"You are here to answer for your brother's latest treasons," Joffrey says.
He has called Sansa Stark to the throne room and is currently pointing his crossbow at her, threatening to kill her. She is kneeling on the ground with tears running down her cheeks, but trying to hold it together.
"Your Grace, whatever my traitor brother has done, I had no part. You know that. I beg you, please-"
"Ser Lancel, tell her what you told me," Joffrey says, aiming his crossbow at her.
"Using some vile sorcery, your brother fell on Stafford Lannister with an army of wolves. Thousands of good men were butchered. After the slaughter, the Northerners feasted on the flesh of the slain," Lancel Lannister declares to the people present.
"Killing you would send your brother a message," Joffrey says, closing his one eye as if going to shoot.
Sansa cries helplessly. She doesn't know what to do, scared beyond belief. Joffrey sighs and lowers the crossbow.
"But my mother insists on keeping you alive. Stand," he tells Sansa. "So, we'll have to send your brother a message some other way. Meryn."
Ser Meryn Trant of the Kingsguard walks towards Sansa.
"Leave her face, I like her pretty," Joffrey smiles as he sits on the Iron Throne.
Ser Meryn punches Sansa violently in the stomach, causing her to shout in pain and strikes her in the back of the legs with the flat of his sword, causing her to fall.
"My Lady is overdressed. Unburden her," Joffrey demands.
Ser Meryn then rips open the back of her gown, leaving her partially naked from the waist up.
"If you want Robb Stark to hear us, we're going to have to speak louder!"
Meryn lifts his hand holding his sword to strike her again, but someone stops him from doing so. He looks to the side, seeing Arla stopping him and Petyr standing at Sansa's side.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Tyrion Lannister shouts as he enters the throne room.
He walks forward, followed by Bronn, whom he has placed as the replacement Lord Commander of the City Watch and looks at Petyr and Ser Meryn.
"What kind of knight beats a helpless girl?" he asks.
"The kind who serves his king, imp!" Meryn responds.
"Careful now, we don't want to get blood all over your pretty white dress," Bronn says, threatening Ser Meryn.
Petyr chuckles, hearing this.
"Ah, the Champion of the Coin Purse has spoken. We should all do well to listen," he says.
Arla covers Sansa with a cloak and hides her exposed parts. Bronn looks at Petyr in thought. He thought the joke wasn't half bad. Tyrion walks up to Joffrey, not bothering with it.
"She is to be your Queen. Have you no regard for her honour?" Tyrion asks.
"I am punishing her!"
"For what crimes? She did not fight her brother's battle, you half-wit."
"You can't talk to me like that. The king can do as he likes!" Joffrey says.
"The mad king did as he liked. Has your uncle Jaime ever told you what happened to him?" Tyrion asks.
"No one threatens the king in the presence of the kingsguard," Ser Meryn Trant says.
"I am not threatening the king, Ser. I am educating my nephew," Tyrion responds.
"Haha, on the contrary, Lord Hand. That was quite a clear threat," Petyr chuckles.
Tyrion turns around to look at Petyr.
"And what are you doing here, Lord Petyr?"
"I believe I came here for the same reason as you did. To put a stop to this. But unlike you, I believe that it is not wise to talk to the king that way."
"Yes! You can't talk to me like that!" Joffrey says.
"Oh? Then would you like to say something, Lord Petyr? Do you presume to educate the king?" Tyrion asks.
Petyr's presence demands respect. Even when he is not doing anything and just standing there, looking at you, for some reason, which others don't understand, he seems untouchable. Petyr looks at Tyrion, but doesn't answer. Instead, he addresses Joffrey.
"Your Grace, your statement was, as you formulated it, not correct. It is true, a king can do many things, and you are entitled to punish Sansa Stark for no other reason than that you feel like it."
"See, uncle. He knows what he's talking about."
"However," Petyr continues. "If you have to hurt other people to feel powerful, you are an extremely weak individual."
...
