Who: Tyrith, ? When: Day 48, late morning Where: Red Keep, outside the throne room Status: open Rating: PG13
Lord Tyrith Lannister strode through the halls. His tunic shone with gold and the rubies in the pommel of his sword flashed with near as much fire as his green eyes. The lion was not amused. Elia Martell was taken and he knew enough to be certain she would not be the only prisoner for long. He only wondered how far William would take this madness-- surely not to a trial. There'd be a riot and gods only knew what the Martells would do. Not to mention the Sealord- Sandro li Saverio was sailing for Kings Landing and due any day now. His neice being held in the dungeon was not like to be taken well. The Pirate Prince had a fleet which could blockade an already damaged port and what then? The Tyrells' ships were traders not warships and the Iron Islands were like to laugh theirselves sick if the Starks asked for help. His own ships... Well. That would be an interesting dilemma. The Redwynes, the Mallisters.... which meant the Tullys. That might depend on how far Thomas' chivalry would take him...
He didn't want to think too closely about the names on the rest of the list. Troubles and more troubles. Tymor might have convinced Polonius and Penrose to add House Westerling to those in danger but he had no doubt that the Master of Whispers would think Alester more use free than dead. He was such a reliable traitor...
Tyrith paused outside the doors of the great hall, his eyes falling on a tapestry that hung there. A work of Jaehaerys the Conciliator had once hung there, now replaced by a work depicting the hunting of a white hart. The hunters bore no liveries or standards, and in the undergrowth their lurked a leopard and the eyes of some other beast seemed hidden in the shadows. He smiled. Who was the hunter in truth?