Chapter 24

The next few days passed in a blur for Melara. Moments and events passed before her eyes with the fluidity of a stream flowing over rocks before continuing on its way to the ocean.

With startling efficiency the remaining red cloaks in the city were rounded up and placed under guard so they could be thoroughly and explicitly questioned.

All of the servants in the keep were likewise detained and separated so that they could be spoken to individually. Privately Robb told Melara that he had no plans to incarcerate them for long. He had a feeling that many would want to go home to their families after the unique horror of serving the Lannisters.

Grand Maester Pycelle and Lord Varys were also placed under guard, specifically guards that Robb knew well and trusted. The old man would likely be executed for his role in the Lannister reign and everything that had come before it but as for Lord Varys, no one was sure.

Robb handled the news of the hidden wildfire caches with great constancy, so much so that Melara was convinced her husband had been replaced with a changeling and he had given orders for each piece to be quietly removed from its place below the keep and the room sealed so that it might never be used again.

He also instructed her to question the former queen extensively as he was certain that the capital was full of secrets.

In the midst of the chaotic few days since they had broken down the gates to King's Landing, Robb had seen the storehouses of the city be opened again and food given out to the poor, a gesture which produced excellent results.

Ravens flew back and forth between the riverlands and Highgarden communicating the status of all those territories and the general climate throughout Westeros.

Word also reached them that the west and the Lannister army had been thrown into disarray and chaos by the disappearance of Tywin and Jaime Lannister as well as the Mountain.

News from the north had been suspiciously quiet but for the moment Melara was trying to think of no news as good news. The moment she and Robb secured the capital she had made plans to return to Winterfell and see to his brothers there.

They had been separated for far too long.

For today however, she was descending into the black cells to speak with the former queen about her fascination with wildfire and to….explain things to her and the former king.

Something she was looking forward to with great relish.

She had ordered the doorway to the dungeons be propped open so that some air might begin to get at the place and had brought no guards with her on account of what she might have to do while talking to the prisoners.

Interestingly enough, Grand Maester Pycelle had let it slip while under guard that Cersei had ordered Tyrion Lannister to be taken to the Black Cells before they had arrived in the city, a motive which had escaped Melara but she was certain there was nothing the woman could do that would make sense anymore.

And so, three days after she and Ben had made their discovery in the bowels of the Red Keep, she once more found herself walking downward into darkness.

The only difference this time however was that she and the torch got halfway down before a smell the like of which she had never experienced assaulted her and she was forced to stop and cover her mouth with the collar of her dress.

Gods above and below, where is that stench coming from?!

After a moment she continued her journey, stepping carefully around rat droppings and other piles of gods knew what else until she finally reached the bottom of the stairs and was confronted with a long stone corridor, lined on either side with cells.

Most were empty but she could already hear the scattered mutters and scuffling coming from one of the farthest cells from the stairs.

Other than the torch she carried in her hand, the darkness was total and she wondered absently how long it would take a prisoner to go mad in such darkness.

She wondered how long Lord Stark had lasted.

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, wondering how this interrogation was going to go.

So she continued walking.

"Alright," she called as she walked down the corridor towards the sources of the noise. "I suppose we should get this over with."

Whatever she was expecting when she came in sight of the cell that was holding the former king and queen regent, she had to admit that she wasn't quite prepared for the drastic departures in appearance between the last time she had seen them and now.

Cersei's golden hair was matted and knotted and the once magnificent gown in beautiful Lannister red was covered in stains and the hem had been dragged through gods knew what along the ground.

But her appearance was nothing compared to that of the former king's.

His golden hair was a wild mess of snarls and knots, his once impressive robes were torn and shabby and even in the dim lighting of the torch Melara was certain she saw the crazed look in his eyes. He resembled closely that of a cornered and wounded animal looking for any means of escape.

Melara knew at once this was going to be an interesting conversation.

The moment Cersei saw her, her eyes narrowed. "You."

"Me," Melara said cheerfully as she paused outside of their cell. "I suppose I should ask how you are enjoying your accommodations but I think appearances speak for themselves."

Joffrey uttered a sound that was more animalistic than human and it caused Melara to chuckle.

"Do you think this is funny?!" Cersei all but screeched and Melara winced, suppressing the urge to put her hands over her ears. I might need to silence this woman before this is over.

