right and there was Cersei's meddling in Myrcella's betrothal. As well as Renly and old Arryn. Will this commitment be considered valid? What is Renly's game? What does he gain by marrying Myrcella to Willas? Will he intend to marry the Rose of Highgarden?'

Tyrion pondered inwardly, while he gave the Queen a crooked smile.

"Some reason is not lacking in that old woman. Because 'Tis not the duty and obligation of the wife to guide her husband on the right path? I am sure that our father will have reminded you from time to time from the duties and expectations that you have as queen. And in controlling Robert, you have failed spectacularly, if I may add. Your spending on unnecessary luxuries and personal whims, is also partly responsible for the plight of the kingdom's coffers. " Tyrion snapped.

"And what do you want me to do to hmm, baby brother?" scowled Cersei, closed her eyes and sighed. "I remember Robert as he was the day he took the throne, every inch a king," she said quietly. "A thousand other women might have loved him with all their hearts. I have given him an heir, a princess and now I will give him a spare. I tried to love him and to be a devoted wife to him, but..." Her eyes burned, as green fire, like the lioness that was her sigil. "The night of our wedding feast, the first time we shared a bed, he called me by that northern whore name. He was on top of me, in me, stinking of wine, and he whispered Lyanna."

The Queen closed her eyes, sighed and glared at him haughtily and disdainfully, with acid tone she said,

"The one who should have come back from the Trident didn't come back, and whom did, was just as haunted by that whore as the one who fell into the waters of the river. That bitch has ruined my entire life since the dammed Harrenhal's Tourney and even after she died, she was still being better than me. Tell me, Tyrion, how do you fight something you cannot fight? How do you erase memories that were not even as are remembered? How do you change the nature of a man? You yourself are the proof. Your craving and desire for power makes you weigh the idea of leaving your little peasant. Don't be a naive fool. Even if I was the perfect wife, Robert would be as he is." Cersei concluded with trembling and hoarse voice.

'So she doesn't know about Rhaegar possibly being alive...How interesting...Why father hasn't told her?' Tyrion pondered inwardly.

"Careful dear sister, what you have said can be considered treason." Warned Tyrion. "The walls have ears."

"Then the first traitor would be the spider for keeping to himself the secret of the Targaryens across the Narrow Sea. By the way, how much do you believe of what it says in the parchment is true?"

"In truth, I don't know, Cersei. I only found out this morning that they were a real thing and not an Iron Bank scheme. I thought the only Targaryens alive were Viserys and Daenerys. And from what I knew until the meeting with our father and the parchment from this Aegon Targaryen, my view of the events in Essos matched what I knew. If what it says in the parchment to Robert is true, then Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen survived the Sack. If so, have you thought about how children less than four days of their name survived and escaped the Sack? How did they escape from Westeros to Essos and how have they survived for more than fifteen years east of the Narrow Sea?"

Tyrion said looking intently at Cersei and outlining a small smile.

The Queen heaved a deep sigh and gasped, her eyes wide open, she raised from the cushions fast as lightning for then seized him by the shoulders and shook him "Jaime..."

"That's right, sweet sister. Jaime may be alive. Although if he is, he made a choice fifteen years ago. And by the looks of it, we weren't included in it." stated Tyrion with some resentment towards his brother. Bitterly and sadly he had mourned the loss of Jaime. His brother in another time was everything to Tyrion. Furthermore, he knew that his brother had partly donned the white cloak for his sake. So that Tyrion could be the heir. 'But if what the scroll says is true and Jaime escaped with them, then clearly he prefers them to us. His vows from the King's Guard and the Targaryens, to his own blood, us. The Lannisters.' he mused sourly.

His sister's nails dug painfully into his arms. For a moment she stared incredulous, as if he had begun to gibber in an unknown tongue.

"Jaime could be alive?" she mumbled.

When he nodded, Cersei began to chuckle. "Gods be good," she gasped.

Tyrion threw back his head and roared in laughter. They laughed together. Cersei pulled him off the armchair and whirled him around and even hugged him, for a moment as giddy as a girl. By the time she let go of him, Tyrion was breathless and dizzy. He staggered to her sideboard and put out a hand to steady himself.

