Episode 7: The Dragon Stirs

7.1 INT: THE KING’S CHAMBERS, RED KEEP – DAY

S.E: fire.

RHAEGAR

Father. Father.

AERYS

Hm?

AERYS opens his eyes to find RHAEGAR sitting across from him before the hearth. The prince has helped himself to a rare glass of wine, and placed another on the stand beside his father’s chair.

RHAEGAR

I was told you wanted to see me, but I would ask you make it brief. I mean to make an early start for Harrenhal.

AERYS sits up, rubbing at his angry, bloodshot eyes. He smiles slyly when he notices the purple-yellow-green bruise on RHAEGAR’s cheek, the laceration at its centre held together by a coagulated unguent of the Grandmaster’s concoction.

AERYS

I’ve never known a badge of shame to come in quite so many colours.

RHAEGAR

Do you ever ask yourself how you arrived at a place where your senses are so twisted that you derive such evident pleasure in seeing your son and heir so publicly humbled? And by a Lannister, no less.

AERYS

Perhaps I might have spared you the lesson had I known you were so determined to humble yourself.

RHAEGAR

What are you talking about?

AERYS

I told you I did not want you taking your prophecy nonsense before the Small Council. Not only did you disobey that command, you seized upon Tywin’s charity like a cur slobbering over its master’s hand.

RHAEGAR

I made no mention of any prophecy, and Tywin raised the matter of the Night’s Watch unbidden. The black brothers need all the help they can get, and if none is forthcoming from you then I make no apology for taking it wherever else I can.

AERYS

Now whose senses are twisted? Tywin’s largesse was not a victory for you because you got what you wanted, it was a defeat for me because Tywin was the man that handed it to you.

RHAEGAR

Not everything is about you, father, or your interminable grievance against Tywin Lannister. The Wall -

AERYS [INTERRUPTING]

Tywin doesn’t give a damn if the Wall should melt, you blind child!. He saw the game I was playing with Jaime and decided to play its like with you: son for son, heir for heir. He means to win you away from me, and tosses you these scraps to seduce you over to his side. And how do you respond? You thank him, meek and servile, as though he were doing you a kindness.

AERYS lifts his wine glass and considers his son over its brim.

AERYS [CONT’D]

When the beggar dons a crown, he does not become a king; the court becomes an alms-house.

S.E: drinking.

AERYS [CONT’D]

A strong ruler never makes himself a supplicant before the help.

RHAEGAR

Nor did I. I have no intention of repeating my father’s mistakes.

AERYS absorbs the jab, but throws his son a mocking sneer in return.

AERYS

And here I thought you had nothing left to learn from me.

RHAEGAR

No longer, perhaps, but I have learned a great deal by your example over the years. I learned that a good ruler seeks out the advice of wiser men, not empty affirmations and idle flattery of sycophants. A good ruler raises others up to serve his ends without living in fear that one day they will cast him down to serve their own. And a good ruler consumes himself with the interests of his realm, not the shadows and phantoms of his own paranoid vendettas.

AERYS

Paranoid? You name me paranoid?! When right within these very walls my own Hand has spent half a lifetime conspiring against me, chipping away at my authority piece by piece, year on year.

RHAEGAR

Where would he find the time to conspire when he spends every hour of the day overseeing your kingdom?!

AERYS

He is a usurper, and rather than clip his wings as I summoned you home to do, you have permitted yourself to be made complicit in his schemes against me.

RHAEGAR

Then why do you persist in allowing this usurper to control your Council, to continue wielding the most powerful office in the land? Why not walk over to the Tower of the Hand right this minute and command your servant to step down with immediate effect? Unless, of course, you’re simply too afraid of how Tywin might take his dismissal.

AERYS

The dragon fears nothing! You’d do well to remember that, boy.

RHAEGAR

You fear plenty, old man. You fear that I have not grown to hate Tywin Lannister. You fear that I may be able to work with Tywin Lannister. You fear that I know how to use him without being used myself. And most of all you are terrified down to the marrow in your bones of what it would mean were all those fears proven well-founded: that the problem never was Tywin Lannister. The problem was you. Your distrust. Your jealousy. Your inability to overcome even for a moment the bitterness and spite that poisons your every thought.

Well allow me to offer you some piece of mind on one point at least: I may not hate Tywin Lannister, but neither do I trust Tywin Lannister. He is ours for as long as it serves his interests, and he will betray us exactly one heartbeat before that no longer holds true. But the task of governing the Seven Kingdoms is too big for one man alone. You understood that once, or you’d have appointed a weaker man than Tywin as your Hand. You raised him up because you understood then what it is I’m trying to remind you of now.

There may have been another way, back when Targaryens ruled the skies on fire made flesh, but all the dragons are gone, father. Compromise and cooperation are not choices, not as they were for Aegon and his heirs. They are a necessity. There will be no Targaryen dynasty without them.

AERYS face softens, and it seems for a brief moment as though RHAEGAR plaintive appeal has succeeded in reaching through the king’s embittered exterior. But only for a moment. AERYS blinks, and his eyes are suddenly filled with venom and vitriol.

AERYS

And what dynasty will there be when my son and heir isn’t even man enough to fuck his own wife.

RHAEGAR

What did you say?

AERYS

There is nothing that happens in this castle that I don’t hear about. I know you have not visited your marriage bed since snow was first sighted south of Highgarden.

RHAEGAR

She is still too weak. I will not endanger her health.

AERYS

If she has the strength to eat oranges with her uncle, then she has the strength to spread her legs for you.

RHAEGAR rises, and the sitting AERYS flinches into his seat, suddenly confronted with the physical disparity between the pair: the father beset by the lassitude of age and neglect, the son lean and muscled in the full vigour of his manhood.

RHAEGAR

I am not going to sit here and debate my wife’s condition with you, or my marriage bed. You talk as though I had no heir. Have I not already made you a grandfather twice over?

AERYS

Is that the sum of your virility? A soft-hearted girl and a Dornish-coloured weakling?

RHAEGAR waves an arm at AERYS in disgust and moves for the door. AERYS leaps to his feet and plagues his son’s steps like a scavenger scenting the blood of a bigger, stronger beast.

AERYS [CONT’D]

Perhaps all those miscarriages were not the fault of Elia’s fragility after all; perhaps your watery seed was too pitiful to beget children strong enough to survive even nine short months.

AERYS is following his son about the room now, RHAEGAR trying to keep his distance as though outrunning a tormenting spirit. 

RHAEGAR

Stop this!

AERYS

Or is there another reason you took such an interest in those effete intellectuals at the Citadel, and spent so much time strumming your harp singing pretty songs with all those pretty bards and minstrels?

RHAEGAR

That’s enough! I won’t listen to another word.

AERYS

Perhaps you’ve allowed yourself to be fitted for cuckold’s horns, is that it? Has Elia found more potency under Pycelle’s robes than between her own husband’s legs? Has she surrendered to her Dornish blood and taken to rutting with that uncle of hers to repay him for his protection?

RHAEGAR

That’s enough, I said!

RHAEGAR spins about, startling AERYS back onto his heels.

RHAEGAR [CONT’D]

You may insult me until you are blue in the face, but you have no right to talk about my wife like this!

Recovering from his reflexive retreat, AERYS draws himself up and leers into RHAEGAR’s face.

AERYS

I have every right! Her body is not her own. It belongs to you, and it belongs to the realm! She is yours to command, as you are mine. If she is incapable of surviving another pregnancy, you will set her aside for someone that can! We do not continue to feed and kennel a hound once it has lost its lust for the hunt!

Utterly aghast, RHAEGAR looks his father over as though seeing him for the first time. He shakes his head, disgusted and incredulous in equal measure.

RHAEGAR

I was wrong when I said I had nothing left to learn from you. No man alive burns bridges half so well as you.

He lays one hand on the doorhandle, then stops himself, corralling his composure.

RHAEGAR [CONT’D]

The next time we see one another, it will be my turn to share some hard truths of my own.

AERYS

Oh it will, will it?

RHAEGAR

Yes, it will. You shall have no say in the matter. You won’t be able to shut me out, the way you’ve shut out mother. You won’t have your Spider to hide behind. You won’t have this petty, pathetic, pointless war with Tywin Lannister to distract you. Just you, me, and all the things I should have said a long time ago.

AERYS

You forget yourself, Prince Rhaegar. You are my son, and I will not -

RHAEGAR [INTERRUPTING]

I’m Rhaella Targaryen’s son, every last part of me. If there is some small shred of you hidden somewhere deep down inside, I pray to all the gods that it stays there. For both our sakes.

S.E: door opening; footsteps.

7. 2 INT: TYWIN’S SOLAR, TOWER OF THE HAND - DAY

TYWIN

Pack your things. I’m sending back to the Rock.

Standing before his father’s desk, JAIME is temporarily struck dumb, but his sister suffers no such affliction.

CERSEI

Father, no! I understand you’re angry with Jaime for striking the prince, but please, you can’t send him away!

TYWIN

My business with you is done for the moment. You have my leave to go.

CERSEI

Please, father, you cannot separate us. He and I have never been apart more than a few days in all our lives!

TYWIN

You say that as though it weren’t something a grown woman ought to be embarrassed to admit.

Go, and be sure to close the door behind you.

CERSEI looks to JAIME, then back to TYWIN, tears of anger and frustration welling in her eyes. She bolts for the door before her father can witness her weakness.

TYWIN

You have nothing to say for yourself?

JAIME

Oh, I have plenty to say. You always knew Cersei meant to follow me to court, didn’t you?

TYWIN

Knew and instructed.

JAIME

For what purpose?

TYWIN

For the same purpose any father introduces his daughter into high society: so she can secure herself husband.

JAIME

Elia Martell’s husband.

TYWIN

Correct.

JAIME

At least Otto Hightower had the decency to wait until the queen was dead before he pushed his daughter into her husband’s bed.

TYWIN

All the money I invested in your education, and you learned less from ten years with your maesters than you did in ten minutes in the hall of kings with Aerys Targaryen.

JAIME

You know about that?

TYWIN

Aerys shows those hideous statues to every visitor that passes through his gates. It’s less common he invites them to luncheon with him, however, so for that much at least you should feel flattered.

JAIME

You’re not angry with me?

TYWIN

Why would I be angry with you for doing precisely the thing I brought you here to do?

JAIME

I don’t understand.

TYWIN

Then allow me to educate as to the king’s true motives in showering you with his favour: Aerys Targaryen has always been of the view that a man’s closest relations are also his greatest vulnerability, that if you lack the necessary fortitude to strike out against a man directly, you do it through his family.

I could not allow him to interfere in Cersei’s efforts with the prince, and so I determined to provide him a distraction: another Lannister with whom he might indulge his ham-fisted little intrigues.

JAIME

You’re wrong. Aerys wouldn’t do that.

TYWIN

Don’t be so naïve, you sound like a child.

JAIME

I’m not a child. I’m a man grown, and a knight of the realm.

