The Red Keep.
The Tower of the Hand.
Tyrion stood before the arched window of his solar, gently swirling a goblet filled with summerwine.
His eyes were unfocused as he gazed at the red comet hanging over King's Landing.
He was thinking carefully about the current situation.
'Golden Tooth has fallen.'
'Robb is ravaging the Westerlands. Father is still at Harrenhal, locked in a standoff with the Bolton forces.'
'Renly and the southern armies are still advancing toward King's Landing. Slow as a glacier, but advancing nonetheless.'
'Thankfully, Stannis is not moving on King's Landing yet. Instead, he has taken his fleet to besiege Storm's End...'
A trace of relief appeared on Tyrion's face. It was the best news he had heard in quite some time.
'Gods...'
'Let them tear each other apart first. Just buy me a little more time.'
He raised the goblet and took a long drink, easing the pressure weighing on his mind.
"Ha..."
Tyrion exhaled, feeling slightly better.
He turned back to the long table in his study, set the goblet aside, and began studying the map again.
'According to the latest reports, that squid Balon has actually sent forces to attack the North.'
'The wolf cub must already know by now. If he withdraws his army to defend the North, that would be perfect.'
His finger tapped lightly on a marked location before sliding toward the Iron Islands.
'Perhaps... an alliance with the kraken...'
As he pondered, Galon's figure suddenly appeared in his mind.
'Glover is neither with Bolton nor with Robb. He must have been left behind by the Starks to defend the North.'
'That young man is far from ordinary. With him there, the Iron Islands may not be able to take Winterfell quickly.'
'And if the ironborn begin to falter, that opens the door for cooperation.'
'But Jaime killed Theon... persuading them will require a flawless argument and the right conditions...'
Just then, the study door burst open with a loud bang.
Tyrion frowned immediately and looked up.
"Karon, what are you—"
He stopped mid-sentence as he saw Cersei stride into the room, her face full of displeasure.
"I summoned you, and you dared not come?"
She questioned him coldly the moment she entered.
Only then did Tyrion recall the messenger sent from Maegor's Holdfast earlier. He waved it off casually.
"And who gave you permission to enter my tower?"
Cersei sneered.
"Your tower? This is my son's castle."
Tyrion noticed the mockery on her face, as if to say that a dwarf like him had no right to reside in the Tower of the Hand except through her son's authority.
Irritation flickered through his mind.
He silently cursed his servant and made a note to reprimand him later for letting anyone through.
He stepped past Cersei, closing the door behind him.
"As it happens, I was just about to come see you."
"Oh?"
Cersei's expression was full of disdain. "You think I would believe that?"
Tyrion walked to the table and poured himself another drink. "My dear sister, such words wound me."
"If I have done something to anger you, do tell me plainly."
"Enough of your disgusting nonsense," Cersei snapped, her voice sharp as it echoed through the chamber.
"You dared to sell Myrcella to Dorne. Did you truly think I would not be furious?"
Myrcella.
Tyrion pictured his sweet, gentle niece.
"Sell her? She is a princess. Marriage alliances are her duty from birth."
He paused, then added carelessly, "Or were you planning to marry her to Tommen?"
Cersei exploded with rage. She stepped forward and knocked the goblet from his hand.
The wine splashed across the floor.
"Say another word like that and I will have your tongue torn out! I am Joffrey's regent, not you!"
"I will never allow Myrcella to be shipped off to Dorne like a piece of merchandise, just as I was sold to Robert Baratheon!"
Tyrion sighed as he wiped the spilled wine from himself.
"And what is so wrong with it? She would be safer in Dorne than in King's Landing."
Cersei glared at him.
"Are you a fool or completely mad? Have you forgotten that House Martell despises us?"
Tyrion knew that well.
Despise was too mild a word. They hated the Lannisters.
During the war of the usurper, when the Lannisters sacked King's Landing, the Mountain had murdered a Dornish princess.
Ever since, the hatred between the two houses had been absolute. Even so, Tyrion still believed Dorne would accept the match.
"Yes, they hate us," he admitted. "But Prince Doran's hatred is rooted in the previous generation."
