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What is dead may never die (Chapter 83)
🕑 Added 2023-07-31 07:29:16 +0000 UTCTrial of rats
Loras POV
When I returned from meeting Tyrion, my grandmother was waiting for me. Margaery was with her, but neither my father nor mother was with them. I could tell that some of their spies had told them that I went to visit Tyrion in the black cells. They hid their anger well, but I could tell they were angry with me. I sat before them and waited for them to speak.
“Why did you meet with the dwarf?” Grandmother didn’t beat around the bush. “What did you talk with him about?”
“I met him because I wanted to meet him,” I replied. “And I didn’t talk about anything important. I just wanted to thank him for killing Joffrey.”
“What your tongue, young man,” Grandmother seemed tense. “I didn’t say much when you ignored your duty and responsibilities to your family, but I won’t keep silent as you go around your family's backs.”
“You seemed tense, grandmother,” I replied. “But I guess it should be expected, as your plan to marry Margaery to the Lannisters didn’t work out. Or was that your plan, to begin with?”
“Loras,” Margaery got my attention. “Please don’t speak so rudely to our grandmother. And we are only concerned, as it would look badly for our family if you met with the King’s killer just before his trial.”
“What could change before the dawn from my meeting with Tyrion?” I asked. “I just wanted to see him before he is put to death, so if you excuse me, I would like to rest.”
“We won’t be able to ignore your actions for much longer, Loras,” Grandmother said. “Only together can we grow strong.”
Margaery gave me a light glare before helping our grandmother stand and walk away. To me, they were ridiculous. We all knew it was them who planned it all out. Maybe Margaery didn’t have much to do with it, but she should know the truth by now. I didn’t care, as Joffrey deserved to die, but they should go through them if they wanted to kill the Lannister.
Tyrion wasn’t that high on my list, and I didn’t care if he died, but many people still should die. Cersei Lannister was on top of that list with her brother Jaime Lannister, then Tywin followed close behind. How did my family expect to kill them with their little schemes? If they started their game, they should go through the end of it. So, they better not complain when I finish their work.
But did they expect me to watch their scheming from the side and do nothing? I wasn’t a child they could control as they wished. Even if I can’t achieve my revenge, it doesn’t mean I have forgotten it. If I were given an opportunity to screw with the Lannisters, I would take it. It didn’t matter that I had helped another Lannister in the process.
…
The next day came sooner than I expected. I was invited as many others into the hearing of the trial. After dressing in somewhat nicer clothes, I observed the trial with masses. Soon Tyrion was brought up by the gold cloaks. The dwarf was dragged and pushed around. The gold cloaks showed no respect for the little Lannister. They might even be paid to act so aggressively to the dwarf.
Three judges oversaw the trial—the Hand of King Tywin Lannister, my father, Mace Tyrell, and the new master of ships Leyton Hightower. Hundreds of people have come to see the dwarf to be judged. The High Septon began with a prayer, asking the Father Above to guide them to justice. Margaery and our mother stood in a gallery in silence. Part of me thought that there was no place for me there.
“Tyrion, did you kill King Joffrey?” Tywin Lannister spoke first after the High Septon was done with his prayer.
“No,” There was not even a heartbeat of hesitation in Tyrion’s voice. “The gods killed Joffrey. He choked on his pigeon pie.”
“You would blame the bakers?” My father reddened in frustration at Tyrion’s answer.
“Them, or the pigeons. Just leave me out of it,” There was a burst of nervous laughter in the court, but it seemed like Tyrion cared.
“We have witnesses against you, Tyrion,” Tywin Lannister announced. “We shall hear them first. Then you may present your witnesses. You are to speak only with our leave.”
Of course, the first to come were the Kingsguard. The liars and the murderers they were, had no trouble telling how Tyrion mistreated Joffrey repeatedly. I wish I could fight them all and kill them all. Everyone that came from then on was worse. Every single of them was a rat that should have been crushed under my foot.
Then they brought forth Grand Maester Pycelle, leaning heavily on a twisted cane and shaking as he walked, a few white hairs sprouting from his long chicken's neck. He had grown too frail to stand, so the judges permitted a chair to be brought in for him and a table. On the table were laid several small jars. Pycelle was pleased to put a name to each.
“Greycap,” Grand Maester began. “From the toadstool. Nightshade, sweet sleep, demon's dance. This is the blind eye. Widow's blood, this one is called, for the color. A cruel potion. It shuts down a man's bladder and bowels until he drowns in his poisons. This wolfsbane, here basilisk venom, and this one the tears of Lys. Yes. I know them all. The Imp Tyrion Lannister stole them from my chambers when he decided to cut down my research expenses.”
“Could any of these poisons choke off a man's breath?” The silent Lord Hightower asked.
“No, my lord. For that, you must turn to a rarer poison. When I was a boy at the Citadel, my teachers named it the strangler.”
“And where is it?” Lord Hightower continued to ask.
“It is gone,” Pycelle answered. “He used it all to poison the noblest of the child, the gods on this good realm.”
Even though I wanted to shout out about the nonsense, I wondered how Tyrion felt, unable to say a word. But looking at his clam face, which has not broken even once since the trial began, I understood that Tyrion expected all of this after Pycelle came to the procession, endless and wearisome. Everyone that was at the wedding came to say their piece. A piece that the Lannisters or the Tyrells have bought.