'Is this the Cersei that Jaime saw when they were younger?' Tyrion wondered, because when she smiled, one could saw how beautiful she was, truly.

Cersei's giddiness soon gave way to a certain composure and steel in her stance. "Do you think they will truly come to battle against us? What if Robert goes in a war against them? If that should to happen..."

"It won't," Tyrion interrupted. "They are too different to what we know, yet too much alike. If they really wanted, they would've come long ago. So in my opinion, they are good where they are. At least for the moment. Through Robert we have the North and by extension the Riverlands, as well as the Stormlands. Arryn's widow probably would be with him too, if merely by Baelish amidst our mist. So that's also the Vale. Add to that the might from the Westerlands. Even if the Dragons are capable of winning the Reach and Dorne Lords, it would be two kingdoms against five. No matter how many dragons they have or how big they are, if they really have, it is men and gold who win wars."

The queen shuddered "They are dangerous." Then she frowned as she brought her left hand to her prominent belly "I can see some of what our lord father says about you," Nevertheless, Cersei was not appeased. "You're clever. But I know you are less clever than you think you are, and that will be your undone. You take for granted what you think you know of a raving madman who thinks himself is the incarnation from the Conqueror. I want you to convince our father to send assassins. They have to kill them and rescue Jaime."

"I don't think Jaime is in need of any rescue. I would even say that he would be the first in trying to thwart this attempt. Besides, when have I ever been able to make Father do anything?"

She ignored the question. "Jaime's worth a hundred of you."

"We don't have a hundred of me and I'm who is here. So that should be suffice. At least I'm in your side."

Cersei sniffed. "I should have been born a man. I would have no need of any of you then. None of this would have threaten to happen. How could Jaime let himself be bewitched by those dornish children? And Father, I trusted in him, fool that I am, but what is he doing? Trusting in you?"

"Preparing for war."

"From behind desk and quills? Naming you his heir? Your wit and cleverness is our secret weapon against the dragons?" she said scornfully. "A curious way of fighting. It looks suspiciously like doing nothing."

"If instead of worrying so much about dismissing me, complaining about how unfair life has been with you and justifying why you are incapable of fulfilling your duties, you focused on what we are talking about and working with me towards the future, you would see that it is far a lot of doing nothing." Tyrion breathed deeply, knowing full well that what he was going to say now was a tacit acceptance of his father's offer.

"To begin; you are correct in one thing. The Targaryens are dangerous. Extremely dangerous. I have never said that they were not. But right now they are not the problem. Or at least not ours." Tyrion said while extending his arms and palms to the front. "If we send assassins and they fail to kill everyone of them, we would make them our problem." he shuddered, "I can assure you that their retaliation would not be to our liking. No. Right now it is not in our interest to make them our enemies."

"You recognize that they are a danger and that sooner or later they will be our problem. So...What's your masterful plan, Tyrion?" The Queen asked.

"Even if this Aegon is the Conqueror reborn and his dragons are equal to those of the Dragon and his sisters, the situation in Westeros is not the same as three hundred years ago. Westeros is now more or less united under one banner due to the alliances that were created before Robert's Rebellion. Eddard Stark will surely be the next Lord Hand. And while I doubt he's as warmonger as Robert, he'll certainly be closed to any approach to the Targaryens.The North after the Mad King and Rhaegar madness, will never bend the knee to the dragons. Through the North, in theory, come the Riverlands and the Vale. As long as Robert is alive, there will be a common front that can stand against the Targaryens. The key is to preserve the current status quo, and for this, it is necessary to avoid at all costs that the Seven Kingdoms fall prey to chaos. We must prevent the Targaryens from being invited to Westeros, either by former loyalists or by third parties. That's why father believes that I can make a difference. Because I can win Lord Stark to our side and work with him, something neither father or you are capable of for different reasons. Because at least I have some influence with your daughter and I might be able to stop her follies before they happen. "

His sister snorted and replied, "How little you know Myrcella, baby brother. You think you know her...but under that beauty and mask she always wears, lurks a cold insensitive being. Calculating, manipulative, cunning, witty, cold, stern, ruthless and self-entitled to things doesn't belong to her and she shouldn't even dream about them. On top of that, it occurred to you to put ideas into her head. Why wouldn't she be able to ride a horse like a man if she's a princess? Why did she have to limit her knowledge to courtly and feminine etiquette? Why can't she learn what she wants? Why couldn't she be Queen if she is more capable than the current King? Those were your ideas, baby brother. If she was already a monster hidden behind a beautiful facade before meeting you, your influence only served to make that monster grow and now be the main concern of ours."