"And Dorne has been at odds with Storm's End and Highgarden for thousands of years.
What benefits us most is that Renly takes Dornish support for granted."
He paused, watching Cersei's expression soften slightly.
"Myrcella is nine. Trystane Martell is eleven. I have proposed they marry when they both reach fourteen.
Until then, she will remain in Sunspear as an honored guest, under Prince Doran's protection."
Cersei hesitated.
"So she is a hostage?"
"No. She is a guest."
Tyrion insisted, "Martell will treat her far better than Renly treats Edric Storm."
"I also intend to assign Ser Arys Oakheart as her protector. With a Kingsguard at her side, no one will dare slight her status."
Cersei's lips moved slightly.
She had already learned from Varys that Edric Storm, whom Robert had legitimized, had been quietly imprisoned by Renly.
Tyrion saw her wavering and pressed on.
"The Martells value honor. They would never harm a nine-year-old girl, especially one as sweet as Myrcella.
As long as she is in Sunspear, Prince Doran will trust us to honor our agreement."
"And our offer is generous. We give them the man who killed his sister, a seat on the council, and several castles on the border..."
"Too much!" Cersei cut him off.
She turned away, pacing like a restless lioness. "You offer too much, and without my approval, it means nothing."
"We need Dorne," Tyrion replied. "If we offer too little, they will refuse outright."
"Too much!" she repeated stubbornly.
Anger flared in Tyrion's eyes. "And what would you offer? Yourself?"
The slap came instantly.
Cersei struck him across the face, snapping his head to the side.
Tyrion touched his cheek, forcing down his anger. "My dear sister, I promise you this will be the last time you strike me."
Cersei only laughed. "Do not threaten me, little man. You think Father's letter will protect you?"
"Eddard Stark had a letter too. What good did it do him?"
Tyrion said nothing, though his thoughts raced. Stark had not had gold cloaks, sellswords, or mountain clans.
Instead, he returned to the matter at hand.
"Think carefully. If she stays here, will she truly be safe? If we fail to hold King's Landing, her head will hang beside ours on the walls."
Cersei trembled.
His words struck her deepest fear. Tears welled up in her eyes and began to fall.
Tyrion froze, unsure what to do.
He had not seen her cry since childhood.
He awkwardly stepped closer, reaching out as if to comfort her. But Cersei pulled away sharply.
"Do not touch me!"
Tyrion felt as though he had been struck again.
Cersei's face flushed with shame and anger, as if being seen in weakness by him was unbearable.
"Do not look at me!"
"Do not... look at me like that!"
Tyrion turned his head aside. "I am not trying to frighten you. I swear, Myrcella will be safe."
"Liar!" Cersei snapped. "I am not a child. Do not try to deceive me with empty promises. You promised to rescue Jaime."
"And where is he now?"
Tyrion sighed.
"At Riverrun, most likely. I intended to trade Arya for him, but the little wolf girl is too slippery."
Cersei sniffed.
"This is your rescue plan?"
"Our men found Arya and Gendry traveling with a group bound for the Wall," Tyrion explained.
"They intercepted the group and killed them, but something went wrong. Arya and Gendry escaped."
Cersei leaned forward urgently.
"They are just children. How far could they have gone? Send men to capture them!"
Tyrion shook his head.
"My dear sister, you know our situation."
"Stannis and Renly are both approaching. I need men to defend the city. Even the search parties I sent were scraped together with difficulty.
If you would give me half the men guarding Joffrey, I could catch that little wolf in no time."
"No!" Cersei refused immediately.
"Joffrey must be protected. There are not enough Kingsguard left around him as it is."
At the mention of Joffrey, Tyrion could not help himself.
"You should never have allowed him to act so recklessly. You dismissed Ser Barristan.
If he were still guarding Joffrey, I would have more men to hunt Arya and Gendry."
Cersei's expression hardened.
"That old man was nearly in the grave. What use was he?
And he was associating with some squire from the riverlands. Who knows what he was plotting?"
"Varys said he is also searching for Gendry. You must find them. And kill them."
Tyrion felt a sharp pain in his head, like wildfire igniting.