The room goes silent. No one dares to say anything. Tyrion looks surprised, as does everyone else. But no one looks more surprised than Joffrey himself.
"Y-y-you .. you dare call me weak!!!" Joffrey shouts.
"Of course not, Your Grace. However, I believe others might misinterpret your intentions in this way. If you allow it, I shall take care of this matter personally. We wouldn't want the ... sheep to mistake your good intentions with weakness," Petyr says without changing the tone of his voice.
Joffrey is surprised again, understanding that he misunderstood Petyr's statement. Although those who are truly intelligent would realise that Petyr meant every word and only used this moment to further manipulate the young psychotic king.
"... You're right. Take her away. Do with her as you please," Joffrey says.
"A smart decision, as usual, Your Grace," Petyr says and nods at Arla.
She walks over to Sansa and helps her to her feet. Then, they leave the throne room.
.
In Petyr's quarters, Arla is tending to Sansa's wounds. She hasn't said a word, and it unnerves Sansa, because once again, like so many times already ever since coming to King's Landing, she doesn't know how to behave now. Arla speaks to her calmly.
"You don't need to be afraid, Sansa. No one here wishes you any harm. And you can believe it this time. The entire court may be full of snakes and shit, but I am telling you the truth."
"Why... why are you doing this?" Sansa asks.
"Would you be so kind as to fill that goblet with water, young Stark?" Petyr asks.
Sansa looks confused, but does as he asked, filling a small goblet with water and handing it to Petyr.
"Much appreciated. As for your question... It is my belief that one should never be a bully. Bullying always hurts. The person who is bullied may try to walk around with a smile on their face, but the pain may never go away."
"King Joffrey's punishments are just. He is the-"
"See? That's what I'm talking about. Bullying is the most disgusting way to show weak authority. And weakness disgusts me," Petyr sneers.
Arla smiles, hearing him say that. She knows that to be the truth.
"Thank you for tending to my wounds, my Lord. If you will excuse me now," Sansa says, standing up.
"I see that you aren't ready to listen to me yet. This is natural, since you don't trust me, which is usually a good thing. So let me offer you some advice. Everything that happens to you is a form of instruction as long as you pay attention. If you are not willing to learn, no one can help you. But no one can stop you if you are determined to learn. You have taken on the role of the victim and tried to keep your head down so as not to get any more of Joffrey's ire as needed.
I tell you that is the wrong way to go about it. Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. That way, you only allow Joffrey to do as he pleases, and he doesn't care whether you kiss the ground he stands on or not; he will be cruel no matter what. ... Accept no one's definition of your life; define yourself. Appear weak, when you are strong and strong when you are weak. Right now, you are weak. Don't let anyone see that. And once you are willing to grow stronger... come and find me."
Sansa looks at Petyr and Arla and then exits the room, leaving the two alone. Arla looks at Petyr.
"Yes?"
"What are you planning with the girl?"
"There is no reason for you to be jealous, Arla. I don't like minors," Petyr says.
"Oh? There are no real morals in this world that would limit such a thing."
Petyr looks at Arla and feels her conflicting emotions. He smiles and sits next to her.
"You are right. This world is filthy for being so weak. To quote Joseph Conrad, "The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary. Men alone are quite capable of every wickedness." But I am not like that. From the time that I 'woke up', I gained a bottom line. I am willing to sacrifice almost anything to get what I want, but it is 'almost'. This naturally gives me a weakness, but one I am willing to accept. So you can trust me when I tell you that I have no interest in Sansa Stark in the way you think."
"You have a habit of saying what someone wants to hear. You are using her, aren't you?"
"In a way, yes. She is a sad existence."
"You see her as a challenge, don't you. You're going to make her a contender," Arla says.
"Not for the throne, no. But I will make her great. I find nothing more hilarious than using something others consider weak to bring down their arrogance. That's why I took the job at Gulltown and turned the profit I made into admiration by giving all the money away. Or why I saved Elia Martell and her children. Imagine the realm as misogynistic as this one, being ruled by two or more women... wouldn't that be a sight."