TYWIN

Very well, then let us speak as men. Why do you believe Aerys has made you his priority since you arrived at court?

JAIME

Perhaps he sees something in me. Perhaps he believes in me.

TYWIN

And I do not: is that what I’m given to understand?

Twenty years I’ve laboured in these chambers. Twenty years of thankless service to a man I despise. Why would I have suffered even a single day if not for my son and heir?

JAIME

For your son and heir, perhaps, but not for me.

TYWIN

I’m afraid the distinction eludes me.

JAIME

If you believed in me, you would not have manipulated me like this, you would not have used me the same way you use everyone else. You would have taught me how to govern, as you said you meant to.

TYWIN

We all must work to advance the fortunes of House Lannister in whichever way best suits the talents the gods chose to bestow upon us. I’d as soon sit you behind a desk with quill and ink as dress your sister in a suit of armour and send her off to war.

JAIME

And you believe this should be the extent of my ambitions? To keep the king occupied while you turn my sister into Rhaegar Targaryen’s whore? 

TYWIN

For the moment. But one day in the not-so-distant future, you will succeed me as Lord of the Rock and Warden of the West…and breed. Your sister will marry the prince…and breed. Your sons will marry Cersei’s daughters, and your daughters her sons, and populate the line of succession with children of Lannister blood.

JAIME

No. That’s not the life I want.

TYWIN

And I thought we were talking as men. The world does not care what you want, ser, and neither do I. The seeds may be planted now, but I will be long dead before the tree has grown much beyond a sapling. It will fall to you to nurture it to full strength, and to your children to gather its fruit. And when your day comes, you will do your duty as a Lannister, just as your sister will do hers now…and just as I have done these past twenty years. Because you are the custodian of my legacy. You are the future of our house. And yes, you are my son and heir.

But if it pleases you to play at soldiers until I have further use of you, then you and I have no quarrel. But you shall do so at Casterly Rock, where you can do no more harm to my affairs.

JAIME

“Your affairs”. Far away from Prince Rhaegar, you mean to say.

TYWIN

In more ways than one, Rhaegar Targaryen is my affair, and nothing else besides. And the fact that you cannot appreciate that, is precisely why your presence her at court is now creating more problems than it solves, as evidenced by your pitiable tantrum in the yard.

I have a meeting of the Small Council this afternoon, directly after which your sister and I shall depart for Harrenhal. By that time, I expect you to be half a day along the Gold Road. Now go, and don’t dare bring any more shame upon the Lannister name in the few short hours that remain to you.

7.3 INT: RHAELLA’S CHAMBERS, RED KEEP – DAY

S.E: knocking.

RHAELLA

Come.

S.E: door opening.

OSWELL

Your Grace, Lady Cersei would like -

CERSEI

Oh Rhaella!

CERSEI bursts past OSWELL and throws herself into the queen’s arms.

RHAELLA

Oh my sweet girl, whatever is the matter?

CERSEI buries her head into RHAELLA’s breast, too overcome with emotion to answer. RHAELLA strokes the girl’s hair as a mother might comfort her distraught child.

RHAELLA [CONT’D]

There, there, my love, there, there.

It’s alright, Ser Oswell, you may leave us.

OSWELL

As you say, Your Grace.

S.E: door closing.

Once they are alone, RHAELLA leads CERSEI down onto the couch.

RHAELLA

Come, now, let’s just calm down and take a good deep breath. Let me have a look at you.

She brushes the loose golden strands from the young girl’s face, drawing a handkerchief from her sleeve to wipe gently at CERSEI’s shining cheeks.

RHAELLA

There, now. No more need for tears, everything will be alright. You just tell Rhaella what has you so upset.

CERSEI

It’s Jaime. Father is sending him back to Casterly Rock.

Something fleet and cynical flashes across RHAELLA’s eyes, but she quickly marshals her thoughts and betrays only the faintest flicker of surprise. 

RHAELLA

Because of what happened in the yard?

CERSEI

Please, Rhaella, please say you’ll speak to father?! Please say you’ll convince him to let Jaime stay?!

RHAELLA

Jaime is not my son, Cersei. It’s not my place to tell Tywin how he should run his own house.

CERSEI

But you’re the queen! Everyone has to do whatever the queen says! If you command him then he will have no choice but to obey.

RHAELLA

That’s not how things work, child.

CERSEI

But why?

RHAELLA

That’s a far bigger question than I think you mean it to be, and not one I can answer in any way that will make sense to you right now.

CERSEI wraps her hands about RHAELLA’s own, her shimmering green eyes wide and imploring.

CERSEI

Please, Rhaella, I’m begging you…he’s my brother. He’s the other half of me; I’m not even a whole person without him. I know father means to punish Jaime for spoiling his plans, but he’s punishing me too, and I haven’t done anything wrong! I’ve only ever done exactly what he asked me to!

Rather than offer comfort to the girl, RHAELLA inspects her with a curious tilt of the head.

RHAELLA

What do mean, “spoiling his plans?”

CERSEI

What?

RHAELLA

What did your father ask of you, Cersei?

CERSEI’s sniffles suddenly dry up. The colour drains from her cheeks.

CERSEI

I don’t…I-I didn’t…

RHAELLA

No lies now. I can’t help you if you’re not completely honest with me.

               CERSEI

I am being honest with you, I swear it.

RHAELLA

Cersei. Look at me, Cersei. What aren’t you telling me?

7.4 INT: THE KING’S CHAMBERS, RED KEEP - DAY

S.E: door opening, closing.

RHAELLA

We need to talk.

Looking out over the city from his balcony, AERYS takes a long drink of wine before finally turning and regarding his wife with weary antipathy.

AERYS

What do you want, Rhaella?

The king shuffles to the desk and drops into his chair. He slumps back, rubbing at his bloodshot eyes.

AERYS [CONT’D]

I’ve already had one battle with my own blood today; I don’t believe I have the stomach for another.

RHAELLA

What makes you think I’ve come to fight?

AERYS

What other reason do you or I ever have for visiting one another’s chambers?

RHAELLA takes the chair across the desk from her husband.

RHAELLA

Tywin is sending Jaime back to Casterly Rock.

Aerys suddenly perks up, a sly and smug smile creeping across his face.

AERYS

So the old lion has finally blinked.

RHAELLA

Don’t look so satisfied with yourself. It has nothing to do with this clumsy little game you’ve been playing with his boy.

AERYS scowls, taken aback.

AERYS

What do you know about anything, woman?

RHAELLA

When it comes to Rhaegar, it’s my business to know everything. While you’ve been distracted seducing Tywin’s son, Tywin has seized his opportunity to do the same with ours. 

AERYS

I’m in no mood for riddles, Rhaella.

RHAELLA

The girl, Cersei. Tywin would have us all believe it was Jaime he called to court, and his sister simply followed after him. The truth is quite the opposite: it’s Cersei that came here with a purpose.

AERYS

You’re wrong.

RHAELLA

Then tell me why Tywin has suddenly decided to ship his son and heir back to the Rock.

AERYS

Jaime made a fool of himself in the yard. He struck the crown prince. Tywin fears I will punish the boy for his mistake. The old lion’s pride –

RHAELLA [INTERRUPTING]

Has never gotten in the way of his ambitions before. Twenty years serving a man he loathes; that’s a lot of pride to swallow even for a lion. You truly believe he would risk it all by moving Jaime beyond your grasp? To what ends: sparing your dear new friend a slap across the wrist?

AERYS

Then why?

RHAELLA

Because the boy has become a problem. Now Jaime is aware of his father’s carefully laid plans for Cersei and our son, that sorry episode in the yard will have made it plain to Tywin that Jaime possesses both the means and the motive to burn those plans to cinders.

I briefly entertained the notion that you provoked Jaime deliberately, that you played upon his brotherly instincts to incite his anger against Rhaegar. But now I see that was just a happy coincidence of whatever nonsensical lesson you sought to teach our son at the point of Jaime’s steel.

RHAELLA sits forward in her chair, the lavender eyes she shares with her brother unnervingly cold, calm, and commanding.

RHAELLA [CONT’D]

However we ended up here, whatever consequences your game may have wrought…it’s time to put an end to it. It’s time you made your move against Tywin.  

AERYS stares back at RHAELLA for a long moment, then rises and retreats to the sideboard. He pours himself another goblet of wine, keeping his back to his sister.

AERYS

There are things afoot of which you haven’t the feintest notion. For months now I’ve been loading the bolt, winching back the strings –

RHAELLA [INTERRUPTING]

What good is a crossbow if you lack the courage to ever shoot it.

AERYS turns to face RHAELLA, his face as hard and lethal as sharpened steel.

AERYS

Careful, now.

RHAELLA

Or what? You’ll sit on your hands for twenty years then summon a eunuch and a dead man to whisper barbs against me over the Small Council table?

RHAELLA stands and stalks over to AERYS. For the second time that day, the king is made aware of his physical shortcomings: the queen towers several inches over her brother, sheer and undeniable authority resonating from every pore of her presence.

RHAELLA [CONT’D]

Since the day you named him Hand you’ve let Tywin run roughshod over your realm, your court, and your kingship without ever so much as a scolding in reproval. And I’ve sat back and watched it happen, because truth be told it’s been longer than I care to remember since I was able to summon any interest in your failings beyond a vague sense of shame. But not anymore. Not when it’s our son he’s coming for. If you bare your belly now and allow this to stand, you’re no kind of king. You’re no kind of father. You’re barely even a man at all.

AERYS’s jaw moves as though gnawing at the air, too stricken with rage to summon speech. RHAELLA leaves him standing at the sideboard like a shaking stone effigy and strides from the room without a backward glance.

S.E: door opening.

VARYS

Your Grace?

Leaning in from the hallway, VARYS peers tentatively around the doorframe.

VARYS [CONT’D]

May I may be of service, Your Grace?

AERYS’s face contorts into a rancorous scowl, his whole body seeming to vibrate from the bilious fury boiling within.

S.E: shattering glass.

VARYS

Your Grace!

AERYS looks down at his hand, where only a second ago there existed a finely-crafted wine goblet. He unclasps his fist and a shower of shattered glass tinkles to the stone floor, glittering silver stars sprinkled about the crimson-claret firmament of blood pooling about the king’s feet. Flattening out his palm, AERYS studies with peculiar detachment the shards of glass buried in his flesh.

AERYS

Tywin’s lickspittles…how much longer do you need to make them mine?

VARYS holds a hand to his mouth, swallowing a reflux as he stares transfixed at AERYS’ shredded palm.

VARYS

Everything is in place, Your Grace. You need only give the word.

AERYS

Then consider it given. Bring me my Council, Lord Varys.

And some tweezers and a towel, if you would.

7.5 INT: SOLAR, STORM’S END – DAY

ROBERT sits before a well-fed fire in the solar of Storm’s End, a cloth draped over his head to contain the steam rising from a bowl of boiled water he holds in his lap.

