Hear me Roar - English version

CHAPITRE 19 - See the difference ?

               Since Tyrion became Hand of the King, great changes have been taking place in the capital. Not only operations to make life easier for the citizens, but also for our own lives, his as much as mine.

               Making Bronn the new Commander of the City Watch was only the first step. Now, he must continue his work of cleaning up the court by getting rid of Cersei's remaining spies.

               To do this, Tyrion paid a small visit to each member of the Council. He told each of them the same secret, changing only one variable. He let Pycelle believe that Princess Myrcella was betrothed to Trystane Martell, Varys that she was to marry Theon Greyjoy, and Littlefinger that he needed his help to arrange a betrothal between Myrcella and Robin Arryn.

               And so it was that a furious Queen Cersei burst into Tyrion's apartments that very evening, promising to kill him if he sent her daughter to the Martells of Dorne. Bingo. But I did not expect Littlefinger to burst into mine—the King's apartments, no less—to berate me with horrible names.

"May I ask what has gotten into you, my lord?"

"Do not play the innocent; you are in league with the dwarf!"

"So, that is it..."

               With a few graceful steps, I draw closer to him, hands behind my back, posture straight, head held high. If we were in a safer place, I might allow myself some familiarities. But in the royal apartments, we are overheard by ears that do not belong to us.

"The King could enter at any moment," I tell him. "And I can only imagine his fury if he saw you here with me."

"I advise you not to play that game with me. I am the one who created you."

               So, he admits to having manipulated me? Although it surprises me, I find nothing to say against it. For it is true.

"I demand compensation," he continues. "The Imp promised me Harrenhal."

"They took away your little castle and you come crying into the Queen's skirts?"

"This confidence does not suit you well."

               I often wonder if I live with great lords or with petulant children, ready to do anything to get what they want.

"I can do nothing for you, Littlefinger."

"You are the Queen; act like it."

"I cannot even choose my own meal; how do you expect me to give you Harrenhal?!"

               Suddenly, surely driven by desperation, Baelish grabs me by the hips and pulls me against him. With a raised eyebrow, I simply keep my hands at a distance.

"Diana..."

"At the risk of repeating myself," I articulate slowly, so that he understands every word, "if Joffrey finds you here, he will have you hanged."

"Diana, my love..."

"For gods' sake, Petyr. You are pathetic..."

               Do I love Littlefinger? Or do I love the perfect image I created of him? An older man with confidence, connections, and influence. The kind of man everyone thinks they know, but no one truly does. Standing before a nineteen-year-old orphan girl with no landmarks. I do not love Baelish; I love the importance he gives me. But that is over; I have woken up.

♐︎

               Later that day, I join Tyrion in the dining hall. I want to know what became of Pycelle, the traitor. The Lannister tells me they found the Maester in his room with a girl, that they cut off his beard and took him to a cell. Rather satisfied with the turn of events, I pour myself a glass of wine before telling him about Littlefinger's outburst. It has been a day rich in emotion.