Chapter 83
CREGAN STARK
"It's a girl," Sansa told him, as she gently paced with his daughter as he lay there beside his tired, pale wife after a rather difficult birth that had lasted for hours.
"She looks just like you, your grace," Sansa whispered, and their son had taken after him much, but now their second child had chosen their mother's coloring and gender.
"I am happy that it's a girl," Myrcella whispered, as she chuckled.
"I was beginning to feel outnumbered with Cregan and Rickon, now we are even," and Sansa chuckled at her words as she came and sat on the chair beside the Queen, as his daughter slept quietly in her arms.
"She may have your hair and face, but she seems like a quiet child," and she was indeed, for he still remembered the ruckus Rickon had caused. The boy had refused to let anyone sleep for half a day after his birth, and even afterwards, the boy remained troubled for a year or so until he finally began to settle down.
In comparison to him, his daughter slept soundly even in Sansa's arms, while Rickon had refused to be nursed by anyone except his own mother.
"I am just happy that there were no complications," he whispered, as he rubbed Myrcella's hand.
"We all are," Sansa whispered, and for the first time in a long time, he felt somewhat at peace with the threat from Pentosh almost neutralised, for even if the explosion had managed to kill but one of the three amin antagonists, the Blackfyre campaign would crumble like a House of Cards.
"You know what, Sansa," and Myrcella and his sister were on good enough terms that neither used any courtly titles for the other, unless it was ceremonial.
"You should have a child soon as well, and give little Joanna a playmate," and Sansa rolled her eyes at that.
"Maybe a boy, then we could join them and have them wed..."
"Ok, that is quite enough," he intervened, as Myrcella chuckled.
"You are speaking Lady Olenna's words," Sansa answered.
"She was mentioning something rather similar just a few days ago," and he should have expected nothing less from the Queen of Thorns, but Sansa was no delicate flower, and could hold her own against the old woman.
"She is not wrong," Myrcella pointed out, and they had yet to defeat the Death that threatened to destroy all human life, and yet here was his wife, thinking up a future match for their daughter.
But amidst this rather extremely long-sighted future planning, he had not missed the slight detail.
"Joanna," he asked as Myrcella turned towards him, and nodded.
"Yes," she answered softly, as Cregan guessed.
"After your grandmother," and she nodded, and while Myrcella did have her differences with Lord Tywin, her grandfather, he was still family, and her death had taken a toll on her despite being as estranged as they were.
"It's a good name," he answered, and if the smile on her face was anything to go by, then they were right.
"What became of your retaliation?" she asked, and he raised a brow as he pointed towards their daughter.
"You were the one who taught me how knowing about the Kingdom and its plans is as much my duty as Queen as producing heirs," but that did not mean you discuss those plans a few hours after giving birth.
"It succeeded," and it was Sansa who answered in his stead, seeing his hesitation.
"We don't know the details yet, but word has reached us about a fire bringing down their entire Manse in Essos," and Myrcella nodded.
"Good," she whispered, with some anger in her tone, but did not ask for more.
"So, the threat from the Essos is neutralised?"
"Hard to say," he answered, for as robust and quick as his information network was, these were still archaic times, and the details and actual damage done by the explosion still remained a mystery to him.
"But it has been lessened significantly," he assured, and so it allowed him to turn his attention to the more imminent and dangerous threat from the True North.
"And what of the girl, the Targaryen girl?" and she knew about his offer to her.
"She took the offer," he mentioned.
"With some modifications, and it is now headed for Dragonstone with Oberyn and Thoros as we speak," and without her, the whole Blackfyre plot became hollow, and now with the Iron Bank hollowing out their armies and fleet, it would take a miracle for them to win against him.
"Good, I wish to meet her as well," and that took both him and Sansa by surprise.
"Myrcella, you have just given birth. You cannot..."
"No..."
"I have to," Myrcella cut in, stopping them both.
"Her life has been nothing but a tragedy, and had it not been for you, my fate would not have been any different than hers," she whispered, looking him in the eye.
"She hates you," Cregan informed him.
"I know, and she has good reason to," but Myrcella's mind seemed made.
"But I wish to see her for myself. I want to see if I can lessen her pain and suffering," and he did not know what to say.
"We will talk about this later," he whispered as he pushed himself off the bed and stood up.
"Cregan..."
"I have not said 'no'," he reminded her, and both of them rarely argued over such matters, and he had little desire to spoil their joy with a fight.
"Let me think about it," he said, and she knew not to push any more, as well as she gave him a nod, as Cregan headed for the door, yet just before he had left the room, she spoke once more.
"What about him?" she asked, and his head turned to face her again.
"Who?"
"Jaime Lannister..."
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TYRION LANNISTER
Tyrion's mind had been nothing but a mess for the last few days. All his life, he had tried to gain his father's approval, yet had found only scorn, but the bastard had the audacity to burden him with the entire Lannister legacy on his deathbed while offering him nothing but pain his entire life.
And it was not just his father. No.
For years now, Tyrion had been but a Lannister in name, yet now, with the Old Lion dead, the entire family had begun to look to him for guidance, including his uncle Kevan and his aunt Genna.
Letters had come for him from Westerlands, offering condolences and seeking advice. Yet the most surprising letter had come from one Alyssane Lefford, his brother's wife.
