Game of Thrones: Knight’s Honor

Chapter 363 - 363: The Snake Pit

As all eyes lingered on the bride Ellie and on Cersei with puzzled expressions, the ceremony returned to its proper course. Joffrey and Ellie were guided by the High Septon to the statues of the Seven within the cathedral. Surrounded by witnessing nobles, the couple exchanged vows and rings. Then, in the name of the Seven, the High Septon declared their union and bestowed his blessing.

At that moment, Lynd quietly stepped up beside Garlan and asked, "Is that Ellie Tyrell really from House Tyrell?"

"Of course she is," Garlan replied with certainty.

Lynd followed up, "You did this on purpose, didn't you?"

This time, Garlan didn't answer—he simply smiled.

Lynd, ever observant, could tell that while Ellie Tyrell did resemble Cersei to some degree, it wasn't to the point where they could be mistaken for twins. The illusion likely came from Ellie's carefully designed makeup and attire, and more importantly, from the fact that House Tyrell had specifically trained her to mimic Cersei's former bearing. That was what made Ellie seem so convincingly like the former Queen.

Unfortunately for them, what House Tyrell hadn't anticipated was Lynd. In just a matter of days, he had completely transformed Cersei—turning her into something akin to a sainted sister of the Faith. Had Cersei retained her old temperament and stood beside Ellie Tyrell, the contrast would have been even more jarring, making the intended humiliation far more effective.

Still, there was no question: House Tyrell had now avenged the disgrace they suffered when the original betrothal was inexplicably broken—and perhaps even came out ahead.

For the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms in attendance, Tyrell's revenge was actually welcome news. It meant a rift between the Westerlands and the Reach, which eased the pressure on other regions. Had the two great houses remained united, the lords of the Crownlands and the Riverlands especially would have found themselves in a precarious position.

...

After returning from the cathedral to the Red Keep, the wedding feast began in the palace gardens. The wardens and high lords of the Seven Kingdoms—and their envoys—were seated in separate sections. Even Shireen and Sansa had areas designated just for them.

But unlike Shireen, who was surrounded by loyal lords and nobles of the Stormlands, Sansa's space was much quieter. Around her were mostly hedge knights and opportunists who had found their way into the feast by various means. They clearly hoped to win her favor, to be hired into her service—or better yet, to charm her enough to become her lover and gain influence through her.

The old Sansa might have been dazzled by this parade of peacocks. Now, she found them irritating. After repeatedly turning them away, she ordered the Son of the Gods assigned to her protection to cordon off her section and prevent further interruptions. The move was abrupt, but effective.

Lady Catelyn noticed Sansa's situation and thought about going over to speak with her, but in the end, she chose not to.

Perhaps simply bored, Sansa eventually chose to step away for a while. No one paid her much mind—except Lynd, who glanced after her thoughtfully. He wasn't the only one. Two others had clearly taken interest in her movements: Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper, and Olenna Redwyne, the Queen of Thorns.

Seeing this, Lynd couldn't help but entertain a few bold suspicions. He made his way to Oberyn, gestured for those nearby to give them space, and asked quietly, "What exactly are you planning?"

Oberyn raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "What a strange question. How would you expect me to answer that?"

Lynd got straight to the point. "When did the Faceless Men, the Queen of Thorns, and you start working together?"

Oberyn's smile slowly faded. He stared at Lynd, trying to read his expression, but found nothing. In the end, he had no choice but to ask, "How did you know?"

"I guessed," Lynd replied calmly—an answer that made Oberyn frown deeply.

If anyone else had said that to him, Oberyn likely would've drawn his blade on the spot. But this was Lynd. Oberyn held back and asked cautiously, "Are you planning to stop us?"

"No. I already said I won't interfere in the internal affairs of the Seven Kingdoms," Lynd said evenly. "Just like with House Stark—I had a good relationship with them. When Lord Eddard and Robb died, I didn't intervene. And I won't now either."

Oberyn exhaled slightly in relief and made a subtle gesture.