"Then why not let me do it?"
"As much as I would enjoy seeing you castrate Joffrey, I feel like having Sansa have her revenge, would be so much more pleasing to see."
"True."
*knock knock*
"Yes?"
The door opens, and one of Petyr's men enters.
"My Lord, the Small Council has been called. They asked for your presence."
"I'm on my way, thank you."
.
"... from this time until the end of time, we are not part of your realm but a free and independent kingdom of the North," Cersei reads the letter holding the terms coming from Robb Stark and rips it in half.
"He has more spirit than his father, I'll give him that," Cersei says."
"You've perfected the art of tearing up papers. Give him his father's bones back as a gesture of good faith," Tyrion suggests.
"Give the Starks our reply, cousin," Cersei says, ignoring Tyrion.
"I will, Your Grace," he says.
"Did you see my brother when you were the Starks' guest?" she asks.
"I did. They have not broken his spirit, Your Grace."
"If you speak with him, tell him he's not been forgotten," Cersei says.
"I will, Your Grace."
"Safe travels, cousin," Tyrion says.
As the messenger Lannister leaves, the Small Council continues.
"You have a deft hand with diplomacy," Tyrion tells Cersei.
"If that's everything," Cersei says and is about to stand up to leave.
"Mmaa... a raven arrived this morning... from Castle Black," Pycelle stutters.
"Trouble with the wildlings," Varys says.
"Tell me, Pycelle, do you have a stutter?" Petyr asks, looking at the old man with disgust.
"I-I... would never stutter. I'm... simply old," he says.
"Yes, but why? You don't have to. So why do it?"
"I... I don't know... what you-"
"No? Then tell me, Pycelle, who was that woman who left your chamber earlier? A distant relative?" Petyr asks.
"..."
"Uh uh you-your Grace, would you..."
"Would I what, Pycelle? Who was that woman?" Cersei asks, also looking at the old man disgustedly.
"Well, it was... a young woman who was... looking for..."
"Haha, you're funny, Pycelle," Petyr chuckles.
"The Lord Commander asks that we send more men to man the wall," Tyrion reads the letter.
"Perhaps he's forgotten we're fighting a war. We have no men to spare," Cersei says.
"The cold winds are rising and the dead rise with them," Tyrion reads.
"The Northerners are superstitious people," Pycells says.
"So are you, since you want us to believe that farce you are displaying, Pycelle."
Petyr is still going on.
"According to he commander, one of these dead men attacked him in his chambers. Mormont doesn't lie," Tyrion says.
Cersei stands up, not caring about this, and so do Pycelle and Varys. Petyr remains seated.
"How do you kill a dead man?" Varys asks.
"Apparently, you burn him," Tyrion says.
Cersei smiles.
"One trip to the wall and you come back believing in grumpkins and snarks," Cersei says and walks off.
"Don't know what I believe. But here's a fact for you, the Night's Watch is the only thing that separates us from what lies beyond the wall," Tyrion says.
"I have every confidence, the brave men of the Night's Watch will protect us all," Cersei says and finally leaves the Small Council chamber.
The others also follow, leaving Petyr alone with Tyrion. The Lannister sighs and looks at the Master of Coin.
"Well, any news from your end, Lord Petyr?" Tyrion asks.
"The coffers are dreadfully empty, Lord Hand. They are so empty that even if I start to fill them, there will be nothing inside them. The amount of debt the crown is in is disgusting. The Iron Bank does not like deficits of such a degree. And we can expect this to continue to grow during the war."
"Surely there is something you can-"
"No."
"No?"
"Nothing. I am unwilling to reach deeper into my own pocket just to solve the problems caused by the previous king. If you want me to do this, it will take a while, and you will have to give me 'carte blanche', so to speak. I will need men and some freedom to act in King's Landing, should this ever turn around."
"That's... quite a lot you are asking. What would you-"
"If you are interested in knowing more, I suggest you come visit me in my chambers. There is a lot to see. For now, I shall take my leave, Lord Tyrion."