S.E: footsteps.

ROBERT lifts the corner of his cloth to discover STANNIS standing by the fire, a wire-haired terrier sitting happily at his heel.

ROBERT

Whose dog is that?

STANNIS

That’s my dog.

ROBERT

Seriously, Stannis, if the servants are leaving doors open so wild dogs can wander –

STANNIS [INTERRUPTING]

Robert, the dog is mine.

ROBERT

Really?

STANNIS

I am capable of caring for things, you know. I’m not a monster.

ROBERT

What’s it called?

STANNIS

Robert.

ROBERT

Stannis.

STANNIS

No, the dog’s name is Robert. I allowed Renly to choose the name, fool that I am.

ROBERT inspects his canine namesake, endeavouring to decide if he should be insulted or flattered. STANNIS looks his brother over and is evidently unimpressed by what he finds.

STANNIS [CONT’D]

Have you spoke with Maester Cressen?

ROBERT gestures dismissively at the bowl of steaming water and the cloth he wears about his shoulders.

ROBERT

You don’t imagine these were my idea, do you?

ROBERT touches his lip, indicating to STANNIS’ own and the scabbed red welt ROBERT left there.

ROBERT [CONT’D]

You look to be healing well enough.

STANNIS grunts in agreement and takes the chair beside ROBERT’s. He looks into the fire for a moment, permitting his dog to lick at his fingers.

STANNIS

Your friend has been like a fly about my ear insisting you and I should talk.

ROBERT

Aye, he’ll do that. I’ve heard nothing else since we left the Eyrie.

S.E: long silence; fire crackling.

STANNIS

I will begin the arrangements for Selyse and I to vacate our rooms. If you would care to choose which of the residences you would like me to garrison –

ROBERT [INTERRUPTING]

Stannis. Stop.

STANNIS frowns at ROBERT’s interruption, readying himself for an argument.

ROBERT [CONT’D]

Renly will need both his brothers now mother and father are gone, and I’ve no intention of trekking across the Stormlands to some bloody keep every time I want to see you both. You and Selyse are staying put.

Taken aback, STANNIS permits himself a beat to properly grapple with ROBERT’s gesture.

STANNIS

I am your younger brother, and you are my lord. If it is your wish that my wife and I remain here at Storm’s End then it is your prerogative to command as such.

ROBERT rolls his eyes and sighs in exasperation.

ROBERT

Gods, you’re hard work. I’m not commanding, Stannis, I’m offering. Can you not just say “yes” and shake my hand like a normal fucking person?

STANNIS looks at ROBERT’s proffered paw as though it were a snake likely to rear up and bite him. After what seems an age, he finally grips ROBERT’s hand in his own.

STANNIS

I believe Selyse would like that very much. Thank you, Robert.

They break hands and sit in silence once more.

              ROBERT

Selyse tells me Renly is bathing again.

STANNIS

He still hates washing himself as much as any boy his age, but he seems to be over his fear of the water at least.

ROBERT

I suppose your tough love worked out well enough this time, as much as it pains me to admit.

STANNIS

I know you and I don’t exactly see eye to eye on such things, or very much at all for that matter, but I’ve been with Renly every day of his life. I know what’s best for him because I know him better than you do. I’m sorry if that sounds cruel.

ROBERT waves a dismissive hand in the air.

ROBERT

Cruel, but no less true for being so. It seems to me there’s very little about this place you don’t know better than I do.

*pause*

Which is why I’d like for you to continue on managing the Stormlands.

STANNIS

I don’t follow.

ROBERT

This has been your home far longer than it has been mine. You know the land, you know the people, you know all the things a good lord should. You know it all so well, father believed enough in you to entrust his kingdom to your care. I mean to follow in his example.

STANNIS

I don’t you what to say.

ROBERT

You already said it. All this time I thought you resented me for leaving and saddling you with the burdens of the eldest son. But when you told me down on the beach that you wouldn’t let me take Renly from you…that’s when I finally realised: you never saw them as burdens to begin with.

And that’s why you’ll make a far better Lord than I ever would.

7.6 INT: RED KEEP - DAY

ILYRIO

Wait just a moment: a tale this succulent simply must be accompanied with a a glass of wine in hand. Red for steak, Gold for fish…which serves best with blackmail, do you wonder?

VARYS

Blackmail? Come, Ilyrio, you know me better than that. Does a sculptor whittle his wood with an axe? Does a painter colour his canvas with mud and cinders?

ILYRIO

Just so. Tell me, then: what tools does an artist at intrigue wield in his compositions?

VARYS

Grandmaester?

PYCELLE

Hm?

PYCELLE halts in his progress across the walkway that overlooks the Red Keep’s inner-courtyard and turns to discover VARYS at his heel.

PYCELLE [CONT’D]

Oh, it’s you.

VARYS

If you have a moment, I hoped I might impose upon your expertise. It’s something of a personal matter, you understand.

PYCELLE

Fine, fine, but be quick about it, I am late for my appointment with the Princess Elia…

VARYS

Then I shall be brief. These past few months I’ve been finding my sleep unusually disturbed. At first I put it down simply to being in new surroundings, but even as I’ve grown accustomed to the sounds of the Red Keep, still somehow a restful night’s sleep eludes me. I wondered if you might be able to prescribe something. I thought perhaps a few drops of sweetsleep might be best?

PYCELLE

Oh did you know? How fortunate for you, then, that you still possess sufficient humility to seek out the wisdom of your betters. In the first place, sweetsleep comes in powdered form, not liquid.

VARYS

How foolish of me.

PYCELLE

Furthermore, a small pinch of sweetsleep would more than suffice for your needs. A dose equivalent to “a few drops” would paralyse the heart and induce a slumber so deep you would never wake again.

VARYS

Goodness! Thank the gods I came to you, Grandmaester. I do hope that apothecary gave Prince Lewyn similarly cautionary advice.

PYCELLE

Prince Lewyn?

VARYS

Hm? Oh, yes. One of my little birds overheard the prince making inquiries about sweetsleep and its effects. It seems mine and the king’s are not the only weary heads within these walls.

VARYS tilts his head in concern as PYCELLE is immediately overcome with a curious paroxysm. 

VARYS [CONT’D]

Are you feeling quite alright, Grandmaester? You’ve suddenly turned a frightful shade of grey.

PYCELLE

I…I…no, I mean yes! I’m perfectly fine, just…just give me a moment…

VARYS

May I walk you back to your chambers? I would hate for you to take a fall.

PYCELLE

No no, I can manage. I…you’ll have to excuse me, I must be getting along to…to…

VARYS

Your appointment with the Princess Elia?

PYCELLE

Yes! Precisely, yes. The Princess…

PYCELLE takes his leave, continuing on towards the junction between hallways.

VARYS

I’ll call upon you this evening about that pinch of sweetsleep, Grandmaester.

PYCELLE waves a hand in acknowledgement but doesn’t trouble himself to turn his head, such is his agitation to be gone. The Grandmaester begins towards Princess Elia’s chambers, then suddenly veers to the right and hurries off in the direction of the Tower of the Hand.

VARYS

The Grandmaester is far too obtuse to tempt, too loyal to turn. Better, then, to remove him from the board entirely. After scuttling away to alert his master to their plot’s discovery, he promptly sealed himself away within his chambers, refusing both food and water from fear some Dornish spice may find its way into his dish.

7.7 INT: RED KEEP - DAY

LUM

Prince Lewyn.

Closing the door to ELIA’s chambers as gently as he’s able so as not to disturb his sleeping niece, LEWYN turns to find a pair of Lannister guards approaching.

LEWYN

Afternoon, Lum. Purkens. What can I do for you?

PURKENS

Lord Tywin requests your presence in the Small Council chamber, ser.

LEWYN

Does he now? Very well, tell him I’ll make my way over to the Tower of the Hand sometime this afternoon.

LEWYN moves to depart but the guards make no accommodation to allow his passing. The prince is not a man familiar with having his path impeded.

LEWYN [CONT’D]

Do you need me to write that down for you?

LUM

Apologies, Lewyn, but Lord Tywin was most insistent that we escort you there ourselves.

LEWYN

Not much of a request, then, was it?

LUM

We’re just doing as we’re told, Lewyn.

LEWYN

Very well, the quicker we start the sooner we’ll finish.

S.E: footsteps.

7.8 EXT: KINGSROAD – DAY

S.E: horses.

The Stark household stretches along the Kingsroad for a quarter-mile, the train settled into a leisured progress knowing they still face another half-dozen days of riding before they reach Harrenhal. The riders have foresworn their typical heavy furs, the warmth of the Southern early-Spring a welcome change from the ice and snow of the North’s tenacious late-Winter. Riding alone in the middle of the line, LYANNA’s solitude is disturbed by the arrival of MAESTER WALYS trotting up alongside.

LYANNA

Maester.

WALYS

My lady, I come to you on a matter of the gravest importance. I beg your pardon if the words do not come readily to my lips, but I dare say even the hardiest of warriors would find themselves unnerved by the enormity of a missive such as this.

LYANNA

What is it, Walys?

WALYS

My lady, please steady yourself: may Benjen move into your chambers once you move to Storm’s End?

LYANNA shares the Maester’s smile, and turns to look down the line. A hundred-feet further back, BENJEN draws in his craning neck and does his best to appear as though he wasn’t watching WALYS carry out his commission.

LYANNA

So Benjen has roped you into his campaign now, has he?

WALYS

He made a compelling case, my lady. His current quarters are overrun run with rats, would you believe, and the winds that come in through his northern-facing windows are so cold they freeze his breeches stiff through his wardrobe door.

LYANNA

Gods, I had no idea my brother suffered so. I shall have to devote many hours of serious contemplation to properly appreciate the merits of this proposal. 

WALYS bows his thanks, and the pair ride in silence for a spell. LYANNA considers the old maester with a suspicious eye.

LYANNA [CONT’D]

Why do I get the sense you have something more to say?

WALYS

Such is the curse of my calling, my lady. I hoped we might speak on your coming nuptials.

LYANNA

Of course you did. I warn you, if you mean to appeal to my familial sympathies, my father has pre-empted you.

WALYS

I have always been a man predisposed to prose over poetry, as you well know my lady. There exists a mercuriality in matters of the heart that confounds my natural inclination towards the stubborn surety of facts and figures.

LYANNA

So you’ve come to make the case for my father’s coffers?

WALYS

I hardly need explain to you the fiduciary benefit to House Stark of closer alliance with the South, my lady. The expense of importing grain to see us through this long winter would have beggared a lesser power, even allowing for the favourable terms your father negotiated. One need only consider the words of your House to appreciate the benefit of tethering together the fortunes of Wolf and Stag while the Spring flowers are still in bloom.

LYANNA

If our friends in the South were amenable to selling us their surplus for this Winter, why is it suddenly contingent upon my being wed that they should do the same for the next?

