“So we are agreed, my lords?” I asked, rubbing my temples to keep my head from exploding. “Five thousand for the winner of the joust, two thousand for the melee, and a thousand dragons for archery?”

Heads bobbed around the room and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I almost wished Littlefinger had not gone to the Vale, because trying to get Tywin Lannister to spend gold was a tough mountain to climb. He’d been taking care of the realm’s finances since Baelish was away, and while I knew I could expect good results, I did not count with him being such a fucking miser.

“I will have Tyrion take care of the specifics,” I said. “Stands, fences, tents, food vendors and the like. He has a good head for administration.” If Tywin didn’t like that, his face certainly didn’t show it.

“Good. Now that is done and over with. Lord Varys, you are the Master of Whispers. Please, whisper. Tell me of the Targaryen girl in the east.”

“Your Grace,” Varys said, his first words in this meeting. He was wearing long golden robes with flowers and swans embroidered on the sleeves and along the neck. No hood, which was a shame. “Daenerys Targaryen has taken Meereen, the largest city in Slaver’s Bay.”

“She rules it as Queen, I take it?” Varys nodded his bald head. “What about the lords, then? In Meereen they are the so-called Great Masters, no? I doubt they’ve taken well to her new status.”

“The details are blurry given the great distances...” he trailed off.

“But?” I prompted.

“But… but it is said she’s had some of them nailed to posts around the city’s central square,” he said shakily. With the exception of Oberyn who’d toured the Free Cities, and Tywin who was dead inside, the members of the council around me shuddered.

“How... charming,” I said. “What about her previous conquests? Astapor, and the Yellow City of Yunkai?”

“Yunkai was retaken by the Wise Masters not long after she left,” Varys explained. “And a tyrant now rules Astapor; I heard the dead of the city lay strewn on the streets and food is scarce to all.”

I drummed my fingers on the table, nodding slowly. “I see.” I wanted the lords of my Small Council to realize their possible future should they have treason in their mind. “Not a great show of governance on her part.” I shook my head. “It is a shame that so many people must suffer for the ambitions of someone so misguided.”

“It’s no secret women have not the heads for ruling,” Mace Tyrel said, puffing up on his seat. Coming from him, I had to swallow down my laughter. As did Oberyn, who rolled his eyes and smiled into his cup of wine.

“And what of Stannis, Lord Varys. What can you tell me of him?”

“He still broods in Dragonstone, Your Grace, though with his successful voyage to Braavos and the deal with the Iron Bank, there are signs of increased activity at the docks. I believe he’s preparing for a voyage.”

I clicked my tongue, and I felt the usual prickles of irritation creep up inside me. Tywin had told me the small fleet of ships with the Iron Bank’s gold had left Casterly Rock two weeks ago, but it seems they hadn’t made it in time to stop Stannis from getting lucky with the Braavosi.

“Should we be worried about another siege?” I asked.

“Unlikely,” Tywin cut in. “Unless he hired the Golden Company, which I know for a fact are somewhere near Volantis, he hasn’t the men for it, nor the ships anymore. Our troops are not tied up in the Riverlands fighting against the Starks, and the Tyrells have a considerable force close by. He has no hope of victory.”

Olenna must’ve severely neglected Mace when he was a child. Whenever anyone talked positively about him, or his family, or the Reach, his nose went up like a sniffing dog and his cheeks ruddied something fierce. And I had the privilege to have him as my father-in-law. Wonderful.

I clapped my hands. “Now then, enough about mad Targaryens and false kings. Any news of the realm I should be aware of?”

“I have some news, Your Grace,” Oberyn said. “Grand news at that.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out two raven’s scrolls. One had a blob of orange wax, with the spear-and-sun seal of House Martell. The other had Myrcella’s personal sigil, a crowned doe facing a golden lioness. “A message from my brother arrived just this morning. The Princess Myrcella has wed Prince Trystane in a modest ceremony in Sunspear, as per the Princess’ wishes.”

