Lum had been in the saddle for two days straight and was sore and exhausted. Thankfully, he didn't have to report for guard duty for another few days. Returning to King's Landing to learn of events had been quite the shock. The Tower of the Hand being attacked by Gold Cloaks, and somehow Myrcella being captured by Lord Stark and bargained for Sansa Stark. He hadn't believed it at first, despite everyone saying it was true. The idea that Myrcella could be captured did not seem possible.
Lum had learned more though and grew even more curious. Myrcella was being kept confined to her rooms; his fellow guards could attest to that. Within the city, there were all sorts of stories. Some claimed the Starks had cut the princess in order to force the Queen to let the treacherous Hand leave the city. As proof, they pointed at her blood-stained dress that she'd worn as she walked to the docks.
Others claimed the Stark wolves had mauled their perfect princess, and that was why the Queen had sent the Gold Cloaks into the tower. In any case, no one had seen her since she had been exchanged for Sansa Stark. Rumor had it, she was now either horribly disfigured, or that she was still under the Maester's care with her life hanging in the balance. Many of the small folk prayed in the Great Sept and made offerings to the Maiden.
Those rumors were nonsense – Lum knew from his fellow Red Cloaks that Myrcella had been uninjured. But she had been covered in blood. He went so far as to visit one of the brothels that the Gold Cloaks liked to drink and whore at to make inquiries. Most of them hadn't been part of the attack, but rumor had spread. Wild stories, of wolves tearing apart men in full mail, to the Terror of Tarth breaking men in half with her bare hands. Lum could generally tell that most of these stories were exaggerated. Men did that, especially when nearly 200 Gold Cloaks had been killed or injured and had still failed to arrest Lord Stark.
He listened especially for stories of Myrcella, and those were rarer, but they existed. Some claimed to have seen her with one of the Stark girls, watching impassively as men were dying around her. One claimed she had slit a Gold Cloak's throat from ear to ear. The one who spoke that story had a haunted look in his eyes.
Lum believed it. Many in the city claimed she was the personification of the Maiden. If they knew how good she was with a knife, they may have considered her the embodiment of the Warrior, despite her sex. Lum knew better. If she was represented by any of the Seven, it was the Stranger.
***
Before the gathered Tyrells lay three important letters and several of lesser importance. One proclaimed Joffrey the King of the Seven Kingdoms and demanded the attendance of the Paramount Lord of the Reach to renew his vows afore the Iron Throne. The second a letter proclaimed Stannis the King of the Seven Kingdoms and Joffrey a bastard borne of incest. More, it claimed that the Queen had had her husband killed and tried to slay the Hand. That letter included Eddard Stark's seal and signature vouching for the authenticity of the claim. The final letter was from Loras, claiming that he was being treated well in King's Landing and urging his family to come and swear their vows.
Margery had only recently been allowed to join her family's councils, though her grandmother had been telling her about them for years. She looked from her father to her mother and then to her two siblings. Mace was fraught with worry at the fate of his beloved son; her brothers hid their worries better, though she knew they had them.
Mace began, "These are troubling accusations. Very troubling. It is outlandish, a mummer could have come up with something more plausible. I will call a muster and then make for King's Landing and swear fealty to the true King, Joffrey Baratheon."
Garlan frowned. "Eddard Stark is an honorable man. I do not believe he would lie. And father, if it were a lie, why wouldn't they choose something less grandiose and grotesque? These charges may be true."
Mace frowned. "Stannis has hated us since the Rebellion. Should we throw our support behind him, do you think he would thank us? Mark my words, we will suffer if he is King."
Willas added, "The other concern is Loras. If we do not back Joffrey, I fear for his safety."
"Pah," Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns, interjected. "Think it through, Willas, you have more wits than that. The North, the Riverlands, and the Vale will certainly back Stannis's claim. Lord Stark fought with the Stormlords during the rebellion; I suspect most will believe his word over Cersei's." She took a sip of water and continued. "Perhaps the Greyjoys won't support Stannis's claim, but the Ironborn are feckless, and it is always a toss of the dice. The Lannisters killed Elia; Dorne and Doran have not forgotten. He may not stir himself, but if he does, it will not be on the side of Tywin Lannister."
