News of the battle in King's Landing spread across Westeros with unprecedented speed, carried by messenger ravens. Every noble, lord, and knight following the war was discussing its developments.
Most agreed that King's Landing had performed remarkably well in this encounter—managing to completely wipe out Stannis's vanguard at a minimal cost, and destroy all of his siege equipment. As for the slums and poorhouses outside the city? No one even spared them a thought.
However, many seemed to have misunderstood who actually commanded the city's defense. Most credited Addam Marbrand rather than the Imp, Tyrion Lannister. Perhaps they knew the truth but refused to accept that a "half-man" could be brilliant enough to inflict such a costly loss on a seasoned general like Stannis.
...
At the Inn of the Kneeling Man, Stannis's siege of King's Landing, combined with Robb Stark's invasion of the Westerlands, had driven the Lannister army into a dire situation. Lord Tywin had already begun contemplating a retreat to Harrenhal, from where he could then send aid to secure the capital.
Still, Tywin knew full well that every move he made now had to be calculated with the utmost care. In a tense standoff like this, any premature retreat could offer his enemies an opening—one that might collapse his entire army.
In the past, Tywin might have dismissed Edmure Tully, the man facing him, as little more than an attractive fool. But now, he no longer dared to underestimate him. Not long ago, Edmure had landed a solid blow. Fortunately, the Tullys hadn't brought a large force—otherwise, Tywin's losses would have been even worse. He might have already been forced back to Harrenhal.
"Let's hear your thoughts," Tywin said once his officers had finished reading the latest reports.
Ser Rick of House Brax, from Hornvale, stood up and said, "My lord, the safety of King's Landing is too important. We should have the garrison at Harrenhal march south and reinforce the capital."
"And what of Harrenhal?" Tywin asked evenly.
Ser Rick continued, "Lord Kevan is still stationed at Duskendale. We could have him reestablish command there."
Tywin rubbed his temples but gave no comment.
Then Ser Viser Lantell of Lannisport spoke up in disagreement. "If that's the plan, then why not just have Lord Kevan go to King's Landing directly? Why complicate things? Besides, if we do that, the entire Crownlands will fall into Stannis's hands. And the forces Lord Kevan has been holding at bay on Crackclaw Point would likely march south and link up with him. His army would grow even stronger."
"In that case, Ser Viser," Rick shot back sharply, "do you have any better ideas for relieving the capital?"
Viser ignored the tone and addressed Tywin instead. "My lord, I don't believe we should remain locked in this standoff with Riverrun. Staying here wastes time and manpower. Instead, we should retreat and yield the territory we've already seized in the Riverlands. The local lords would rush to reclaim their lands rather than chase us, dispersing their forces. That would neutralize the threat from the Riverlands for the short term, and we could then focus our full strength on eliminating Stannis."
"No." The word came instantly from another voice in the chamber. "If we do that, the army may well mutiny. After all, once we took these lands, we promised our soldiers farmland to settle. Taking it all back now is like stealing from our own men..."
Tywin cut him off sharply. "Enough. There will be no more talk of retreat. If we pull back now, without even engaging the enemy, it will be seen as a defeat. The perception that we're fleeing to the Westerlands will only embolden our enemies and make their attacks fiercer. We cannot, and will not, retreat."
As he spoke, Tywin shot a meaningful glance at Ser Viser Lantell, who lowered his head like a man acknowledging his mistake.
In truth, Tywin had not called this meeting to sincerely seek advice on how to resolve their predicament. His true purpose was to test the waters—to gauge how his subordinates would respond to the idea of retreat. The Lannister cousin who had raised the proposal was merely following orders, acting as a sacrificial stone to probe the court.
And the reaction had come swiftly. The moment the suggestion was made, every noble commander in the room had shown visible signs of discontent.
Though they claimed concern that the soldiers might revolt if stripped of their promised land, the reality was that it was the noble lords themselves who stood to lose the most. According to custom, at least a third of the occupied Riverlands was promised to them. If they retreated now, they'd have to give all that up—an unbearable loss, like carving flesh from their own bones. No wonder they were so opposed.
Tywin, observing closely, had already made mental notes. In the next battle, these lords would be placed at the front lines. Whether they lived or died would be left to fate. As for the idea of retreat—it wasn't off the table. Tywin was already making secret arrangements, waiting for the right time to act.
After a moment's thought, Garlan slowly asked, "That second child—would they be officially invested with the title of Lord of Storm's End, and would the Tyrell name be allowed to continue through that line?"
Littlefinger smiled, his tone smooth and practiced. "Yes, they would be given the title of Lord of Storm's End, and His Grace would issue an edict affirming their status as Warden of the Stormlands. As for the family name... if House Tyrell so wishes, it can be granted that the second child bears the Tyrell name to continue your house's legacy in the Stormlands."
Garlan narrowed his eyes. "That's a generous concession. One that Queen Cersei and King Joffrey would never offer willingly."
"That's true," Littlefinger replied, spreading his hands slightly. "But this proposal doesn't come from them—it comes from Lord Tyrion. He understands that alliances must be built on shared interest and mutual gain. The Iron Throne needs your support, and he's willing to pay for it—properly."