WALYS

You are still a young woman, my lady, scarcely removed from childhood. You’ve never known anything but peace and harmony among the Seven Kingdoms. I am old enough to remember a time when cooperation between the Great Houses was a rare thing indeed. Before the Fifth Blackfyre Rebellion brought the realm together in common cause, this was a divided land: neighbour betraying neighbour, old enmities flaming up like wildfire, every lord great or petty pursuing his own agenda, clutching and clawing for a greater share of wealth and power.

LYANNA

That was a different time, a different country.

WALYS

Forgive me, my lady, but even the most obtuse of novices will tell you the path of history is circular. Everything old is merely a precursor, everything new just an echo, and nothing endures unbroken but the great inexorable arc of time folding back upon itself. The ties that bind the nobility together were frayed before, and they will be again. When that time comes, it will be in all our interests for Stark, Baratheon, and Tully to stand together.

LYANNA

You do yourself a disservice when you claim your sensibilities cannot extend beyond the prosaic, maester. What little girl doesn’t dream of the day she will stand before the gods and enter into the happiest political alliance of her life?

WALYS

You forget, my lady, I knew you when you were a little girl. You dreamed of adventure, of distant lands and exotic peoples, of perilous quests and hard-fought glories…but never of the day you might marry.

LYANNA

Man or woman, every living soul dreams of falling in love, Walys. Just because I prefer bawdy songs and riding leathers to needlework and silken dresses does not mean I’m content surrendering to a life without romance.

WALYS

Romance has ever been the preserve of the youthful, my lady, but in time you will see -

LYANNA [INTERRUPTING]

I swear, if you invoke my age in service to your condescension one more time I shall see to it that your bedroll is placed by the latrine pits when we make camp tonight.

Impressed by the unfamiliar flame of authority that flickers to life at reminding WALYS of his proper place, LYANNA leans into its seductive warmth.

LYANNA [CONT’D]

Why do you even care? Your name is Flowers, not Stark; there’s no gain for you in any of this.

WALYS

I have no name, nor have done since I swore my service to Winterfell when I was scarcely older than you are now. I am duty-bound to champion whatever measures may profit House Stark, as these unions undoubtedly shall.

LYANNA

Duty-bound to House Stark, but only to my father among its members, I cannot help but feel.

WALYS

You wound me, child. I brought you into this world with these two hands; you knew this face even before your mother’s, may the gods keep and protect her.

LYANNA cannot help but feel guilty for speaking so harshly, WALYS’ prayer serving to remind her of the comfort and care with which the maester eased her mother’s final hours.

WALYS [CONT’D]

If I gave offence, I pray you’ll accept my most sincere apologies, my lady. I meant only to say that the feeling between a man and a woman only very rarely occurs as it does in the storybooks. Perhaps only one in every hundred-thousand of us will ever experience love as though struck by a bolt from the heavens; for everyone else fortunate enough to avoid a life of lonesomeness it more commonly creeps up on us without our notice, like the soft midriff of middle age. That was certainly the way of things between your mother and father, and the bards themselves would have struggled to imagine a more enduring affection.

LYANNA

I have affection for the starling that made her nest above my window last summer. I do not think it the fancy and folly of youth to ask for something more from the man I am to marry.

WALYS

I did not expect to make a convert of you in a single sitting, my lady. I only ask that you at least do me the courtesy of thinking on all I have said, particularly my observations on the trajectory of time. Your parents were as good as strangers when they spoke their vows, but together they made a safe and happy home for you and your brothers.

The Maester reaches a hand across the space between their two trotting horses and squeezes LYANNA’S own where it rests upon the pommel of her saddle, a presumption she permits as though in correction of her brusqueness a moment ago.

WALYS [CONT’D]

If you could only find a way to enter into your own marriage with an open heart, I can think of no reason why history should not repeat itself.

7.9 INT: TOWER OF THE HAND, RED KEEP - DAY

S.E: door opening.

His face a thundercloud of anger, LEWYN strides with purpose from the Tower of the Hand and across the connecting rampart, LUM and PURKENS hurrying to keep pace. He comes to such a sudden stop upon reaching the castle proper his escort almost barrels into him.

LUM

We don’t have time to waste, Ser Lewyn.

LEWYN

Just a minute.

PURKENS places a hand on LEWYN’s back to urge him forward.

PURKENS

You heard Lord Tywin’s orders, now start walking.

LEWYN

If you don’t take that hand off my back, boy, I shall be taking it home with me to Sunspear.

Withering beneath the prince’s steely glare, PURKENS does as he’s bid.

LEWYN [CONT’D]

Lum, might I say a couple quick goodbyes before we depart?

LUM

Sorry, Lewyn, but our orders were to see you directly to the docks.

LEWYN

How many times have I covered you on a nightshift so you and that kitchen maid of yours could sneak away to the pantry together?

LUM pretends not to notice his partner’s raised eyebrows, and instead considers LEWYN’s gambit with a weary sigh. He looks back in the direction from which they just came, then nods.

LUM

Alright, but we only have time for one stop. Any more, and the old lion will have my head fitted for a spike.

LEWYN nods his thanks and turns away. Standing at the convergence of three corridors, he looks first to the left, towards the quarters of Prince Rhaegar and his family, then to the right, towards the wing of the Red Keep that houses the masters of the Small Council. LEWYN hesitates, torn between his two paths. He looks back at the guards sure to follow close at his heels, then makes his decision.

7.10 INT: PRINCESS ELIA’S CHAMBERS, RED KEEP - DAY

S.E: door slams open.

ELIA

Lewyn!

ELIA springs up in her bed, astonished at her uncle’s sudden storming of her chambers. He hurries to her side, taking her hands in his.

LEWYN

Listen to me carefully, I don’t have long.

ELIA

What’s happening? What’s wrong?

LEWYN

Tywin’s sending me to Sunspear.

ELIA

What? Why? When?

ELIA rises to her knees, watching perplexed as LEWYN begins to pace back and forth.

LEWYN

Today. Now. Right this minute. He wants me to treat with your brother about this nonsense over wine duties.

ELIA

But you’ve got nothing to do with that; you don’t know the first thing about trade. There must be half-a-hundred people better suited.

LEWYN

Tywin suggests I might like to linger once a deal is done and deliver the crown’s congratulations when Mellario delivers.

ELIA

But that’s months away.

LEWYN

It makes no matter, it’s only the next few days we need worry about. I want you to go to Harrenhal.

ELIA

Harrenhal? But you know I can’t; Pycelle says I’m still too weak to travel.

LEWYN

That’s a chance we’ll have to take. Rhaegar and three of my brothers are there; you and the children will be safest with them.

ELIA

Aegon and Rhaenys have done no harm to anyone, they’re just babies. What danger could they -

LEWYN [INTERRUPTING]

Listen to me, Elia!

LEWYN seizes his niece by the shoulders, holding her tight.

LEWYN [CONT’D]

I’m only here – I’m only wearing this ridiculous white cape – because Doran insisted on you having family here at court to watch over you, to have a Martell inside the Red Keep when…

ELIA

When what, Lewyn? You’re scaring me…

LEWYN

There’s no time for that now. I need you to listen to what I’m telling you and follow my instructions exactly: wait until Tywin and his escort have left the city, then choose two dozen of your household guard and follow after them. Martell men only, do you hear? No Gold Cloaks, no Targaryens, only Dornishmen.

ELIA

I don’t understand, Lew. What aren’t you telling me? You can’t expect me to just -

RHAELLA [INTERRUPTING]

You should listen to your uncle, princess.

ELIA and LEWYN turn in surprise to find RHAELLA has slipped silently into the room.

RHAELLA [CONT’D]

You can return to Sunspear with an untroubled mind, Prince Lewyn. I’ll see to it that Elia and the children are well taken care of.

LEWYN

Your Grace. It was my understanding you decided not to travel to Harrenhal.

RHAELLA

That was my intention, but if you believe my son’s family will be safest at his side, then consider those intentions changed.

LEWYN’s indecision is written clear upon his face. ELIA slips her hand into his and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

ELIA

It’s alright, Lew. Rhaella would never let anyone hurt us. I trust her as though she were my own mother.

LEWYN

Your mother was as false and cunning as a viper, as the queen can well attest.

RHAELLA

I loved Myara for many years, just as I love her daughter now. In all the time you’ve been at court, have I ever given you cause to doubt that?

LEWYN closes the half-dozen steps between he and the queen. He studies her face, only inches from his own.

LEWYN

Swear to me.

RHAELLA

We’ll ride together, eat together, sleep together even; they will never leave my sight, I give you my word as a Targaryen.

LEWYN

I’d sooner you gave me a bucket of rotten fish-heads coated in nightsoil.

RHAELLA

Then I give you my word as a woman and as a queen, but most importantly as a mother: Elia and the children are safe under my protection.

7.11 INT: LEWYN MARTELL’S CELL, WHITE SWORD TOWER - DAY

QARLTON CHELSTED climbs happily up the narrow curve of the White Sword Tower steps and throws open the door of LEWYN’s cell. He freezes like a rabbit beneath the wheel of an oncoming carriage at what he finds waiting on the other side.

VARYS

I’m afraid I have some upsetting news to share, my lord.

QARLTON

Lord Varys…I…I hoped I might speak with Prince Lewyn. We…I have a few last-minute details of the Lord Hand’s escort to Harrenhal that need confirming.

VARYS

My word. How is even possible that a man so successful at keeping secrets should prove such a failure at telling lies?

QARLTON opens and closes his mouth without reply; VARYS waves a pacifying hand.

VARYS [CONT’D]

You needn’t trouble yourself fumbling for another: I know about your special relationship with the Prince.

QARLTON

I thought a Master of Whispers might do better than to traffic in scurrilous rumour. Whatever you’ve heard, I -

VARYS [INTERRUPTING]

More to the point, Lord Qarlton, Tywin Lannister knows.

QARLTON

Where’s Lewyn?

VARYS

Somewhere between the Gullet and Massey’s Hook, if the winds are kind. Lord Tywin has sent him home to Sunspear as the crown’s representative. There he will treat with his nephew Prince Doran and seek a renegotiation of equitable terms in the importation of Dornish Red.

QARLTON

This doesn’t make any sense.

VARYS

I quite agree it seems an awful lot of fuss over pressed and fermented grapes, but an inebriated populace is a compliant populace, I suppose.

The tenterhooks upon which QARLTON has been floundering since his arrival finally appear to lose their purchase, all the anxiety and fear of the past few months draining from his muscles in an instant. He stumbles to a chair, looking VARYS over with grim resignation.

QARLTON

You told Tywin.

VARYS

Quite the opposite, in fact.

QARLTON

Then how did he come to know?

VARYS

I fear it lies beyond my powers to provide you the cause, my lord, only to underscore for you the gravity of the consequences.

QARLTON

Tywin would never dare do Lewyn any harm. He is a prince of Dorne.

