Decided to explore Tyrion's darker traits, especially with who we see in "A Dance With Dragons." Even before then, he threatened to rape Tommen, considered doing so before finding out the boy was free from his grasp, and had a bard murdered. Afterward, he tormented prostitutes, poisoned a slave master, and joins Daenerys out of nothing more than revenge. Should be interesting to play with.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Traces of poison has been found on both your Grandfather's and Margaery's glasses," Pycelle concluded while Matthew sat in quiet rage, considering his next move. "No doubt the depraved dwarf chose them for maximum damage. You are, of course. . ."

"Spare me the ass-kissing," Matthew responded in a cold voice, looking at his Kingsguard, Jaime, Cersei, Pycelle, Melisandre, and the remainder of the Small Council. "What I want to know is why the Imp decided to act."

"My brother has always been a traitor, my son," Cersei attempted to reassure, though did not touch him. "He's always wanted us to suffer, from the moment he was born." Jaime did not wear his usual smile, unable to hide his guilty look.

"You have something you want to share, Uncle?" Matthew had a guess what happened, but wanted to hear it from him.

"He. . . confronted me about an old story," Jaime struggled to look at Matthew's face. "About what happened to his first wife. I do not know why he asked, but. . . I told him the truth, after fifteen years of lies. Father took it badly when Tyrion married a peasant girl."

"And you didn't think to inform me of this?" Matthew trembled, hardly daring to believe Jaime's stupidity.

"I never imagined he'd go so far as to murder him," Jaime lowered his eyes to the floor. Cersei hissed at him but otherwise remained quiet. No one else knew what to say.

"A man who has hated his father his entire life has just been told an ugly truth, and you didn't even consider the Imp would take revenge?" Matthew refused to use his name.

"All is not lost, Your Grace." Pycelle promised. "Queen Margaery has survived the attempt."

"The Lord of Light warned me of your Uncle's intentions, though I did not realize he targeted two people." Melisandre announced. "I drank the poison to save the Queen's life and thwart the little man's plan."

"Clearly, you did a fantastic job of it," Matthew deadpanned. With Tywin dead and Tyrion on the way to Daenerys, he was more vulnerable than ever. Not even when Renly attempted to batter down the gates did he feel so helpless. While he felt no pity for Tywin on a personal level, he had been a capable administrator "Jaime, you are a member of the Kingsguard, and you have failed in your duty."

"His love for the Imp has blinded him," Cersei spat. "You should have warned our father!"

"How was I to know? No one is more damned than a Kingslayer!" Jaime placed his hands against the table.

"Those who prepared the food have been rounded up and are awaiting questioning," Balon remarked. "Where he obtained the poison has yet to be learned."

"The Spider still lurks within these walls, Your Grace," Pycelle doddered.

"When I find him, he's going to beg for death by the time I'm done," Matthew promised. "At least with the wedding, our alliance will keep us stable, at least in the short term." Useless. All of them, useless. Despite everything he'd done, they continued to sabotage him.

"About that. . ." Jaime winced. "Lady Margaery has. . . reconsidered the marriage in light of the assassination attempt."

Of course she has. As if this couldn't get worse. "So you're telling me all my efforts have been for nothing?" His voice fell to a whisper. A bunch of nervous glances filled the room. "Tywin is dead, Margaery is backing out, all because I AM SURROUNDED BY INCOMPETENT FOOLS!" All his rage came forward at once.

Matthew got to his feet, pacing around the room. "Since I took my throne, all any of you have done is make my life difficult! Not one of you has a single shred of honor! The Kingsguard, my relatives, the Grand Maester!" he spat on the floor.

"Your Grace, I must protest. . ." Barristan frowned.

"Shut up, old man! All of you knew what the Imp was capable of, yet none of you did a damn thing about it! Varys continues to elude you, my enemies regroup in the North, the Mad Queen intends to take her father's throne, and what have you bastards done about it, except to get in my way?!" Joffrey roared with approval inside Matthew's head.

"So this is what it has come to! Everyone around me is lying! I have been deceived from the very beginning! Those who surround me are nothing but sycophants and cowards!"

"Your Grace, we have done everything in our ability. . ." Balon protested.

"TO GET IN MY WAY, TO HINDER MY PLANS!" Matthew bellowed, spraying saliva all over the room. "For years, that's all my subordinates have done, with their plots and schemes and foolishness! What I should have done once the Throne was mine was liquidate the entire Small Council! Varys, Littlefinger, everyone!" Pycelle blanched at this, knowing the implications.

