Tricks that'd make the same folk that would have you hanged for regicide bend the knee to you instead. Or, at least, run away screaming if they detest you too much to bow to you.

[He takes a knife from his pocket - a knife with the twin Frey castles carved into the handle - and plunges it into his own chest. He doesn't wince. He doesn't cry out. And when he pulls his hand away, there's no blood, not even a hole in his clothing.

Instead, where the ornate and no-doubt treasured family keepsake of a knife used to be, he now holds a simple, harmless pink tulip.]