Mace was growing impatient. "What does that have to do with the safety of Loras?"
"That the Lannisters cannot harm him! If we join Stannis, he will be King; it is that simple. The Crownlands and the Westerlands alone against five different kingdoms would put them at impossible odds. No, they will not dare harm a hair on his knightly head."
Margery felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Her brother was dear to her.
Mace mused over his mother's views. "They may not dare, but if we do declare for Stannis, what would they have to lose? Surely, you cannot suggest declaring for him."
The Queen of Thorns harrumphed, "Not yet, maybe not ever. The same of the Lannisters. I say, call the banners, but do not declare for either side. They demand loyalty when they should be begging us for it. When the Lannisters offer Joffrey to Margery or Stannis offers Shireen to Willas, then we can act. Until either does, let them fight their costly battles, while we grow more powerful in comparison."
Mace rubbed his chin. "The letter is terse, and it does not speak of any incentive to obey it. No offers of marriage or land, or even a decrease in taxation."
Olenna gestured at Margery. "If we declare for Joffrey and renew our vows now, what need have they to wed Joffrey to our Margery? No sense in rushing – that's how your father died."
The Lord Highgarden scowled at that. Luthor Tyrell had accidentally ridden off a cliff while hawking, a tragic and senseless death. Margery knew that her father's mother reminding him of the cost of being too hasty and reckless was not something he liked hearing.
"All well and good, but we can't afford to be too tardy in our reply. The Florents and the Cranes have already sworn themselves to Stannis! Never mind that I am their liege lord and not so much as a by-your-leave! Lord Alester writes to us and urges us to follow suit. The gall of the man! While we remain silent, our vassals are free to steer their own course. What happens if Hightower or Redwyne decides while we dither."
Margery's mother, Alerie, took her husband's hand. "My father will do no such thing."
"He had best not," Mace agreed. "But as for the Redwynes, both of their sons are in King's Landing. Should they be threatened, I can easily see old Paxter declaring for the Lannisters."
Willas made a humming sound. "I don't know, father. Paxter is a proud man. The idea that he would be coerced in such a fashion will rub him raw. I do think it would be wise for us to send out commands that none shall take position until Highgarden speaks."
Mace agreed with that. "I will not wait long, but I will give the Queen some time to stew. I will see my grandchild on the Iron Throne, whatever it takes. Alerie, Willas, join me as we put words to parchment."
As they left, Garlan gave Margery and Olenna a kiss on the cheek. He put a reassuring hand on her should and gave her an encouraging smile. "Loras will be well; try not to fret."
Margery nodded in response – hopefully conveying more confidence than she was feeling – and her brother took his leave as well; now it was just Olenna and her.
"Well, out with it, girl, what questions do you have."
Margery pondered before asking, "Why not respond with a marriage proposal to Joffrey?"
"It would be better not to get in bed with the Lion. It's no house cat. Whatever the truth of what happened in King's Landing, we know Cersei's words are lies. This sort of chaos and piss-poor planning is not someone we want to hitch our fortunes to."
Margery frowned. "What is it that you're hoping for? Stannis is no friend of ours; do you truly think that he would treat us kindly? He could strip us of the Wardenship and even move for us to lose the Paramountcy."
Olenna sniffed. "Easier said than done. We've married into the other houses of the Reach well. What I'm hoping is for Lord Baratheon and Lord Stark to see sense and agree to marry Shireen to Willas and you to Robb Stark."
Margery was surprised. "Robb Stark? I don't understand, grandmother."
"Then listen. If we side with Stannis, he will be King. The Stormlands, the North, the Vale, the Riverlands, and the Reach would be enough to crush the Lannisters. If we side with Joffrey, it becomes risky, far too risky for my liking. We will lose the paramountcy and potentially our heads if we back the wrong horse."
Margery nodded. "I understand the numbers, but will Lord Baratheon agree to the match? Father says he hates us."
