CHAPTER 133
The Red Keep.
The Tower of the Hand.
Tyrion Lannister stood before the arched window of his solar, gently swirling a goblet of Arbor Red while staring at the red comet hanging above King's Landing.
His mind was occupied with war.
"Casterly Rock remains secure, but Robb Stark continues to ravage the Westerlands. Father remains at Harrenhal, confronting the northern host led by Roose Bolton. Renly Baratheon and the armies of Highgarden are still advancing toward King's Landing. Slow as a glacier, but advancing nonetheless."
A trace of relief appeared on his face.
"Fortunately, Stannis Baratheon is not marching directly on King's Landing."
Instead, the elder Baratheon had chosen to focus his strength against Storm's End.
For the moment.
"Gods, let them bleed each other dry first."
"Just give me a little more time."
Tyrion drained half his wine in one swallow.
The warmth eased some of the pressure weighing on his shoulders.
After setting down the goblet, he returned to the table where a large map of Westeros was spread open.
His finger traced the western coast before moving northward.
"Balon Greyjoy attacked the North."
He considered the situation carefully.
"Robb must have received word by now."
"If the Ironborn force him to abandon the Westerlands and return north, that would be most convenient."
His finger tapped near Flint's Finger before moving to the Iron Islands.
"Perhaps the kraken can still be useful."
Then another face unexpectedly appeared in his thoughts.
Garon Glover.
The young lord who had repeatedly disrupted expectations.
"Glover remained in the North instead of marching south with Robb."
"That wasn't a coincidence."
"He was left behind to defend the North."
Tyrion frowned thoughtfully.
"That young man possesses an unusually sharp mind."
"If he remains in the North, the Ironborn may not have things entirely their own way."
"And if the Ironborn suffer enough losses, they may become more willing to negotiate."
His thoughts shifted again.
"Though persuading Balon Greyjoy will not be easy."
"Jaime killed Theon."
"I will need the perfect offer."
Before he could continue thinking, the solar door suddenly burst open.
Bang!
Tyrion's expression darkened.
"Chella, what are you..."
The words stopped.
Because the person entering was not one of his guards.
It was Cersei.
Her face radiated fury.
"I sent for you."
"You ignored me."
The accusation came immediately.
Tyrion recalled a servant arriving earlier from Maegor's Holdfast.
He had chosen not to go.
Instead of answering directly, he asked a question of his own.
"Who allowed you into my tower?"
Cersei laughed coldly.
"Your tower?"
"This is my son's castle."
The contempt in her voice was unmistakable.
As if to remind him that his position existed only because Joffrey sat the Iron Throne.
Tyrion felt irritation rise.
He silently made a note to reprimand the guards later.
Closing the door behind her, he replied calmly.
"I was actually about to come see you."
Cersei snorted.
"Do you truly expect me to believe that?"
Tyrion moved toward the wine table.
"My dear sister, your lack of faith wounds me."
"If I have offended you, simply tell me."
"Enough."
Cersei's voice sharpened instantly.
"You disgusting little creature."
The room seemed to tighten.
"You sent Myrcella to Dorne."
"You sold my daughter."
Tyrion paused.
The accusation itself was absurd.
"Sold?"
He shook his head.
"Myrcella is a princess."
"Marriage alliances are part of her duty."
Then, without thinking, he added,
"What did you expect?"
"That she would marry Tommen?"
Cersei exploded.
The goblet in Tyrion's hand was slapped away.
Wine splashed across the floor.
"For that alone I should have your tongue removed."
She stepped closer.
"I am Joffrey's mother."
"I am his regent."
"You do not make decisions about my daughter."
"I will not allow Myrcella to be shipped away to Dorne."
Her voice cracked slightly.
"Not after they shipped me away to Robert Baratheon."
Tyrion sighed.
"Why not?"
"Dorne is safer than King's Landing."
Cersei glared.
"Are you mad?"
"The Martells hate us."
Tyrion knew perfectly well that House Martell hated House Lannister.
The sack of King's Landing had ensured that.
Princess Elia Martell had been murdered.
Her children slaughtered.
The wound had never healed.
Yet Tyrion still believed the alliance could work.
"The Martells hate us."
"True."
"But their rivalry with the Reach and Storm's End stretches back thousands of years."
He watched her carefully.
"More importantly, Renly assumes Dorne will support him."
"That arrogance can be used."
He continued before she could interrupt.
"Myrcella is nine."
"Trystane Martell is eleven."
"The proposal is simple."
"They will marry when they come of age."
