This Is the Last Time

While waiting at the outer wall earlier, Gryn had analyzed Petyr's political maneuvering.

Lord Jon Arryn, Duke of the Eyrie, was the Protector of the Vale. Through his marriage alliance with House Tully, he exerted influence over the Riverlands, and the Duke of Winterfell in the North was his foster son.

Lord Jon Arryn could directly or indirectly control the Vale, the Riverlands, and the North all by himself.

In the original series, Petyr first arranged the marriage between King Joffrey and Margaery Tyrell, successfully forging an alliance between House Lannister and House Tyrell.

In return, Petyr was granted Harrenhal and made governor of the Riverlands.

Second, Petyr told Lord Tywin Lannister about House Tyrell's secret plan to take Sansa Stark to Highgarden and marry her to Willas Tyrell. This gave Lord Tywin enough time to marry Sansa Stark to Tyrion first.

In exchange, Petyr gained Lord Tywin Lannister's support. As Lord of Harrenhal, he married Lysa Tully and brought the Vale under his control without a single sword being drawn.

Third, he came to the North, preparing to help Sansa Stark seize power there.

Petyr's plan was to secure power in the Vale, the Riverlands, and the North.

Petyr's rise to power overlapped with Lord Jon's. Was Petyr an imitator of Lord Jon, or an admirer?

Gryn spoke so calmly that it sent a chill through the room. "Lord Petyr, do you like to gamble? I can't say I'm fond of it."

Petyr shook his head, his smile tinged with unease.

Gryn continued, "If someone dies in this room tonight, I'd bet I'll be fine. I'll make it back to the Whispers safe and sound, and carry on enjoying the privileges of a noble."

Petyr suddenly understood why others called House Crabb a family of half-wildling nobles.

They were too barbaric. They didn't play by the rules of the Game of Thrones!

At that thought, Petyr felt not panic, but fear.

Ha. I might die tonight!

How had he seen through my methods? He was too young to have that kind of ability.

Right. Tyrion. It had to be that Lannister dwarf!

Petyr remembered that when the servant he'd sent to notify Gryn returned, he'd mentioned seeing Tyrion with Gryn.

And the information about where I was staying tonight... Petyr silently cursed Tyrion for running his mouth. They were all men who refused to play by the rules!

Petyr's gray-green eyes shifted. "Lord Gryn, I think we've been terribly misled by the slander of petty men. I've always meant you well. Together, we'd make a formidable team!"

To bolster his confidence, Petyr leaned back in his chair. "You and I have a lot in common. We both deserve more power."

Gryn remained unmoved and made up a family maxim on the spot. "My ancestors taught me that a thousand schemes are no match for a single sword."

Petyr felt bitter. This barbarian wasn't listening to a word of his sincere advice.

Leaning back in his chair, Gryn crossed one leg over the other. "Lord Petyr, you and I are different. My ancestors spent centuries shedding blood to make House Crabb a military house. I inherited all of it."

Petyr managed a strained smile.

Gryn suddenly said, "Anguy, there's a wine jug on that table. It's Arbor wine. Pour us each a cup."

Petyr felt the oppressive atmosphere lift in an instant.

That only made him more wary of the young-faced Gryn before him.

Anguy, who looked harmless, politely and respectfully poured a cup for Gryn and Petyr.

Gryn raised his cup toward Petyr, whose face was still stiff, then took a small sip of the golden Arbor wine.

The smooth, rich golden Arbor wine went down, and Petyr grew calmer. "Then, my honored Lord Gryn, might I ask what you want?"

Gryn gave a slight wave of his hand. "You're a great man. I'm a nobody."

Gryn stopped Petyr's empty flattery. He gently rubbed the rim of his cup with his thumb and continued, "My ambitions are small. I have no interest in the schemes of great men, and I don't want to get involved. There should be no conflict between us. Do you understand?"

The look in Gryn's eyes at that final moment made Petyr feel a chill in his bones.

Petyr nodded stiffly.

Gryn rose from his chair, his face warm with a smile. "Forgive my brazen visit tonight. I have to see the Hand of the King tomorrow morning. The Whispers values peace. I hope you'll help persuade Lord Jon to keep the peace as well."

Petyr sensed that Gryn had let go of his urge to kill and finally breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

To make sure nothing else changed at the last moment, Petyr said, "I told you, we're already friends. I'm always glad to help a friend. I promise."

Gryn nodded and took his leave. "You don't mind if I use the front door?"

Petyr had regained his usual composure and elegance. He picked up the bell beside the bed and rang it.

A short while later, there was a soft knock at the door.

Gryn had already taken a few steps when he suddenly turned and approached Petyr again. He reached out and pulled open Petyr's robe. Petyr's pupils contracted, but he wisely stayed still.

The dagger in Gryn's hand flashed, leaving a line a hand's length across Petyr's upper chest.

The wound from the dagger was shallow. Petyr didn't even feel any pain.

Warm blood welled continuously from the line on Petyr's upper chest, instantly staining a large area red.

"This is the last time."

Gryn opened the door and calmly told Petyr's servant to lead the way.

Petyr didn't like his servants being curious. Seeing that Petyr had no further instructions, his servant wondered what had happened but didn't dare ask. He respectfully led Gryn and the others out.

Long after Gryn had left, Petyr, who had remained standing without moving, sat down. His gray-green eyes were deep and unreadable.

Gryn's knife work was excellent. It looked as if he'd drawn a lot of blood, but the wound was shallow, and the bleeding had stopped.

After Gryn left, a complicated smile appeared on Petyr's otherwise expressionless face.

The next morning, near Maegor's Holdfast in the Red Keep.

Tyrion yawned repeatedly, looking completely undignified.

Jaime glanced at the faintly brightening sky and looked helpless.

Cersei had been a little too enthusiastic the previous night. Jaime had spent a great deal of energy, and now Tyrion had dragged him out of bed at dawn. He was forcing himself to stay awake.

Jaime asked, "Where did you go to have fun yesterday?"

Tyrion's eyes were half-lidded, and his voice was weak. "I spent the evening drinking at Gryn's place, then went to Shataya's. Jedi, Alayaya, and Dancy were just too enthusiastic. Ugh, I got less than two hours of sleep."

Jaime laughed. "After a night like that, you should've gotten some proper rest. What made you leave that soft bed and come looking for me so early?"