"That is why I hope they see sense. 80,000 swords make a powerful wedding gift." She cleared her throat. "I intend to write to them and suggest the match, but in the letter advise that I am merely making suggestions without the knowledge or permission of the Lord of Highgarden. Should he then ask, I believe we can bring my son around together. Garlan will go along, and Willas will see the sense in it."
Margery had mixed feelings. "But what of Loras? Won't the Lannisters harm him if we declare for Stannis?"
"They might, but they would be even greater fools for it. If they harm Loras, we will see them destroyed, root and branch."
Margery was not convinced; fear for her brother's safety was gnawing at her
Olenna grabbed her hand. "Loras is protected by being a third son. If we declare for Stannis, the Lannisters can use him as a bargaining chip down the line, or he may be ransomed. There will be no sense in murdering Loras once we have declared. Nothing is ever certain in this game of thrones, Stannis may not agree to the match, my son may not agree to the match."
Margery smiled at her grandmother. She greatly appreciated the tutelage the Queen of Thorns was giving her. To be Queen would be a high honor, but her priority was her family. Be it Joffrey Baratheon, Robb Stark, or even someone like Robert Arryn, she was prepared to play her role and to play it well.
***
Jaime looked around the room in the Red Keep at the fellow members of the Small Council. It had grown smaller, even with his addition. The Master of Ships post was vacant, as was the Master of Laws, and Barristan Selmy was still abed with his wounds. Around the table were Petyr Baelish, the Master of Coin, Varys, the Master of Whispers, Grand Maester Pycelle, and now him as Hand of the King.
He had not wanted the position, but Cersei had insisted. She thought he would be honored by it. Was this to make up for her getting Lancel killed? She swore it was not, but he still wondered. The trust between the two of them had greatly frayed. The night he had returned with Tyrion, he had confronted her and demanded answers. To his regret, she had distracted him with her lovely form. It had been nice to lie with her without worrying about Robert.
His role as Hand was inconsequential at the moment. Cersei, as the regent for Joffrey, was a far more active ruler than Robert had been. She attended the Small Council and made her will known. All Jaime really did was advise on the few things he cared for.
Maester Pycelle spoke ponderously about the funeral arrangements that were being made for the Baratheon brothers. He went over the expenses, the arrangements for security, and if the people of King's Landing should be addressed.
"I'm sure you have things well in hand; no need to trouble the whole council with the details," Cersei finally cut him off.
"Ah, hmm, yes, Your Grace."
"On to more important matters. What word do we have from Joffrey's faithful subjects?"
Maester Pycelle pulled out a scroll with notes on it.
"Word travels slowly, Your Grace. Many of the lords are not sure what to make of Stannis's treachery." Pycelle paused. "We do enjoy the full support of the Westerlands. Your father reports that all his bannerman are ready to enforce Joffrey's rightful claim to the throne."
Jaime struggled not to roll his eyes. Of course they would; that was never in question.
"And who else," the Queen asked.
"Ah, well, likely many are still pondering the matter, or ravens failed to reach their destination, coming or going. The Citadel estimates that only about 80% of ravens are successful. Sometimes it is weather, or ne'er-do-wells working for…"
Cersei slammed her palm on the table. "Who else?"
"Outside the Westerlands, hmm, well, let's see. Stokeworth, Rosby, Blount, Hayford, Rykker, Chelsted, and Byrch from the Crownlands. From the Stormlands, we have houses Tarth and Trant. From the Vale, we have house Baelish."
Obviously.
"Sadly, nobody declared their support for us from any houses in the North, the Iron Isles, Dorne, the Reach, or the Riverlands."
Jaime frowned. It was possible that some were simply playing it safe. They would not declare one way or the other until they could see which way the wind was blowing and then choose the winning side. All the noble knights and lords talked of honor, and yet here they were, in full view of the realm, and they would only raise their swords when it was safe. Pathetic.
Jaime asked, "Who has declared outright for Stannis?"
Pycelle looked troubled and slowly looked at the scroll again.
"Nearly all the rest of the Stormlands with the exceptions of Cafferen, Morrigan, Dondarrion, and Selmy. Those four have not declared for Stannis or Joffrey."