"I defeated Renly when he had eight times my numbers! I defeated Stark when my Grandfather and all the experienced commanders failed! I formed the alliance with Braavos! I changed the face of warfare! I saw the threat Daenerys posed! While all of you played with your thumbs, waiting to stab me in the back! And Tyrion. . . I should have bathed him in wildfire the moment he entered King's Landing, like Qarlton Chested!"

Jaime put his hand to his sword at the mention of a previous hand Aerys had burned alive. Matthew spread his arms apart. "Go ahead, Uncle, kill me if you've got the courage! You're already a Kingslayer; do it! I'm surrounded by traitors! It won't be long until one of them succeeds in killing me!

"Everything I've done, all I've accomplished, soon to fall apart because no one else can see the big picture! I am the only one here who can use his brain for something besides filling the space between his ears! The least useless one of you is a religious fanatic!" Matthew pointed to Melisandre, knowing she'd prevented the disaster from being total. "May the Gods have mercy on us, because Daenerys and whatever the hell lies up north won't!" Skeptical eyes stared at each other but none dared to interrupt him.

"If they want a fight, then by God, I'll give them one. I'll find that traitorous death, and he'll beg for death by the time I'm done! I show mercy, I offer reconciliation, and they spit in my face! Never again will I be so foolish! It's nothing but fear and terror that keep the Kingdoms in line!" Matthew spat on the ground. "That's what honor is worth in this world, for all its pretty words and vows! Only fear matters!"

Matthew felt his energy disappear and sank into a chair. "I've crushed all my enemies in battle. Defeated the undefeatable. And yet things keep getting worse. But those who surround me will not find me easy prey. My hopes for improving this shithole of a continent are dead. Only steel and fire remains." He waited for those surrounding him to say something. . . or shove a sword in his back.

Several minutes of awkward silence ensued. Matthew gave brief consideration to purging the Small Council, as he'd threatened, but he doubted it would do much. I'd be replacing the current batch of idiots with a new batch of idiots.

Uncertain what to do next, Matthew pushed his chair aside and walked out, not bothering to see how any of them would respond. Melisandre hurried to follow him, staring at him with an emotion he could not detect. "Your Grace, I would like the honor of escorting you."

"Do whatever you like." Matthew didn't have the energy to argue. There was still one more thing he had to take care of.

XXXXXXXXXX

Life enjoys its ironies. Oberyn stretched his body along the cot. Inside the tower cells, things weren't too bad, save for the silence. However tempting it was to speak, he knew every word was being monitored. It threatened to drive him mad, which he expected Joffrey was counting on.

Despite momentary satisfaction, Oberyn privately confessed his disappointment. He'd hoped to see Tywin dead at his own hand, perhaps cutting Elia's name into his flesh, only for his hated dwarf son to act first. Should I thank him for it or kill him for taking my opportunity from me? Either way, it worked well for him, for it meant the Lannisters would destroy each other. He hadn't anticipated such dysfunction among them, but it would leave them vulnerable.

In the meantime, there was little for him to do but wait and see. Ellaria, Arianne. . . I never should have brought them to King's Landing. Oberyn hadn't anticipated being imprisoned for a murder he didn't commit, nor that a wedding would be so eventful.

Footsteps echoed outside the tower cells, stopping at his. Oberyn braced himself for whatever the King had planned for him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

"If it isn't my favorite prisoner," Joffrey spoke in a calm voice. Oberyn saw no sign of the Kingsguard, but instead the red woman who had taken to following the King around. He had heard rumors at court she was bewitching him, but previously discounted them.

"Where's your Kingsguard?" Oberyn challenged. I didn't think you'd have the courage to face me without them.

"They haven't proven themselves reliable, and aren't best suited for this job, anyway." Joffrey spoke in a dangerous tone. "I hope you can convince me you weren't responsible for the death of my grandfather."

"My condolences for his death, Your Grace," Oberyn lied. "We may have had our differences, but Tywin was a formidable man." That at least was true.

"Yes, and there are few who had more reason to kill him than you," Joffrey continued as though he hadn't spoken. Oberyn considered attacking the young man until the woman stared at him, eyes boring into his skull. He couldn't explain why, but it frightened him more than any of the Kingsguard could. "And you're not known as the Red Viper for nothing. Pycelle has conducted an examination and concluded the poison is of Dornish origin."