Across the garden, the Queen of Thorns—who had been quietly observing the interaction—also relaxed and resumed her conversation with those around her.

The Red Viper said in a low voice, "I thought Joffrey was the ruler of the Iron Throne you recognized. I figured you'd step in to protect him."

Lynd shook his head. "I never said I recognized Joffrey as the ruler of the Iron Throne. I only said he was the heir named in King Robert Baratheon's will, and that his claim was beyond dispute. If I truly accepted him as king, I would've intervened when Stannis attacked King's Landing."

...

While they spoke, Sansa returned to the banquet. Lynd noticed she wasn't alone—two maids from the Red Keep followed closely behind. One approached Queen Ellie, while the other moved to stand behind Tyrion.

Soon after, nobles from across the Seven Kingdoms began offering their wedding gifts to Ellie and Tyrion. Lynd presented a finely crafted sword. Sansa gifted a set of jewelry. Shireen brought a limited-edition noblewoman's makeup set from Miracle Harbor.

Just as described in the books from Lynd's previous life, Tyrion presented a rare book as his gift. But Joffrey, in front of everyone, tore it apart with a blade and, to further humiliate him, ordered Tyrion to act as his cupbearer and bring him wine.

At Joffrey's command, the jesters began their performance. Unlike the version from the books Lynd remembered, there were only four jesters this time—each representing Renly, Stannis, Robb, and Joffrey himself. As the jester portraying Joffrey defeated each of the others, eventually cutting off Robb's head and sewing on a wolf's, Joffrey laughed with gleeful delight.

Meanwhile, both Sansa and Lady Catelyn looked mortified. They made to rise and put an end to the farce but were quietly restrained—Sansa by Lynd, and Catelyn by Roose Bolton.

During this, Lynd cast a glance at Roose Bolton, then at the Red Viper. A sudden realization struck him—he'd miscounted. Roose Bolton was part of it too. Subtle cues in Roose's behavior suggested he was in league with the Queen of Thorns and the Red Viper.

That thought led Lynd to look at Tywin with a flicker of sympathy. Tywin likely had no idea that King's Landing had become a pit of snakes—full of vipers and constrictors ready to tear apart the lion, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

...

What followed played out exactly as recorded in the histories of his past life. Joffrey continued to mock and shame Tyrion, even demanding that Tyrion bring him the goblet from his table.

Then Joffrey drank.

Moments later, he collapsed.

Pandemonium erupted in the garden. Cersei, reacting like any ordinary mother, rushed forward and cradled her son's body, wailing uncontrollably. Jaime stood nearby, stunned and motionless, unsure of what to do.

Only Tywin remained composed. He barked orders to the guards, demanding the banquet be sealed and no one allowed to leave. He then had Tyrion seized on the spot—because everyone had seen it: it was Tyrion who had handed Joffrey the poisoned cup. And given how clear their mutual hatred had been—especially after Joffrey publicly declared he would put Tyrion on trial for treason the next day—it was all too easy to believe. To many, they looked like sworn enemies.

"It's strangler," said Grand Maester Pycelle as he knelt beside the corpse, examining the discoloration on Joffrey's face. At Tywin's command, he had hurried over, and now, with just a glance, he had identified the poison.

"Strangler is a poison the Sorrowful Men of Qarth are especially known for," said the Red Viper, stepping forward with a solemn expression. "As far as I know, King Robert once hired them to assassinate Daenerys, the Dragon Queen who now rules Qarth. Could this be her revenge?"

At those words, several heads turned toward Lynd, who still sat calmly in his seat. Many of the nobles at the feast were well-informed. They'd already heard, through various channels, that Nymeria of the Kingdom of Lorne had allied herself with Daenerys, and together they had begun conquering the vast lands between Qarth and Lorne. Only the Dothraki Sea and Slaver's Bay remained unconquered.

By blaming Daenerys, the Red Viper had essentially cast suspicion on Lynd. Many couldn't help but wonder if he bore some deep grudge against Lynd—otherwise, why risk provoking him like this?