"No one who hears you would think for a moment that you were talking about your daughter...And although in some things you are not misguided, what did Myrcella do to you to earn that hatred you

have for her?"

"Hate her? Hate her?" And Cersei began to laugh frantically , though this was a humorless, acid laugh. "I love her with my life, Tyrion. Her and Orys. I would give my life for either of them. But Cella... that girl has never been well. She will deceive others, but not me. I know her better than anyone. At the end of the day, she is a more extreme version of me. She has never had the eyes of a girl or innocent baby. She has always had an ageless gaze. The ageless eyes of one who has survived unimaginable nightmares and is alive to tell about it. A cold gaze with steel in it. A glare of judgment and calculating. A gaze that conveyed improper intelligence for her age. Even when she was a baby-girl. Don't be fooled by her sweet manners and facade, baby brother. The next time you talk to her, look at her eyes. Really look at her eyes. Look at those unfathomable green and purple wells and after that, tell me if there's anything wrong with Myrcella. If I'm so wrong, I would even give her another chance. But in the meantime, I refuse to worry about someone who would drown me in my sleep if it helps her to achieve what she believes belongs to her." Tyrion's sister's voice was trembling and agitated, but barely a whisper.

"You are afraid from Cella?" he asked incredulous, believing to read Cersei correctly.

"Yes. Happy?" The Queen barked. "You already know the cause of my bad relationship with my daughter. She terrifies me in a way that nothing and no one has or does. I know she is going to be the end of us. For our father's sake, I'm going to give you a chance. I hope you will prove me wrong about yourself and choose our family over your wishes, lust and cravings. Don't expect a loving sister, but I will work with you to see my future son sit on the Iron Throne. Now, leave me alone Tyrion. Don't stress my baby anymore."

Mid afternoon from the fifteenth day of the third moon of 298 AC. The Queen's Ballroom, Red Keep, King's Landing.

The Queen's Ballroom, the hall below Tyrion's rooms, was much smaller than the Great Hall of the Red Keep or the Small Hall of the Tower of the Hand. The graceful ballroom could hold one hundred and had beaten silver mirrors behind the wall sconces which made the torchlight seem twice as bright. Its walls were paneled with richly carved wood and it had a gallery above the main floor. High arched windows sit along the south wall just opposite the entrance which was facing north.

And that was through where Tyrion had to pass for gain access to his chambers. And that was the

place where almost all the fixed members from the entourage of the prince and princess of Westeros were gathered at that time, judging by the number of banners and the sigils on them that were arranged on poles on both sides from the door.

The white tower crowned with flames on smoke grey field from the Hightower. A golden tree on silver of the Rowan. A v of golden cranes on pale blue from house Crane. A white lamb holding a golden goblet on a green field from the Stokeworth. Two black warhammers crossed on a white saltire on blue from the Rykker. A flock of ravens surrounding a black shield charged with a dead weirwood, on a scarlet field of the Blackwood. The red salmon within a gold tressure, on a white field from the Mooton. A quartered, a black dragon on a white field and two golden eyes in a golden ring on a black field of the Vance from Wayfarer's rest. Per chevron engrailed grey and bone, three death's head moths counterchanged of house Horpe. A white bend cotised, on a purple field of Hasty. Argent field and a cross embattled sable of house Norcross. The three yellow beehives on a black pale over a paly black and yellow field of house Beesbury. The field of black nightingales on yellow from house Caron. A forked purple lightning bolt, on black field speckled with four-pointed stars of house Dondarrion. A white sword and falling star crossed on lilac from house Dayne closed the list of the noble houses present in the Queen's ballroom, and the names that openly and unashamedly supported Myrcella's ambitions.

