Chapter 10
TYRION LANNISTER
Tyrion and Steffon were not friends. Well, they were, but he had never thought him to be a true ally, especially when his father's intentions were not lost on anyone. They were cordial, for he did not have the heart to blame him for his father's cruelty, and so he had been rather surprised to learn that the young Prince had personally offered his name to Robert for a seat on his Council.
Even if he had done so out of absolute necessity, the action itself endeared him much to Tyrion, who now found himself surrounded by ledgers, tomes, and piles upon piles of rolled-up manuscripts. All of which he had to sort through in less than two months.
Thankfully, the King had given him good help, for he had tasked Steffon to help him sort through the mess, and while a normal sixteen-year-old would not be of much help to him in such matters, Steffon Baratheon was anything but normal.
"You know I find myself facing quite a dilemma," he shot out, as he closed one of the ledgers out of sheer spite, because of its illegibility and complexity. Petyr Baelish had done quite some damage before his escape, and most of the Crown's finances were scattered and spread out in such a way that it would take someone hours just to get a good measure of things.
"What dilemma?" questioned Steffon, who had made himself at home on the floor as he combed through his own pile of ledgers and tomes.
"I don't know if I should kill you, or kiss you," and Steffon's head snapped towards him at his question as he smiled.
"Well, I would suggest trying to kill me because if you do try to kiss me, I will kill you," and they both laughed at his words, as he closed off the ledger.
"Still, what the hell were you thinking, pushing such a massive task onto my small little shoulders?" Steffon scoffed once more, turning his eyes to the missive in his hand.
"Please, we both know that you are the only one who might be able to steer the crown out of this mess," and while it was high praise coming from him, he still did not know where the confidence came from.
"And why do you say that?" and his little nephew answered in a rather perfect copy of his father's voice.
"Because you are a Lannister," and he chuckled at those words.
"And that makes me an expert at spending money, not rationing it," and he rubbed his head as he stared at the pile of work.
"To think that just half a day ago, I was surrounded by a pile of plump and beautiful women, and now I am surrounded by this," and he picked up a ledger and held it in the air.
"Thick, musky books," and it was such a fall.
"Well, I might be able to help you in that regard," and that was a surprise to him, as Steffon pushed himself off the ground and came to the desk with some pages.
"Well, I went through that pile there, and most they contained details of his own personal investments," and this was going to be interesting.
"You see, Baelish had built himself quite an empire. He owned quite a few properties, including perhaps one of the largest brothels in the city," and that was indeed interesting.
And as he skimmed through the numbers, there was a little fortune here.
"Since he left in a hurry, the man couldn't sell these off, and so now all of this is the Crown's property," yet the Crown owed much debt as well, and many of their creditors had begun to question their ability to pay back the loans.
Still, the sheer volume of the debts meant they had no other option but to wait for them to sort out their finances.
"Conventionally, you would simply sell these off to obtain some capital, but with you at the helm, I believe that the Crown just might keep a few of these businesses and see if we can use these to gain a stream of revenue," and that was not an entirely bad suggestion.
"You would have the Crown run a brothel," he asked, and he shrugged.
"Well, wasn't it your dream to die in one?" and he thought a bit.
"Yes, still this has not been done before," and most of the Crown's revenues came from taxes and levies. The crown did not own any other business to earn revenue.
"It would be a steady stream of income. One that we could designate to a singular cause," Steffon suggested, as he leaned back on his chair.
"Something like the upkeep of the Redkeep, or to pay the Royal servants and so forth. We could add to these later if the program is successful, and if not, we can simply sell these off later," and he planned on writing to his father, seeking a new loan to shore up the Crown's coffers.
He doubted Lord Tywin would turn down the Crown, especially with a Lannister holding the purse strings. Steffon's idea was not bad, and it would serve the Crown well to have a steady income source apart from taxes.
"I will need someone competent to oversee this," and he raised a brow him, his suggestion obvious.