But before Lynd could speak in his own defense, other nobles around him had already begun to interject. One after another, they declared it impossible for Lynd to be behind it and turned their suspicion toward the Red Viper instead. After all, Oberyn Martell was infamous across Westeros for his knowledge of poisons. If anyone could have produced a rare toxin like strangler, it would be him.

Faced with these accusations, the Red Viper only shrugged, feigning helplessness.

"My lord, look at this," said Sandor Clegane, the Hound, as he stepped forward with something in his hand. He had just searched Tyrion and pulled out a small bottle still containing a trace of liquid.

Tywin took the bottle, his face darkening as he examined it. When he turned to look at Tyrion, his eyes were filled with rage.

Cersei also fixed Tyrion with a hate-filled glare and raised her hand, preparing to unleash the power of her ice dragon rune. But just as the rune's magic began to gather, it abruptly dispersed—as if suppressed by a force more powerful than hers. She turned to Lynd and saw him subtly shake his head. Reluctantly, she lowered her hand and instead gazed down at the lifeless body of her son with grief.

"No! Tyrion would never kill Joffrey!" Jaime stood there in disbelief, looking at his bound brother. "Tell me it wasn't you! That bottle's not yours! Say something, Tyrion Lannister!"

"This isn't... I mean, this is..." Tyrion stared at the bottle, stunned, completely lost for words.

Tywin passed the bottle to the Red Viper. "Prince Oberyn, you know poisons better than anyone. Tell me—what's in this?"

Oberyn didn't refuse. He took the bottle, uncorked it, sniffed the contents, then dipped the tip of his dagger into the liquid, tasted it, and spat it out.

"It's strangler," he confirmed. "From the amount remaining, it's already been used—probably very recently."

"I—this bottle..." Tyrion stammered, clearly realizing he had been caught in some elaborate trap. He turned to Varys and said, "Varys gave this to me days ago. He came to my cell at night."

Varys looked at Tyrion with wide eyes, the picture of confusion. He seemed genuinely shocked by the accusation.

"Why would Varys give you poison?" Tywin asked coldly. At his signal, two guards stepped forward and flanked Varys. Then Tywin turned back to Tyrion.

"I told him," Tyrion said hurriedly, "that if I were sentenced to death for treason, I'd rather die than take the black. So he gave me this bottle, to use on the road."

Varys turned to him, his calm mask cracking into fury. "My lord, is this some kind of joke? Because it's not funny. I haven't seen you since you were placed under house arrest by Lord Tywin—let alone visited you in the dungeons."

With the two of them now locked in a standoff of words, Tywin frowned. Just as he was about to order both of them imprisoned for further interrogation, Littlefinger suddenly spoke.

"Lord Tyrion," he said, "when exactly did Varys visit you?"

Tyrion answered quickly with a specific time.

Tywin's expression shifted. He paused, his look toward Tyrion growing colder.

"In that case, it's impossible that Lord Varys visited you in the cell or gave you poison," said Littlefinger, shaking his head. "At that time, Varys was in the Tower of the Hand attending a Small Council meeting, and he didn't leave until very late. What's more, when you were imprisoned, Lord Tywin gave strict orders that no one was to see you without his written permission. Not even Lord Jaime was allowed into the dungeons. How, then, could Varys have slipped past all those guards to bring you a bottle of poison?"

Tyrion stood frozen, utterly stunned. He had no response. Even when Sandor picked him up and carried him back to the cells, he remained in a daze.

...

While the crowd's attention remained fixed on the drama unfolding around Joffrey's body, Lynd's focus had shifted elsewhere. He had noticed the two Red Keep maids who had followed Sansa into the banquet. Before the guards took them for a search, they had discreetly passed a small bottle to her. Afterward, Sansa had left her seat and quietly taken a place behind Lynd.

"Give it to me," Lynd said, turning slightly toward her and extending his hand.

Sansa froze. Her face went pale. After a moment's hesitation, she handed over the bottle.

Lynd looked it over—it was identical to the other. He slipped it into his pocket without a word, then turned back toward the chaos at the center of the feast, the very picture of a passive observer.