The Crownlands. King's Landing. 297 AC.
The following morning. The Small Council Chamber.
Seated in the small council chamber, I looked over the assembled councillors. There were four of us: myself, Varys, Baelish, and Robar. Ser Barristan, consud by guilt over the king's death, had fled to stand watch over the prince in so attempt to ease his conscience. I had invited my cousin because he held the post of Commander of the Gold Cloaks. Pycelle, as promised, had followed Robert into whatever ca next. Renly had slipped away in the night toward Storm's End. Stannis remained on Dragonstone as he always had. We were discussing the state of the realm, and the picture was not a pleasant one. It all stopped when a ssenger interrupted us.
"My lord Hand, King Joffrey summons you and his councillors to the Throne Room." The young ssenger in Lannister colors cut across our eting.
"King Joffrey?" Robar raised an eyebrow and glanced at .
"Well then, if Prince Joffrey calls for us, it is our duty to answer." I rose from the table without any particular urgency. The others followed.
"My lords, I need a word with my cousin." Varys and Baelish understood without being told and stepped out. "Robar, gather the guardsn. Forty n will co with . Stay ready with the rest and act as the situation demands."
...
The Throne Room had not changed much in its physical form, but in spirit the difference was plain. The tapestries, the banners, the stag sigils had all been replaced with the imagery of the joined house of Baratheon and Lannister. On the throne sat a boy doing his best to appear magnificent. He was not succeeding. His nerves were visible. Below, with the queen at their head, stood the principal supporters of the lion's faction in the capital. Baelish and Varys quickly joined their number, which surprised no one. On the steps the White Cloaks, Barristan at their head, held their posts. At the foot of the dais stood the Crimson Cloaks of the Lions, and even a pair of Stark guardsn. Sansa stood beside Cersei looking pleased with herself, Brandon at his sister's side.
When the herald had finished reading out my titles and the invented titles of Prince Joffrey, Robert's son took it upon himself to speak.
"I command my loyal councillors to make all preparations for my coronation. It shall take place in a fortnight."
I paid his wishes no particular attention. Let Ned be the one to raise him properly.
"Today I shall receive the oaths of loyalty from my faithful councillors," Joffrey continued.
"Ser Barristan, no one here would dare question your honor. Please read the king's will." I handed the knight Robert's final testant.
The docunt had been drawn up in full accordance with every law and custom. Formal language, the king's signature, and the spoken and written attestation of the councillors to its authenticity. There was no room for it to be bent to anyone's advantage. Barristan read it aloud and clearly, so that every soul in the room could hear.
"If you would." The queen snatched the will from his hands, read it, and began to tear it apart. Those around her looked baffled. I felt intense fury.
"But that was the king's final wish," Selmy protested, and rightly so.
"We have a new king now." The woman turned her gaze on . "Lord Arryn, the Iron Throne, as does all the realm, thanks you for your many years of faithful service to the crown. You will always be rembered as a good friend to the throne, but the Iron Throne is entering a new era. The ti has co to rest, and you may look with pride upon the fruits of your long labor."
Why does Cersei need any of this? Her actions are destabilizing the realm. Wait two more years, let Joffrey beco king in full, and then do whatever you like. Is there so purpose beneath this that I am missing? No, she is not clever enough for that. This is greed, nothing more, reaching for quick gains at the cost of everything that cos after.
"But the crown does not forget its friends," Joffrey took up the thread. "All privileges, honors, and agreents between the Iron Throne and House Arryn remain in force. When my sister cos of age, she shall be sent to the Vale for a royal marriage."
Did the Lannisters kill Robert? Possibly. Cersei is a fool, chasing short-term gains. I could cut down everyone in this room, take the rest into custody, and beat a confession out of them. But I will not dishonor my friend's mory by spilling the blood of his children. So what then?
"...You were my father's most devoted friend, and I have no doubt of your loyalty. You have served your king for many years and shall continue to serve, not here, but in the Vale, as its faithful Warden of the East. And now, kneel before and swear your fealty, as you once did to my father."
Joffrey may be a hysterical boy, but he has a gift for oratory.
Unpleasant. But it may have to co to that.
...
The hall held its breath. Soldiers on both sides stood rigid, waiting on Arryn's decision. A single word from him and the Throne Room would drown in blood, and the country with it in civil war, or he could swallow the humiliation and spare thousands of lives. Dozens of seconds passed after the new king finished speaking. Then, in the silence of the hall, a sharp sound rang out as a golden brooch struck the marble floor. The badge of the Hand of the King lay at the foot of the Iron Throne.
"Take it," said Arryn, his voice carrying no emotion whatsoever. That stillness of it unsettled everyone present. The Lord of the Vale turned and walked unhurriedly toward the doors.
"Kneel, and you may still..." Cersei began, but what the forr Hand did next stopped her cold. Falcon's eye drew his Valyrian steel blade, Golden Wing, and every fighter in the room followed suit on both sides of the hall. The tension reached its peak. A mont later, Ser Robar Royce led a second wave of Arryn's forces into the room. In an instant the Lannisters had lost their one and only advantage: their numbers.
"We are leaving." No one dared move to stop him.
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