Chapter Text
All it had taken to beat her was a little bit of planning. Everyone in King’s Landing knew Cersei loved a good Dornish red. Petyr’s only regret was that he couldn’t be there for the Queen Regent’s final drink.
He smiled and took another sip of wine to silence the cough that had been troubling him for weeks. He frowned when the scratch in his throat grew worse. It felt as though he’d been set ablaze. The next cough left drops of blood on his hand, and the next left streaks.
Their game, it seemed, would end in a tie.