Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper

Chapter 69: Throwing Down the Gauntlet

"You stand accused of murder; you stand accused of treason. How do you respond to the charges... Lord Baelish? Mother?"

All eyes turned to the former Master of Coin and the Queen Mother. Everyone was caught off guard, but none more so than the Lord of Casterly Rock and the Kingslayer. Both looked from Cersei to Daveth and back to Cersei, wondering what madness had overcome the Young Stag. Both Petyr and Cersei, meanwhile, were stiff as statues, unable to believe that they were on the outside of things for once. Before either of them could speak, Ser Lucius broke the silence.

"The King has asked you a question, Your Grace. You as well, Lord Baelish."

Petyr, as if awoken from a bad dream, stepped towards the Iron Throne with trepidation, leaving the Queen Mother to stand by herself and face the weight of the glares alone. "Forgive me, Your Grace," he said, "but I'm a bit confused—"

"Which charges confuse you?" Daveth asked, tilting his head slightly as if to mimic his mother. He suddenly snapped his fingers, prompting a smug Oberyn to reveal a series of documents from his robes, approximately forty-five in all. "At first, the list of crimes you've been accused of initially started off as money laundering. Embezzlement, forgery, fraud, extortion..."

"I fail to see how any of this relates to—"

"You've stolen quite a lot of money, Lord Baelish," Tyrion said, cutting his predecessor off. "Casterly Rock, Highgarden, the Iron Bank of Braavos, and the Iron Throne itself. Shocking, I know, but, as Master of Coin, you must've known it was bound to leave a trail at some point."

Murmurs rose from the assemblage, with many glancing at Lord Tywin. Stealing from the lions of Casterly Rock was a serious offense. And if looks could kill, Littlefinger would have been dead times beyond counting.

"Then we made an interesting discovery," the Young Stag said, causing silence to fall once more. "You're very discreet about your dealings, Lord Baelish, but your motives are not. During our investigation, we found, among other things, a list containing several names. Among said names was that of a merchant from whom you bought a vial containing Tears of Lys."

"A rare and costly poison," Oberyn chimed in. "Clear, tasteless, and odorless. Dissolved in wine or water, it eats at a man's bowels, causing him to die in agony. Which is not unusual if the victim is old and sickly. And not only is it difficult to detect, but its effects are also subtle enough that they are easily mistaken for a sudden and severe fever."

Before Petyr could protest, Daveth took over, his voice rising in intensity with every sentence that came out of his mouth. "Two years ago, you conspired to murder Lord Jon Arryn, Warden of the East and Hand of the King to my father. After manipulating his wife into slipping Tears of Lys into his wine, you had Lady Lysa write a letter to her sister and brother-in-law, telling them it was the Lannisters who were responsible when really it was you. And then, when you had no further use of her, you pushed her through the Moon Door all so you could take power in the Vale. The conflict between the Starks and Lannisters, the one I put an end to, it was you who started it. Do you deny it?"

The crowd erupted into chaos, cries of horror filling the throne room. No reactions came from Yohn and the Vale delegation, as they already knew the extent of Lord Baelish's crimes, or from Catelyn, who was unable to comprehend the feelings of disbelief and outrage welling inside her. Petyr, meanwhile, was starting to sweat. How did the Young Stag know all his misdeeds when he thought he covered all of his tracks? He had to say something that would disprove the allegations before it was too late. The moment the crowd went silent, he turned to face the King.

"I know of no such letter," he said solemnly. "And whatever my beloved Lysa might have said or done, she was a troubled woman. She imagined enemies everywhere. As for her suicide—"