"I do not murder with poison, Your Grace. Poison is a woman's weapon."

"Both your paramour and niece qualify. They send their regards, by the way." Oberyn's face darkened at the implication.

"Good to hear they're doing well. If word got out you were mistreating my niece. . . my brother is a peaceful man, but he wouldn't take that well at all."

"I listened to Ellaria plead your innocence and beg for your life. Arianne likewise has all the comfort that can be provided. She tried seducing me, in fact, wishing to know how you were." Joffrey gave a dark chuckle. "I refused, of course. She's in no position to bargain. And neither are you.

"While I was not fond of your grandfather, I did not poison him." Oberyn considered his next move, cursing the dwarf. No doubt Tyrion decided to frame him for the act as well. "I am hardly one to break hospitality."

Joffrey acted as though he hadn't spoken. "Mace Tyrell will want you dead once he gets the news and I see no reason to refuse his request. He's protective of his daughter and as you've already mutilated one of his sons, I don't believe he'll be inclined toward mercy."

"I am an innocent man, Your Grace, who had only the intention of crowning my niece Queen."

"I made that offer, back when I was naïve enough to think the cycle of revenge could be broken." Joffrey narrowed his eyes. "But you've proved that will not happen, even with my grandfather's death. I prefer peace, and yet those who surround me want war."

"Then I would suggest releasing me. If I die, or if Arianne dies, the full might of Dorne will march to King's Landing." Even in Dorne, a bastard's death would not spark the same outrage, so Oberyn did not mention his paramour.

"Oh, yes, the vaunted might of Dorne. If you were half as strong as you claimed to be, Doran would have marched North when my forces were distracted with the Starks. No, you don't have the strength to be a threat to me. You have no power, for all your bluster."

Oberyn wondered how Joffrey saw through that. While their land provided excellent defensive terrain, it also meant launching an attack was extremely difficult. "I won't pretend to mourn, but if I was to poison a man, why would I use one that led straight to me?"

"Interesting point, but you're known for being rash, not using your head." Joffrey remarked. "I wouldn't put it past you at all to do something so foolish. You're famous for screwing half the continent. Perhaps you seduced one of the servants. . . or Arianne did. Too many boys and men think with their cocks and nothing else."

"Did anyone catch me in the kitchen or claim I was there?" Oberyn had spent as little time as possible near anyone in King's Landing. "Your grandfather was responsible for countless atrocities, and I imagine many would like to see him die."

"Clegane will be arriving in King's Landing in a couple days." Joffrey dodged his statement. Oberyn boiled with hatred at the giant, dreaming of seeing him suffer for what he'd done to Elia, her children, and countless others. "You'll be meeting him. How you meet him. . . depends on how cooperative you are."

"I came here in good faith to negotiate a marriage." Oberyn wondered if Joffrey had planned this all along, trapping two members of the Martell family. He suppressed at shudder at the thought of Clegane near his niece or paramour. "You don't have any evidence I did anything!"

"Then perhaps I should question you more sharply." The red woman approached Oberyn, making him jump back. The woman was taller than he was, and possessing an aura of power that filled the room.

"You truly are his grandson." Oberyn knew for all his bravado, torture would eventually get him to confess. "For a man of peace, you seem eager to spark renewed conflict."

"If you want peace, prepare for war." Joffrey shrugged. Oberyn had the feeling he was quoting someone else. The woman gripped his shoulder, sending heat through his skin.

"If you will not allow me to prove my innocence, then I demand a Trial By Combat!" If Clegane was his champion, he could expose the truth, as he'd dreamed of for more than eighteen years.

"You have that right, of course, but you will face Loras Tyrell. I don't think that's a battle you'll win, and even if you do, what will Willas say once he discovers you've killed his brother? Mace Tyrell will want your blood, fair combat or not. The oaf does like to hold a grudge."

Oberyn ground his teeth, knowing he was cornered. He was always tempted to go through it anyway, but. . . having the Tyrells on the warpath wouldn't suit Doran's long-term plans. He's been planning too long. Oberyn scoffed. "I am not responsible for Tywin's death, however much I would like to claim the credit. You will not get me to say otherwise."

"Should I believe you?" Joffrey mused.