VARYS

Which is no doubt the only reason I was able to reach Lord Tywin through his initial fury, and why Prince Lewyn is currently being spirited safely away aboard a ship sailing the king’s colours and not beaten and bound down in the black cells. But you possess no such protections: you have no famous name, no powerful nephew or niece, no order of knightly brothers to swear you their sword.  

QARLTON

I have Lewyn.

VARYS

You had Lewyn. Now you have nobody, not even the benefactor that raised you to these giddy heights to begin with.

QARLTON

I have served Tywin well. He needs me on his council. He wouldn’t sacrifice a seat to Aerys, not now you and Rhaegar -

VARYS [INTERRUPTING]

If you truly believed that, my lord, you would not have gone to such pains to keep your trysts from Tywin’s attention all this while.

QARLTON

So you’ve come to tell me I’m a dead man? How very courteous of you.

VARYS

Not quite. Strange as it is to consider, the same transgressions by which you earned Tywin’s enmity may well prove the means of your deliverance.

QARLTON

I’m not sure if I should take that as an insult or a complement, but if you think Tywin Lannister is susceptible to seduction, let alone by -

VARYS [INTERRUPTING]

You mistake my meaning, my lord. Consider this: Steffon Baratheon is drowned, Symond Staunton carried off by fever, though I suspect neither Tywin nor Aerys are entirely convinced of the other’s innocence in either instance. One dead Master is unfortunate, two is tragic, but three in the space of a few short months? Questions would be asked, motives interrogated, blame apportioned…

Either Tywin knew of his hand-picked Master’s corruption and became complicit by his inaction, or he was so feckless in his duties as to remain utterly oblivious to the deviance occurring right beneath his nose. 

Whichever the case, it does not behove Tywin’s interests to draw upon himself the greater scrutiny your untimely demise would surely precipitate.

QARLTON peers at VARYS through the fingers pressed against his face in mortification at the predicament in which he finds himself.

QARLTON

What am I supposed to do? I can’t just carry on like before, not now.

VARYS

To escape beyond Tywin’s clutches you would need either a cast-iron commission calling you away, or the blessing of an alternative benefactor too powerful for even Tywin Lannister to countermand.

Fortunately for you, I may have the means to provide you with both.

QARLTON

And what would you expect in return for fashioning me with this escape?

VARYS’ lips curl into a conspiratorial smile.

VARYS

Perhaps you had best close the door, my lord. You and I have a great deal to discuss.

Ilyrio

And would I be correct in assuming Lord Tywin remains entirely unaware of Chelsted’s dalliance with the Prince?

Varys

You would indeed. It was Ser Lewyn’s discovery of the sweetsleep in the Princess Elia’s tinctures –

ILYRIO

A discovery entirely of your own invention.

VARYS

-   That precipitated Tywin’s sudden dispatch of the prince back home to Sunspear. As far as Lord Qarlton knows, however, he was spared Lord Tywin’s wrath towards his and Lewyn’s liasons only through mine own intervention.

ILYRIO

-   A debt you wasted little time in calling in, I have no doubt.

7.12 INT: LUCERYS’ QUARTERS, PORT OF KING’S LANDING - DAY

LUCERYS

Lord Chelsted. To what do I owe this unexpected…visit?

QARLTON ducks his head and steps into the captain’s cabin, an enormous leather-bound ledger tucked under one arm. LUCERYS stands behind his desk, his surprise at this rare visitor to his quarters upon the King Jaehaerys near as plain as his aversion.

QARLTON

Forgive the intrusion, Lord Lucerys; I assure you this is not a social call.

Begrudgingly, LUCERYS waves a hand at the seat before his desk and retakes his own.

LUCERYS

What business could you and I have with one another that could not wait until Council?

QARLTON

What I have to say is not for Tywin Lannister’s hearing.

LUCERYS glances warily at the door through which QARLTON has just passed.

LUCERYS

You know better than to talk like that within a day’s ride of the Red Keep. Further now, since the Spider has nested his little birds all across the realm.

QARLTON

The days of you and I living in fear of Tywin’s wrath are at an end, my friend.

QARLTON opens the ledger to the past month’s expenditures and passes the tome to LUCERYS. The Master of Ships frowns, but looks nonetheless.

LUCERYS

Ten-thousand gold dragons, paid in full to…Lord Quellon Greyjoy?

QARLTON

Every month for the past nineteen years. It used to be five-thousand, but not even blood money is immune from inflation these days.

LUCERYS

But…to what ends?

QARLTON

When the Dothraki hordes descend upon the town and cities of Essos, the wisest of rulers furnish the Khals with tribute of gold and silver so they might spare themselves a sacking. It would seem our Lord Hand has taken instruction from across the Narrow Sea.

Realisation slowly dawns upon LUCERYS’ face. He wipes at his mouth as though suddenly tasting something rank and bitter upon his lips.

LUCERYS

Tywin’s been paying the Ironborn to foreswear their raids on the Seven Kingdoms. He would let himself be extorted by the Greyjoys for two decades rather than trust me just once with the royal fleet.

QARLTON

In point of fact, it’s actually the king that’s being extorted. The coin comes from the royal treasury, after all, though never at the king’s instruction.

LUCERYS

I could have crushed Quellon a thousand times over for a fraction of the fortune that old fool has handed over.

QARLTON

As I understand it, the deal was struck in the halcyon days following the Fifth Blackfyre Rebellion, when the winds of comradery and cooperation were still blowing like a gale through the fractious kingdom of old king Jaehaerys. But even back then Tywin was not a man to put much stock in sentiment alone: he knew that peace, like most everything, always comes at a price. The Raynes and Tarbecks paid in blood, while others, as you see before you now, were paid in plunder.

LUCERYS

“Gold has its uses, but wars are won with iron”. How many times have we heard him say that?

QARLTON

Why does the oldest lion roar the loudest? Sooner or late, the young man’s boast becomes the old man’s bluff and bluster.

LUCERYS sits back in his chair, running his fingers over stubbled chin in contemplation of this latest in a long line of insults served up by his patron.

LUCERYS

I’ve always suspected how little Tywin truly thought of me, but my pride permitted me to believe my remand to port was most readily explained by Tywin’s esteem for my value in Council, rather than his deprecation for my abilities at sea. To see the truth here before me now, written down in black and white, calculated to the very last copper…

His attention shifts to QARLTON; he studies the Master of Coin closely, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

LUCERYS [CONT’D]

You’ve known about this sordid little arrangement all this time and never breathed a word to me.

QARLTON

I was commanded to keep the payments a secret, lest I be suddenly and precipitously returned to the lamentable circumstances from which our dear Hand raised me.

LUCERYS

Then why break that command by bringing this to my attention? Are you suddenly overcome by some strange fancy to resume your residency down in the gutter?

QARLTON

How many times have I suffered silently in council while Tywin sidled me with authoring some onerous new taxation, full in the knowledge it would not be his name but my own the smallfolk would be spitting? It was Tywin’s ruling that their rations be cut down to crumbs this winter, yet it was my head the mob was demanding as they charged upon the castle gates. even now I cannot walk about the city without hearing heckles of “Qarlton’s Crumbs” and “Cruel Lord Qarlton”.

LUCERYS

Trust me when I tell you, I understand your resentment all too well. Of the many forms injustice takes in this world, there’s something uniquely galling about being forced to suffer the consequences of another man’s actions. But such has been our lot for twenty years, Lord Qarlton; what has changed to make you tug at your collar now?

QARLTON

You have, Lord Lucerys. I saw your eyes when Tywin handed your command to Lord Emmond. You looked like a man that had lived his life beneath the shadow of an hour glass, and was just now realising the last few grains of sand were readying themselves to drop.

LUCERYS

I have nothing to fear from Emmond.

QARLTON

You’ve feared him for half your life, my lord. With each passing year you spent chained to the council table, shuffling papers and growing soft about your middle, that fearsome reputation you earned yourself at the closing of the war receded a little more into memory. Your brother, meanwhile, stubbornly persisted in growing into manhood, earning as he aged his own reputation as an expert seaman, admired by crews and contemporaries alike to a degree unprecedented since the days of your illustrious namesake.

LUCERYS

Emmond can conquer all of Essos and it will still make no matter. As these ledgers only serve to reiterate, Tywin only requires one thing from his lickspittles, and I can fill a chair just as well as Emmond can.

QARLTON

And which of you would provide doughtier insulation against the discontent of the masses, I wonder? Behind which shield would Tywin feel himself most protected: the first war hero of this generation, or the mercenary of the last? The Sea Slug, or the Sea Snake come again? Which shield would better absorb the weight of public enmity: the Velaryon made of freshly-forged steel, or the Velaryon made of parchment?

The Master of Ships considers QARLTON closely, then stands and paces across his cabin to look at the world beyond his porthole. He watches as a twin-masted merchant ship passes beyond the reach of the longest dock and escapes into the open sea, its hundred oars scything through the placid blue waters in synchronic pursuit of the far horizon. LUCERYS turns to face his fellow Master, the old determination weathered by two decades of disappointments now recast with a fresh and dogged obstinacy.

LUCERYS

I have sat idly by while my reputation dissipated like snow come spring; I have sat idly by while Tywin hung his own timidity like a millstone about my neck; but I’ll be damned if I will sit idly by and wait for the day that scheming old cunt takes the fancy to cast me aside like my father did before him. Fuck Emmond, and fuck Tywin Lannister: what do need me to do?

ILYRIO

And just like that, the last tower comes tumbling down.

VARYS

Of all Tywin’s lickspittles, our Master of Ships was always most likely to require the slightest push to topple. That said, do be sure to pass on my appreciation to Narissa and Meleenee for providing me the particular point at which to prick the Sea Slug’s pride.

ILYRIO

I gladly shall. I cannot help but wonder, though: was Tywin truly buying the Greyjoy’s peace, or were those entries in Chelsted’s ledger still wet with your own ink when laid before Lord Lucerys?

VARYS

Now now, Ilyrio: it’s poor form indeed to expect a conjuror to betray the secrets of his deceptions.

ILYRIO

A sculptor, a painter, now a conjuror: truly a man of many talents, this humble Master sat before me.

VARYS

And now, as we were wont to say in my mummer’s days, we come to the grand finale.

7.13 INT: SMALL COUNCIL CHAMBER, TOWER OF THE HAND - DAY

GEROLD

…little change, my brothers and I have been keeping a constant vigil at his bedside, and Grandmaester Pycelle has been most attentive in administering Ser Harlan’s care. I had hoped to formally commend the Grandmaester before council today…

TYWIN

The Grandmaester is suffering a touch of fever, I’m given to understand. He has confined himself to chambers for the duration, lest his affliction prove contagious about the keep.

GEROLD

Of course. I shall see that alternative arrangements are made for Ser Harlan in the meanwhile.

TYWIN

Thank you, Lord Commander. I’m sure I speak for all present when I once again convey very best wishes for your brother’s full and speedy recovery.