“Now we like to call for Ser Loras Tyrell,” A herald announced, and I walked up to the dais.
“Ser Loras, you were at the wedding feast, weren’t you?” Tywin Lannister asked.
“Yes, I was. I saw everything,” I answered.
“Ser Loras, did you witness any unusual interactions between Tyrion Lannister and King Joffrey on the day of the wedding feast?” Tywin began his questioning.
“I didn’t see them speak a word to each other after breakfast and before the feast,” I answered.
“Are you suggesting that Tyrion did not have any motive to harm King Joffrey?” Tywin pressed forward.
“Joffrey had received a gift, a rare book from a fool, and it seemed to upset him greatly,” I answered as the people around started to murmur. “Is that what you want to hear? How great was Joffrey? And how horrible Tyrion is?”
“We want the truth,” Lord Hightower said.
“Truth? Neither of you cares about truth,” I replied and smiled as the people started to murmur. “Because everyone knows the truth. Joffrey was a piece of shit that half of the people there would gladly kill him, and I am among them. So is Tyrion.”
“Loras, what are you speaking of?” My father almost fell off his chair.
“Truth, father,” I replied. “Are any of you going to judge me for it? Can you handle it? Outside those walls are armies waiting to rip Kingslanding apart and have every single of your heads on pikes.”
“Enough, Loras!” My father stood up from his chair as uncomfortable murmuring descended in the court.
“You wanted the truth, but when you hear it, you can’t handle it,” I said and was prepared to leave. “Tyrion is only the simplest scapegoat to get rid of while keeping some kind of order in the city.”
“Silence!” Tywin yelled out, silencing the court. “The hour is dark. We shall continue the next day.”
Tyrion looked at me surprised, as my little speech wasn’t what we agreed on. But I didn’t give a shit. I was a Tyrell. I could say whatever I wanted, and the Lannisters could do nothing but placate us, for they knew that we were their only allies. And now my family will learn how to try to control me. They should understand that I will not play their games.
…
I could tell my father was furious with me, but when he laid his eyes on me the following day, he said nothing. For that kind of man, he was. He couldn’t take challenges well. Long before, my father loved me dearly, giving me all the attention I wished for. But I am no longer the boy before him, nor is he a father before me. Now he is a master of law, a lord who wants to put his grandchild on the Iron Throne.
When I arrived at the court, I was met with stares from everybody. They were rats that followed the trace of cheese, so they were shocked to see someone like me who didn’t give a shit. Of course, they would look at me with fear, for they couldn’t understand that I spoke for myself, not for my family or the Lannister. They have long forgotten that people can have their own opinions.
“Lord Varys,” the herald said, “Master of whisperers.”
Powdered, primped, and smelling of rosewater, the Spider rubbed his hands one over the other all the time he spoke. The eunuch's mournful account of how the Imp had schemed to part Joffrey from the Hound's protection and Tyrion’s words about how Tommen would be better for the Iron Throne. They were compelling for the rats. After all, unlike the others, Varys had documents, parchments painstakingly filled with notes, details, dates, and whole conversations.
“Enough!” Tyrion couldn’t take anymore, and I couldn’t blame him.
“Enough?” Tywin asked. “You will speak when you are addressed, Tyrion.”
“No, I will speak now.”
“Another word, and I will have gagged,” Tywin replied. “You will have time to speak your side afterward.”
“Even when I want to say the words you so desire?” Tyrion asked. “Don’t you want to hear my confession?”
“Confession?” Tywin asked, raising his hand to silence the court as the spider left.
“Yes, I want to announce that I am guilty,” Tyrion replied with a cold face that lost every emotion.
“You admit you poisoned the king?”
“Nothing of the sort. Of Joffrey's death, I am innocent. I am guilty of a more monstrous crime." Tyrion took a step toward his father. “I was born. I lived. I am guilty of being a dwarf. I confess it. And no matter how often my good father forgave me, I have persisted in my infamy.”
“This is folly, Tyrion,” Declared Tywin. “Speak to the matter at hand. You are not on trial for being a dwarf.”
“That is where you err, my lord. I have been on trial for being a dwarf my entire life.”
“Have you nothing to say in your defense?”
“Nothing but this: I did not do it. Yet now I wish I had,” Tyrion turned to face the hall. The rats felt uncomfortable under the dwarf’s gaze. “I wish I had enough poison for you all. You make me sorry that I am not the monster you would have me be, yet there it is. I am innocent, but I will get no justice here. You leave me no choice but to appeal to the gods. I demand trial by battle.”
“He has that right, my lords,” Cersei Lannister seemed pleased with such an outcome. “Let the gods judge. Ser Gregor Clegane will stand for Joffrey.”
“Do you have a champion to defend your innocence?” Tywin’s face was dark, but he was silent, and instead, my father asked. I saw my sister turn to me, and her face drained of blood, paling as she realized what I had spoken with Tyrion about.
“He does, my lord." I walked up before all these rats to see me. “Tyrion Lannister has convinced me of his innocence.”
The uproar was deafening. I could see that Tyrion took particular pleasure in the sudden panic running through his father’s eyes. It took a hundred gold cloaks pounding the butts of their spears against the floor to quiet the throne room again. But what matters, the Lannister will have to face the consequence of their actions now. Should I lose and die, the Lannisters will face backlash from the Reach, if not from my family. If I win, I take their vicious dog and let them see a man they tried to kill walk free. Either way, they have lost.