"Oh from my perspective this is all very amusing," she said examining her nails as if she had all the time in the world. "But unfortunately I didn't come down here to laugh. I came to ask how much wildfire you had stored in this keep."

Whatever screeched response Cersei might have been gearing up for was cut off when she heard the question and she snapped her jaws shut for a moment.

"Wildfire? Don't be foolish girl, there is no wildfire here."

It was the worst attempt at a lie that Melara had ever heard but still she smiled. "Really? Because there is a hidden room beneath the keep that I discovered packed full of barrels of the substance. It's a lucky thing we found it too. One of the barrels was leaking. Gods only know when it would have gone off."

Judging from the way that Cersei's eyes were gleaming, Melara had a feeling the deposed queen was hoping for the same thing.

"We'll find the rest of it at any rate but I had hoped that you might be able to speed along the process seeing as how you and your brat aren't going to be seeing daylight anytime soon."

But that word must have been a triggering notion for Joffrey because the moment it was uttered he launched himself at the bars snarling like a wild animal, spittle flying from his mouth. "I AM THE KING! DO YOU HEAR ME?! THE KING!"

To her credit, Melara didn't flinch but she did eye him with some distaste. "My apologies, where's your throne? I'll see that its brought down to you."

Somehow, Cersei managed to drag her agitated son back from the bars and set him down on the cot across the cell. She glared at Melara, green eyes glowing with pure hate. "You'll get yours girl. When my father – "

"Your father?" Melara interrupted incredulously. Was it possible that she hadn't heard? "Has no one told you what's happened? Your father's in chains. I'm going to hand him over personally to the Martells because he owes a debt of blood to them. And what is that phrase that your house is so fond of? Oh that's right, a Lannister always pays their debts. And you owe a debt that is only beginning to be settled."

She leaned close to the bars, wrapping her hands around them and her next words were far quieter as if she were about to share conspiratorial secrets.

"When my husband is finished, everything your father has done, will be nothing but a memory."

"So why isn't he here?" Cersei ground out from her place on the cot beside Joffrey, but despite the bravado, Melara could plainly see the fear in her eyes. "Why isn't the little wolf king here to mete out justice himself?"

Melara's smile was as slow as poured poison. "Don't worry, he will be. He just knew that my persuasion skills would be better than his. So I'll ask again, are there any more caches of wildfire stored in this keep or anywhere else in King's Landing?"

Cersei remained stubbornly silent, glaring at Melara through the bars, her lower lip almost pushed out like a petulant child.

"Nothing to say?" the brunette whispered. "Very well, there's a reason I'm a master of persuasion. I think I know what will get you to talk."

A small part of the queen knew that she was at risk of unveiling a very dark part of herself that had been hidden since the war with Voldemort, a part that was ruthless and callous and cruel. But a larger part of her didn't care. Tywin Lannister had ripped open the gates of her darkness when he had gone after her family.

Now she would let it consume all of his.

So he pointed a finger, not at Cersei but at the barely warranted human next to her. "Crucio."

The effects were instantaneous.

Joffrey let out a high pitched scream and dropped from the cot to the dirty ground, writhing as if he were having a seizure.

"What are you doing?!" Cersei screeched dropping to her knees beside her son, attempting to roll him over.

"The only thing I know that will get you to talk," Melara replied quietly. "So….are you going to answer my question or keep him in agony? I can stand here for another hour at least but I don't think he has that long. Some people have a very high pain tolerance but no one is immune to this curse. And its not hard to tell that your son is a weakling, he'll torture others but when it comes to himself he's as soft as cheese. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree I suppose."

"Stop!" Cersei screeched and Melara could hear the pure terror in her voice. "Stop whatever it is you're doing you…..you witch! I'll…I'll tell you where they are."

Immediately Melara released the spell, leaving a quivering, whimpering Joffrey on the floor muttering gibberish. A puddle spanned outward from his lower half, causing Melara to wrinkle her nose in disgust. She refused to feel any sort of pity or guilt for her actions. This monster was the reason Lord Stark was dead.

She waited until Cersei had rolled him over to check on him before tapping her foot against the floor. "Well?"

It only took a few seconds for Melara to realize from Cersei's darting eyes and erratic movements that the queen truly didn't know. Perhaps this had been the only cache of wildfire in King's Landing.

