"Loyalty is no loyalty when it wavers."
- Lady Alerie of Houses Tyrell and Hightower.
The Tyrells have always been deceitful, even their spouses.
Lady Alerie of Houses Tyrell and Hightower has her alliances elsewhere..
By the Targaryens, and her d...
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SHE and Tommen did not leave their chambers for a week. Whenever servants entered the room to clean the chamber pots, give the King and Queen food or to place fresh clothes, they were most likely finding their master and mistress in a lustful tryst or lying asleep from exhaustion.
Laeherys' body was immensely tired, but whenever one of the two found any energy (it was no lie that lions and stags had unending stamina, she could confirm), they went up it again.
It was probably eight days after the wedding that they were caught in the middle of the action by Lord Tywin. Tommen and she break apart from their kiss and snap their heads towards the Hand when he coughs to get their attention.
The King quickly rolls of her and covers both their bodies with the blankets. Tywin smirks smugly and walks further inside the bedroom to open the windows and the curtains.
"It seems time to take up your tasks at court, Your Grace, not in the marital bed. The trial of your uncle Tyrion is this afternoon." "Let me dress and clean up, then I'll join you grandfather," Tommen promises as he stands up from the bed, uncovered from any clothing. As he disappears, Laeherys and Tywin look at each other without a word. She did not know how the lord of Casterly Rock felt, but she was very uncomfortable.
The Lannister walks over to the table where they would eat together. Tommen had thrown her robe there after dinner, when he decided it was yet again time for rolling around the bed and attacked the only form of coverage she had.
Tywin grabs the golden robe and hands it to her. "Just a cat of a different coat, hmm? Here, cover yourself, child." Laeherys quickly grabs it and while the Hand turned around she wrapped it around her and bound it together.
At that moment Tommen walks out, dressed and well, ready to perform his Kingly acts. He places the golden crown, which lays neatly on his bedside stand, on his head and leans over the bed to peck her lips.
"I'll be back once court is over, my sweet. I had asked for mother to take you under her wing, so you two can get to know each other better!" Laeherys cringes at the thought. Spending time with Cersei Lannister was not something she would think of doing if she was bored. Tommen was obviously oblivious to his mother's and wife's relationship and wanted them to get along.
Laeherys sighs. This will be a long day.
)(
THE warm breeze that stinks of dung and salt comes through the open windows. Littlefinger stands by the window and looks down in the small alley where his most finest brothel stands. Almost every day it was busy and he brought in good gold from this.
Petyr's head was spinning with all different kinds of thoughts. Lady Sansa was in Winterfell now, under the power of Ramsay Bolton. He has power over the Vale through young Robert Arryn.
But there was one party he did not have in his power. In fact, there were two. The Lannisters and the Targaryens, who begin to rise once again. If he wanted to have any chance of being on the Iron Throne, he had to scheme against them.
And he has found the perfect thing to threaten them with. Something both parties desired more than life. More than a crown and a prickly throne. It was the girl.
Queen Laella, or maybe better known as Laeherys to some others. He had heared from small birds that she was more than a simple handmaiden to Lady Tyrell. She was a daughter of the Mad King and desired by both the stag and the rising prince Viserys. Apparently, Lady Alerie has not been truly loyal to the Baratheons. Not that she ever claimed to be, but her husband does.
A small knock echoes through his silent chamber. Someone was knocking on his door and he had an idea who it could be. "Come inside," he orders, taking a goblet with wine from his working table so he could have a sip.
The door opens and a blonde man walks in, wearing simple blue clothing that could easily be discarded. After all, it is what his job required of him. He bows simply, his hands joined on his back. "My Lord..?" The man was not certain why Lord Baelish called for him, except perhaps doing some of his dirty work.
Baelish looks at him with a cunning smirk. "Dear Olyvar, I know you always serve me well. You are one of the best under my wing, certainly the best with men with.. different interests. I can count on you, can I not Olyvar?"
The male whore smirks and bows once again, this time only his head. "Of course, my Lord. Do you expect anything else from me?" Baelish swirls his wine in his cup and looks at Olyvar over the brim of the gold as he takes another sip. "In fact, I do. You remember that little girl of King Tommen?"
Olyvar frowns. "You mean Laella, that peasant who he made his Queen?" Baelish chuckles and shakes his head. "Do not speak too fast, she is no peasant. In fact, royal blood runs through her veins." The whore scoffs.
"That she is related to a bastard of a king does not mean she is a princess, my Lord," he says. Littlefinger laughs. "Insolent boy you sometimes are. She is not just related to the Targaryens. She's part of their lineage," he says, leaving it in mystery what he truly means.
Again Olyvar frowns, not knowing what his boss meant with it. "My Lord, why do you question my knowledge of Laella? You told me to keep an eye on her and I did. Nothing more, nothing less."
Baelish rolls his eyes. "Dumb little boy, don't you see what we have at hands here? My little birds whispered into my ears that she is a daughter of Aerys and Rhaella, a princess from the Targaryen family!" Olyvar's lips fall open in a O-shape. "Prince Viserys will search for her."
"Exactly, Olyvar. I knew you had some brain cells up there. Viserys will do anything to have his sister-bride in between his arms, just like Tommen will do anything to get his Queen back.. in case she goes, what do we say, missing?" He winks cheerily.
"You want me to kidnap her?" Baelish places the cup on the table and walks towards Olyvar to grab his shoulders. "Not only kidnap her, young man, but to take her to the Vale, where she will be my bait for the Iron Throne. Through Tommen or Viserys, I don't care, but I will get my Iron Throne. How does Lord Olyvar sound to you," he asks.
"Perfect, my Lord," Olyvar smirks, an evil glint glacing his eyes. Poor Laella won't know what is coming for her, he thinks.