"Unless you have absolute proof, which you do not, we are wasting our time here." Despite his bravado, Oberyn knew his brother could not act, at least not immediately.

"Doran will plot and scheme and take so long, by the time he's finished, my brother will die of old age."

"If you haven't killed me, it means you want something from me." Fortunately, Joffrey didn't know of plans to ally with Daenerys.

"Your guilt is already assumed at court, and few will defend the Red Viper. Seems you've amassed a reputation. No, you're going to stay here as incentive for Doran's cooperation."

"Hostages, then."

"I considered sending you to the Wall, but a treacherous subordinate might ensure your death, and make things worse for me."

"This is how you treat someone you once intended to marry?" Oberyn weighed his options. The woman appeared unarmed, but he had the strong feeling she possessed strength few others did.

"I underestimated the hatred your family holds toward mine. Now that I see it plain, I don't intend to give you any opportunities."

"And Arianne and Tommen?"

"I'm certainly not going to marry my brother to a traitor's niece." When Oberyn opened his mouth to object, Joffrey added: "Your guilt is already assumed, and some of my advisors want me to execute you as a warning to others."

"Do I at least get my freedom, or am I going to spend my life inside a cell?"

"Give me a reason, and you'll learn what it's like in the Black Cells." Joffrey warned. "I will, however, release your paramour and niece, provided you behave yourself. And I promised you Clegane. That part, at least, I will keep."

"Your words mean nothing, abomination. I know the truth of your birth, however much you try to discredit the rumors." Oberyn grinned. "Or do you not know who your parents truly are?"

"I thought you smart enough not to listen to rumors. Clegane is a beast, but one with no restraint, so you can have him. Sandor is just as capable and feared without the mindless sadism. Behave yourself, or I'll change my mind on that too."

XXXXXXXXXX

I've become a monster. Matthew looked at his hands, soaked in blood. If he'd done half the things as a soldier he'd done as King, Matthew knew he'd be serving multiple life sentences for war crimes. And yet there rarely seems to be another choice in the matter. Showing mercy had repeatedly backfired on him. However, he couldn't silence the voice whispering they were mere excuses.

Matthew stood alone, in the midst of enemies. Dorne, Daenerys, the Starks, the danger beyond the Wall. . . and only the Westerlands to stand against them. He had his doubts whether the technology he came up with would be enough. Politics is not my forte. He had no good decisions ahead of him, only bad ones.

"There's not enough money to do what you're proposing, Your Grace," Stannis informed him. Since Tywin's death, he had no further reservations about joining the Small Council. "The additional taxes will not last forever, so I recommend we put them into one-time projects."

"What we need is some form of stability, and I'm confident my great uncle can fill in whatever gaps there are in funds," Matthew continued, trying to show energy he didn't feel. "I don't intend to be my father and drive us into debt from something with no substance." King's Landing was marginally cleaner as a result of digging tunnels for waste, and he hoped to design at least the beginnings of a sewer system. "We are in the eye of the storm, and I don't intend to be idle."

"You are, of course, correct." Melisandre spoke. Matthew didn't like having her in Small Council meetings, but she'd proven herself to be less useless than most. "To face the trials ahead of us, we must act now."

"Mining on Dragonstone is improving, though forging obsidian into weapons is a ponderous task," Stannis added. "Inside the capital, at least, theft and corruption is down now that the Gold Cloaks realize they can no longer get away with such things."

"Be sure and let the nobles know the same thing." Matthew's eyes looked over the Small Council, who sent an undercurrent of fear. Since his rant about how he should have killed them all, none dared to contradict him. "I expect many of them are stealing as well."

"There are few honest men in King's Landing." Stannis ground his teeth. "I told my brother to act, yet he was more interested in drinking and feasting then. . ."

"Yes, I'm aware, but let's focus on the present." Matthew interrupted. "Grand Maester, I trust my orders to both maesters and midwives are being followed, and that the results are bearing fruit?"

"Yes, Your Grace." Pycelle nodded and bowed. "I am pleased to report that infant mortality has fallen by thirty-one percent, although in some cases, there is little that can be done. I have, of course, made sure everyone follows your orders." Pycelle didn't appear convinced it was necessary, but Matthew didn't care, so long as his orders were followed.

"You're holding something back," Matthew picked up on it immediately.

"Your Grace. . . many of the Maesters in Oldtown have taken offense to your orders. They accuse you of. . . considering them unclean." Pycelle shook, fearing Matthew's wrath.

