Game Of Thrones... With A Twist

A Clash of Kings - Chapter 6

<The next day, Afternoon, Royal Chamber, The Red Keep, King's Landing, The Crownlands...>

"Oh! Thank the gods. I haven't had a proper shit in six days." One Lord Tyrion Lannister, Acting Hand of the King, exclaimed as he received a sealed vial from Grandmaester Pycelle.

"I've encountered this problem before, my lord. The stresses of power often have this – ahem – insalubrious effect. Two drops with water, daily." The old codger replied with a chuckled.

"Right. I'm so grateful to have a man of your vas knowledge and wisdom on my side. Please." Tyrion flattered Pycelle and offered the old man a seat. 

"Thank you, my lord." Pycelle thanked Tyrion as he shuffled into his seat with his back turned against Tyrion, whose expression turned to stone as he looked at the man before him.

As Pycelle took a seat, exaggerating his age with a grunt, Tyrion spoke, "I can trust you, Pycelle, can I not?" Tyrion asked, acting somewhat vulnerable before Pycelle.

"Why, yes, of course, my lord." Pycelle answered fervently, ever the eager servant.

"These are perilous times. And the Crown must forge new alliances. And these alliances must often be sealed in matrimony." Tyrion spoke as he took his own seat whilst Pycelle ran the thought out loud, "Matrimony, huh? Yes."

Leaning in, Tyrion spoke, "I'm trusting the council with these plans, but the Queen mustn't know. We can't have her meddling in affairs that could determine the future of the realm. There's too much at stake." Tyrion's words got Pycelle nodding along as the old man spoke, "Oh, yes, yes. Indeed, yes. I shall be silent as the grave." Pycelle reassured Tyrion of his loyalty solemnly.

Tyrion nodded as he got off his seat and walked over to the wine pitcher, talking as he went. "I'm brokering an alliance with House Martell of Dorne. Princess Myrcella will wed their youngest son when she comes of age, ensuring their loyalty, and their army, should we need it." Tyrion revealed as he poured two glasses of wine.

"Myrcella sent away to Dorne?" Pycelle asked with disbelief at the suggestion.

<Minutes later, Royal Chamber, The Red Keep, King's Landing, The Crownlands...>

"But remember, the Queen mustn't know." Tyrion spoke as he walked back to the desk, where the infamous Spider, Varys, the Master of Whispers, sat where Pycelle once sat.

"Ooh. 'The Queen mustn't know.' I love conversations that begin this way." Varys said with interest as he took the offered wine glass from Tyrion.

Tyrion leaned in and spoke, "I plan to marry Princess Myrcella off to Theon Greyjoy." Tyrion suggested, completely changing the name and the kingdom of the groom he had in mind.

"Theon Greyjoy?" Varys asked asked in disbelief with a deadpan expression on his face at the somewhat stupid decision.

"Forgive me, my lord, but how? He grew up a ward of Winterfell. He fights for Robb Stark." Varys reminded Tyrion of this particular detail, but the Imp took it in stride. 

"Precisely. Theon's father loathes the Starks and will convince the boy to come to our side. Greyjoy can destroy the Northern army from within and we can have his father's ships." Tyrion's strategy did seem sound to the eunuch after the explanation.

<Minutes later, Royal Chamber, The Red Keep, King's Landing, The Crownlands...>

"But remember, you must tell no one." Tyrion said for the third time that day to a different face, turning around to see one Petyr Baelish leaning on the desk nonchalantly.