He knew Jaime's wife only by reputation, and despite being her father's choice, it was a good reputation. She was a dutiful and beautiful woman, said with a good head on her shoulder.
Arresting her own lord and husband, the father of your children, for treason and then sending him to the capital in chains was too much to ask for any wife and woman, yet she had done just that, not out of ambition or fear but out of necessity.
Yet that did not lessen her pain or suffering, and the Lady of the West had begged him in her letter to save her lord and husband from death.
It was a cruel ask. A cruel and near impossible ask, and as heartless as he may hope to be, he could not find it in his heart to ignore the pleas of his good sister and family, as he came down the Black cells to meet with his treacherous and treasonous brother.
The cells had changed him, and his golden hair had lost its luster, and dirt and shit now covered him as he lay there lifeless in that damp cell, and as much as Tyrion loathed him, seeing his brother like that did not bring him any joy at all.
"Have you come to laugh?" and his voice was but a whisper, as those green dull eyes turned towards him.
"You should be satisfied now," Jaime continued.
"Father is dead, and I lie in this Black cell at the mercy of your King," and neither of those things brought him any joy.
"What were you thinking?" Tyrion asked with some anger and frustration.
"Allying yourself with the pretenders," and Cregan had spared his life once already, because of their familial ties, yet the bastard was hell bent on ending his life.
"Better pretenders than traitors," and Tyrion's lips thinned at that defiance.
"Myrcella is Queen. Do you have any idea what the Blackfyres would have done to her and her children?" and it was only because of one of those children that Jaime was still alive, for Cregan had come to pass judgment when he was forced to return suddenly as news of Myrcella's labors reached his ears.
He had run to his wife, in that moment leaving the matter concerning Jaime unresolved. Otherwise, Tyrion might not even have gotten the opportunity to meet his brother.
"I made them promise to spare her," and Tyrion scoffed as he took off the flagon from his belt and offered it to him, taking pity on his dry throat.
"Do you really think that they would have kept that promise! How could you be so naive?" and Jaime sipped the wine, wincing at the spices, he chuckled.
"You and Cersei were the smart ones," and Tyrion stilled at those words.
"I was always the naive little boy who knew how to swing a sword," and that he was.
"Why am I still alive?" he asked. The wine soothed his throat and gave him some energy as Tyrion plopped down on the ground.
"The King, I thought he was going to kill me, yet he left in a hurry," and he should thank the Gods that he did.
"Myrcella's labors began," Tyrion saw his eyes widen, as he lowered his eyes.
"She gave birth to a healthy daughter. They are naming her Joanna," and that made him still, but Jaime said nothing as he sipped his wine once more.
"What will become of me?" and Tyrion did not know himself.
"Cregan wants to kill you," and Jaime knew that.
"I tried to talk him out of it, but I failed," and that seemed to surprise his brother.
"You are my brother. Idiot. Foolish and Treacherous as you may be, you are still my brother. I couldn't let him kill you," he clarified, for as much as his father may utter those words, Tyrion Lannister was no monster.
He may look like one, and sometimes he may even act as one. But he was no monster.
"But he is insistent on taking your head," and for good reason, for Cregan had spared him once, and he was not in the habit of giving second chances.
"So, I am going to die," and there was a tremble in that tone, which made Tyrion want to smash his head.
"I know of only one person who holds a greater sway on our King's mind than myself," and Tyrion and Cregan had been friends and allies for years, yet despite their years of friendship, he had refused his request.
But there was one other person who could change his heart.
"Myrcella," he answered as Jaime's eyes fell to the floor.
"Call for her, and she will come," for she was a sweet girl, with a heart of gold.
"Beg her. Beg her, and there is a chance that you may live," and with that, the guard opened the doors.
"It is time," and Tyrion sighed and stood up, as Jaime offered him back the flagon.
"Keep it," he said.
"Your king will know that you came to see me," Jaime pointed out, and that was his big mistake.
"He already knows," Tyrion whispered, and not just this. Cregan knew everything there was to know.
"There is nothing that happens in the realm that he does not know." How he was able to accomplish such a feat remained a mystery to him.
"Think about my words," for that was all he could do, and with that, he made to leave the damp room, as Jaime's voice called out to him.
"I am sorry," he whispered, as Tyrion's heart stilled.
"I am sorry that I lied to you about that day...." and Tyrion spoke nothing as he put one foot in front of another and left the Black cells, hoping that Myrcella would succeed where he had failed.
.
.
.
Back in the North, two brothers met as well, yet they spoke not with regret but joy, and hope, and japes.
"You are going to the South again," Jon asked as Robb nodded.
"Aye," and the elder Robb was not happy with the decision either, but he was a dutiful son, and a dutiful son did not complain when asked to do their duty, especially when the calling was from the King and brother.
"Cregan wants me to come back and meet with the Targaryen Princess," and Robb had heard of their plans, and though he was not happy to have a marriage pact thrust upon himself, the one asking was his own king and brother, leaving him no room to refuse.
"But weren't you going to Castle Black with the wildlings to inspect the fortresses?" and the words caused Robb to smirk, for going to the South was easier and simpler than travelling to the frigid Wall.
"No, that duty has now been passed onto you," but he did not just smile with relief, but also in joy at his brother's misery, as Jon's face turned pale at those words.
"No. No. No," he shook his head as Robb continued.
"And from what I can tell, a certain redhead was rather happy upon hearing that news..."
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