All of a sudden she had a headache and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Well this truly has been a waste of time. I am leaving, don't get too comfortable in my absence, your executions are already being planned."

She had no sooner turned away from the cell when she heard a new voice call out: "I can tell you where the caches are your grace."

Melara blinked and turned back around to the cell that was next to Cersei and Joffrey's.

Sitting in the corner of that cell in a dirty tunic and breeches with matted hair and an even more matted blonde beard was Tyrion Lannister.

He looked up at her through tired eyes, squinting into the light of the torch as if he hadn't seen brightness for a long time.

She drifted closer, ignoring the whimpering coming from next door. "Can you? And how did you come to know where they are Lord Tyrion?"

The little Lannister opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by a screech from Cersei. "Silence you beast! I should have banished you when I had the chance! You worthless good for nothing – "

She was cut off when Melara flicked her wrist at the cell and effectively silenced the woman. A flicker of surprise flashed across the youngest Lannister's face

"Now then," she said looked back at Tyrion. "Won't you continue my lord?"

He looked at her for a long moment and she could see the calculation in his face. He was both curious and wary.

"Before I continue your grace," he said slowly. "May I first inquire as to what exactly you are?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, suddenly feeling amused. "What an existential question my lord. I am a human just as you are."

Tyrion mirrored her facial expressions. "Clearly. But I've never seen a human being mutter words and then have those words alone achieve their desired effect. If I could do that then I would be emperor of the world by now. So I can only deduce that that makes you something more than human."

"Incorrect my lord," Melara said amiably. "That only means I possess something that is not human."

"Agreed," the lord conceded amiably and one would think he were comfortable discussing philosophy from a prison cell. "But my question remains. However for the sake of correctness I will alter it to, what is it that you possess, instead."

"Ah," Melara said striding a bit closer. "That's a far simpler question to answer. I assume you've never seen magic before Lord Tyrion?"

If it were possible, his expression became even more wary. "I've heard of it to be sure but typically magic is only spoken of in whispers and only those fire worshippers across the sea believe it. Some even claim to possess it from their god. Have you heard that Stannis Baratheon is in possession of one of these fire worshippers?"

"I have," Melara replied. "Though I don't fear her. Her magic will not be a match for mine."

"Really?" Tyrion asked. "And why is that?"

"Well I won't know for certain until I'm standing in front of her," Melara allowed. "But from what I've heard, her magic has a tether. It's supposedly tied to her god and she needs to make some sort of sacrifice before she can have access to it. I have no such limitations. If I want her head, then I can have it just as I can silence your harpy of a sister."

"A trait that will serve you well then," Lord Tyrion replied dryly. "My father would have killed to get his hands on such an ability."

"Well," the queen replied rubbing her hands together. "He will have the opportunity to glimpse it. But that will be all. Now then, back to the caches of wildfire, you were going to tell me if there were anymore and where they are."

"Indeed," Tyrion replied. "You will find it with the Alchemists Guild. They have been stockpiling the substance for years."

Melara blinked, not expecting the answer to be so easy. She decided to proceed with caution. "And you have no memory or knowledge of caches of wildfire being placed in strategic spots throughout this keep?"

Tyrion snorted. "If such a thing were done, it was before my time or the time of Robert Baratheon. I can only assume that such measures were put in place by the mad king."

"Exactly," Melara said, her green eyes gleaming. "Which is why this entire city needs to be searched. If one store room can pass beneath someone's notice for years, what other places in King's Landing could have been used for stock piling?"

She turned away before hesitating and then turning back to the cell. "Thank you for your candor Lord Tyrion. Tell me, why is it that your sister has placed you in a cell before our army arrived?"

Tyrion sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I can only assume it was because of some perceived slight or other. I've never asked her why and I don't much care. Her mind has been….off since this war began. She's looked for an excuse to kill me since we were young. I don't suppose you know what that's like."

There was no warmth in Melara's answering smile. "I'm a Frey Lord Tyrion, we kill our own for sport."

She let that ominous statement hang in the air for a moment before making a decision. "You might prove useful Lord Tyrion. And I certainly don't think you deserve to be locked up."

She passed her hand over the cell door and muttered the unlocking charm. A faint blue light emitted about the lock before the door itself swung open.

Tyrion looked up at her carefully from his spot on the cot the way a wounded animal might look at a curious human. "I'm to be set free?"