There were many prestigious and ancient names. But for Myrcella's cause, they were usually just that. Names only. The houses that gave their names to the nobles present in the retinues of Tyrion's nephew and niece had no reason to support or agree with the decisions or allegiances of those present in the Queen's Ballroom.

Not so could be said from the houses at the mouth of the Blackwater led by Stannis whom would no doubt follow the orders of the stern lord of Dragonstone.

This situation did not mean that it was unreasonable to think that despite everything, the names present in the Queen's Ballroom would not be able to go to open war against their houses. The history of Westeros, and especially that of the Iron Throne, had shown a great propensity for infighting between kin and families. Rivalries and fights to the death from brother against brother, to aunt against nephew, through almost every degree of consanguinity could be counted throughout the wars of the last three hundred years.

'And with high probability if nothing changes, me against my niece and maybe against my brother.' he sighed half resigned, half bitter.

Tyrion took a good look at the banners on the poles, perhaps because he now looked at all of Myrcella's past and present actions differently. All that had been said by his lord father and by his queenly sister in reference to his niece hung heavy over his mind.

'Perhaps I have been played and used as a mere pawn in the game. Maybe that's all I am to Myrcella. One more pawn in her game.'

Be for that thought that had begun to erode the image he had of his niece, be for the revelations he had had during the day and in relation to whom, Tyrion had realized for the first time that most of the banners hanging on the poles had traditionally been gathered together. Although around another banner that wasn't the one around which they were now gathered. In former times, instead around of the Crowned golden Stag on two quarters in deep green and black field rising above the other banners present, it was the three-headed dragon rampant in scarlet on a black field.

'In fact, except for the Hightower, all the houses present here could be considered ultra-loyal to the Targaryen cause. Fighting first for Jaehaerys, then for the blacks in the Dance, then for the reds in all Blackfyre's rebellions and the last time against Robert.'

Suddenly part of what lord Tywin had told him about Myrcella began to resonate within him. It were Tyrion's lord father's words which struck a cord inside him. Some of the news revealed by his father in respect the Targaryen from Essos, along the sensation of had been played by Myrcella, caused Tyrion to give even more credence to his father's schemes, as well as his offer. Regarding his sister, Tyrion thought that it was not fear that Cersei had regarding her daughter. In his opinion, Cersei's thoughts and feelings regarding Myrcella were attributed more than anything to jealousy and envy on the part of Tyrion's sister towards her daughter.

'Myrcella is striving to escape from the restraints lord Tywin once placed on Cersei and it makes my dear sister angry and jealous. But it is much more curious that the houses that could be considered ultra-loyal to the Targaryen cause have gathered around Myrcella. Who, coincidentally, aims to seek a marriage with the supposed dragon reborn to satisfy her desires and ambitions.'

He mused anxiously.

'If all this lords and ladies are gathered here, it is because both Myrcella and Orys are also here. Tysha too.'

Tyrion thought uneasily, unsure about what could result from the meeting with his niece and his wife after everything that had transpired during that day.

Ever since he broke his fast accompanied by Varys and left his quarters, he still hadn't returned to these. During the course of the day, Tyrion had drunk more wine than he was accustomed to drink in a entire moon. And he had barely eaten any food, apart for some crisped bacon in his pass by the small kitchen before his encounter with the spider. However, he was convinced that the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach was not due to lack of food or excess wine intake. Rather Tyrion was convinced that it was nerves because of what he feared to face when he met the two women that marked his life. 'At least to this day.'

In case he had any doubts about the presence of his nephew and niece in the Queen's Ballroom, standing next to the entrance door, donning over a tunic decorated with the golden oak tree of House Oakheart his Kingsguard armor with white steel-enameled scales, Arys Oakheart was shrouded in a white silk cloak with a pin of a golden leaf from his house.

"My lord." Ser Arys said nonchalantly as he opened the door to the hall, letting out a roar of laughter, multiple conversations taking place at the same time and music coming from inside.

'Of course there is no atmosphere of wake or mourning. I'm surprised they're not celebrating Arryn's death. It's seems that save the king, nobody is mourning the pass from the old Falcon.'