"Me?" Steffon questioned, and Tyrion nodded. He had obtained this position only because of his support and recommendation, and so it was time for him to return the goodwill.
For all of his father's ambitions for the future, Steffon was still but a Prince and a second son. One who would inherit nothing, and so this could offer him some semblance of power of his own.
"It is your idea," Tyrion countered, and he could see the wheels spinning, and his nephew was smart enough to see what this was.
"Why not," he finally agreed, as he offered him his hand and Tyrion shook it with a smile.
"We should celebrate. Perhaps you could finally join me on a trip to the Crown's official brothel," and Steffon shuddered.
"Mother would kill you when she learns that you gifted me a brothel," and he had forgotten about Cersei in his excitement.
"On second thought, why don't I buy that place off of your hands?" for he valued his life quite a lot. And Cersei would indeed call for his head if she got wind of this.
"Only if you offer me a good deal?" and Tyrion chuckled at those words.
"You planned this, didn't you. You snivelling bastard," and they both drowned their cups at that, as Steffon yawned and stretched himself out. He had been sitting here with him for some hours now, and the servants had just returned from a very long and arduous journey.
"You should go and rest," Tyrion suggested.
"I am tired, but there is simply too much work," and he was right.
"Go," he said as he shooed him away.
"You have done enough for today. We have an entire moo..." yet before he could say more, a loud shriek tore made them both frown, as Steffon's head snapped towards the window.
"AHHHHHHH!" and the voice seemed to belong to a girl or a child, as Steffon jumped to his feet and rushed towards the window, as the screams continued to come.
"What was that?" and the first thing that came to his mind was an assassination. Petyr Baelish had scampered through these very Halls for nearly half a decade. It would not be out of the ordinary for the man to have some servants loyal to him within these Halls, servants who would be willing to do harm on his orders.
"That came from the training yard..." he heard Steffon whisper, before he ran out
"Wait! Wait!" Yet his strides were too small, and before he could shout twice, Steffon was already out of the chambers as he screamed at the guards.
"Follow the Prince!" he shouted, as he scampered behind him himself. And the training yard was not very far from the chambers of the Master of Coin, but for his small legs and stature, it was far enough for by the time he had reached the place, a small crowd had gathered as he pushed through the tall men and guards to reach the stone railings.
"What happened! Tell me what happene..." and as they saw him, the men pulled to the sides until he had a clear view of the yard down below, where Steffon sat on the ground cradling a crying boy in his arms.
"Tommen," he recognised, and Myrcella beside him was crying just by her brother's side, as a small laugh cut through the air.
"He should have known better than to challenge the next King!" and the taunt came from the other side, and there he found the cause of the whole debacle, for Joffrey stood there looking down at the crying forms of Tommen and Myrcella, as he held a real blade in his hands.
"What the hell were you thinking!" Steffon's roar silenced the entire area, and in all the years Tyrion had never seen his nephew rage. Usually, his temper was quiet and cold, yet he had heard rumors that his rage could be rather fiery.
Jaime had told him how he had beaten up Joffrey years ago for bullying Tommen and Myrcella, and he feared that a repeat of that could happen now.
"Someone go and get my sister!" for only she could calm them down, as he himself rushed towards the stairs.
"You used live steel against a boy half your age! Live Steel!" Steffon raged as he pushed himself back up, as Joffrey shrugged.
"He is the one who wanted me to teach him some tricks. Now he has learned one," Joffrey mocked, as Tommen and Myrcella cried away, and up there he had not been able to see the damage, but as he came down, he saw Myrcella's gown was covered in blood, as they held a cloth to the side of his face.
"Never challenge a King!" Joffrey mocked, still not repentant over his actions.
"I told him to stop, but he did not listen. He insisted on using live steel," Myrcella added from behind, and he saw Steffon's fists ball up in rage.
"Wait! Steffon!"
"You want to teach someone a lesson," and Steffon strode forth, as Tyrion screamed for the guards.
