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Game of Thrones: Nero King of Knight
"I was told this meeting was called by Lady Olenna."
Tywin Lannister sat at the head of the long table, his back to the Iron Throne. His cold green eyes swept slowly over everyone present, like a lion taking stock of the herd he was about to cull.
His voice was calm, but every word made it clear who still held power here. Even if the Small Council had been dragged from the Tower of the Hand into the throne room itself, Tywin Lannister was still the Hand. Without him, the meeting could not begin.
Varys smiled softly and sat back down.
Olenna Tyrell, however, gave a sweet, grandmotherly smile and spoke first. "Oh, Lord Hand, at our age we should be sitting in the gardens of Highgarden soaking up the sun. But my son Mace has duties to the Iron Throne, so I have to sit in for him. An old woman with failing eyesight has no right to call a meeting of the Small Council, does she?"
She gave a light, airy laugh, as if she were simply being considerate of Tywin's position.
Then the Queen of Thorns changed tone.
"I heard Stokeworth burned all night," she said, voice still pleasant. "They say it was still smoking at dawn."
Tywin's expression didn't change. He had already prepared for this on the way here.
"Lord Balman Byrch discovered his wife in bed with another man," Tywin said evenly. "He killed her and set the castle on fire. That is what my reports say."
"Oh?" Olenna leaned forward slightly, those sharp old eyes fixed on him. "Then why did I hear that our own Queen Regent was there last night as well?"
The air in the throne room went still.
Kevan's face tightened. Pycelle stopped pretending to doze. Even Varys's smile thinned. Only Corleone remained relaxed at the far end of the table, gazing out the window as if none of this concerned him.
Tywin was silent for a moment.
"This old woman has very good sources," he said at last. "I only learned of it this morning myself."
"You flatter me," Olenna replied, still smiling. "At my age one needs a few useful things to keep busy."
Her voice sharpened.
"But don't you think this is all rather… absurd, Lord Hand? The Queen Regent of the Seven Kingdoms sneaking out in the middle of the night to a castle forty miles away so she can be caught in bed with her lover? And she even arranged for the Commander of the City Watch to bring his men along to watch?"
Tywin's eyes narrowed.
"The Queen Regent is a widow," he said. "The laws of the Seven Kingdoms do not forbid a widow from taking a lover. Neither do the teachings of the Seven."
"A widow?" Olenna repeated, almost laughing. "Yes, she is a widow. But she is also the Queen Regent. The mother of the king. The face of the realm. A widow may do as she pleases, my lord. A queen regent may not."
She sat up straighter, voice growing harder.
"When the cruel King Maegor took six wives, people called him a monster. But at least no one ever accused his queens of being common whores. Your daughter, Lord Hand, has become the favorite topic of every fishwife and stable boy in King's Landing. This morning in the gardens even the gardeners were asking whether the Queen Regent spent last night at Stokeworth."
Kevan tried to cut in. "Mind your tongue, Lady Olenna. We are speaking of the Queen Regent and the king's own mother."
"Oh, Kevan," Olenna said, turning to him with the weary patience of a grandmother dealing with a slow child. "I'm speaking the truth, not insults. And you, of all people, should know that hiding the truth only makes the scandal worse when it finally comes out."
Kevan's mouth opened, then closed. He had no good answer.
Corleone watched the exchange with quiet interest. The old woman was vicious when she wanted to be. Cersei had stepped on the wrong thorn bush this time.
Tywin finally spoke again.
"The Queen Regent is a widow," he repeated, slower this time. "A widow may take comfort where she finds it. The law allows it. The gods allow it."
"Unless," he added, eyes locked on Olenna, "you believe a widow remarrying is some kind of sin? In that case, you should speak with the High Septon. He performed Queen Margaery's wedding. Twice."
Pycelle gave a muffled snort that quickly turned into a cough.
Olenna's smile froze for half a second.
She recovered quickly. The old woman knew when to press and when to shift.
"You're right, of course," she said. "A widow may remarry. But every one of my granddaughter's marriages was blessed by the Seven. The Queen Regent's… activities were not. And let's not forget—she is still betrothed to my grandson Loras. That arrangement has not been formally ended."
Tywin's gaze turned icy.
Olenna had just thrown Loras into the fight.
Fine.
"If word of this spreads," Tywin said, voice low and dangerous, "who suffers most? The Queen Regent's reputation is damaged, yes. But what of the king's? And what of the queen's? Your own granddaughter, Lady Olenna. If the realm believes the king's mother is a whore, what do you think they will whisper about his wife?"
He looked around the table.
"No one in this room wins if this story spreads. No one."
The throne room went quiet. Even the wind outside seemed to still.
Olenna's fingers tightened on the arm of her chair. For the first time she looked genuinely angry.
She had come here to draw blood. She had not expected Tywin to turn the blade back on Margaery so cleanly.
Before she could answer, a calm voice spoke from the far end of the table.
"I have a suggestion."
Every head turned.
Corleone sat in the chair farthest from the Iron Throne, but no one was treating him like he belonged at the foot of the table anymore.
"What suggestion?" Tywin asked.
"The Queen Regent needs to do penance," Corleone said.
"Penance?" Olenna repeated, one eyebrow raised.
"Yes. The Queen Regent is a devout follower of the Seven. She gives generously to the sept every year. The High Septon can confirm it. A faithful woman who has made a mistake should be allowed to seek forgiveness from the gods. That is what the Seven offer us."
He spoke slowly, like he was explaining something simple.
"I knew a farmer in the Riverlands named Tommy. Last year his son stole a sheep from a neighbor. Tommy didn't take the boy to the lord. He took him to the sept and made him kneel before the statues of the Seven and pray for a full day. The matter was settled. No one spoke of it again. The boy grew up to be the best shepherd in the village."
Corleone looked at the table.
"Three months should be enough."
Silence.
Kevan was the first to speak. "I think… that could be considered."
Pycelle nodded slowly. "Penance is one of the Seven's gifts. Even King Aegon the Fifth sought it in his youth."
Only Varys remained quiet.
Tywin studied Corleone for a long moment.
He understood exactly what the man was doing. On the surface it gave House Lannister a way out. In reality it removed Cersei from power for three full months.
But it was also the cleanest solution available.
"Six months is too long," Tywin said at last. "The king is still a child. He needs his mother. Three months. She will spend them in the Great Sept under the supervision of the Silent Sisters. After that, she returns to the Red Keep and this matter is closed."
Olenna's mouth tightened, but she knew she had been outmaneuvered.
"Three months," she said. "And she goes as an ordinary petitioner. No servants. No special treatment. She prays, she works, and she keeps silent like any other woman seeking forgiveness."
"Agreed," Tywin said.
The matter was settled.
Sunlight moved across the twisted swords of the Iron Throne. The long table was quiet again.
Tywin was about to end the meeting when the great doors at the end of the hall slammed open.
"I don't need to repent!"
Cersei's voice rang through the throne room, shrill with fury.