When he crossed the threshold, some stopped their activities to glance at the newcomer to the hall, but soon they resumed their activities, indifferent to Tyrion's entrance. Within the hall, lords and ladies swirled and mixed with others.

At Tyrion right's Lady Melara Rowan was chatting with Malora the Mad Maid Hightower. Near them, Malora's brother, Ser Baelor Brightsmile and his wife, Lady Ronda Rowan, Lady Melara's aunt, were chatting animatedly with Lord Renfred Rykker, Lady Rosamund Ball, Lord Bryce Caron and Ser Horman Norcross and his wife lady Delena Florent.

On his left, in the long side armchairs, Eleanor Mooton and Liane Vance were flirting with Lucas Blackwood, Humfrey Hightower and Alyn Ambrose.

Near the end of the hall where the windows were, Ser Parmen Crane, Ser Bertram Beesbury, and

Ser Richard Horpe along Lord Bracken's two eldest daughters sat at one of the side tables in the hall, drinking and eating, as they eagerly watched a mummer's farce performed by puppeteers and their puppets at the rhythm of music played by a lute and two mandolins. The scene apparently represented the Blackfyre's rebellions, as one black painted wooden dragon battled against a red painted wooden dragon. The puppeteer who worked the black dragon was good to watch too; a tall drink of water, with the olive skin and black hair of Dorne. She was slim as a lance with no breasts to speak of, but Tyrion liked her face and the way her fingers made her puppet dragon snap and slither at the end of its strings.

However, it was the group in the center of the room who had most noticed his entry into the hall. Flanked by the Hound and cousin Devan donning their armours without the helmets, the prince of the Seven Kingdoms, Orys Baratheon. Surrounding him were Ser Bonifer Hasty, Lord Beric Dondarrion, Dondarrion's infallible companion in his red robe, Thoros of Myr, and the Lightning Lord's squire, Lord Edric Dayne. At least for the moment Myrcella and Tysha were nowhere in sight.

Tyrion's nephew was dressed in a green velvet tunic and the crowned stag worked in gold thread upon his chest, treated brown leather breeches and boots, as well a fine-tooled silver swordbelt.

"Lord uncle! Good to see you in these mournful times. A pity what happened with the lord hand. May the seven bless his soul." roared his nephew in an attempt at an affected tone, in which the blue eyed and black haired Tyrion's nephew failed spectacularly. The mirth was present in those blue eyes and small grin was etched onto Ory's face.

Walking down the hall to face his nephew, Tyrion glanced sideways at those gathered around Orys, shrugged, pursed his lips for a moment, and replied with a smile.

"A true pity, especially if we take into account the moment in which the tragedy struck. An auction was being held in front of the entire court. A pity without a doubt. The roses must be mourning this great loss to the Seven Kingdoms."

"And we share their mourning my lord Tyrion." smoothly stated Ser Bonifer. "May the Crone and the Stranger have mercy on Arryn's soul, for at least, in the afterlife, Arryn should atone for his sins."

"My good Ser, I keep insisting that after death there is no afterlife and that the important thing is to dedicate this life to honor the one true God..."

"Oy Thoros! Cut the crap with the religion!" interrupted with a friendly barb the lad whom by semblance looked like a dragonlord of old. 'Mayhaps less impressive and imposing than a true Valyrian of yore, but equally striking and remarkable.' Tyrion mused about Lord Edric Dayne.

With nearly eight and ten days to his name, the strapping young Dornish lad descendant of the First Men was what one would expect from a Targaryen. Tall, strong arms, an ethereal beauty in his factions. Deep purple gaze, beaten gold and silver his long straight and smooth hair.

Donning grey woolen breeches, black riding boots and a withe linen shirt under a a purple velvet tunic trimmed in silvers in the neck with the form of a shooting star. Edric Dayne was all that Tyrion would never be. Born the heir from his house, the one whom surely would wield Dawn again and one of the big players in Myrcella's retinue. Witty, handsome, charming and easy going, but with a ruthless streak when provoked. He was the stalwart from Myrcella since they met each other at young age.

