♛ I Will Not Die ♛

Chapter 26- Lady Whiskers

Eyes of green stared up at me. Full of light and the innocent beauty. I can recall this look in both of my younger siblings. I remember when Tommen was born like it was yesterday. His soft hair that was so few I wondered if he would ever have a full head of hair. But he did grow to have such a mess of hair atop his beautiful round face.

It makes me wonder if Jon and I's child would have had the same big cheeks that I had as a baby and as Myrcella and Tommen had. I wonder if Jon was a cute baby. Of course he was. I can imagine a mess of black curls with grey eyes behind it.

Jon. He has been on my mind so much lately. Even now when I sit on the little prince's bed with his head on my lap, I'm thinking of him. "Does the mother take cats?" Tommen asks as he rubs his eyes of the stray tears.

"Of course, honey." I say as I brush the locks off of his face. I run my hands through his hair and give him a soft smile. "Lady Whiskers is up in the sky with mother mercy and all of the other lost kitties in the world. Happy as can be."

"Joffrey killed her didn't he." He says and lets out another sob. How could I tell him. I watched the little bastard shoot an arrow through the poor animal. It was horrifying. I'm just glad Margaery was there to hold me back from stabbing Joff with the arrow used to kill Lady Whiskers. I thank the gods that Tommen didn't have to see it.

"We do not know that. But no need to cry little prince. You still have Boots and Ser Pounce. And I promise you that I'll find you another little kitten to take in."

"No one can replace Lady Whiskers." He says as he sits up. A knock at the door forces me to my feet. I lean down and kiss his head of gold hair and pullback. I wipe the wet tears from under his eyes and smile softly.

"I have to go to a luncheon. You be good okay? Have the Hound send for me if you need." He nods and hangs his head low. I tighten my fists with anger. How dare Joffrey kill Tommens cat. I just wish he would leave the poor boy alone.

Today, Tywin Lannister has called the first meeting of the Small Council since he arrived in the city and assumed his position as Hand of the King. He had me send out an announcement that the meeting place changed to a room next to his own quarters in the Tower of the Hand, asserting his dominance.

Tywin arrives early, sitting down at the head of the table. I sit immediately to his right, a quill in hand. He asked me to write anything I found important today. He seemed angrier than usual. "Grandfather?" I ask in a hushed voice so I wouldn't aggravate him. He nods in response and turns to me. "Would you please give me permission to pick a cat from the breeder. Joffrey killed Tommens kitten and I would like to make it up for him."

"He's not a child anymore. It's just a cat." He brushes off the request without a second thought.

"He is a child. He is a prince. Not a King. He doesn't need to seem tough." I say and press the ink to the page, watching the black liquid spread out like spider webs.

"He's a Lannister." He sits up and turns to me. "I will not have my grandson frolicking in the meadows with a bunch of cats."

"A Baratheon. Not a Lannister." I bite, letting the quill drag down the page. Ink following in a clean line.

"My decision is final."

"And mine is too. I'll pick up the cat tomorrow." Before he can argue a group comes up the hall. All of the council members walk in at once. All of the seats are on one side of the table, as a non-verbal test to see how each of them reacts around him.

Petyr Baelish ambitiously pushes his way past everyone else to be the one who sits closest to Tywin. Varys rolls his eyes at Littlefinger's naked ambition and lets him pass, content to sit in the second-closest seat. He finds my eyes and smiles softly. Grand Maester Pycelle, who is most focused on survival by avoiding direct conflict, doesn't try to fight over a better seat with either of them, instead quietly taking the third seat away from Tywin.

Cersei arrives to find the seats are all occupied, but not wanting to play that game and be relegated to a lowly position, she pulls up a chair so she is sitting at Tywin's right hand, opposite Littlefinger. I watch the scene curiously. Wondering the next move.

Tyrion is the only one who even mildly stands up to Tywin's posturing, by not even trying to sit closest to Tywin: instead he takes a new chair and makes a point of noisily dragging it across the ground until it is positioned at the exact opposite end of the table from his father. "Intimate." He says as he finally rests in his chair. "Lovely table. Better chairs than the old small council chamber.Conveniently close to your own quarters." He pats the table and looks over at me. "I like it."

"What news of Jaime?" He looks at me for an answer.

"We have known about his escape for weeks. But besides that there is nothing.

"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 of where he is?" Tywin shakes his head.

"We are trying, my lord." Varys says politely.

"Try harder." He nods to me and I jot down the lack of information on Jaime. "What do we have, then?"

"Robb Stark and most of his bannermen are in Riverrun for the funeral of his grandfather Lord Hoster Tully." Petyr says with some pride. Wow. He actually had something useful.

"In Stark's absence, Roose Bolton holds Harrenhal, which would seem to make him Lord of Harrenhal," Varys informs with a little bit of passive aggressive tone. "in practice if not in name."

"We should let him have it." I say after a moment of theought.

"That's just reckless." Baelish passes off the comment.

"She has a point." Tywin jumps to my defense. "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 toward me." Littlefinger speaks. Little snake.

"A successful courtship would make Lord Baelish acting Lord of the Vale." Pycelle finally adds.

"Titles do seem to breed titles." Varys agrees.

"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 have taken up arms against him." I frown. He's right. Robb's forces are dwindling.

"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." Tyrion reminds everyone.

"Summer has ended, hard days lie ahead. Not a good time to leave the crown's finances unattended." I input, Littlefinger glares.

"Fully agreed." Tywin says. "Which is why I'm naming you new Master of Coin."

"Master of Coin?" He questions.

"It would appear to be a position that best suits your talents." My mother coughs. A smile on her face.

"I'm quite good at spending money, but a lifetime of outrageous wealth hasn't taught me much about managing it." I chuckle a little.

"I have no doubt you will prove equal to this challenge."

"Hear, hear."

((YALL ARE IN FOR A MOTHERFUCKING TREAT AFTER THE NEXT FEW CHAPTERS. BYE BYE GAME OF THRONES SCRIPTS IT ONLY TOOK 30 CHAPTERS!))