Jaime thought about those names. Cafferen was perilously close to King's Landing. They had sent word they had Bran Stark and Tyrek Lannister before word had reached them that Stannis had declared. Jaime suspected they would likely follow the rest of the Storm Lords, but being so close, they did not wish to tempt an assault on their moderately-sized keep.
Beric Dondarrion, head of his house, was here in the capital; he had refused to swear fealty to Joffrey and was now confined under heavy guard. His castellan wouldn't act until he heard from Lord Beric. The Lord of Crown's Nest, Lester Morrigan, likely feared for his youngest brother's safety. Guyard Morrigan had sworn fealty to King Joffrey, but likely only due to honor demanding it as the sworn shield of Tommen. Finally, the Selmy family of Harvest Hall would not seek to fight against Ser Barristan, their most famous member.
Not nearly enough, even in the unlikely event of all four houses siding with us fully, they would still be outmatched four-to-one by the Stormland houses who have already declared for Stannis.
Pycelle spoke up again, "Within the Crownlands and the Lords of the Narrow Sea, the houses Massey, Bar Emmon, Celtigar, Valeryon, Sunglass, Farring, and Follard have all declared for Stannis." Pycelle made a note before turning the parchment. "Within the Reach, Florent and Crane have sworn to Stannis. Within the North and the Riverlands, it appears most have sworn to Stannis, though most notably Lord Frey has not. I do not have confirmation from several of the minor houses.
Cersei had a thunderous look about her. It promised retribution, but all Jaime could focus on was the stirring of lust when he looked at her.
"I am pleased to note that no house from Dorne, the Vale, or the Iron Isles has pledged to Stannis. They may yet be convinced to join our cause."
"Varys, what do you have to report? Can we expect assistance from houses who have not yet declared?"
The eunuch gave a soft smile. "My little birds do take time to report on what they learn. Doran Martell is a cautious man; his aid will likely not be forthcoming for either side. The Vale wishes to avenge the Royces, however it is Lady Arryn who holds them back."
Jaime spoke for the first time, "Holds them back from siding with whom?"
The eunuch gave the council a sorrowful look. "My little birds tell me that they believe Lord Stark's version of events over the truth."
Cersei scowled at that. Jaime knew she had never been friendly with Lysa Arryn. He was puzzled why she hadn't declared for Stannis, but she never did get along with Robert's brothers either. Women were always hard to decipher.
"Balon Greyjoy does seem to be readying a response, but not through written word. My birds tell me he is arming and preparing for war. Ships are being outfitted and supplied. As to where they would strike, I have yet to uncover."
"And no word from the Tyrells? We have their precious Loras."
Varys shook his head. "The ravens are being sorely overworked all throughout the Reach. The Tyrells have summoned their banners. Hope remains as they have not blocked trade on the Rose Road. Had they done so, King's Landing would swiftly suffer from lack of food."
Cersei looked to Jaime. "Well, what advice do you have, my Lord Hand."
Jaime was caught off-guard. He shrugged. "I'm not much for diplomacy. I can advise you that we need to expand the Gold Cloaks and reinforce the defenses of the city. If King's Landing remains vulnerable to attack, we will hamstring father in the war effort."
Littlefinger spoke as Master of Coin. "The treasury will be strained, but we can afford to increase the size of the City Watch. Shall I make arrangements to add 2,000 to their number?"
Cersei nodded, "Expand them as much as the treasury can spare. Raise taxes where you must; we must be made safe here. As for the houses that have proven their disloyalty, it is time we take firm measures. Maester Pycelle, write to Mace Tyrell that we will begin to send parts of Loras to him if he delays responding any longer. Write to Balon Greyjoy that he has free rein to pillage the Lords of the Narrow Sea and the North. Tell him, if he does so, he and his grubby marauders will be allowed to keep any lands they take."
Jaime thought that was a mistake. "Cersei, threatening the Tyrells may backfire. They may take pride in his achievements, but we can't control the Reach through one knight."
"I must agree with our Lord Hand," Pycelle intoned, "Mace Tyrell is a vain fellow. Pamper his vanity and we may get better results."