"For now," Melara replied. "I certainly think you'll prove more useful to us in the keep than here in a prison cell. And speaking from my own personal experience you're the only Lannister I have no ill will towards."

She pushed the cell door open further. "Are you coming?"

There was another moment of long silence where Tyrion regarded her warily. Finally though, the desire for a bath and a bed and good food must have won out because he pushed himself to the edge of the cot before sliding onto the ground and getting unsteadily to his feet.

Melara watched him carefully weighing her knowledge of him with her own experience and finding that the two didn't quite parallel each other.

If she had seen him at Hogwarts, she might have ridiculed him as others had done. Speaking from the experience of an adult who had seen far too much death already, she let her Slytherin instincts take over and reveal a potential asset.

Maybe if this Lannister proved useful, Robb wouldn't have to exterminate an entire house. She knew as much as he had a desire for vengeance, he didn't wish to be a butcher without cause. As soon as Tywin Lannister, the Mountain and Cersei and Joffrey were gone, his cause for retribution would be gone.

If he could avoid some needless bloodshed, she was certain that he would do it. It was why she had volunteered to be his monster. Wars couldn't be won without them after all.

When Tyrion had passed through the cell door and stood in front of her, she gestured to the corridor. "Shall we?"

Tyrion had only taken two steps before he stopped and turned to the cell where his sister and nephew were still incarcerated. "What are you going to do with them?"

Melara shrugged. "I tell lies when they're convenient and the truth when its necessary. They will be executed for their crimes against the king's family.

Preferably sooner rather than later. I don't really want to draw this out."

"No," Tyrion shook his head, his expression strange. "I mean are you going to give Cersei her voice back?"

Melara eyed him dryly. "Do you want me to?"

Tyrion gazed into the cell where his sister sat on the cot glaring at him with fire in her eyes. Joffrey lay curled on the cot next to her whimpering. One could only guess what she might say to them if she had the use of her tongue.

"No," he said turning away. "I know she has nothing worthwhile to say anyway."

And then he turned and walked away.

Ω

"You did what?" Robb asked later that evening when they were alone in their chambers.

When it came to sleeping arrangements within the keep, he hadn't much cared but Melara had insisted that the king should be sleeping in the best and largest chambers as it would be what people would expect.

The chambers of the king happened to belong to Joffrey, a thought with thoroughly turned Melara's stomach. Thankfully she was able to banish most of the garish living arrangements within the chamber and replace with them with much simpler designs that she knew would put Robb at ease.

Now instead of the gold and red bed hangings, the draperies of the bed were a deep grey along with the blankets and sheets. The Baratheon and Lannister banners hanging on the wall had been disposed of and Melara had seen to it that all the weapons hanging on the wall had been removed.

Save one welcome one.

Robb had been beyond relieved to see Ice hanging on the wall like a trophy and had immediately replaced his sword with the Stark's ancestral weapon.

It wasn't much of a comfort compared to what he had lost but at the very least he could reclaim something that had been stolen.

She knew the second he took it down from the wall that he felt better having it in his hand, as if it meant his reign was designed and had not just come about from blood and choice.

He sense of destiny was far greater than hers it seemed.

She looked up from the interior of the goblet of wine she was holding and met his gaze. "I told you before all this happened that I would do whatever I had to do to help you get to the throne and if that meant that I became your monster, well then so be it."

He set his utensils down from the quiet meal he had ordered brought to their room and reached for her hands across the table. "And I remember telling you that there was a certain line I didn't want to cross. I'll reserve my vengeance for the people who deserve it."

"And you don't think that Joffrey does after what he did to your father?" Melara demanded. "I spoke to some of the servants today after I brought Tyrion Lannister up from the dungeons. They told me that the former king was like a younger version of the very mad one before Robert Baratheon. He liked to torture people for sport and was never more happy than when someone was cowering in fear of him. It seemed he derived his true power from the pain and terror of others. I know you don't like torture but at the very least when I do it, there is a purpose. So let me worry about that and you focus on ruling."

The look Robb sent her over the table was equal parts concerned and exasperated. "I merely question whether such methods are necessary."

"Then perhaps you should replace that question with this one," the brunette responded. "Would they employ such techniques were they in our position?"

Robb bristled and she realized he had caught on to her meaning. "I'm still not sure that I like it."

