"Honorable Lust Demon, after a long day, I finally get the chance to meet you?"
The Queen of Thorns sat across from Tyrion, the great round table between them covered with dishes of every kind. Around them, flowers bloomed in thick clusters, their perfume so strong it made Tyrion's nose itch.
After a night of pleasure, he had slept until almost noon. The sun was already high, and Arianne was gone. His father was nowhere to be found in the Red Keep, leaving Tyrion to oversee the salvage along the Blackwater Rush alone.
It was nearly dusk when Podrick found him, breathless, saying that Lady Olenna had invited him to dinner.
"It seems the lady never stops thinking of me," Tyrion said, eyeing the spread on the table with approval. "No wonder my eyelid's been twitching all day. Is that roast meat?"
"Perhaps you've simply offended too many people," said the Queen of Thorns in her sharp, cutting voice. "Such as a certain Ser who's missing a hand."
"That fool?" Tyrion Lannister scoffed, curling his lip. "This world is full of people getting exactly what they deserve. I learned long ago not to waste thought on those who don't matter."
"And what about our king?" the Queen of Thorns asked suddenly, her gaze narrowing. "Does he count among the fools?"
Tyrion raised an eyebrow, his mismatched eyes glinting in the candlelight. He glanced around—the room was empty except for Podrick, who sat some distance away eating in silence.
"Careful with your words, my lady. Varys' little birds hear everything."
"Little birds can't fly into a thornbush," Lady Olenna said, leaning forward. "I want to talk about your dear nephew, King Joffrey."
"My dear nephew? What about him?" Tyrion said with a shrug.
"His cruelty and savagery have gone far beyond what decent men can stomach."
"He's a king—and a young one. At his age, I promise I was worse," Tyrion said lightly.
"Including ordering his guards to beat little girls? Or killing people outright?" the Queen of Thorns asked. "To me, Joffrey is nothing but a bastard. He's no true king, and he doesn't even look the part."
"He's young, and with the right guidance, he can be corrected," Tyrion said.
"I intend to find Margaery a new husband."
"Oh?" Tyrion looked genuinely surprised. "And who's the lucky one?"
"Tommen seems like a good boy," the Queen of Thorns said, casually picking her teeth.
"You're playing a dangerous game—and trying to gauge my stance," Tyrion said, a flicker of wariness crossing his eyes as he studied her. "He's my nephew."
"And if it were you?" she asked, testing him.
"I've no interest in being anyone's second choice, nor in eating what's left on someone else's plate," Tyrion said coldly, gesturing at her dish before setting his own firmly down.
If Littlefinger were still around, Tyrion thought, the plot wouldn't involve me. The old fox thinks I still have some foolish fancy for Margaery? No—she just wants to drag me into her scheme. If it all goes wrong, she'll use me as a piece to hold my father in check.
"Seems you've taken quite an interest in the Dornish girl."
Tyrion gave no answer.
"Not thinking of changing your mind?" The Queen of Thorns began picking through the fruit, the after-dinner course—clearly she'd eaten her fill. "A Redwyne girl, perhaps? Or a Hightower? An Oakheart? Or both, if you're strong enough. I doubt either would mind."
"Enough, my dear grandmother," Tyrion said with a faint smile. "I might take that as an insult." He cleared his throat. "I'm a one-woman man."
"Ha!" She clapped her hands. "I only wish to protect my granddaughter." Her tone dropped, losing its edge. "I'll admit, I've made my share of mistakes..."
"Truth be told, I don't like Joffrey," Tyrion interrupted with a burp. "But he's my sister's son." And I don't like my sister either—though really, I mean my brother. "Whatever terrible plan you're hatching, I won't stop you... Perhaps you could do as my sister did, make Margaery Queen Regent?"
"Have my sweet girl bear his child? Never. Impossible. That cruel little bastard..."
"Maybe young Joffrey's cruelty just comes from poor upbringing." Not that anyone could bear his child anyway. "Tommen's a good boy, isn't he? Maybe there's still some sanity left in House Baratheon."
"Hmph, poor upbringing..." The Queen of Thorns smiled thinly. "Cruelty runs in the blood. The Baratheons' savagery may come from that trace of Targaryen blood."
"Is that so?" Tyrion said, moving on to the next dish—a plate of clams.
"That boy," the Queen of Thorns said, pointing to Podrick in the corner. "I know that white-and-purple checkered sigil. House Payne, isn't it?"
"Correct—and there are gold coins in those squares," Tyrion said. "I only wish they were in my pockets."
"Ilyn Payne is a mute. Do you know why?"
"He spoke out of turn, and the Mad King tore out his tongue," Tyrion said between bites. "You needn't remind me to keep secrets. I care deeply about the alliance between Lannister and Tyrell—perhaps even more about our friendship. Still, things should always look proper."
"Making Margaery queen is my final concession, my lady. Don't turn your schemes on me, and don't turn them on Tommen—he's a good boy."
"That's not what I meant, Tyrion," the Queen of Thorns said with a smile.
She's hiding something, Tyrion thought.
"Ilyn Payne once said Lord Tywin was the true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms," Lady Olenna said. "Then the Mad King ripped out his tongue. Do you know what that reminds me of?"
"What?"
"At the betrothal feast, when that Dornish whore whispered in your ear—and you cut off Meryn Trant's hand." Olenna's eyes gleamed. "I'm not saying you were wrong. But the way you laughed, kicking that severed hand across the floor—you looked as mad as Aerys did when he tore out Meryn Trant's tongue."
"Lord Tywin is the true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. Perhaps you should take it up with him instead of me." Trying to provoke me? Tyrion thought, watching her closely. "My father will consider your proposal carefully."
"Are you taking revenge on me—or on my fool of a son? I swear, this has nothing to do with Margaery, my sweet girl..." The Queen of Thorns shook her head and sighed. "I can accept your proposal, Tyrion. But remember what I've said: Dorne cannot be trusted."