"I did not ask for your opinions; you have already given them. Send the letters as I have instructed. We will not project weakness or demean the crown by rewarding tardiness."
Jaime shared uneasy glances with Varys and Pycelle. Littlefinger's expression did not change, nor did he meet his eye.
Petyr spoke up, "Boldness may do much for our cause, Your Grace. I propose we also be bold in our response to Stannis and his little letter. We can spread the rumor that it was Stannis, who wore the horns, and that Shireen is not his true-born daughter. Dragonstone has a fool by the name of Patchface; he's an ugly thing to look at. Perhaps it was he who fathered Shireen with Selyse Florent, and that is why her face is disfigured with a curse by the Gods in the way of grayscale.
Cersei laughed at the idea. "That would be fitting. Work with Maester Pycelle and see it done, Lord Baelish."
A few other, unimportant in Jaime's mind, topics were brought up, and then the Small Council was dismissed. Jaime did not hurry after Cersei; instead, he had Baelish stay.
"What can I do for the Lion of Lannister?"
In a flash, Jaime had his blade drawn and its tip at Petyr's throat.
"You will answer my questions; no falsehoods, or we'll have to appoint a new Master of Coin."
Littlefinger's pupils had widened in fear and surprise, but his face remained smooth. "Ask away, ser."
"You worked with Cersei to ambush the King. Were those sell swords instructed to spare my brother?"
The man made to speak, and Jaime reminded him of the consequences of deception by digging his sword forward into skin.
"No, my Lord. No such instructions were given. Had the Queen given those instructions, I would have faithfully relayed them. But they were not given."
Jaime's pulse thundered in his ears. It would be so simple just to push the blade through this scrawny neck.
Baelish backed up a step as he felt the blade prick, and then another until his back was touching the wall.
"Please, Jaime, I did everything as the Queen asked."
"I believe you." He took his blade away and sheathed it. "If you participate in any effort that involves harm falling on a Lannister, especially my brother, I will kill you. You also owe Tyrion; should he ask anything of you, you will grant it. Are we clear?"
"Yes, my Lord, anything at all."
Jaime left the shaken man. He needed to catch up with Maester Pycelle and make sure the letter to Mace wasn't too offensive. He may not know diplomacy, but he knew the odds were already stacked against his family. Throw the Tyrells in the mix, and maybe not even his sword arm could keep Joffrey on the throne.
***
I detested being kept in the dark. Cersei refused to share any details with me, and I was still being confined to my rooms. Four Lannister guards stood post at all hours, with even stricter instructions from Cersei to not allow me to leave under any circumstances. Brienne had been allowed to continue guarding me, though I had told her to take some time away from her duties. She was quite distraught about my Uncle Renly's death.
There was a reason every major firm in my first life provided bereavement leave. She tried to insist that time to mourn would not interfere with her duties, but relented when I pointed out I wasn't going anywhere with the round-the-clock guards my mother had kindly provided.
My uncles Jaime and Tyrion visited as well. They were my only connection to the outside world. Both seemed very concerned for my well-being and didn't seem to believe me that I was right as rain. I stressed I hadn't been injured several times, but still they mothered me. I frankly interrogated them, demanding to know exactly what was going on.
To put it bluntly, the initial news was awful. The war was shaping up to be three, likely four, major houses against the Lannisters. I had faith in my grandfather, but those were long odds. I was surprised Lysa Arryn hadn't declared for Stannis as well to join her father and brother-in-law. Had she done so, it would have been four great houses… awful. I was also disgusted to learn that my Uncle Jaime was the one accused of being the father of Cersei's illegitimate children, myself included. That was... off-putting. I didn't probe him on that, I hoped it wasn't true, but I had a sinking feeling it was. I forced myself not to spiral on that wretched thought and do something productive.
My mind drifted to various stratagems that could be used to even the odds. Maybe we could force a battle before their multiple factions could come together. The North had to travel the farthest, and it was more difficult for them to perform a quick muster with their size. Defeating our enemies one at a time, a defeat-in-detail style had some promise.
Other ideas floated through my thoughts. Would some of the other houses come off the sidelines with bribes and betrothals? Would a five-year reprieve on taxes be enough reason to join in? Would the promise of a royal marriage do the trick?