Melara shrugged. "No one likes war and yet we're fighting one right now. Has there been any word from Highgarden?"

"Yes, I received a raven from Sansa today," Robb replied, taking the bait to change the subject. "She is adjusting quite well to life in Highgarden and writes to say that the Tyrells have been generous and courteous. Apparently Margaery Tyrell and her have become quite good friends. Lord Willas is a kind man who she is certain will treat her well."

"And Ned?" Melara asked eyeing her husband.

Robb's jaw tightened. "He is well too, growing like a weed she tells me. He's keeping her very occupied which I think is a good thing. If she has the opportunity to mother him it will distract her from her grief. Out of all my siblings, Sansa and mother were the closest."

"Did she say how Arya is faring?" Melara asked. "She's not too bored I hope."

"Actually, apparently the youngest son, Loras Tyrell has taken her under his wing and is teaching her how to use a sword properly," Robb said with a chuckle before taking a sip of wine. "So at the very least she is distracted. I knew she was going to find some way to talk someone into teaching her eventually."

"She is a determined little thing," Melara said dryly as she swallowed the bite of food she had taken. "I would think after all she's been through that learning how to use a sword was only natural at this point."

Robb sobered and she was immediately sorry she had said anything. But when he looked up at her again, his eyes were soft. "Speaking of the circumstances we've been through, how are you faring?"

Melara blinked, surprised. "What do you mean?"

He looked at her knowingly. "You think I haven't noticed that you haven't been sleeping? Every morning since we've been here I wake up and you're not in bed."

"I've always been an early riser," Melara said somewhat defensively. "Besides there's a lot to do to set things to rights. People need to be questioned, investigations need to be conducted, letters need to be sent – "
"All of which is not as important as how you're feeling," Robb gently interrupted. "If truth be told, this kingdom doesn't matter to me. I care about you and what is going on in your mind and heart. If you are unhappy, if you are sad or angry or scared, I want to know."

Melara swallowed the lump in her throat and finally managed to raise her eyes to his across the table.

They were sitting on the balcony of their chambers so that they might take in the warm evening air and the sun was beginning to set in the west casting a glow over the city and the bay beyond it. A flock of birds dove across the sky crying goodnight to each other and in the distance they could hear the faint noises of life of the city and the hum of hundreds of people finishing up their business before going home.
King's Landing was certainly more beautiful than she remembered. From this distance she couldn't smell the stink of it but she still knew it was there.

Proper drainage would be something that would need to be implemented.

"Truthfully I'm trying not to think about it," she whispered. "If I don't close my eyes for too long, I won't see their faces. If I don't lie in the silence, I won't hear their screams. If I don't think too much, maybe my own failures aren't so great."

"Melara."

She looked up at him over the light of the candles flickering between them on the table and wanted to sob at the combined sorrow and warmth that had filled her husband's eyes to brimming.

"You're unbelievable," she whispered. "You've lost just as much as I have if not more, and all you can seem to think about it me."

"This is not some sort of competition," the king said back, equally as quietly. "We have both lost more people than we ever should have had to. Grief is great, you and I know that full well. But I've come to realize that joy can be ours as well."

"How do you know that?" she asked incredulously.

Robb tightened his grip on her hand. "Because I know myself and I like to think that I know you too. Happiness is something that you work for, not a circumstance of life that you just fall into. We'll never forget who and what we've lost, but we can work to make life somewhat good again."

Melara blinked at the hopelessly optimistic statement. This is what she got for marrying a ruddy Gryffindor.

"What is it?" Robb asked carefully watching her face.

She chuckled a bit and shook her head. "You north men are so odd. One would think it is your lot in life to be perpetually optimistic."

Robb smiled a little as if he weren't sure how to respond to that. Thankfully, he seemed to sense her discomfort and changed the subject. "Tell me about Tyrion Lannister. I should make it a point to go and see him tomorrow."

"Yes I think that would be wise," Melara agreed, feeling relieved that they had moved on. "He seemed most grateful to be seeing daylight again after his ordeal."

"I always did find him to be the most interesting Lannister," Robb mused over his wine. "I heard that he was highly intelligent and it might be worth having someone like that at my side."

Melara eyed her husband carefully. "Just so long as we are in agreement about how we are to treat persons unknown. I don't think Tyrion Lannister has a deceitful bone in his body but that doesn't mean he won't use what knowledge he gains to his advantage."