"Until then, she remains in Sunspear as an honored guest under Prince Doran's protection."
Cersei narrowed her eyes.
"A hostage."
"No."
"An honored guest."
Tyrion answered firmly.
"The Martells will treat Myrcella better than Renly treats Edric Storm."
"I am sending Ser Arys Oakheart with her."
"A Kingsguard knight."
"No one will dare disrespect her."
Cersei fell silent.
She already knew what had become of Edric Storm.
The comparison struck home.
Seeing her hesitation, Tyrion pressed forward.
"The Martells are honorable."
"They would never harm a little girl."
"Especially one as innocent as Myrcella."
"As long as she is in Sunspear, Prince Doran will believe we intend to honor our promises."
"Besides, our offer is generous."
"We give him a place on the Small Council."
"We deliver justice for Princess Elia."
"We grant border concessions..."
"Too much."
Cersei cut him off immediately.
She paced the room like a restless lioness.
"It is far too much."
"And worse, you offered it without consulting me."
Tyrion spread his hands.
"We need Dorne."
"If we offer less, Prince Doran may simply refuse."
"Too much."
She repeated stubbornly.
Tyrion finally lost patience.
"How would you negotiate?"
"With the hole between your legs?"
Smack!
The slap snapped his head sideways.
For a moment silence filled the room.
Tyrion touched his cheek.
Then looked up slowly.
"My dear sister."
His voice had become colder.
"I promise you."
"That is the last time you will ever strike me."
Cersei laughed mockingly.
"You?"
"Threatening me?"
"You think Father's letter protects you?"
"Ned Stark had a piece of paper too."
"And look where that got him."
Tyrion resisted the urge to point out that Ned Stark had lacked sellswords, mountain clans, and loyal Gold Cloaks.
Instead he returned to the topic at hand.
"If Myrcella remains here, will she truly be safe?"
"When this city falls, her head will hang beside ours."
The words struck harder than any insult.
Cersei trembled.
Then, unexpectedly, tears appeared.
Tyrion froze.
He had not seen Cersei cry since childhood.
Awkwardly, he stepped closer.
He even attempted to place a hand on her shoulder.
Cersei immediately recoiled.
"Don't touch me."
The rejection stung more than the slap.
"Don't look at me."
Her voice shook.
"Don't you dare."
Tyrion turned away.
"I wasn't trying to mock you."
"Myrcella will be safe."
"Liar."
Cersei wiped her eyes angrily.
"You promised Jaime would be rescued."
"Where is he?"
Tyrion sighed.
"Probably still at Riverrun."
"I intended to exchange Arya Stark for him."
"But Arya escaped."
Cersei frowned.
"Escaped?"
"Our men discovered Arya and Gendry among Yoren's recruits from the Night's Watch."
"They attacked the column."
"Most of the recruits died."
"But Arya and Gendry still slipped away."
"Then find them."
"They are children."
"How difficult can that be?"
Tyrion shook his head.
"My dear sister."
"Stannis is preparing for war."
"I need every capable man to defend the city."
"The men searching for Arya are already difficult to spare."
"If you would loan me half the men guarding Joffrey..."
"No."
The answer was immediate.
"Joffrey needs protection."
"He has too few Kingsguard left already."
At the mention of the Kingsguard, Tyrion could not resist.
"You should never have dismissed Ser Barristan."
"If Barristan Selmy were still here, I would have more men available."
Cersei's expression hardened.
"That old man?"
"He was finished."
She waved dismissively.
"And now he travels with that squire from Maidenpool."
"Who knows what they are plotting?"
Tyrion's eyes narrowed.
"You mean Hugh?"
Cersei nodded.
"Varys reported that both of them are searching for Gendry."
"Find them."
"Kill them."
A headache immediately began pounding behind Tyrion's eyes.
"What exactly are you hiding from me?"
"What does Hugh know?"
Cersei looked away.
"Nothing."
"Just rumors."
"Rumors?"
Tyrion stared.
The silence stretched.
Finally she relented slightly.
"He had dealings with Eddard Stark."
"I worry Stark may have told him something."
That answer only deepened Tyrion's suspicions.
Yet before he could press further, Cersei turned away.
"Catch them."
"And stop disappointing me."
Without another word, she left.
The door slammed shut behind her.
Tyrion stood silently for several moments.
Then he sighed.
"Perhaps moments like this are the only times she remembers we're family."
The thought was bitter.
He summoned his guards and ordered additional search parties to continue hunting Arya Stark and Gendry.
Then he returned to the endless work of preparing King's Landing for war.
