I can trust you, Pycelle. Can I not?
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.
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.
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.
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]
Tell no one what?
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?
Who better?
[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.
Harrenhal is cursed.
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—
The Queen mustn't know.
[Tyrion smirks, drinks the rest of his wine and leaves his chambers]
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