[The Small Council meet after learning of Daenerys's pregnancy]
You're speaking of murdering a child.
I warned you this would happen. Back in the North, I warned you, but you didn't care to hear. Well, hear it now! I want 'em dead. Mother and child both. And that fool Viserys as well, is that plain enough for you? I want them both dead!
You will dishonour yourself forever if you do this.
Honour?! I've got Seven Kingdoms to rule! One King, Seven Kingdoms! Do you think honour keeps them in line?! Do you think it's honour that's keeping the peace?! It's fear! Fear and blood!
Then we're no better than the Mad King!
Careful, Ned! Careful now!
You want to assassinate a girl because the Spider heard a rumor?
No rumor, My Lord. The princess is with child.
Based on whose information?
Ser Jorah Mormont. He is serving as adviser to the Targaryens.
Mormont? You bring us the whispers of a traitor half a world away and call it fact?
Jorah Mormont's a slaver, not a traitor. Small difference, I know, to an honourable man.
He broke the law. Betrayed his family, fled our land. We commit murder on the word of this man?
And if he's right?! If she has a son?! A Targaryen at the head of a Dothraki army! What then?!
The Narrow Sea still lies between us. I'll fear the Dothraki the day they teach their horses to run on water.
Do nothing?! That's your wise advice?! Do nothing till our enemies are on our shores?! You're my Council, counsel! Speak sense to this honourable fool!
I understand your misgivings, my lord. Truly, I do. It is a terrible thing we must consider, a vile thing. Yet we who presume to rule must sometimes do vile things for the good of the realm. Should the gods grant Daenerys a son, the realm will bleed.
Grand Maester PycelleI bear this girl no ill will, but should the Dothraki invade, how many innocents will die? How many towns will burn? Is it not wiser, kinder even, that she should die now, so that tens of thousands might live?
We should have had them both killed years ago!
When you find yourselves in bed with an ugly woman, best close your eyes and get it over with. Cut her throat and be done with it!
I followed you into war. Twice. Without doubts, without second thoughts. But I will not follow you now. The Robert I grew up with didn't tremble at the shadow of an unborn child.
I will have no part in it.
You're the King's Hand, Lord Stark. You'll do as I command, or I'll find me a Hand who will!
[Ned takes off his badge of office and tosses it onto the table in front of Robert]
And good luck to him. I thought you were a better man.
Out! Out, damn you! I'm done with you! Go, run back to Winterfell! I'll have your head on a spike! I'll put it there myself, you fool! You think you're too good for this, too proud and honourable?! This is a war!
I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King. I come before you to confess my treason, in the sight of Gods and men. I betrayed the faith of my King, and the trust of my friend, Robert. I swore to defend and protect his children, but before his blood was cold I plotted to murder his son, and seize the throne for myself. Let the High Septon and Baelor the Blessed bear witness to what I say...Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir to the Iron Throne. By the grace of all the Gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.
Grand Maester Pycelle
As we sin...so do we suffer. This man has confessed his crimes in sight of Gods and men. The Gods are just! But beloved Baelor taught us they can also be merciful. What is to be done with this traitor, Your Grace?
My mother wishes me to let Lord Eddard join the Night's Watch. Stripped of all titles and powers, he would serve the Realm in permanent exile. And my Lady Sansa... has begged mercy for her father. But they have the soft hearts of women. So long as I am your King, treason shall never go unpunished! Ser Ilyn! Bring me his head!
I can trust you, Pycelle. Can I not?
Grand Maester Pycelle
Why yes, of course, my lord.
These are perilous times. And the Crown must forge new alliances. And these alliances must often be sealed in matrimony.
Grand Maester Pycelle
Matrimony, hmmm. Yes.
I'm trusting the council with these plans, but the Queen mustn't know. We can't have her meddling in affairs that could determine the future of the Realm. There's too much at stake.
Grand Maester Pycelle
Oh, yes, yes. Indeed, yes. I shall be silent as the grave.
[Tyrion walks over to pour two cups of wine]
I'm brokering an alliance with House Martell of Dorne. Princess Myrcella will wed their youngest son when she comes of age, ensuring their loyalty and their army, should we need it.
Grand Maester Pycelle
Myrcella sent away to Dorne?
[Tyrion returns to the chairs with a cup of wine in each hand]
But remember, the Queen mustn't know.
[Varys is revealed to be occupying the seat Pycelle was sitting in earlier]
Ooh, "The Queen mustn't know." I love conversations that begin this way.
I plan to marry Princess Myrcella off to Theon Greyjoy.
Theon Greyjoy? Forgive me, my lord, but how? He grew up in Winterfell. He fights for Robb Stark.
Precisely. [turns and slowly walks away from Varys] Theon's father loathes the Starks and will convince the boy to come to our side. Greyjoy can destroy the Northern army from within and we can have his father's ships. But remember, you must tell no one.
[Tyrion turns around to face Littlefinger, who is now sitting where Varys sat]
I plan to wed Princess Myrcella to Robin Arryn of the Vale. Lysa is not fond of me. But perhaps the promise of a royal match will convince her to let bygones be bygones.
She imprisoned you. She tried to execute you, and you offer her son a princess?
For men in our position, holding grudges can be an encumbrance, don't you think?
And I suppose you want me to broker this agreement?
[starts pacing around the desk] Yes, I could sing this song to Lysa, if I cared to. What's in it for me?
The gratitude of the people of Westeros for helping to end this war, the adoration of the King for bringing the Vale back into the fold... and Harrenhal.
Never took you for a superstitious man. By all means, tear it down and rebuild. You'll be able to afford it. I plan to make you Lord of the Riverlands.
With a single stroke, you'd make me one of the greatest lords in the Realm.