What if we mass conscripted from the people of King's Landing? With a population of half a million souls, that would be a lot of potential fodder to send in. If they were mixed with more seasoned troops and able commanders, it might help. Or be disastrous. Dacia proved numbers did not amount to much if they were lacking in quality.
My musings were interrupted by Ser Preston, who stated I was to attend court. As I followed, I asked him for details. It was to be Joffrey's first formal day on the Iron Throne since his coronation. He would be there to pass judgement and look kingly.
I arrived and took a moment to admire the pageantry. Joffrey looked every inch the young and gallant King. His crown sat comfortably on his head and his clothing was immaculate. Sitting at the table for the Small Council were Cersei, the Queen Regent, Petyr Baelish and Grand Maester Pycelle. Arrayed before the throne were my Uncle Jaime Lannister and his fellow brothers of the Kingsguard: Ser Meryn Trant, Ser Mandon Moore, and now Ser Preston, who had finished his duty of escorting me. Sandor Clegane was slightly to the right of Ser Meryn Trant, not part of the Kingsguard, but part of Joffrey's protection detail all the same. I stood next to Tommen to the left of the throne facing outward while everyone, save for us, faced toward the throne.
A herald's voice rang out. "All hail His Grace, Joffrey of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister, the First of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. All hail his lady mother, Cersei of House Lannister, Queen Regent, Light of the West, and Protector of the Realm."
Houses Baratheon and Lannister? Cersei's vanity was atrocious.
Joffrey sat on the throne and spoke with a clear voice. "It is a King's duty to punish the disloyal and reward those who are true…" My brother instructed Grand Maester Pycelle to read the proclamations. They were rather lengthy and tedious. Lord Eddard Stark attainted, Lord Stannis Baratheon attainted, other lords and ladies summoned to court to swear vows to the new king. A very long list of nobles.
Pycelle also announced that Jaime Lannister was made Hand of the King and that the Queen Regent was also to be granted a place on the Small Council to help advise the King. I wondered what the point was. Joffrey was still 14; Cersei would already be attending the Small Council meetings as the Regent. Was she angling to retain her position on the Small Council after he reached his maturity at 16? That might be it.
The great oak-and-bronze doors opened. Ser Barristan Selmy walked in, cane in one hand and supported on the other side by the squire of one of his Sworn Brothers. To my shame, I had not yet learned that squire's name.
The crowd parted as the injured knight, heavily bandaged, walked forward to stand before the Iron Throne.
Cersei stood up. "Ser Barristan Selmy, you have served the realm long and faithfully. Every man and woman in the Seven Kingdoms owe you thanks. Yet, now I fear, your service is at an end. It is the wish of King and council that you lay down your heavy burden."
My eyes widened. Surely, she couldn't be so foolish…
"My… burden? I fear I… do not understand."
"You are relieved as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard." The Queen stated simply.
I watched my Uncle Jaime's face contort as he spoke. "The Kingsguard is a Sworn Brotherhood. Our vows are taken for life!"
"That will no longer be the case."
Jaime's jaw clenched. "You can't…"
Barristan's voice cut in sharply, dripping with venom. "I don't need the likes of you to speak on my behalf."
My uncle's teeth clicked together, and his face grew still; even from a fair distance, I could tell his eyes were burning with frustration.
"Have a care for your words, ser," the Queen warned. "You are speaking to our beloved brother, your King's own blood."
His injuries made him look every day of his age. He looked at his King above him on the throne. "Your Grace, I was chosen for the White Swords in my twenty-third year. It was all I had ever dreamed, from the moment I first took sword in hand. I gave up all claim to my ancestral keep. The girl I was…"
"Oh, shut it, you old cripple." Joffrey spoke with disdain. "My father died when you abandoned him on the field of battle. My mother thinks you are unfit due to age and injury; I think you are unfit because, in your dotage, you have become a coward."
The court murmured at that. It was unwise for me to speak; the decision had already been made. However, there was opportunity here. Barristan Selmy's value was incalculable in the upcoming war. The beginnings of a plan had already formed, and Ser Barristan's aid would make it much more likely to be successful.