Given the friendship between the Silver Prince and the former Sword of the Dawn, in an attempt to

tarnish the Targaryen legacy and that of Rhaegar Targaryen, as well as to demonstrate the new order to the loyalists, Lady Allyria Dayne should marry a lord of the Stormlands and the heir from House Dayne would be the squire to Lady Dayne's husband to be. In addition to this, young Edric Dayne was required to visit court annually, as a token of good behavior before King Robert.

In one of those visits to King's Landing, the young Dayne befriended princess Myrcella.

This caused the annual visits from the Lord of Lightning and Lord Dayne to become stays at court almost for half year as guests of King Robert and the Princess. Despite not having his spurs yet, Orys became Lord Edric's page, so Dondarrion and Dayne's presence in the Red Keep became stable, having their own rooms in the Maiden's Vault.

Robert could not be more delighted with the development of the relationship between Lord Dayne and the prince and princess of the Seven Kingdoms. The fact that his son was in a way emulating the footsteps of the silver prince, was a cause to rejoice at how the Stag was able to take everything from the Dragons.

"Ser Bonifer is right. The hour was nigh for Arryn to atone for his sins. That his death was preceded by his latest attempt to thwart our princess future and the rudeness from his foster's ward it seems as divine justice. A perfect summary of what his life was. Get into where he was not called to have more power and allow his grace to do what he wants, regardless of the consequences." silkily added Lord Dayne

"Then much of the nobility in Westeros is a sinner and in need to atone for their sins, and so are we, my Lord Dayne. Is it not true that even the smallest of noble Houses seek to improve their position and increase their power and wealth? Is this not the game that we all participate?" Tyrion interjected, opening his arms while looking upwards towards the Dayne with a raised eyebrow. Tyrion then turned to look upon Bonifer the Good. "As the most devout between our midst, isn't true what I've said, my good Ser?"

"Mmm," muttered Hasty while nodded. "I see your point my lord, but in this case we could all say that Lord Dayne was right. There's no harm in striving to improve one house station, if this doesn't imply schemes to break oaths. But Lord Arryn's grasp, or lack of it, in Robert, as so his ambitions and greed, has been cause of so many problems and deaths." The lord whispered while shaking his head.

Dondarrion and Dayne nodded silently in answer, while Orys shrugged nonchalantly, as if the lords were talking about the weather. Only Devan had a small reaction towards the words spoken by lord Dayne and Ser Bonifer, and it was a little scowl at Dayne's words in reference to Myrcella's future.

"My ladies and lords!" Orys exclaimed suddenly, as he raised his right arm with outstretched hand, standing as straight as he could. "Let us make a moment of remembrance in memory of the late Lord Jon Arryn! Hand of The King for fifteen years! One of the leaders of the Rebellion that placed my father on the Iron Throne! The one who took care of educating my father so well since my paternal grandparents died in an unfortunate accident!! The one who has allowed the common people to be taxed and oppressed more than ever in the history of Westeros and yet managed to bankrupt the Iron Throne! To the old falcon!"

"To the Old Falcon!" those present solemnly chanted.

Afterwards, Orys tucked his chin into his chest and slightly closed his eyes. Tyrion and the rest of those present emulated the gesture for a moment. His nephew eulogy dripped venom, but nonetheless all that he said was true, and wasn't treason.

'If he wants, can be subtle. Myrcella's hand is showing more everyday.' Tyrion reflected.

"Tell me, lord uncle you that were present during the reception maybe can shed some light on a matter. Some moments ago we were discussing with Ser Baelor about the arrangement between the Lord Hand and the Tyrells. As you know, Lord Brightsmile is a renowned expert in laws, traditions and customs. At least those from the south. Our good Ser said that if there's a written contract, it doesn't matter if there was no handshake between the two parties to the agreement, for this one would be valid in the eyes of men and gods. Nevertheless, here the Hound, an expert in the matter of customs and faith, as we all know..." quipped the prince while pointed with his head towards the right where the towering Hound was guffawing and raised some chuckles around them.