GEROLD nods a curt acknowledgment and steps back to his accustomed place a few feet removed from the council table.

TYWIN

Lord Chelsted, I believe you have an update for us on this sorry business with Lord Darklyn?

QARLTON

I do, my lord Hand, though I fear the news will not be to this council’s liking. Lord Darklyn has expressed his willingness to accede to the crown’s terms: he will collect and deliver to my agents the outstanding taxation due from Duskendale, plus the ten percent tithe.

TYWIN

But…

QARLTON

But, Lord Darklyn’s acquiescence does not come without conditions. He insists that His Grace the king –

AERYS [INTERRUPTING]

Speak The Stranger’s name and lo’ he shall appear!

The Small Council turns as one towards the doorway to discover AERYS standing upon the threshold. The room rises, every man among them stealing surreptitious glances in TYWIN’s direction as they do so. 

TYWIN

Your Grace. You must forgive us if we appear surprised somewhat; we were not forewarned of your attendance.

AERYS

A thousand apologies, my Lord Hand. I shall make certain to send a herald ahead of my arrival in future.

AERYS hovers pointedly at TYWIN’s shoulder. With a forward incline that could be termed a bow by only the most charitable of spirit, TYWIN surrenders his chair at the table’s head and relocates to the empty place to the right of VARYS. AERYS raises his bandaged right hand, motioning for the room to join him in taking their seats.  

AERYS [CONT’D]

You may continue, Lord Chelsted.

QARLTON

Thank you, Your Grace. As I was saying, Lord Denys has made clear any restitution of outstanding taxes is dependent upon certain conditions. Foremost among them is the insistence that his case for Duskendale being granted a special trading charter be presented before Your Grace. That is…presented in person. In Duskendale.

AERYS tilts his head, his brow creased as though QARLTON spoke in a foreign language that the king must first mentally translate.

AERYS

Lord Chelsted, how many moons have passed since you first brought this matter before council?

QARLTON

Three, Your Grace. Almost four.

AERYS

And what action has this council taken since?

QARLTON

At the Lord Hand’s instruction, I dispatched several strongly-worded reminders to Lord Denys urging him to redress his outstanding debt to the crown.

AERYS

And when Lord Darklyn not only ignored these reminders – forgive me, these “strongly-worded” reminders - but persisted in his refusal to keep payment with his accruing debt…what measures were taken then?

QARLTON

I dispatched a bard to call upon Ser Denys at the Dun Fort, Your Grace.

Too brief to be certain, too slight to incur comment, the shadow of a smirk dances across QARLTON’s lips as his eyes flit in TYWIN’s direction.

QARLTON [CONT’D]

Once again, at the Lord Hand’s instruction…

AERYS

Forgive me, Lord Chelsted, the wound I took to my hand earlier today appears to have spread to my ears somehow. I thought I heard you say you sent a bard.

QARLTON

Indeed, Your Grace.

TYWIN

If I may, Your Grace: several options were discussed for how best to handle Lord Darklyn’s recalcitrance, but Prince Rhaegar was of the mind –

AERYS

So it was my son’s notion to serve Darklyn song rather than steel, is that it?

TYWIN

Not exactly, no, but -

AERYS [INTERRUPTING]

Can it be the lion of Casterly Rock has finally lost his bite? You, the scourge of Castamere, who served at my side to take this country back from the grasping lords that rode roughshod over my father’s rule.

TYWIN

I need no reminding of my service to the Seven Kingdoms, Your Grace. First and foremost being the unbroken peace I have propagated for near on twenty years now.

AERYS

Propagated with that vainglorious dirge you commissioned to mythologise the triumphs of your distant youth?

TYWIN

Among other means, Your Grace. In my experience, the timely intercession of an understated yet pointed reminder of the consequences attendant to a defiance such as Duskendale’s can oftentimes…

TYWIN interrupts himself, distracted by the manner in which AERYS’ head suddenly snapped to attention, the king’s face a picture of startled recognition. 

TYWIN

…can oftenstimes prove invaluable in forestalling the unwelcome expenditure in blood and coin that a more strident response invariably entails.

AERYS remains transfixed upon TYWIN’s lips long after the King’s Hand has ceased to speak.

AERYS

Defiance…darklyn…darkness all around…

The masters of the Small Council look at one other in confusion, and at the others’ urging VARYS takes it upon himself to lean discretely forward and insert himself in AERYS’s peripheral vision.

VARYS

Your Grace? If your hand is causing you pain, Your Grace, might I suggest we -

AERYS

While you may still labour under the contrary conviction, Lord Tywin, it is clear to me at least that these pointed reminders, like the fearsome reputation by which they were inspired and upon which you have subsisted for so many years, have long since lost whatever efficacy they once possessed.

TYWIN performs a quick survey of the table, painfully conscious of the audience to this insult. His shoulders squared and chest puffed out as though set to receive a second coronation, AERYS rises from his seat and addresses the table.

AERYS [CONT’D]

The lion may have grown too meek and complacent in his old age to serve the likes of Denys Darklyn the swift and certain discipline such disobedient curs require, but the flames that set the world afire in the dragon’s ascendancy still burn just as hot and bright today, I promise you that, my lords.

TYWIN

Your Grace, House Darklyn has ever been a leal and stalwart friend to the crown. We must not give cause for the sentiment to gather that Your Grace so easily forgets the good service of those that have long held faith with House Targaryen.

AERYS

While I’m certain you of all people would simply despair were slanders and calumnies against my person bandied among the populace, such ill-adventure hardly compares with the rot and ruin that festers throughout the realm when a king’s prerogative is so brazenly brought into challenge. If you have forgotten that lesson, my lord, then I can only conclude that your memory of my father’s reign has become as compromised as your once-peerless prowess.

About the table, the Masters of the Small Council watch unblinking, utterly captivated by the conflict playing out before their transfixed eyes.

TYWIN

I assure you quite the opposite is true, Your Grace. I remember very well the state of the Seven Kingdoms when you first came into your throne, just as I remember who it was that purged that rank and rot of which you so eloquently speak. And so it is, to the preservation of all I have built in the intervening decades, that I cannot in good conscience allow –

AERYS [INTERRUPTING]

Allow?! You cannot allow?! How very bold of you to take a stand now, Lord Tywin, after all these months affording Denys Darklyn more allowances than would a four-copper whore. An economy with which you’re passingly familiar, I understand.

TYWIN

I cannot pretend to any knowledge of whores, Your Grace, copper or otherwise.

AERYS

Not even the golden variety? I hear the highborn whores are the most compliant of all. They’ll do just about anything, if you promise them sufficient reward.

TYWIN rises to his feet with disconcerting speed. At the far end of the table, the Lord Commander takes a stealthy step forward, his swordhand shifting from the pommel to the grip. For the third time in as many hours, the king is made acutely aware of his inferior stature, yet AERYS betrays only the slightest crack in his imperturbable façade, a near-imperceptible flinch breaking the death-stare into which he and TYWIN settle.

TYWIN

If you will not be swayed to restraint by the weight of my appeal alone, perhaps hearing it reiterated by your Small Council will serve to convince you of its wisdom.

TYWIN looks with imperious surety from QARLTON, to LUCERYS, to VARYS, even including the still-alert and coiled Kingsguard in his survey, such is his confidence. But for perhaps the first time in TYWIN LANNISTER’S life, that confidence proves unfounded.

QARLTON

Actually, my Lord Hand, I find myself in complete agreement with His Grace.

LUCERYS

As do I. Lord Darklyn must answer for his presumption, and not before time; this farce has been permitted to drag on far too long.

GEROLD

I serve at the pleasure of the king, as do we all.

VARYS

Apologies, my lord hand, but it would seem your opposition is unanimous. Even if I were of a mind to add my dissenting voice to your own, which it pains me to say I am not, it would seem you stand entirely alone, and who am I to presume myself wiser than the collective will of the king’s Small Council.

TYWIN stands like a statue in a storm throughout his council’s revolt, his early expression of incomprehension dissolving into a rictus of seething indignation and incredulous fury.

TYWIN

This is not the entirety of the Small Council. Grandmaester Pycelle –

AERYS

Is not here, nor would it make a difference if he were: the old fool exhausted his worth during my father’s day. Perhaps once I have settled upon our new Master of Laws I shall send to the Citadel for a Maester hail and healthy enough to sit in a chair when called upon. 

Lord Qarlton.

QARLTON

Your Grace?

AERYS

Gather your things and take the first ship you can find sailing for Sunspear. You are to assist Ser Lewyn in settling this nonsense over our imports in the shortest possible fashion, and then return as promptly as the two of you are able.

QARLTON glances towards VARYS, the Master of Whispers returning a surreptitious nod of acknowledgment.

QARLTON

As you wish, Your Grace.

LUCERYS

Your Grace, might I enquire as to the reason Lord Qarlton may not take passage upon a vessel of the royal fleet?

AERYS

Because the royal fleet has no ship to spare. How many did your brother leave in port when he sailed to the Arbor’s aide?

LUCERYS

Nine, Your Grace.

AERYS

Enough to mount a blockade?

LUCERYS

I believe so, Your Grace.

AERYS

Then gather what crews you can, Captain. We march on Duskendale before the turn of the moon, and I want that harbour sealed up tighter than a zorse’s arsehole in a sandstorm before we arrive.

LUCERYS

As you command, Your Grace.

Beaming like a child on his name day, LUCERYS exchanges a conspiratorial nod with QARLTON. Recognising the run of play, TYWIN opts for a different tack: he turns his back towards the council and inclines his head to speak only for AERYS’ hearing.

TYWIN [SOTTO]

Marching against Duskendale is folly enough, but it is rank absurdity that the king himself should -

AERYS [INTERRUPTING]

Touched as I am by your concern for my well-being, my lord, I assure you I am perfectly capable of fighting my own battles.

TYWIN

That’s not how I remember it.

AERYS’s face colours a dark and ominous cast. He stares down his erstwhile friend, and TYWIN stares right back.

AERYS [SOTTO]

Times change, Lord Tywin. None of us are the men we once were.

TYWIN [SOTTO]

At the last, something you and I can agree upon.

AERYS looks down to discover his hands are clenched into fists, the bandage about his wounded palm soaked a crimson red. Small droplets of blood drip between his curled fingers to splatter on the stone floor, the bursting beads as loud as cannon fire in the tomb-like stillness of the silent chamber.

Acutely aware of the masters leaning forward in a vain endeavour to discern the content of his and TYWIN’s whispered asides, AERYS snorts derisively at TYWIN’s allusions and returns his attention to the table, speaking more for the benefit of their audience than for TYWIN himself.

AERYS

I know you are eager to start out on your long journey to Harrenhal, my lord Hand. The masters and I will handle things from here; you have my leave to go.

TYWIN

Surely you cannot still intend for me to leave the capital?

AERYS

I not only expect it, I command it. Your presence is anticipated, and I will not have my people disappointed.

S.E: droplets falling.