I spoke up over the crowd. "No one with any sense doubts Ser Barristan Selmy's courage! He slew Ser Simon Toyne in single combat! He single-handedly rescued King Aerys from Duskendale."
You could have heard a pin drop. Joffrey's face grew red, and he looked fit to begin screaming. Cersei quickly spoke up before Joffrey could embarrass himself further. "Myrcella, you have not been given leave to speak. Apologize to the crown for your childishness."
I smiled sweetly and turned to my brother. "Forgive me, Your Grace. I must have been emboldened just by the proximity to Ser Barristan, The Bold." My voice was saccharine and contrite, at odds with my final jab towards my brother's ignorant and foolhardy statement.
Joffrey trembled, and Varys took that moment to speak, his voice mild. "Ser Barristan, we are not unmindful of your service, good ser. The Queen has arranged to grant you a handsome tract of land north of Lannisport, beside the sea, with gold and men sufficient to build you a stout keep and servants to see to your every need."
Ser Barristan looked at him sharply. "A hall to die in and men to bury me. I thank you, my lords… but I spit upon your pity."
He shook off the squire at his arm and made his way back to the doors of the throne room, his cane keeping him upright as he limped from the hall.
Cersei continued with her agenda, though the mood was soured. "There is now a vacancy; the crown needs a new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Our kin, Ser Jaime Lannister, who rode out as soon as word reached him that his King was in danger, is who the King and Small Council have chosen to lead this august body."
Uncle did not look honored. In fact, he looked far angrier than I have ever seen him. I saw confusion in Cersei's eyes, but she was too poised to let it show on her face. Moving along before another break in the script occurred, she announced that Sandor Clegane would become a Kingsguard to replace Ser Boros Blount.
Sandor had no wish to be a knight, and this time Uncle Jaime did speak. "He either becomes a knight or he does not wear the white cloak. It is a brotherhood of knights."
"Then you can piss on your white cloak," Sandor spat out in the middle of court to the Hand of the King and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.
Joffrey scowled. "Uncle, who cares about some stupid vows."
I wanted to scream. These absolute idiots. Why hadn't Cersei spoken to Uncle Jaime on her plans; this could have all been avoided. Now the crown looked like a pack of bickering fools, all while the King made remarks that made him look a buffoon. Joffrey was already more embarrassing than the lecherous, ever-drunk King Robert. How?
Cersei took the reins and finally put us all out of our misery. "The Small Council will discuss the requirements for the Kingsguard. Even with Sandor Clegane joining, we would still be a short a member and will give due consideration to ensure the Kingsguard is back to its full strength. The court is dismissed."
I could see my uncle angrily speaking with Cersei as the guards escorted me back to my room. I had barely settled back in my room when my peace was disturbed again.
"Make way for the King."
Sighing, I opened the door and saw my brother with Ser Meryn Trant, Sandor Clegane, and a squad of six Gold Cloaks.
"Lannister guardsmen, your duties are no longer required in guarding my sister. Be gone," Joffrey commanded.
One spoke out hesitantly, "Your Grace, the Queen Mother gave us clear…"
"Are you refusing to obey your King?" Ser Meryn interrupted, hand on the hilt of his blade.
The Lannister guards looked at each other, bowed and quickly walked away. No doubt to go find my mother.
I smiled at Joffrey. "How kind of you to worry over my safety, brother."
"Yes, your safety. Mother shared with me how Captain… whatever his name is of her household guard let you go trotting off, right into the clutches of the Starks. I intend to see that no more foolishness occurs. Henceforth, it will the Gold Cloaks who keep you safe, not the Red Cloaks." He looked at me with a sly grin. I honestly had no idea what he was implying. Was I missing something dreadfully obvious?
"A wise decision, Your Grace."
Joffrey seemed to be waiting for more, but after a few seconds he pushed into my room. "I'd like to speak with my sister alone; guard the hall."
Clegane looked at me and then at Joffrey. "We'll be out here if either of you need anything."
I closed the door behind me while Joffrey looked around my quarters. When the door shut, he whirled on me.