"My dear sister... what else are you hiding from me? What does this Hugh Mouton know?"
Cersei waved it off.
"What could he know? Just rumors."
"Rumors?"
Tyrion stared at her in silence.
Cersei shifted uncomfortably. "He had dealings with Stark. I only fear Stark may have told him something."
Then she snapped again.
"Just find them. Do not make me think less of you."
With that, she turned and left.
Tyrion watched her go, exhaustion washing over him. "Perhaps only at moments like this does she remember I am her brother."
He shook his head and summoned a guard, ordering more men to search for Arya and Gendry.
Then he returned his focus to preparing the defense of King's Landing.
Meanwhile, about two kilometers northeast of the Gods Eye, in an abandoned fishing village.
Arya and Gendry were hiding in a half-collapsed cellar, pressed against damp earthen walls, avoiding Lannister search parties.
Since they had been discovered, the Night's Watch recruits led by Yoren had been nearly wiped out.
If Arya had not freed Jaqen from his cage, and if Jaqen had not driven off the attackers, they would have been captured already.
Even so, the hunters kept coming.
During a recent escape, the three had been separated.
Now Arya and Gendry hid alone in the ruined village. Both were in rags, thin and exhausted.
Arya's short hair was messier than ever. Gendry's strong frame had grown lean from hunger and flight.
"Do you hear anything?" Gendry whispered, gripping a crude iron bar.
Arya listened carefully. Her senses, sharpened by her wolf dreams and constant escape, picked up faint sounds.
"Hoofbeats... and dogs..."
Her face went pale.
"They've found us again."
"Damn it," Gendry muttered. "We cannot stay here. We need to run for the lake."
They scrambled out of the cellar and ran toward the reeds by the Gods Eye.
Behind them, the sounds grew louder.
"There!"
"Catch them!"
Eight Lannister riders spotted them and gave chase.
One loosed an arrow, but his captain barked angrily. "Idiot! Do not shoot! If they die, we lose our reward!"
The others lowered their bows and pressed forward.
Even so, horses were faster.
Moments later, Arya and Gendry were cornered at the lake's edge.
"Well, that took long enough," the captain said with a grin.
Arya's heart pounded. She drew Needle. Gendry stepped in front of her, raising his iron bar.
Seven soldiers dismounted, swords drawn, closing in.
The captain sneered.
"Little wolf, come quietly. The queen will treat you well."
Despair settled over them.
Then, suddenly, something changed.
Pale arrows flew silently from the reeds. They were not fast, but they were precise.
Each struck a vital point.
Seven soldiers fell without a sound. The captain froze, staring in terror.
"Who—"
Before he could finish, another arrow pierced his skull.
From the reeds emerged several tall figures clad in dark green leather, carrying weirwood bows. Their expressions were ancient and calm.
"Green men?" the captain had cried before dying.
The leader spoke hoarsely.
"Clean the field."
They moved quickly, retrieving arrows and erasing their traces.
Then the leader turned to Arya and Gendry. "The old gods have guided you here. You were not meant to die."
"Come with us, child."
Two of them stepped forward, gently but firmly taking the children by the arms.
"The Isle of Faces will shelter you for a time, until your fate arrives."
Without waiting for an answer, they led them into the reeds and vanished into the lake.
An hour later, Ser Barristan and Hugh arrived.
"We are too late again," Barristan sighed.
Hugh panted.
"Who is protecting Prince Gendry? Did Stark leave others behind?"
Barristan shook his head. "Whoever they are, they are not our enemies."
"We must find them and bring the prince to the North... and fulfill Lord Stark's final wish."
Hugh nodded.
"Yes. I must also complete what Lord Stark entrusted to me. The truth must be revealed."
Barristan had not left King's Landing after being dismissed. Instead, he had saved Hugh from the gold cloaks and learned the truth.
Determined, he now sought Gendry.
"To restore the rightful king."
After examining the tracks, Barristan noticed some leading north.
He mounted and rode toward Harrenhal.
Others would follow the same path.
None of them realized that the Green Men, who had stayed apart from the world for centuries, had opened their doors for the first time.
At the same time, on the Iron Islands, another drama between brothers was unfolding.
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