"How do you know that?"

"Because its exactly what I would do," Melara answered. "You didn't see him in the dungeons. Despite whatever his sister did to him, he is a smart man and no amount of time in a cell would have changed that."

Robb hummed deep in his throat and took another sip of wine. "I had been considering that as a matter of fact."

"Considering what?"

"What to do about the Lannister problem. Despite the fact that Tywin and Jaime Lannister aren't a problem anymore and Cersei and Joffrey soon won't be, their army still exists as do those loyal to them. I doubt the will of Kevan Lannister but I also doubt the west will bear any good feelings to us for some time to come. And that is a notion that could be dangerous."

He was thinking more and more like a king, Melara noted feeling pleased. She was glad to see that Robb had lost much of the naivete and idealism he had possessed when they had first met at Oxcross. Despite their victory she had a feeling it wouldn't be wise to turn their backs on the west.

She knew instantly then what he was thinking. "You would make him Lord of Casterly Rock?"

Robb raised his goblet of wine to his lips. "It's a notion that is worth considering. From what I understand the west would have little reason to rebel if a Lannister was leading them and if it is a Lannister that has pledged fealty to me, then all the better. Tyrion Lannister is as pragmatic as his father but I don't think he is as ambitious. I may change that opinion after I meet him tomorrow but for the moment, I think I would feel more comfortable with him ruling the west than any other member of his family."

"Good," Melara said pushing her empty plate aside. "I think that is a wise choice. To be honest I didn't relish the idea of uprooting an entire house."

Robb grimaced. "Neither did I. Thankfully now we might not have a reason to."

"Do you think he will take to the idea?"

"I don't see why he would refuse. This is the best possible position he would ever receive. All the kings of old treated those who bent the knee with favor. My ancestors were allowed to keep the north because Torrhen Stark bent the knee to Aegon."

"I wouldn't repeat that metaphor to anyone," Melara said dryly, reaching for the decanter of wine in the middle of the table. "The last thing you need to do is compare yourself to a Targaryen."

"Well I am a conqueror like they were," Robb said grimly.

"Perhaps, but you lack the ambition to be a butcher," Melara said, her mouth turning upwards in a half smile. "And that is certainly not a bad thing."

Ω

Tyrion Lannister quietly considered the young couple sitting before him and wondered again at how drastic a turn life had taken in the last few weeks.
The war had been going poorly for them, he knew that full well. Their last victory against Stannis Baratheon had been brief and short lived for only days later they had received the news that Balon Greyjoy was reeving Lannisport.

Gods how Cersei had screamed.

That had been the beginning of the end.

His father had made a desperate gamble and was now somewhere in chains and he was certain his brother's head was on a spike somewhere, in Riverrun perhaps.

He would be lying if he said that his brother's death didn't fill him with sadness. Jaime was one of the few family members that had ever treated him with any manner of love or respect.

A part of him had considered the likelihood of something like this happening ever since war had been declared nearly a year ago and wanted to laugh at the bitter irony.

Despite his best efforts, his saving the city at the battle of Blackwater had gone unnoticed and unappreciated.

Not long after that his sister had gone mad.

He still didn't know why he had been dragged to the dungeons but supposed he never would. Truthfully he didn't want to know what strain of madness had prompted her to do it and it didn't really matter at any rate.

Cersei wouldn't be a problem anymore soon enough.

His eyes swung back and forth between the queen and the king, considering their motives and everything they had done so far to get to this point.

There was a heaviness in Stark's eyes that said he had seen and done far too much for someone of his youth. He looked barely eight and ten, barely a man and yet he had led a campaign to be proud of. No doubt the deceased Lord Stark would have been proud of it.

And then there was his queen sitting next to him.

Tyrion still didn't know what to make of her. She had been all but an unknown until she had married Robb Stark.

He knew she was a Frey that her marriage to the wolf king had been arranged upon the northern army's request to her use her father's bloody bridge. He knew she was the daughter of Bethany Rosby, but of all else, he knew little.

That couldn't continue.

Her demonstration in the dungeon the previous day had shocked him to the point of speechlessness but somehow he had managed to find his tongue in order to make something of an impression.

He had been beyond relieved when she had allowed him out and he had been given food, a bath and a bed once more.