You served my family well in the matter of the succession.
So did Janos Slynt, and he was given Harrenhal, too. Until you snatched it away.
I need you to deliver Lysa Arryn. I didn't need Janos Slynt. It's settled, then? [pause; Littlefinger nods] Good. Oh, and remember—
[Tyrion smirks, drinks the rest of his wine and leaves his chambers]
What news of Jaime? [All the others remain silent] Twenty thousand unwashed Northerners have known about his escape for weeks. Collectively, you control more spies and informants than the rest of the world combined. Do you mean to tell me that none of you has any notion where he is?
Try harder! What do we have then?
Robb Stark and most of his bannermen are in Riverrun for the funeral of his grandfather, Lord Hoster Tully. In Stark's absence, Roose Bolton holds Harrenhal, which would make him Lord of Harrenhal, in practice if not in name-
Let him have it. The name suits our purposes far more than that useless pile of rubble. The Lord of Harrenhal will make a worthy suitor for the widow Arryn.
For which I am extremely grateful to you, my lord. Lady Arryn and I have known each other since we were children; she has always been positively predisposed towards me.
Grand Maester Pycelle
A successful courtship would make Lord Baelish Acting Lord of the Vale.
Titles do seem to breed titles.
You'll leave for the Eyrie as soon as possible and bring Lysa Arryn into the fold, then the Young Wolf can add his own aunt to the list of people who've taken up arms against him!
Far be it from me to hinder true love, but Lord Baelish's absence would present certain problems. The royal wedding may end up being the most expensive event in living memory. Summer had ended, hard days lie ahead, not a good time to leave the crown's finances unattended.
Fully agreed, which is why I am naming you Master of Coin.
It would appear to be a position that best suits your talents.
I'm quite good at spending money, but a lifetime of outrageous wealth hasn't taught me about managing it!
I have no doubt you will prove equal to this challenge.
Grand Maester Pycelle
Hear, hear!
Killed a few puppies today?
[gestures to Pycelle] Show him. Go on, show him!
[Pycelle takes out a small scroll and holds it out, but drops it when Tyrion reaches for it]
Grand Maester Pycelle
Ohhh! I'm sorry, my Lord, old fingers. [Tyrion glares at him, snatches the scroll up from the floor and reads it]
"Roslin caught a fine fat trout. Her brothers gave her a pair of wolf pelts for her wedding. Signed Walder Frey." Is that bad poetry, or is it supposed to mean something?
Robb Stark is dead! And his bitch mother! [to Pycelle] Write back to Lord Frey. Thank him for his service and command him to send Robb Stark's head to me. I'm going to serve it to Sansa at my wedding feast.
Your Grace, Lady Sansa is your aunt by marriage.
A joke. Joffrey did not mean it.
Yes, I did. I'm going to have it served to Sansa at my wedding feast.
No. She is no longer yours to torment.
Everyone is mine to torment. You'd do well to remember that, you little monster.
Oh, I'm a monster? Perhaps you should speak to me more softly, then. Monsters are dangerous and just now kings are dying like flies.
I could have your tongue out for saying that!
Let him make his threats. Hmm? He's a bitter little man.
Grand Maester Pycelle
Lord Tyrion should apologize immediately. Unacceptable, disrespectful, and in very bad taste!
I am the KING!! I will punish you!
Any man who must say, "I am the king" is no true king. I'll make sure you understand that when I've won your war for you.
My father won the real war! He killed Prince Rhaegar. He took the crown, while you hid under Casterly Rock!
[Glares at Joffrey, unfazed] ...The king is tired. See him to his chambers.
We have so much to celebrate. A wedding to plan. You must rest.
Grand Maester, perhaps some essence of nightshade to help him sleep.
These meetings aren't always going to be this early, are they? I was up late last night. So, does this mean I am a master of something now? Coins, ships?
MTMace Tyrell
Lord Tywin and I already determined that I shall be the Master of Ships long before you...
[Tywin enters and everybody but Oberyn stands up]
MTMace Tyrell
Lord Tywin, it's a great honor to have been granted a seat on this council. I...
The trial begins this afternoon. We only have the morning for affairs of state. Shall we begin?
Sandor Clegane has been spotted in the Riverlands, my lord.
My birds tell me the Hound slaughtered five of our soldiers. I believe the phrase "Fuck the King" was uttered.
Grand Maester Pycelle
Disgraceful.
What would it take to make the common soldier stupid enough to try his luck with the Hound?
10 Silver stags seems a generous bounty.
More whispers from the east, my lord.
Daenerys has taken up residence in Meereen. She has conquered the city and rules as its queen.
She commands an army of Unsullied, my queen. Some 8,000 strong. She has a company of sellswords, the Second Sons. She has two knights advising her. Jorah Mormont and Barristan Selmy. And she has three dragons.
Larger every year, Your Grace.
Grand Maester Pycelle
Mormont is spying on her for us.
No longer. He appears to be fully devoted to her. As for Ser Barristan, it would seem he took his dismissal from the Kingsguard a bit harder than anticipated.
He's an old man. He wasn't fit to protect my son.
Joffrey didn't die on his watch. Dismissing him was as insulting as it was stupid.
Don't tell me you're worried about a child, halfway across the world.
A child with two seasoned warriors counseling her... and a powerful army at her back, Your Grace.
Lord Varys is right. I have been to Essos and seen the Unsullied firsthand. They are very impressive on the battlefield. Less so in the bedroom.
Dragons haven't won a war in 300 years. Armies win them all the time. She must be dealt with.
Pycelle
How, my lord? By force?
Eventually, if it comes to that. Can your little birds find their way into Mereen?
Most certainly, my Lord Hand.
Game of Thrones · 356 quotes