He leaned over the table and slid the two scrolls over to me. From the corner of my eyes, I saw Tywin watching me like a hawk. “Myrcella was only supposed to marry at eight-and-ten,” he said gruffly.

“She wrote to me, asking for permission,” I lied. I broke open the seal and quickly scanned over the small letter, including a hidden message at the end, in a silly language she’d devised with Tommen when they had to hide everything from Joffrey. “So I gave it to her. I’m to be married this coming year, and I’m younger. It’s only fair, no?”

“The realm rejoices with the joining of two of its great houses,” said Grand Maester Pycelle from the side. I’d honestly forgotten he was there.

Looking up over the scroll, I shot the Master of Whispers a discreet nod.

Varys cleared his throat. “I’m afraid not all is well in Dorne, my lords,” he said in that thin voice of his. “A band of outlaws has taken residency in the marches. Whole villages were sacked, crops burned, women taken.”

“I heard that from my brother as well, Your Grace.” That was Oberyn. An old hand at lying. “The lands of Lords Yronwood, Wyl, and Manwoody have all been attacked.”

“And why have they not taken care of it?” Lord Tywin asked. He’d surely seen the trap closing in by now, but it was too late.

“These bandits are smarter than your average hoe-weilding peasant-turned-outlaw,” Oberyn said, lounging on his chair like a great cat despite the subject. “They skirt the border between Dorne and the Stormlands to avoid being set upon by the lord of the lands they’re in. Border conflicts between Dorne and the Marcher Lords go back centuries. Much blood has been shed on both sides. Now, our lords fear reigniting a war should they cross into the Stormlands in the pursuit of the outlaws.”

Much grumbling went around the room, with Pycelle citing historical trivia on the Vulture Kings and Mace Tyrell boasting of how all of this would’ve already been taken care of were it to have happened in the Reach. Tywin, on the other hand, just watched it all in stony silence. He was smart enough to know when he’d been done in. I’d told him this was coming, but he seemed fond of underestimating me.

I raised a hand, and the room fell silent. “The King’s Peace must be kept,” I said. “No matter what. If the local lords are unable to deal with it, then the Iron Throne shall.” I turned to my grandfather, a cornered lion. “Lord Tywin, I want you to send the Mountain and his men to take care of these bandits. They did their fair share of burning and pillaging in the Riverlands. They know best how men such as these think. I’m sure they’ll make quick work of them.”

A faint pursing of his lips was the only sign of emotion he showed. “As you say, Your Grace.”

I nodded. That’s my Mountain delivery I promised worked out. “Then we’re all done for the day, my lords. And Lord Varys?” He was already looking at me. “Stay behind, if you will.”

When everyone but the two of us left, Varys asked, “Was my performance good enough, Your Grace?”

I laughed. “Your years as a traveling mummer have come in handy, my lord.”

“I told that story in confidence, Your Grace,” he tittered. “It’s shameful of you to use it against me now.”

“Then I beg your forgiveness.” I smiled and reached for my drink. “Now, as to why I bid you stay. I heard some rumors, my lord, from some of my men who drink by the docks. The wails of drunken sailors, perhaps, but there is talk of dead people rising beyond the Wall, and of the Red Woman in Dragonstone, sacrificing people to her Gods in a burning pire. Some even say she gives that power to Stannis, and that he now carries a burning sword.”

Varys wringed his powdered hands. It seemed he was still not comfortable with talk of magic. “That is, indeed, troubling, Your Grace. That sort of thing… it’d be best if magic was gone from the world.”

“I agree with you wholeheartedly. That is why we need to be prepared,” I said. “I understand Dragonstone might be harder, but I want to have eyes and ears at the Wall. Something is happening there, something dark. I want to know what.”

Varys nodded. “Then it shall be done, Your Grace.”

I dismissed him after that, and watched him leave with narrowed eyes.