Chapter 110 — "We Are Friends"
"I don't know if I should still trust you."
"What you've done… and then hearing you say that— it leaves me with a blade at my back and a bone in my throat."
"Perhaps the truly dangerous man… is you."
Autumn wind rolled in from Blackwater Bay, lifting Tyrion's long, almost-white gold hair. Beneath the drifting strands, one black eye and one green fixed on the young man before him.
Podrick stopped walking.
Tyrion's voice, cool and nakedly honest, carried on the wind behind him.
"Pod… I don't know what you want. You seem to want nothing — yet somehow you want everything."
"You have the appetite to swallow a castle whole… yet I cannot see the shape of your desire."
"Should I still trust you… my friend?"
The last words never left his lips. They stayed in his heart.
This boy — who had saved his life more than once, whose mind and composure were far beyond his years — the more Tyrion looked at him, the less he understood him.
Podrick kept his eyes on the distant city.
"You know, my lord," he said lightly, "from this spot… at this distance… if you fell from these walls, the Red Keep bells would ring again — the same bells that ring only when a Hand of the King dies."
His golden cloak snapped in the wind.
The words made Tyrion's body tense for a heartbeat — then relax.
"You could do it," Tyrion said calmly, as though stating a simple truth.
He looked up at him.
"So before you do… tell me why. Why act this way? Why remove Varys and the others?"
"Oh — and I suppose Varys wasn't 'not found.' I imagine no one knows where his body is, either."
"Flea Bottom might be fitting. The poor would be delighted if their stew had a bit more grease floating in it. They rarely ask what's in the pot."
Podrick finally turned.
He was still smiling — easy, relaxed, almost charming.
It was a dangerous kind of smile.
Tyrion suddenly realized his squire's eyes were impossibly calm… wide… as though nothing in the world could disturb him.
That calm made him unreadable.
What does he want?
"So," Tyrion said, "tell me what I got wrong."
Podrick shook his head, still smiling.
"No, my lord — you weren't entirely wrong."
"I did consider quietly removing the eunuch. Because I know that among all of them… he hides deepest. And he's the most dangerous."
"But unfortunately… I never found him."
"I searched every place I knew he might be. Sent people everywhere."
"Our dear Lord Varys seems to have vanished into thin air."
Tyrion narrowed his eyes, trying to judge whether Podrick was serious.
"The most dangerous?"
"I don't understand."
Podrick raised a finger and gently shook it.
"But you do understand one thing — he would never truly be your friend."
"And he is not the friend of this kingdom, this land… or anyone living on it."
"If someone is not a friend… then he is an enemy. Wanting him dead is only natural, isn't it?"
Tyrion felt more confused than ever. Littlefinger, Pycelle — those he could rationalize. But Podrick wanting Varys dead?
"I don't understand," Tyrion repeated.
Podrick sighed lightly.
"I can't explain. Not yet. I don't have proof. I will, someday — but not now. For the moment, it's enough that I have my reasons."
"I only did this because before I leave… I want you to be all right."
"At least alive. At least living like a man."
"Leave?" Tyrion's surprise this time was genuine.
He had never sensed such intent in the boy.
Podrick smiled softly. He let the wind slide through his fingers and closed his eyes.
"None of this belongs to me. I don't belong to it."
"You asked what I want. What I pursue."
"I can answer honestly."
"The unknown. Curiosity about the world."
"Power has never been my goal."
He opened his eyes — blue as a clear sky — and there was nothing false in them.
"Then why do this?" Tyrion pressed. "Why manipulate Cersei Lannister? What do you gain?"
Podrick pointed at him.
"The gain is that from this moment forward… this city truly belongs to you."
"Everything Petyr Baelish did is true. He and Lysa Arryn shared a closeness beyond anything you imagined."
"At Riverrun, Catelyn Stark's sister loved that petty lord from the Fingers madly. But he only loved her sister — and used Lysa as a substitute. A tool."
"Chaos is a ladder. That is Littlefinger's faith. His ambition."
"You guessed right — Harrenhal tempted him beyond measure. And so did the Eyrie."
"My people have compiled testimonies. Evidence. How he poisoned Jon Arryn. How he weakened young Robert Arryn. Everything."
"How you use it… is up to you."
Tyrion's heart thundered. Even his pupils seemed to tremble.
After a long moment, he licked dry lips.
"And Varys? Pycelle?"
Podrick shrugged.
"A true spy. A true traitor. The difference between them is both small… and vast. That choice is yours."
Then, almost as an afterthought:
"Oh — if I may suggest… marry King Joffrey Baratheon into House Martell instead."
"The heir is Arianne Martell. A woman. A grown woman."
"If she becomes queen and the marriage is sealed at once, it's far safer than sending poor Myrcella Baratheon to Dorne."
"As for Sansa Stark, she is better used to ransom Jaime Lannister."
"Conveniently, Robb Stark seems ready for peace."
He paused.
"And you…"
"Tyrion Lannister, I consider us friends."
"I do not betray friends."
"In fact… betrayal does not exist in my dictionary."