"Says that's a bullshit. That without handshake, there's no agreement in the eyes of the gods, whatever those be. The handshake seal the deal. Against mayhaps the better judgment from Ser Baelor, Lady Melara, Ser Bonifer and Lord Caron, Lord Dayne, Lord Dondarrion, Ladies Rowan and Hightower, the Sers in the back and those lazy asses in the armchairs, as well as Thoros and I, are from the opinion of our good Hound, prioritizing the complexity of the point brought up by Sandor." said the prince bringing amused grins at those hearing him, while pointing with his thumb to the Hound.

Tyrion looked upwards and to his right, gave the Hound a crooked smile and asked slightly amused, "And what point it is, Clegane?"

"No handshake, no deal. If the Roses think otherwise about the little Queen, they'll have to step over my dead body." gruffly replied the Hound.

"So in our point of view, without handshake, even if there was a written agreement, there was no accordance. With the Old Falcon's passing before sealing the deal, this agreement is bullshit, and is worth crap." japed Orys for a round of chuckles, even from Tyrion. "So Lord Uncle, did the Lord Hand shake the hand from Lord Mace Tyrell after the words were spoken?"

"No. Just at the moment when they were going to shake hands, there was an unexpected interruption and that is possibly the trigger for the subsequent death of Lord Arryn."

"Oh yeah? Do pry tell us, what happened?" asked his princely nephew.

Although Tyrion knew that it was very likely that everyone present knew what had happened that morning in the Great Hall of the Iron Throne, he noticed how the group of Ser Baelor, Lord Caron and Lord Rykker approached him, to better listen to his words. The rest of those present, both those in front of him and even those at the back of the Hall, took a keen interest in Tyrion's words.

"I can assure you that his grace was not comfortable with the subject that was being discussed, being at least reluctant to allow it to take place, but reluctantly accepting in the end. Was in that moment when a waif escorted by one of the goldcloaks interrupted the audience with the Tyrells, bearing a parchment for his grace eyes' only." he paused, sighed and steeled his posture, while looking upwards towards his nephew he trailed in his account of what happened.

"At hearing that, King Robert decided that the parchment mattered more than binding the deal with the Tyrells. Once his grace picked the parchment, King Robert was not amused by who the sender of the parchment was and put on display for the entire court a sample of House Baratheon's words. In rage and fury, his grace manhandled the girl, for then read the scroll to himself. Once the king read the parchment, and in front of the entire court, he did not hesitate to threaten to call the banners to go to war against the parchment's sender. At that moment Arryn intervened, but his Grace simply grasped the lord Arryn's jerkin and continued with his rant while manhandling the Lord Hand, whom suddenly and promptly died in his grace's arms."

"Woah! Heart collapse...What a shitty way of dying!" chuckled and muttered under his breath the Hound. "And to think I couldn't believe in your fires. I owe you the twenty silver stags, Thoros."

"Can you tell us whom was the sender of that parchment that elicited such a reaction from my father, dear uncle?" the prince bluntly inquired as he raised an eyebrow and the gathered seemed to hold their breath.

The previous mirth reigning in the hall had evaporated, leaving only room for expectation.

There was no point in hiding it, he knew. Those present probably already knew. And soon this will be the gossip in all King's Landing.

"The sender was one who claims to be Aegon of House Targaryen, first of His Name. The Dragon Reborn. King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Shield of his People. Lord of Valyria and Protector of the Nine Provinces from the Freehold of Valyria."

"So it's true?" Devan frowned. "How is it possible that they have conquered half of Essos so quickly and without anyone in Westeros knowing exactly what was happening east of the Narrow Sea." his cousin muttered under his breath and scowled.

"I don't know any details from Essos other than what I read in the parchment sent to the King. For I read it for the council after the tragedy with Arryn befell." Tyrion lied. "In it said that as long as his grace was the King of the Seven Kingdoms and whom sits on the Iron Throne, Aegon Targaryen will not exercise his claim over it. For this to happen, King Robert's last will should be to return the rights to this Aegon Targaryen, raising him as the King of the Seven Kingdoms in case, gods forbid, King Robert's death."

Tyrion made a dramatic pause, scoffed and said,

"In addition to proclaiming himself lord of Valyria and with the right by blood to claim the nine free cities. Implying that the King and lords of Westeros should refrain to cross east of the Narrow Sea, or take sides against them in Essos, threatening to harm those whom do otherwise."