POV: Jon Arryn, King's Landing
I stood before the fireplace in my private study, watching the letters burn. One by one, I fed them to the flames. The parchment curled and blackened, the wax seals melting into nothing, the words disappearing into ash and smoke.
Lysa was locked in her chambers now, confined under strict guard with orders that she was not to leave for any reason. She could pace her room and rage at the walls, but she would go nowhere and speak to no one.
I dropped another letter into the fire and watched it burn.
The door to my study opened and Robert strode in.
"Jon," he said. "We need to talk."
I turned away from the fire. "Your Grace. What is it?"
He crossed the room and held out a piece of parchment. "This came by raven this morning. From Winterfell."
I took the letter and unfolded it. The writing was neat, precise, unmistakably Ned Stark's hand.
I read quickly.
Unusual activity beyond the Wall. Sightings of… things…. Dead men walking.
The Night's Watch reporting losses, entire patrols disappearing without trace.
Ned's words were careful, measured, but the message was clear.
The Others.
I read the letter twice, then set it down on my desk.
"Do you believe him?" Robert asked.
I looked at him. "Yes."
If a boy in Braavos could bring the dead back to life, then dead men walking beyond the Wall was not so hard to believe.
"Magic is returning, Your Grace," I said quietly. "The world is changing. If Ned reports an ancient threat, I believe him. Because the age of reason and steel is ending. The age of wonders and terrors is beginning again."
Robert nodded slowly. "We need to go Winterfell. I need to see this for myself."
"You intend to travel North?"
"Yes. And from Winterfell, I will send a scouting party to the Wall. See what we are truly dealing with."
Robert traveling north to Winterfell. For months.
And Cersei would go with him. She would have to. A king did not travel without his queen, especially not on a journey of such importance.
I will make sure she goes with him.
If Cersei left King's Landing, if she was gone for an extended period, I would have complete control over the capital.
I could gather evidence. Build my case. Prepare everything so that when Robert returned, I would be ready.
"When do you intend to leave?" I asked.
"Within a fortnight. I will take a small party. Cersei, some guards, a few knights, and kings guards. Nothing too elaborate. I want to move quickly."
Robert grunted. "I also want to send word to Jon stark."
I raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"If we are facing some ancient threat from beyond the Wall, I want every weapon we can get."
" Tell him I am calling him to his pick. Tell him there is a war coming, and I need him."
I nodded slowly. "I will send the message today."
"Good," Robert said. He turned to leave, then paused and looked back at the fireplace. "What were you burning, Jon?"
"Letters, Your Grace. From my wife and her sister. They are demanding justice for Littlefinger."
Robert snorted, he folded table cloth on pile of letters and threw it in flames with all Letters.
"Cunt and troubles, you can't separate them." He muttered.
….
POV: Kevan Lannister,
My brother had changed after Joanna died.
I had always known Tywin to be stern, disciplined, a man who valued control above all else. But there had been warmth once, hidden beneath the iron exterior. A softness he showed only to his wife, a gentleness in the way he spoke her name.
That had died with her.
He sat out side the tent, before a massive fireplace where a huge bird roasted on a spit. The creature was enormous, four to six palms in size, its feathers removed, its skin browning over the flames.
I approached slowly, a sealed letter in my hand.
"This bird fly higher than eagles, so high that arrows rarely reach them. And if you do manage to strike one, the fall ruins the meat entirely." He paused, adjusting the spit. "There are perhaps a dozen hunters in the Vale skilled enough to bring one down without damage. They say the bird must be killed cleanly, its skull kept intact, or the meat loses its flavor."
"This one is gift from Vale," Tywin continued.
He gestured to the letter In my hand. "What do you have for me?"
I stepped closer and handed him the parchment. "From Grand Maester Pycelle. Events in King's Landing."
Tywin took the letter and broke the seal. He read slowly, his expression unchanging. When he finished, he folded the parchment and set it aside.
"Littlefinger is dead," he said. It was not a question.
"Yes, my lord. However before he died, he screamed accusations. That Cersei's children are bastards. That Jaime is their father, but Tyrion intervened."
Tywin was silent for a long moment, staring into the fire. Then he spoke, his voice cold and flat. "Find a suitable match for Tyrion."
I blinked, surprised. "My lord?"
"A wife. Noble blood. Someone from a house that can benefit us."
I inclined my head. "As you command, my lord."
I hesitated, then continued. "There is another matter. Jon Arryn."
"He is removing our influence from King's Landing. Lannister guards have been replaced with Arryn and Crownlands men. Our informants are being identified and expelled. Cersei's power is being systematically dismantled."
Tywin turned back to the roasting bird. "Jon Arryn has developed fear, Kevan. He fears death. He died once."
"A man who has seen death," Tywin continued, "is never the same."
"And we allow this?"
"No."
He turned away from the fire and walked to his desk. From a drawer, he pulled out two sealed letters. He give me one of them. "This is for the Mountain Clans in the Vale. You will travel there in secret."
I took the letter carefully. "What do you want me to do?"
"You will provide weapon's. Armor. Gold. Everything they need to raid the Vale."
I nodded slowly. This was treason. Open, undeniable treason. Arming brigands to attack a region under the Crown's protection.
But Tywin did not care. He had made his calculation. Jon Arryn was a threat, and threats were eliminated.
"Buy grain as well," Tywin said. "As much as we can acquire without raising suspicion. Store it in our keeps. Fortify the castles. Increase the garrisons."
He picked up the second letter and held it out. "This is for Cersei. You will send it by raven immediately."
I took the letter. "What does it say?"
"I am summoning her home. To Casterly Rock. With her children."
Tywin turned back to the roasting bird and pulled it from the spit. He placed it on a large silver platter and carved off a piece of the breast meat. He studied it for a moment, then took a bite.
His expression soured immediately. He chewed slowly, then spat the meat onto the platter.
"Taste of falcon is not for my palate." He set the platter aside and wiped his hands on a cloth. "The reputation was a lie."
….