Meanwhile, northeast of the Gods Eye, in an abandoned fishing village, the two children Tyrion sought were hiding inside a collapsed cellar.
Arya Stark and Gendry pressed themselves against the damp earth walls, listening carefully.
Since Yoren's party had been attacked, their lives had become one long flight.
Most of the recruits had died.
Had Arya not freed Jaqen H'ghar from his cage and had Jaqen not aided their escape, both children would likely have fallen into Lannister hands.
Even so, they had become separated from Jaqen during later escapes.
Now only Arya and Gendry remained together.
Both looked exhausted.
Their clothing was torn.
Their faces were thin.
Arya's short hair was tangled with dirt and mud.
Even Gendry's usually powerful frame had grown lean from hunger and hardship.
"Hear anything?"
Gendry whispered.
His hands gripped a heavy iron bar.
Arya listened carefully.
Years of wolf dreams and constant danger had sharpened her instincts.
"Horses."
"Dogs."
Her face paled.
"They found us again."
Gendry cursed.
"We can't stay here."
"We run for the lake."
The two scrambled from the cellar and sprinted toward the reeds lining the Gods Eye.
Behind them came barking hounds.
Galloping hooves.
And shouting men.
"There!"
"I see them!"
"Catch them!"
A Lannister patrol had discovered their trail.
Eight riders.
The men immediately spurred their horses forward.
One archer raised his bow.
An arrow flew.
Fortunately, his captain cursed him.
"Idiot!"
"Don't kill them!"
"The reward is worth more alive!"
The pursuit continued.
Arya and Gendry gained a little distance.
But children could not outrun horses forever.
Within minutes they found themselves trapped against the shore of the Gods Eye.
The captain smiled.
"Finally."
Arya drew Needle.
The tiny sword felt laughably small.
Gendry stepped protectively in front of her and raised his iron bar.
Despair settled over both children.
The Lannister soldiers dismounted.
Swords were drawn.
They began closing in.
The captain grinned.
"Come quietly, little wolf."
"Her Grace will be very pleased."
Then everything changed.
Several pale arrows suddenly emerged from the reeds.
They flew silently.
Not especially fast.
Yet impossibly precise.
Each arrow struck an eye.
A throat.
A vulnerable gap.
Seven Lannister soldiers collapsed before they could even scream.
The captain spun around in horror.
"Who goes there?"
Figures emerged from the reeds.
Tall.
Silent.
Dressed in dark green leather.
Each carried a weirwood bow.
The captain's face went white.
"The Green Men..."
He never finished.
An arrow pierced his skull.
The leader lowered his bow.
"Clear the field."
The command was immediately obeyed.
The Green Men recovered their arrows and removed every trace of their presence.
Only then did their leader approach Arya and Gendry.
The children stared in bewilderment.
"The old gods guided your steps."
The man's voice was ancient and calm.
"You are not meant to die here."
He extended a hand.
"Come with us."
"The Isle of Faces will shelter you until the hour destiny calls."
Two Green Men stepped forward.
Their movements were gentle but impossible to resist.
"The waters of the Gods Eye will hide your trail."
Without waiting for a reply, they guided Arya and Gendry into the reeds.
Moments later they vanished.
An hour afterward, two more riders arrived.
Ser Barristan Selmy.
And Hugh Mann.
Barristan dismounted first.
His eyes fell upon the corpses.
"Too late again."
Hugh looked around uneasily.
"Someone keeps protecting Prince Gendry."
"Did Lord Stark arrange this?"
Barristan shook his head.
"Whoever they are, they are friends."
"Not enemies."
His expression hardened.
"We must find Gendry."
"We must fulfill Lord Stark's final wish."
"We must place the rightful king upon the throne."
After his dismissal from the Kingsguard, Barristan had not immediately left the capital.
Instead, chance had led him to Hugh Mann.
Through Hugh, he learned the truth surrounding Robert's death and Ned Stark's execution.
The revelation had shaken him deeply.
Now he intended to honor the promises made to Eddard Stark.
Hugh nodded firmly.
"And I will expose the Lannisters for what they truly are."
Barristan examined the tracks around the shore.
Eventually he noticed a trail heading northward.
After a brief moment of consideration, he mounted his horse.
The two men rode away.
Toward Harrenhal.
After their departure, other pursuers gradually arrived and followed similar trails.
None of them realized the truth.
For the first time in thousands of years, the mysterious Green Men of the Isle of Faces had opened their hidden refuge to fugitives from the wars of men.
And far away, upon the Iron Islands, another drama was quietly unfolding between two Greyjoy brothers.