TYWIN holds the king’s eye, the disdain that passes between the two so palpable the very air appears turned viscous and rank. The Council holds its collective breath, the moment balanced on the thinnest of sharpened edges.

S.E: footsteps.

IYYRIO

Remarkable, simply remarkable! You well and truly are an expert artisan in manipulation; deceit and deception the tools of your trade. Bravo, old friend, bravo indeed.

ILYRIO stands, collects his cloak from it’s peg, and moves for the door.

VARYS

Where are you going?

ILYRIO

Forgive me, but I have an appointment I simply must attend.

VARYS

Now? Right this instant? I thought we might at least dwell upon our success at least a moment or two…

VARYS

I should like nothing more, but alas my date does not possess much patience with the unpunctual. We will talk more on this soon, you have my word.

VARYS

Ilyrio!

Bewildered, VARYS frowns in consternation at the empty doorway through which the Magister has just swept with nary a backward glance.

7.14 EXT: YARD OF STORM’S END – DAY

In the yard of Storm’s End, the party bound for Harrenhal ready to make their departure. NED sits atop his horse beside a dozen Baratheon guards, waiting patiently while ROBERT says his farewells. A sniffling RENLY hugs his brother’s leg like a limpet to a rock; ROBERT wipes the tears from the young boy’s cheeks.

ROBERT

What’s this? I thought you were afraid of water.

RENLY

Not anymore, I’m not.

Can’t I come with you?

ROBERT

I’ve got a lot of hard miles ahead of me, and a great deal of business that wouldn’t be very exciting for a child. But I’ll be back before you know it, and when I do it will be for good.

RENLY

Really? For good?

ROBERT

That’s right. I’ll be here in the mornings to drag you out of your bed, I’ll be at table to make sure you eat your vegetables, and in the evenings I’ll sit you on my lap in front of the fire to see that you learn your letters. And I’ll be bringing you back something really exciting too.

RENLY

Another ferret?

ROBERT

Even better. Next time we see each other I’ll be a married man, and you’ll have a new aunt to spoil you.

RENLY

Will I have a cousin? There aren’t many children here and I’d really like a cousin to play with.

SELYSE

One thing at a time, Renly.

SELYSE steps forward, placing a hand atop RENLY’s dark brown curls.

SELYSE [CONT’D]

Hurry along now, you don’t want to end up as sick as your brother.

RENLY turns and scampers back towards the castle. ROBERT looks about awkwardly.

ROBERT

Should I wait?

SELYSE

Who knows? Last night he hardly said a word over supper, and he was already gone when I woke this morning.

ROBERT

I’d hoped after our talk the other day…

SELYSE

Old wounds toughen the skin when they scar. Give it time.

ROBERT nods in reluctant acceptance.

ROBERT

Well, the sooner we get going…

Take care of yourself, Selyse.

SELYSE

And you, Robert.

ROBERT places a foot in the stirrup. He gives one last forlorn look back towards the castle…and smiles. STANNIS descends the steps towards the yard, MAESTER CRESSEN following dutifully after him.

ROBERT

You left it close.

STANNIS

I was hunting down Cressen here.

STANNIS gestures to the maester looking nervously at the tall grey palfrey being led from the stables.

STANNIS [CONT’D]

I’m sending him with you to Harrenhal, just as a precaution in case that chest of yours worsens on the road. I’ll not be held responsible for you passing on the Spring Sickness to all the Lords and Ladies of Westeros.

ROBERT

I’m quite sure my health and your reputation have nothing to fear, but I appreciate the gesture all the same. You’re sure you won’t join us?

STANNIS

Tourneys were never my notion of time well-spent.

ROBERT

Aye, far too much like a good time.

STANNIS remains stubbornly unamused at ROBERT’s good-natured jibe and looks away to make a scan of the yard. He nods to NED, who returns the acknowledgment then discretely turns to pass idle talk with their escort and afford the brothers a modicum of privacy.

STANNIS

          What you said the other night in the solar…

ROBERT

I meant every word.

STANNIS

I won’t have it said I took advantage of your grief to steal what isn’t mine.

ROBERT

Nobody will say that.

STANNIS

They may.

ROBERT

Then fuck ‘em. You’re my brother, and this is your home. You cannot steal what’s already yours.

STANNIS

Will the Lady Lyanna see things that way, I wonder?

ROBERT

You’re managing the Stormlands in my stead, Stannis, not robbing our unborn sons of their birthright. Lyanna won’t begrudge you for taking on the burden, she’ll thank you for affording us more time to drink, dance, hawk, and hunt to our hearts’ content.

STANNIS

It sounds as though you’ve found your equal.

ROBERT

You haven’t seen her sit a horse. As in most everything else, I’d have to be twice as good to even come close to meeting Lyanna’s measure.

STANNIS hold’s ROBERT’s eye for as long as his inveterate discomfort will allow, then nods in stiff and formal gratitude. He hesitates a moment more, then offers his hand.

STANNIS

Take care of yourself, Robert.

ROBERT

And you, Stannis.

STANNIS steps back beside SELYSE, and the pair watch as ROBERT gives his horse his heels and leads the egress through the gates of Storm’s End.

7.15 INT: TYWIN’S CHAMBERS, TOWER OF THE HAND - DAY

TYWIN passes another stack of papers into the arms of SER AMORY LORCH and waves a hand in dismissal.

TYWIN

Take those down to the carriage, and ready the horses for our departure.

SER AMORY does as he’s bid, leaving TYWIN to perform one last survey of his chambers. He returns to his desk and retrieves the anonymous scroll from its drawer, tucking it into his doublet.

S.E: footsteps.

TYWIN [CONT’D]

Your Grace.

RHAELLA

My Lord Hand.

TYWIN

Was there something in particular you wanted? I am about to depart for Harrenhal.

S.E: footsteps.

RHAELLA

Do give my best to Cersei, won’t you? I shall miss your daughter’s company greatly.

TYWIN

My daughter is no concern of yours.

RHAELLA

Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Not when she came running to my chambers this morning like a poor lost lamb bleating for its mother. She was so distraught, simply bawling her beautiful green eyes out, poor thing. I don’t believe she knew half the things that came tumbling out of her mouth…

TYWIN’s eyes narrow, but RHAELLA pays no heed. She strolls casually across the room to the open window.

RHAELLA [CONT’D]

Oh look, how lovely. All your friends at court have gathered to see you off.

CUT TO:

S.E: echoing footsteps.

TYWIN steps out into an eerily deserted yard. His escort of two-dozen Lannister guards wait mounted and ready by the open gates, SER AMORY holding the reins to TYWIN’s horse beside the extravagant golden carriage that serves as CERSEI’s conveyance.

S.E: echoing footsteps.

TYWIN stops in his tracks at the sight of AERYS standing atop the battlements, flanked on either side by the Masters of the Small Council. VARYS at least has the good-sense to avoid TYWIN’s ice-cold glare, but the QARLTON and LUCERYS make no effort to disguise their satisfaction.

AERYS

Take a good long look, my lord hand. I expect the place shall seem quite changed the next time you lay eyes upon it. But have no fear: the interests of House Lannister shall be well represented in your absence.

TYWIN’s lip curls in a disdainful sneer. He is about to turn away when an even more galling sight presents itself upon the walkway. JAIME emerges from the tower and looks down at his father in grim defiance.

AERYS [CONT’D]

Ser Jaime has graciously accepted my invitation to remain here with us, until such time as you return to recommence your service to the crown.

The muscles of TYWIN’s jaw tense; his hands close into fists; his teeth grind with such ferocity it’s a wonder the sound does not reach the king’s receptive ears across the silence of the yard. He appears for all the world as though he’s ready to charge up the steps and drag his son away with him…but instead he turns his back, and directs his steps towards his waiting mount.

S.E: carriage door opens.

CERSEI

Father…

CERSEI leans out the carriage door, her face flushed and her cheeks damp with fresh tears. TYWIN wheels about to serve CERSEI all the impotent anger raging inside him, but sees her attention shift suddenly to something over his shoulder. He follows her eyeline to the Tower of the Hand and RHAELLA’s satisfied smile beaming back at him from the open doorway.

CERSEI

Please, father, I thought she could help. I thought she could stop you from sending Jaime away.

TYWIN

Well now he’s staying, and it’s you that leaving. I hope the irony of that provides you some measure of consolation for the long road ahead.

S.E: slamming carriage door.

Without another backward glance, TYWIN climbs into the saddle and leads his guards through the gates of the Red Keep, CERSEI and her conveyance trundling behind. Through the rear aperture of her carriage, she desperately searches out her brother upon the battlements, reaching out a hand as though to draw him close, silent words of devotion dancing upon her lips...but JAIME has already gone. 

7.16 INT: QARLTON’S CHAMBERS, RED KEEP - DAY

Alone in his quarters, QARLTON hastily bundles armfuls of clothing into a pair of pristine new traveling trunks.

S.E: knocking.

QARLTON’s head snaps to the door like a trapped animal taking the scent of a predator. He crosses to his desk and retrieves a dagger from the drawer, makes a few practice stabs at the air, then steps tentatively towards the door. He opens it only the width of a finger and peeks between the wood.

QARLTON

Your Grace.

QARLTON opens the door wide and bows before ELIA. She smiles sweetly at the two guards in Martell colours that flank her on either side.

ELIA

If you could leave us for just a moment, sers.

ELIA’s escort does as they are bid, retreating out of earshot down the hallway.

QARLTON

Forgive me, Your Grace, I did not expect…

ELIA

To find me about the keep, or to discover me at your door?

QARLTON

Both are a welcome sight, Your Grace. Would you care to come in?

ELIA

Thank you, but I must get back before I’m discovered out of bed. I only wanted to give you this. A gift from our mutual friend.

ELIA presses a small wooden figure into QARLTON’s hand. He inspects the miniature closely, inferring from the sword in its grasp and the pointed helmet upon its head that he holds an effigy of the Warrior.

ELIA [CONT’D]

He asked that I express his deepest regret that he could not be here to deliver it himself.

QARLTON

Thank you, Your Grace. It’s beautiful.

ELIA

He has always been a man of many talents.

QARLTON’s brow knits together as he peers more closely at the Warrior’s face. He traces a finger over its aquiline nose and the high-angled cheekbones above bare shaven cheeks. The resemblance to his own features is too close to be coincidental.

QARLTON

Is this…

ELIA reaches out a hand and squeezes QARLTON’s forearm.

ELIA

Take care of yourself, Lord Qarlton.

The princess turns and departs, her guards falling in at her heel. QARLTON watches her go, his vision blurred by a thin a film of tears that he quickly retreats indoors to shed within the privacy of his chambers.

7.17 INT: THRONE ROOM, RED KEEP - DAY

S.E: footsteps echoing.