"Is this entire continent run by fools?" Matthew lowered his voice.

"I tried to explain your orders, Your Grace, but they were adamant. Only. . . only some of the Maesters in training are willing to do as you ask."

If it's not one thing, it's another. "Maesters spend so much time studying the old, they don't pause to consider the new. Perhaps the new generation will be a little more open to the idea. Have you sent them the results from King's Landing?"

"They do not believe them, Your Grace." Pycelle looked away.

"Very well, we will have to convince them." Much as he wanted to force the issue, Matthew knew his power wasn't absolute. Considering how long it took people in his world to accept the existence of germs and the importance of handwashing, he didn't expect it to be a short task.

"Your Grace, the longships require maintenance, and a few are beyond any repair," Davos Seaworth, his Master of Ships, declared. "I recommend you use some of the funds to both repair and expand our fleet."

"How long will that take and how much will it cost?" Matthew considered both the annual revenue and expenses. Much as he wanted to avoid further debt, it was probably unavoidable.

"Your Grace, I've little knowledge of sums, but. . ." Davos stammered. The interim Master of Coin took the piece of paper, which Davos struggled to read.

"To do what he wants, it'll cost us approximately 25,000 gold dragons and take two years to repair the fleet, taking into account paying salaries and the construction of an additional dozen vessels."

"All right, we'll start repairing the vessels you deem salvageable." Matthew decided. Too many projects, not enough money.

The rest of the Small Council meeting was fairly routine, debating economics, using what little time remained to prepare for winter, and the day-to-day upkeep required to keep King's Landing in working order. Unlike before, only Stannis was willing to argue with him.

Once the meeting concluded, the Small Council practically tripped over themselves attempting to flee from his presence. Matthew kept his face expressionless, knowing he'd have to keep an eye on them. At least a couple will probably plot against me. Perhaps he shouldn't have screamed, but it could not be undone.

Only Barristan, Stannis, and Melisandre remained in the room. Matthew met Barristan's eyes and spoke: "Ser Barristan. . . I apologize for my earlier outburst. It was out of grief for my grandfather's death and my own foolishness for trusting the dwarf."

"Understood, Your Grace." Barristan revealed no emotion. Matthew felt a ping of sympathy for him, spending his life serving unworthy Kings, including himself. "Your job is a difficult one."

His Kingsguard, at least on the surface, did their duty as always. However, Matthew hadn't forgotten how Jaime's hand went for his sword, even if it wasn't drawn. "It is, but you, at least, have served me well and given me honest counsel." Barristan nodded in acceptance of the apology and waited outside the room for him.

Matthew caught a glance of ten members of his personal guard, four of whom carried muskets. Considering recent events, he intended to have all the protection he could. Assuming it'll matter in the end. His days were likely numbered, but he'd do as much good as possible before the end.

"Have anything to say to me, Stannis?" The man gripped his chair.

"Only that you remember my previous promise," Stannis warned. "The realm has already suffered from one Mad King. Even if it costs my life, I will not allow that."

"I am in control, Uncle." Matthew knew the threat. Joffrey behaved himself, as Matthew's threat to kill them both was not an idle one. "Now I believe the rest of the day involves mediating peasant disputes." Despite his annoyed sigh, he preferred it to Small Council meetings.

"Even if the Iron Throne is mine by right, I am relieved to have it not be my burden. I witnessed what it did to my brother, and the Mad King before him. Take care not to let the same thing happen to you."

"The coming storm will require both of you if we wish to have a chance of survival," Melisandre whispered.

"So am I Azor Ahai now?" Matthew wanted to scoff. He knew how out of his depth he was when it came to magic and prophecy. "I've read enough stories to know prophecies never mean what you think they do."

"I do not know what you are, only that you play a vital role," Melisandre answered. "For that reason, I insisted Stannis form an alliance with you. What does it matter who has the Iron Throne if none are living on Omelos?"

"Well, I don't have many allies, so thank you." Matthew knew it would cause enormous trouble in the future. And he suspected Melisandre had an agenda of her own. However, day to day survival was difficult enough without that. He'd deal with it when it came. "I trust you can restrain your more enthusiastic followers."

"I will convey your orders." Melisandre nodded.

"I'm serious. I don't intend to tolerate religious conflict." Matthew expected such an act would be inevitable, but intended to minimize it the best he could. If it's possible. . . He knew what developed in the books, along with countless examples on Earth.