Garlan was silent for a while, then said, "This would require more than just an offer. It would have to be written in a royal decree, signed and sealed by the king himself."
"Of course," Littlefinger agreed without hesitation. "The decree will be prepared in advance and delivered through a royal envoy. All terms will be clearly stated, with no room for ambiguity. Should House Tyrell accept, it will be made official the moment Lady Margaery is wed."
Garlan leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "And what of Lord Renly's claim? There are still those in the Reach who view him as the rightful king."
Littlefinger's smile thinned just slightly. "Lord Renly is... no longer a factor. His claim died with him, and his former bannermen now seek new alliances. House Tyrell has the opportunity to rise higher than ever before—queen on the throne, and your house governing two of the Seven Kingdoms. That is what Lord Tyrion offers."
Garlan didn't respond right away. After a long pause, he said, "I will bring this to my father. But you should understand something, Lord Petyr—House Tyrell does not make decisions based solely on power or promises. We will weigh this carefully."
Littlefinger bowed his head respectfully. "Of course, Lord Garlan. I would expect nothing less."
Garlan rose from his seat. "You may continue to stay in the camp. If my father wishes to see you, I will send word."
"Thank you for your courtesy," Littlefinger said with another elegant bow.
As he was led out of the tent, his expression remained calm and composed, but his mind was already racing through the possibilities. Negotiation had begun, and the first seeds were sown.
Petyr added, "Until the child comes of age, the Stormlands will be placed under the custody of Highgarden."
"I must admit, I'm quite tempted." Garlan lightly tapped his fingers on the table, his gaze thoughtful as he looked at Petyr. "The terms are generous, no doubt. But Lord Petyr, you seem to have overlooked something. The real control of the Stormlands hasn't belonged to House Baratheon since Lord Renly's time. Prince Lynd of Summerhall is the true master of the Stormlands now. Can a royal edict from the Iron Throne really compel Prince Lynd to relinquish all his authority there? Will the Stormlands' lords obey such a decree and sever their ties with Prince Lynd?"
Littlefinger gave a wry smile, unsure how to respond.
Just as Garlan said, the Stormlands were already under Lynd's control in practice. He had thoroughly infiltrated their economy, politics, and military. House Baratheon was no more than a nominal overlord to the region's lords.
Some even believed that the reason Stannis had been able to rally the Stormlands' forces this time was entirely due to Lynd Tarran's tacit approval. Otherwise, after Renly's death, there was no way Stannis could have taken even a single soldier from the Stormlands.
As for Lynd's reasons, some speculated it had to do with Joffrey's execution of Lord Eddard. Although Lynd publicly maintained that Joffrey was the heir named in Robert's will, he was already growing discontent with him. But he couldn't break his oath and strike at King's Landing himself—so he handed the Stormlands' forces to Stannis, letting him teach Joffrey I a lesson on the Iron Throne.
At this point, Garlan spoke again. "As I recall, Lord Tyrion is only the acting Hand of the King, not the official one. I question whether the promises he makes can actually be enforced."
A strained smile appeared on Petyr's face. In truth, Garlan wasn't the only one who had doubts—he too questioned whether Tyrion would actually grant him Harrenhal as promised.
Then, Garlan suddenly changed the subject. "Lord Petyr, I personally would very much like to see my marriage pact with His Grace Joffrey renewed. I'm also willing to serve as your intermediary in persuading my father, Lord Mace."
Petyr immediately asked, "What are your conditions?"
"My conditions are quite simple—just two," Garlan said with a smile. "First, His Grace Joffrey must marry my cousin. Second, Queen Cersei must step down from the throne, go to the Redemption Sept in Summerhall, join the convent, and become a Sister of Redemption. Oh, and both of these terms must be personally agreed to by Lord Tywin, with Prince Lynd as a witness. I assume that won't be too difficult for you to manage?"
Littlefinger could only give a bitter smile. These were anything but simple conditions. Fulfilling them would be even harder than defeating Stannis's army.
The first condition was clearly meant to humiliate both Joffrey and Cersei—telling them they were only fit to marry into a cadet branch of House Tyrell. It was revenge for Cersei unilaterally annulling the engagement with Margaery and trampling on the honor of House Rose.
Had Cersei not broken off the engagement, there would have been no Renly incident, and the Little Rose wouldn't have been slandered by so many rumors. The Tyrells had long been holding onto their anger, and now that they had a chance to retaliate, they wouldn't let it slip by.
As for the second condition, it was both a move to pave the way for the future queen's rise to power and an act of revenge. Forcing Cersei—who had always craved power—into a convent would be more painful than death. And it wasn't just any convent; it was the Redemption Sept, the most strict and unforgiving among all the orders under the Faith of the Seven.
As Littlefinger was leaving the tent, Garlan suddenly raised his voice and added, "Lord Petyr, I must remind you—time is running out. If Stannis takes King's Landing, then even if Lord Tywin agrees to our terms, we may no longer be able to keep our end of the deal. So please, act quickly."