VARYS stops at the top of the short flight of steps leading into the throne room proper. At its foot begins the two rows of dragon skulls, each skull along the approach to the Iron Throne larger than the one before: of a size with a mealy apple at the door, bigger than a wagon cart in the shadow of Aegon the Conqueror’s thousand blades. VARYS considers the throne sceptically, much as a house cat will turn up its nose at an offering insufficient to its palette.

CUT TO:

S.E: footsteps echoing.

For perhaps the first time in recent memory, the chambers of the Hand of the King betray no sign of occupancy: no fire in its hearth, shutters closed over its window, the imposing desk of varnished oak that dominates the space bereft of its usual stacks of ordered parchment. VARYS lingers in the doorway like a reverent penitent reluctant to disturb the stillness of a sacred sept. He smiles at the sight of the Hand’s empty chair with a look of satisfaction that same house cat might reserve for a saucer of cream.

S.E: footsteps echoing.

The Master of Whispers crosses cautiously to the desk, runs a finger along the wood and inspects his fingertip as though expecting to find a layer of dust to have already settled. With a long, steadying breath, he slowly lowers himself onto the upholstered leather of Tywin Lannister’s chair. He pauses…listens…looks about the room…The walls of the Red Keep betray no sign of crumbling, the seas have not risen up to swallow the city, the sky shows no intention of falling. VARYS leans back, luxuriating in the view from behind Tywin’s desk, a perspective of power commanded solely by the same indomitable figure for the last twenty years.

He reaches down and opens the topmost drawer, his face falling in disappointment to discover it empty of all contents, most pointedly the mysterious unmarked scroll with which silently Tywin so recently threatened him.

S.E: Murmurings.

ILYRIO

…man by the name of Ilyn Payne, with whom I’ve no doubt you’re already familiar…

VARYS furrows his brow, his surprise at the presence of others equalled only by his indignation at this unwelcome intrusion upon his private moment of triumph. He reluctantly relinquishes his seat and follows the voices through to the solar in which Tywin has long been holding meetings of the Small Council. A familiar face sits at the near left of the council table, facing the door through which VARYS enters, his chair angled towards its twin at the head of the table, the tall and ornately carved backrest of which obscures its occupant from VARYS’s view. 

VARYS

Ilyrio?

ILYRIO

Ah, there he is! Come in, my friend; pull up a chair.

VARYS

What are you doing here? How did you get past the guards at the gate?

VARYS

Why, I simply showed them my invitation.

VARYS

Invitation? From whom?

The magister only smiles and gestures towards his mysterious companion. VARYS steps into the room, circling about until he stands across the table from ILYRIO. No Master of Whispers worthy of the name would ever allow his expression to betray his thinking, but the subtle incline of VARYS’ eyebrows come perilously close.

VARYS

Your Grace.

RHAELLA smiles in greeting. She raises an open hand to the empty chair at her right.

RHAELLA

Lord Varys. Won’t you join us?

As though moving through a dreamscape, VARYS does as he’s bid.

ILYRIO

Her Grace was just telling me how impressed she has been with your service these past months.

RHAELLA

I admit to certain misgivings at trusting in testimony from half a world away, but I see now your friend here was not speaking idle flattery when he praised your abilities in such laudatory terms. It’s refreshing indeed to meet a man that lives up to his reputation.

VARYS

I was given to understand it was the king that summoned me to court.

RHAELLA

My husband has always been an especially suggestible man. It was easy enough to plant the notion in his head. By the time you arrived from Pentos, he was just as likely to have forgotten your summons was my idea as he was to have convinced himself it was his all along. 

VARYS turns an accusatory glare upon ILYRIO.

VARYS

And you thought well enough of my abilities to recommend me to a queen, but never enough to include me in her confidence?

RHAELLA

You mustn’t be too hard on the magister. He petitioned me many times on your behalf, but I insisted that you be afforded the protective armour of ignorance.

VARYS

How very considerate, Your Grace.

A flash of anger streaks across Rhaella’s eyes.

RHAELLA

In this game, no one player knows all the pieces, Lord Varys. For that you should be grateful.

VARYS

And what game is that precisely, Your Grace?

RHAELLA

My own. A game hidden within another game, you might say. I have allowed the men of this castle to make their moves, believing themselves players on a board of their own devising, and the rest of us mere pieces. In actuality, they’ve been pieces on mine own board, and me the only player. It’s a strategy that requires a great deal of patience, finesse, and no little subterfuge, which is why I began my granddaughter’s education early. I was twice her age before I learned how to manipulate men into doing my heavy lifting for me; Rhaenys is still a child and already outwitting her uncle to piggyback her about the bases.

VARYS

Just as you have piggybacked on my efforts all these many months, only to leap down and complete the circuit yourself at the very last.

RHAELLA

You should feel proud, Lord Varys, not resentful. You did your job and you did it well. You weakened Tywin’s hold on power, just as my husband tasked you to do.

VARYS

Then why involve yourself at all? If you wanted to see the king’s authority restored, why not simply watch from the shadows as he and I brought Tywin to heel? Unless…

RHAELLA

Go on, sweet spider. You’re almost there.

VARYS

Unless your ambitions far exceeded the king’s own.

RHAELLA

Aerys may have wanted Tywin’s influence curtailed, but that’s as far as he was ever going to take things: he may hunt the lion, he may even loose an arrow or two, but once it’s wounded he lacks the courage to put a spear through its heart and make an end of things.

I, however, do not. I’ve waited half my life to deliver the killing blow to Tywin Lannister, and for your part in positioning him beneath my blade, I thank you.

VARYS

Respectfully, Your Grace, Tywin’s influence over the council may be curtailed, but even now he remains the most powerful lord in the Seven Kingdoms. Aerys will never dispense with him entirely so long as he believes he can still make use of him. You cannot believe your game is won, surely?

A smile of droll amusement tugs at the corners of RHAELLA’s lips.

RHAELLA

“Patience, finesse, subterfuge”…and the assurance that no matter how thoroughly they are outmanoeuvred, the men in your life will always presume you need their instruction. No, Lord Varys, I do not believe my game is won. In truth, it’s barely even begun.

VARYS

Perhaps, then, I would be better served asking why you play your game at all? Why are you so determined to see Tywin Lannister destroyed?

RHAELLA

I’ve only ever had two friends in this world, Lord Varys: Joanna Lannister and Myara Martell. I loved them both more than you can imagine. Joanna especially was the rock to which I moored myself through all the misery of my youth. When I was forced to marry Aerys, when I buried one child after another, she was the rock to which I clung to save myself from drowning.

VARYS

And Tywin sent your rock away.

RHAELLA

I sent her away. Even back then I was making the hard decisions these great and powerful men around me lack the spine to make themselves.

Once Aerys came into his crown, this castle became his own personal pillow-house. From septas to scullions, highborn ladies to baseborn beggars, unblooded girls to withered-up old crones…my husband was not particular where he found his pleasure, no more than he minded whether they came to his bed willingly or otherwise…

Aerys had always lusted after Joanna, and more than once had boasted about court that she had given him her maidenhead. I knew there was no truth to that, but I also knew that to Aerys’ mind it was less a lie than it was a premonition.

On the day Tywin and Joanna were wed, Aerys lamented to his old friend’s face the abolition of the liege lord’s right to claim a new bride’s first night. Later, during the bedding ceremony, Aerys was sighted taking certain…liberties, shall we say, while assisting in Joanna’s undress.

And do you know what Tywin said? Nothing.

A few months later, when Aerys learned Joanna was with child, Aerys commanded Tywin to find Joanna a wetnurse, lest the breastfeeding ruin those lovely “pink and pert” nipples of his lady wife.

And do you know what Tywin did? Nothing.

RHAELLA pauses a moment to collect herself and corral the rancour rising to colour her cheeks at the recitation of her husband’s infamies.

RHAELLA [CONT’D]

Joanna latched on even tighter to Myara and I after that; if she was not in our company, then she was in her husband’s…every minute of every hour, she made certain she was never to be found alone about the castle.

And still, Tywin said nothing. Tywin did nothing.

The Hand of the King cherished his own ambition far too dearly to ever imperil his position by risking open insult to the king. Once that became clear, I understood that I was the only thing standing between Joanna and her total ruin.

RHAELLA’s face twists into something between a smile of pride and a sneer of contempt.

RHAELLA [CONT’D]

She refused me at first. She was a loyal woman, Joanna, and she knew better than anyone how bruised I was, how broken. She swore that nothing could ever make her abandon me, that she would rather die than leave me to suffer this loathsome place alone.

So I called her a whore. I called her a liar. A snake. A grasping, treacherous slut that was only too eager to spread her legs for my husband. I told her those were dragon spawn she carried in her belly, silver-haired abominations borne of Aerys’ rotten seed. They were certain to die as well, I told her, just as his other children had; doubly certain, in fact, because the Gods despise and punish bastards above all their creatures.

RHAELLA’s gaze settles into the middle-distance, VARYS and ILYRIO and the entirety of the Red Keep melting away before the tide of bitter memory.

RHAELLA [CONT’D]

The moment I take my last breath in this world, I’ll be picturing the way she looked at me when I said that…

The queen all but shakes her head, forcing her mind back to the present.

RHAELLA [CONT’D]

And so she went. She told Myara everything I had said, and so she went too, though not half so meekly as Joanna. The Dornish have never been known for their even-tempers, and Myara was Dornish down to her marrow. For all her insults, and believe me when I say they were as imaginative as they were innovative, nothing she said to me cut half so deep as the wounds I’d inflicted upon myself.

VARYS meets ILYRIO’s eye, takes a slow, steadying swallow.

VARYS

Forgive me, Your Grace, I do not mean to impugn what must have been a painful choice indeed, but…listening to all you have said…it sounds to me as though your husband must be apportioned every bit as much of the blame as Lord Tywin. Granted, Tywin cherished his own ambition over the honour and safety of his lady wife, but it was the king’s outrages that created the conditions by which they were endangered.

RHAELLA

It is you who must forgive me, Lord Varys, for giving you cause to believe I cared one way or the other what you might think of me or the choices I have made. Old habits are long in dying, but my days of explaining myself to men, least of all the likes of you, are well and truly over. There is more than enough blame to go around, and as I have already explained, this game has barely even begun.

RHAELLA stands. VARYS and ILYRIO move to do likewise.

RHAELLA [CONT’D]

Keep your seats. The two of you have a great deal to discuss, and I have a long hard ride to Harrenhal ahead of me. If you’ll excuse me, my lords.

S.E: footsteps.

ILYRIO watches the queen depart with an expression of wry admiration.

ILYRIO

If there were ever any doubt that the blood of the dragon flows through that woman’s veins…

He turns to VARYS, and finds a very different sentiment writ upon his old friend’s face.

ILYRIO

I did say we we’d talk more on this later, though I suspect from your expression that you are not best pleased with me.

VARYS

Oh, Ilyrio, you damned ambitious fool You really have no notion of what you have done, do you? I pray to whichever gods may be listening that I am mistaken, but I do believe you may just have damned us all.

OUTRO.