Can't give up, tempting as it is. Faced overwhelming odds back in Indonesia and made it through. Westeros is different, but it'll require the same kind of will. Matthew considered his next move, with Melisandre watching over him. He still felt a bit frightened in her presence, but if not for her, things would have been much worse. "Thank you for saving Lady Margaery's life." I apologize for not saying that before."

"Thanks are unnecessary. I go where the Lord of Light commands me," Melisandre responded. "I promise, there is nothing to fear when I am at your side."

"Nice to know." Matthew left to his next duty, which was mediating in peasant disputes. Despite the dullness of it, he preferred it to Small Council meetings, as they had few stakes attached to them. Disputes over property, feuds, business rivals were small potatoes compared to everything else.

All of them blurred together, with only a couple sticking into his brain. Once the sun set, Matthew dismissed those who had yet to have their cases heard. "Your Grace. . ." A man tried to plead but a single glance silenced him.

Those in court watched him with terror. Matthew expected all of them had heard about his rant. Perhaps it'll motivate them to be a little less blatant about their corruption.

"There is much I have to do, and I wish not to be disturbed," Matthew ordered his Kingsguard.

Inside his chambers, Matthew busied himself with paperwork, struggling with a hundred things at once. With much of the Small Council replaced, he had been forced to do much of their jobs himself. He kept a wary eye on the door, still unconvinced the Kingsguard would overlook his furious rant. Beneath his bed was a musket, which would allow him to take at least one of them out.

Matthew raised his hand at the sound of footsteps. Soft, quiet, almost silent, but he'd had too many enemies try and sneak up on him to miss them. It's someone trying to stay quiet. He stayed at the desk, his hand curling around a dagger.

The door opened to reveal Margaery Tyrell. "What are you doing here, My Lady?" Matthew looked into her eyes. "I'd given orders I was not to be disturbed."

"These are my chambers as well now," Margaery smiled. "They asked no questions when I entered."

"I thought you intended to annul our marriage." Or are you here to kill me?

"I gave it serious thought," Margaery nodded, sitting down next to him. "If not for your advisor, I would be dead right now. But. . . that is exactly what the dwarf wanted, isn't it?"

"He knew how to hurt us the most," Matthew expected Tywin was payback while Margaery's death would ensure a shattered alliance. "Tyrion wants to destroy us all."

"And he wanted me dead to accomplish it." Margaery's eyes narrowed. "I take attempts on my life very personally, and my Father will want his head."

"Does this mean you have changed your mind?" Matthew kept his voice cautious. He'd gotten his hopes up too many times, only to have them shatter once more.

"Yes." Margaery held his hands. "In planning to annul our marriage, I would be sending a weakness to your enemies. And now your enemies are my enemies. Tyrion wanted us at each other's throats. We will not give him what he wants."

"We still have many enemies to defeat. One day soon, Daenerys will cross the Narrow Sea."

"If she wishes to die, we can oblige her." Margaery wore an evil smile. Matthew saw the steel underneath her appearance for the first time. "I hope our arrangement is still in place."

"It is." Matthew hid his delight. "And Winter is Coming, as the Starks are fond of saying. We must come together if we are to survive, and send a message to those who wish to see us burn."

"Once my Grandmother discovers what happened, there's nowhere on Omelos Tyrion can hide," Margaery stroked his hand. "I know she appears to be a rude old woman, but she's very capable of holding a grudge."

"No, I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of her either." Matthew chuckled, remembering what happened to the Canon Joffrey. "So, are you expecting a bedding ceremony?"

"If you wish to arrange one, Your Grace." Margaery brushed her hand across his face. "If not. . . we can begin now. You've won the throne, Your Grace, but you'll need help to keep it."

"I almost feel sorry for anyone who gets in your way." Matthew kissed her lips. "Almost." He wasn't going to let those lurking in the shadows with knives stop him from what needed to be done. No doubt the Tyrells would demand more concessions, but Tyrion's attempt had backfired on him. You think I'm finished now? Matthew made a promise to his enemies. I have not yet begun to fight.

XXXXXXXXXX

Turns out Tyrion wasn't quite as clever as he believed. Not to say Matthew has an easy path ahead, but things are looking up for the first time. Starting to understand how GRRM writes such huge epics. I'm using relatively few of his characters and the story's already enormous.