She climbed down off the Iron Throne, being very careful to avoid
cutting herself on the many sharp edges that festooned the great
monument to Aegon's conquest. She had taken to wearing armor
when she sat atop the Iron Throne, to show that the realm was at
war, but mainly to protect her from the cuts and tears that the
monstrosity was wont to inflict on her as she sat upon it.
She had been seriously considering having the Iron Throne altered
to add a wooden seat to it, and to have the more obvious and
dangerous bits blunted or twisted away from potentially causing
injury. A few wooden slats across were one sat would be infinitely
more comfortable than the rather haphazard arrangement of swords
that made up its current seat and would be invisible to those
observing the Iron Throne from below. Mayhaps even some
cushioning, for sitting on the Iron Throne was an exhausting affair,
uncomfortable and tense, you could never relax for fear of cutting
oneself.
The court was silent and hushed, probably more shocked than
anything else at what she had announced for the morrow, as well
they should be the mused as she descended, her Queensguard and
a larger than normal group of Vale guards falling in around her. It
was only as she finally climbed down off the Iron Throne did the first
whispers start to echo around the great hall, growing and spreading
like some surging wave of surf breaking upon the beaches near
Kings Landing.
Anyway, she banished the thoughts of the Iron Throne or her
gossiping courtiers from her mind and as she strode from the Throne
Room her mind was filled with the details and issues that consumed
her mind in its every waking hour. And well that they should, for her
sorrows, her angers, her hates came unbidden when she was not
holding them at bay with the work of ruling and threatened to
overwhelm her.
She had fallen into an inconsolable grief after the death of Jacaerys
and she had barely begun to recover from the bile like hatred and
anger at his death when news of Joffrey's death had sent her
spiraling back down into the blackest despair.
And she had indulged her despair, her rage, her anger and let
herself wallow in it for far too long, Daemon had taken hold of the
reigns of power in her absence, and she now had enough of him
ruling in her stead. She was the queen, and the Iron Throne was
hers and hers alone, she would rule long and pass it to her son
Aegon when the time came. But that time could not come quick
enough for Daemon, of that she was certain.
Daemon wanted power and with Aegon not yet being of age he
would no doubt like to declare himself Prince Regent, but for that to
happen he would need to dispose of her and assume the power he
always wanted.
So her priority was making sure that Daemon got no chance to move
against her, and for that she finally had to cut her ties with him and
dispose of her husband. And her grief induced withdrawal had left
her weak and lacking in power at court, something which she had to
act decisively and swiftly to remedy.
And she had to destabilize Daemon to even have a chance to get to
him, he no longer slept in the Red Keep ever since she had removed
him from the Iron Throne a few short days ago, striding into the
throne room with Daemon sat atop it, and announcing that she was
taking up her duties as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
Daemon had stepped down gracefully enough, but she knew her
husband well and she caught sight of the carefully hidden rage in his
eyes at the manner of her reassuming her rightful place. It was a
slight Daemon would never forget, nor forgive. And if she was honest
with herself, she had done this deliberately, mayhaps a move of
stupid bravado on her part, but one that made her feel good,
nonetheless.
She had reached out to her allies and questioned them, seeking out
the truth, or as much of the truth as she could trust in a place like the
Red Keep and she had been shocked and angered, but not
surprised when it came down to it.
The moves of power and the plots of men had swirled and danced in
her absence, and it was obvious that her presence on the Iron
Throne was not a factor in the games being played. And so she had
been forced to act, and to act with a ruthlessness that would have
shocked her a scant year ago, for it was indeed time to sweep the
board clean and start over afresh, she had considered some advice
with respect to certain offers and allowances for clemency, but had
dismissed them in the end.
No, it was time for everyone to learn that her houses words were not
for show, that they meant something, that they were not mere wind,
and she intended that nobody would ever forget that ever again.
Reaching the Small Council chambers, she sat at her normal chair
and looked at the documents spread out before her, a nervous
chamberlain and several of the staff of the vacant Master of Laws
position also present, equally nervous looking.
"Are they ready?" she asked, letting something of a small
satisfaction creep into her voice.
"Yes your Grace" the Chamberlain rushed his words, eager to be
gone she assumed.
"Good" she replied and proceeded to sign and affix her seal to the
death warrants of Prince Aegon, the pretender who styled himself
King Aegon, second of his name, his wife Princess Helaena, who
likewise styled herself Queen. She then moved onto the death
warrants of Prince Maelor and Princess Jaehaera and of their
mother Alicent and their grandfather Lord Otto Hightower. A few
more were signed, before there was just one before her left to be
signed and sealed, she hesitated for just a moment before signing
and affixing her seal to the death warrant of Prince Daemon
Targaryen.