Ironically he had been sent to the Tower of the Hand where he had promptly bathed, eat his fill of the plate of chicken and vegetables, downed a goblet of good wine and lost all memory of his falling into bed until the next morning.

He had wondered what might become of him but had a feeling that his days of occupying a prison cell were over. Whatever qualities his father might have scoffed at the Starks for, they were at least fair.

But this…this was beyond whatever he had been expecting.

"I suppose I should ask if there's a catch," he said reaching for his goblet of wine. "But somehow I can't think of one."

To his surprise the young king smiled slightly. "You would be securing Casterly Rock as much for me as for yourself Lord Tyrion. Somehow I think I would prefer you as Warden of the West than any other member of your family."

"Tall praise these days," Tyrion replied sardonically and then wanted to chuckle at his own words. "Ironically I think I am the only member of the west these days that doesn't immediately loathe the sight of you."

The young queen sat forward, her green eyes gleaming. "There's a phrase I am certain you are familiar with Lord Tyrion and that is the lion doesn't concern itself with the opinion of the sheep."

Tyrion took a sip from his goblet to save himself from answering right away. Yes his father would have liked this girl.

A pity he would never know her.

"You seem to be very familiar with my house your grace," he said when he had swallowed. "What makes you certain that placing me in charge would be a wise decision? What reason would the people have for following me?"

The pair glanced at each other and the littlest lion could tell that this was a conversation they had had before. He was certain they hadn't been married long but the exchange that took place in the following seconds without words was extraordinary.

"In order to know how you would be received Lord Tyrion, I would need to be a seer," the king said wryly. "However I am certain that unrest in the westerlands will be quelled because of your elevated status based on a certain principle. And that is the principle of familiarity. Your lands have been ruled by a Lannister for hundreds of years and I have no desire to uproot an entire house if I don't have to. The people know you, just as they knew your father and your grandfather and his father before him. They will respond better to someone they know rather than if I were to install a lord of my choosing."

"A pragmatic answer," Tyrion replied. "Suppose I were to play the advocate of the Stranger however and suggest what is to prevent me from rebelling?"

He was surprised when the couple turned to each other and smiled knowingly as if they had talked about this as well.

It was the queen who answered in the end. "Lord Tyrion, you were present yesterday during the interrogation of your sister and nephew. Can I ask you what feelings you took from the encounter?"

Tyrion blinked, picking up on her meaning right away. "I suppose that is as much of an answer as I need."

"Good," she said. "Know this then. We will not hesitate to exterminate your entire house, roots and all should a situation arise like the one you just described. Rebellions are long and bloody affairs and I have the ability to end them with a snap of my fingers. I don't think you want to know the full extent of just what it is that I can do. Your father and sister are going to soon learn. But you strike as a much more intelligent person then they. You won't rebel. I'm certain of it."

Tyrion blinked and then reached for the decanter of wine again, trying to stop his hand from shaking and suddenly wishing they would leave so that he might down the whole thing. He wished he hadn't asked.

"Well then," he said finally able to talk around his dry mouth. "I accept."

They both smiled at the same time as if this was the answer they had been expecting before coming in. "As soon as you've recovered from your ordeal in the dungeons you'll depart for the Westerlands without delay."

"Although perhaps he should wait until after the coronation," the queen cut in, glancing at Stark. "You're first act will be to see to the executions after all."

Tyrion blinked stupidly, his mind suddenly drawing a blank." The executions?"

"Yes," the king said standing and holding out a hand so he might help his queen to her feet. "There are two rather important prisoners that need to answer for their crimes."

"Ah," Tyrion replied, understanding. "Might I ask when that is to occur?"

"Tomorrow," Robb Stark replied. "I rather get this done sooner than later."

And then the door was opened and the pair swept out of the chamber leaving an ominous silence in their wake.

Tyrion eyed the half full decanter of wine.

Drinking the rest of it didn't seem like such a bad idea at this point.

Ω

Don't forget to subscribe to my Youtube Channel if you have not already. The channel name if Kaetie Mac, I would greatly appreciate any new subscribers as I am trying to build my author platform. Thank you very much in advance. In the next chapter, Joffrey and Cersei will be executed and Tyrion will head west. Additionally, there will be several surprising ravens from the north and across the Narrow Sea. Stay tuned and don't forget to review!