When The Throne Bleeds

18. Murky Waters

Irida was walking back from the royal stables, her black dress trailing behind her. Her fair skin and the dark dress made for an eye-catching feature of her appearance, catching the eye of the King and unfortunately for her, catching the eye of every soldier and every manservant. She had gotten tired of glaring back at every one of them when their gazes comfortably settled on her exposed cleavage.

Irida sighed to herself, a nervous fluttering in her stomach. She tucked a stray strand of jet black hair behind her ear as she started walking through an empty corridor.

She had started her plan with great enthusiasm, confident of her every move but the adrenaline had worn off now and she wasn't sure anymore. The court became a much more dangerous place to spin conspiracies when you weren't an anonymous servant. She was a player in the game now, the only acting piece from her side in the game. She had shadows to help her, but shadows were mere wisps in corners. It was her who was on the stage.

The corridor she was walking through split into three directions ahead, Maegor's Holdfast to the right, the Throne Room to the left and the Tower of the Hand straight ahead.

She increased her pace, almost reaching the intersection when she took a sharp breath, stepping back a bit. The other two people did the same.

Tyrion Lannister had been coming from his chamber, and Petyr Baelish had just finished a Small Council meeting. The three players momentarily stared at each other.

More than Baelish, Irida was upset at running into Tyrion. She had been avoiding him for a few days, the last thing she wanted was that he take her somewhere private with his band of soldiers hiding behind bushes ready to throw her into prison.

Tyrion Lannister would go for that kind of arrest.

While Irida assessed Tyrion, her red lips pursing themselves in slight disappointment, Petyr Baelish glanced at her. He'd been interested in her ever since he'd heard that the Runaway Bastard had returned home. If she had managed to survive in the real world for eight years, then she must have something in her. His suspicions were confirmed when he had seen Varys slip into her room. Tyrion had invited her to King's Landing -- Petyr's eyes shifted to Tyrion -- it was interesting. She didn't look like a whore. Petyr knew a whore when he saw one, he was a whoremonger after all, with a dozen brothels in the city of his own.

He would have to find out more about these two, he didn't like leaving any stone unturned.

Irida eyed both the men with startled eyes, the way anyone would look if they ran into two people at an intersection. But her mind was panicking. The appearance of both these men had reminded her just how urgent the times were. She had to do something about Tyrion, he had gold, he had the brains and he had a very powerful family name behind him, and she had to do something about Baelish, who had neither a respected name nor gold but a devious and scheming nature, one which got him this far.

And neither of them preferred to see her walk free.

Only a moment had passed.

Baelish acted first. A smug smile on his face, he bowed a bit, the books in his arms held tightly.

"Lord Tyrion. Irida." He said in his wispy voice. He turned towards Irida and walked by her, while also casting a smile at her. Irida smiled back. It was a face-off, an official challenge that was born from those lying smiles.

Her expression changed once he had fully turned his back. She had to deal with the sharp tongued man now.

"My father told me the reason why you had invited me to the Red Keep." Irida turned to Tyrion.

"I sense that you're not feeling grateful." He said, escorting her towards her chambers.

"I will thank you for it, but feeling grateful, that's a different matter altogether. I don't believe your reason."