"STOP HIM!" he ordered, and yet before the guards could intervene, Steffon was already infront of Joffrey, as he screamed in rage.
"Why don't you try teaching me then," and whether it was surprise or incompetence, but Joffrey raised his blade and tried to strike at Steffon in rage.
"Why not!" he answered the taunts, and Tyrion gasped as he realised he was holding live steel. It was obvious even to him that Joffrey knew only how to pose with it, yet it was still live steel.
"Watch out, Steffon!" he roared, and the guards, scared of Joffrey's incompetence, were slow to move in, yet in the last moment before the blade could cut him, Steffon jumped forward and grabbed his arm, and twisted it forcefully.
"AGHH!" Joffrey screamed as the blade clattered on the ground, and Joffrey followed soon after, as Steffon kicked at his foot.
CLANK!
He felt some relief watching the blade fall, yet Steffon did not relent as he pushed himself atop of Joffrey, and with his larger size and years of training, he easily overpowered his elder twin, as he began punching him in the face.
"How about I teach you a lesson!" and then Steffon began to punch away.
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
He had only gotten in four or five full hits before the guards reached them both and began to pull the two Princes apart, yet by then Joffrey's face was bloody enough, as he roared forth.
"I WANT HIS HEAD! BRING ME HIS HEAD!" he flailed around like a child, as Tyrion stepped forward.
"WHOEVER PUTS A HAND ON THEIR BLADE LOSES IT!" he roared, as Steffon struggled continuously while the guards held him back.
"KEEP THE PRINCES APART FOR NOW AND SOMEONE CALL FOR MY SI...."
"What the hell is going on here!" and Cersei was here at last, and he had never been more happy to see her than he was in that moment. Jaime had come with her, and seeing them Myrcella immediately ran towards her mother.
"Mother!"
"Mother!" Tommen called out to her in between his sobs as well, as Jaime rushed down the yard, while acolytes and maesters followed his steps.
"What happened?" he asked him.
"Joffrey cut his ear to teach him a lesson," and Jaime's face paled at those words, as Tommen clung to his brother and began to tell him what had happened.
The maesters and the acolytes removed the cloth over his face, as Jaime turned towards them.
"How is he?" he asked, panic evident in his voice.
"It is a clean cut. We won't be able to reattach it, but it seems like the blade only cut half the ear," and that was still bad enough. Tommen was a sweet and gentle boy, and with this, he would be disfigured for life. Something he knew very well.
"I said kill him! KILL HIM! HOW DARE HE HURT HIS KING! I WANT HIS HEAD!" and Joffrey continued to scream and rage, yet none dared to draw their blade at his command, as Cersei listened to the truth of the events from Myrcella.
"Take the boy to the Grandmaester," Jaime ordered, and the guards took away Tommen, as Jaime rose and turned towards their sister for the orders.
"Take the Princes to their chambers!" she ordered.
"And make sure that they don't leave their rooms until I say so!" The guards all followed her words as the Princes were carried away. Joffrey humiliated Steffon, enraged.
Cersei came down after a few seconds and joined them both.
"Robert will be enraged when he hears about this," and they could not keep this a secret.
"This has happened before, hasn't it?" he asked, and Cersei met his gaze, and her silence was answer enough as she turned towards Jaime.
"It will all be fine," he assured her, and he felt the same. Yes, things had gotten a bit heated, but they were children.
"I should have known better than to hit him," Cersei whispered, and Jaime did not say anything else as Tyrion gazed at the blood covering his hands, before he spotted the part of the ear cut off by Joffrey on the ground.
"You should go and talk to Joffrey," Jaime suggested as he picked it up with some cloth and wrapped it up.
"What about Steffon?" Cersei asked.
"I will go talk to Steffon," he cut in finally, and Cersei nodded reluctantly, as Jaime added, and took the heaviest responsibility for himself.
"And I will inform Robert...."
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