"You stupid, fucking cunt! How dare you try to humiliate me at court! I ought to have your foul tongue ripped from your mouth!"
I looked at him unperturbed, "Joffrey, the door isn't that thick. Every man outside this door heard your little tirade. If you wish to speak privately, you'll need to keep your voice down."
"Who cares?" He said, but in a lower voice. "I'm the King, and I can do what I like. And I swear to you, if you ever gainsay me in public again, I will see you married off to a squid of the Iron Islands or a weaselly Frey. IF I'm in a pleasant mood."
I just continued to look at him.
"Well? Say something!"
"Was there a question?"
Joffrey kicked over a chair. "You… you…" He was breathing hard, and his hands clenched and unclenched. The boy really needed to work on his anger issues.
"You have made your point, Your Grace. I will curb my tongue, as I do not wish to be married to houses such as those."
Joffrey took a few breaths to calm himself. "Good. That's good. As I said, it will be the Gold Cloaks who guard you from now on. I don't care how scared you are of them." And with those parting words, the King of the Seven Kingdoms left my chambers.
Putting his idiocy out of my mind, I began making my plans. As long as I could convince my Uncle Jaime to act as Hand, this could work. On paper, it seemed like a long shot, but while some only gave lip service to concepts like honor, others lived by it. The benefits of my success would make the world of difference in the war effort. It was worth the risk and my mother's wrath.
***
Stannis, or Azor Ahai as she knew him, had been pleased that the Wolf Lord had come to Dragonstone. They had begun to strategize their next move. Lord Stark believed the Lannisters were already on the march, so an early attempt to take King's Landing was futile. His argument was that since the plot to kill him and the old King had been executed by the Lannisters, and they had to have known war would follow, they would have been secretly mustering their levies.
Her Lord asked her to see into the flames to chart the correct course. The flames had been difficult to read as of late – she wasn't sure why. Melisandre sensed a unique bond between the Stark girls and their wolves; she thought them to be wargs. She nearly shuddered at the thought of what she could do with the blood descendants of the Kings of Winter… but dared not suggest such a thing.
She raised the flames and prayed to her God, using every part of her essence to will the visions to come. And they came. In a torrent, faster than she could properly decipher. Visions in the flame showed what was, what is, what would be, and what could be. With wisdom granted to her by R'hllor, she would often be able to tell the difference.
Now they came in a flood, the flames twisting and turning in every direction. Three dragons hatching from eggs. Three horns blowing. A flower, slowly losing all its petals, one by one. A demon… Myrcella? – picking up a quill. Two great storms colliding, a raven within, dizzy, dazed, and confused. A gray sheep bleating next to a wolf. A manticore looming over the world. A kraken sinking under the waves, pulled down by another kraken. Greyjoy? A fish being pinched by crabs. A red streak across the sky. A wolf battling three hounds. Another sheep, feasting on a stallion. A tower of skulls falling. A griffin circling a city. A one-eyed crow screeching. Seven candles being lit, some in Essos, several in the Seven Kingdoms.
She couldn't be absolutely sure, but they all had a sense of certainty to them. And then came more visions from within the fire. These looked hazier, and she was sure they meant they could be, not necessarily that they would be. Each vision was encapsulated by a bubble. The first was Stannis on the Iron Throne. Then came one with Tommen on the Iron Throne. Then what looked to be the Targaryen girl, Daenerys also on the throne. Then a younger looking Eddard Stark. Then Cersei Lannister. Two others whom Melisandre did not know also welled up in the bubbles.
As those bubbles floated, she saw one final vision, not within a sphere. It was a golden cage, and inside it that same blue-eyed demon. It roared and shattered the gold bars, sending the bubbles spinning in all directions, popping most of them. Which ones… Melisandre could not say. It frustrated her greatly. She had practiced her art for years beyond count, and she had paid the price. There was no one, not even in her order, who had her skill at seeing the secrets half-revealed and half-concealed within the sacred flames. And with all that, she could not give practical advice for her Lord's next move. Stannis would have to move blind until the Lord of Light deemed fit to enlighten her.