The Lion and the Rose: King's Landing

[Lumine]

King's Landing:

Overview:

A few months have passed since Stannis Baratheon’s defeat at the Blackwater, and Kings Landing has done its best to heal the scars. The city boils with activity from the large armies camping outside and the masses of refugees from the Riverlands and the Crownlands, which include hundreds of the so called “sparrows”, who have taken up an extreme form of the Faith of the Seven. With a young King and a potential feud between houses Lannister and Tyrell in the horizon Kings Landing is ripe for intrigue once more, as the new and usual players of the royal court restart the game.

Currently held by: King Joffrey I of House Baratheon.
Direct Players: Joffrey Baratheon, Tyrion Lannister, Doran Martell and Mace Tyrell.
Indirect Players: Petyr Baelish.

[Lumine]

Small Council Meeting, Early 300 AL:

"It was a cold and rainy day in Kings Landing. The city was silent and looked as abandoned as Harrenhal would be, the only living souls on the streets being the unfortunate Goldcloaks on duty and the whores. Outside the gates, thousands of Lannister and Tyrell troops mounted guard to protect their King, a King who had just lost his mother and grandfather. Both the armies and the good people of Kings Landing might have felt sadness on that day had it been any other King, but between them not a single tear was shed for the man who raped the city, and the woman who had let it starve.

The Small Council chambers – enlarged by Lord Tywin before his untimely demise – looked fuller than ever, many Lords present at a crucial meeting for the destiny of the unlikely alliance of the Lion and the Rose. King Joffrey sat at the head of the table, silent as a grave. The lions – the Imp, the nuncle, the cripple and the rider – sat to his right, and the roses – the oaf, the admiral and the diplomat – to his left. Right at the end of the table and completing the collection of Lords sat the eunuch, the broken old man and the dornish prince."

Grand Maester Pycelle still mourned the loss of the man he had served with – and admired – for the past three decades, but the sheer instinct of survival forced him to pull himself together and point out the main issues to be discussed at the council meeting, with Lord Varys giving his reports as Pycelle mentioned the topics:

-Small Council: With the deaths of Queen Cersei and Lord Tywin the Handship and the Regency were thus open, and it was left to the Council to choose the new duo that would lead the Kingdom. And should the Regent or Hand already be a member of the council, a replacement would be needed for their old post.

-Military Affairs: The deaths of Robb Stark and Balon Greyjoy made things much easier for the crown, but it was time to discuss how to deal with Stannis Baratheon (who still held Storm’s End and Dragonstone), the Ironborn (currently blocking Lord Bolton in Moat Cailin) and the Tully-Stark loyalist forces in the Riverlands, led by Ser Brynden Tully and the Lords Mallister and Blackwood.

-Political Affairs: With the Lords of the Vale marching on the Eyrie and potentially besieging Lord Baelish, a response from the Throne would be needed. Prince Oberyn also interrupted the Grand Maester, pointing out that he wished to interrogate Ser Gregor Clegane (currently in the Riverlands).

It was going to be a long session for the Council, and King Joffrey puzzled the Lords by announcing that he had a proposal to debate as well.

What are your responses, proposals and actions, gentlemen?

[Dr. Cynic]

First of all, gentlemen, we must get the formal business solved. We need a new Hand of the King. I have no wish to continue on as Master of Coin and will instead be acting as Hand for my beloved nephew, the King. I believe our new Master of Coin should be Mace Tyrell. As father in law of the King, and having been so helpful in keeping our populace fed with your own treasury, I feel that you are the best man for the job.

Not bloody likely, Tyrion thought to himself. Mace Tyrell was a buffoon, but not a buffoon to be made an enemy of. Keeping him in an important council position would certainly keep him puffed up and proud. His uncle Kevan would certainly be useful in helping him and Tyrion implicitly was going to rely on his uncle if Mace Tyrell proved useless in this job.

Gentlemen, let us turn to military affairs... Right now, our most important job is to finish off the Stark loyalists and then turn to those loyal to Stannis. I will raise another 2,000 troops to join to the Riverlands army and we send them in force against the Blackwoods and Mallisters. See if we can get peace with them in exchange for pardons. We could add their forces to ours and then all that's left is the Blackfish and Riverrun. We can besiege them and then see where we are. Prince Oberyn, Gregor Clegane is currently in the Riverlands with the army. If you're willing to add to our force, I can have you escorted there as soon as you like. I know you are anxious to see him.

Might as well have got something out of Oberyn. If he's going to kill The Mountain (he well may), then he should be prepared to give a little help for it...

Well we can't very well leave Lord Baelish alone, can we? We must let the Lords of the Vale know that it would displease the crown should they continue to cause trouble. They want help with the mountain clans don't they? It wouldn't be in their best interests to continue, lest the crown simply stop promising to keep the mountain clans at bay. That might convince them...

[Chancellor Tanterterg]

"You will do no such thing, nuncle.  Let me be the first to put to rest any notions you have of serving as my Hand.  I think Master of Coin suits you just fine and that's where you'll stay.

My Lords, as you well know, the death of my grandfather has left me without a Hand.  A King must have advisors upon whom he can throughly rely and few are more reliable than one's own family.  Having lost first my father and now my mother and grandfather, my family grows smaller still.  I am fortunate to be able to rely on such wise and trustworthy advisors as Grand Maester Pycelle, but he would be irreplaceable as Grand Maester.  Lord Varys is needed most in his current position and Lord Baelish is off tending to other matters.  Furthermore, as much as I treasure their wisdom, they are not family.  Sadly, it would seem my grandnuncle Kevan is too old to serve as a wartime Hand during these troubled times.  While I have slain most of the would-be usurpers, my traitor nuncle Stannis is still hiding with his bastard daughter at the Wall.  My nuncle Jaime has chosen to serve in the Kingsguard for life and it would appear that he needs a hand even more than I do these days.  

How fortunate it is then that I have recently gained not only wife, but a second father.  A father who is wise, strong, and would make a perfect Hand.  I can think of no one better to serve as Hand of the King than my father-in-law, Lord Mace Tyrell.  I trust there are no objections from the Small Council.  Of course, that will necessitate a new Master of Ships should Lord Tyrell accept my offer.  I'm sure my loyal counselors will agree that Lord Paxter Redwyne is the natural choice to serve as the new Master of Ships.  

Once they have been formally appointed to their new positions by the Small Council and not a moment earlier, we will move on to my proposal concerning the Regency.  In this time of treason, Westeros must have a King with the power to act boldly, free to make commands independent of misshapen little beasts like the Imp.  He may only be half a man, but that has only made him twice as useless.  It is known that his cowardice would have cost us the Battle of the Blackwater despite my grandfather's timely intervention had it not been for my courage and fighting prowess.  Fortunately, my heroism on the battlefield carried the day despite the best efforts of the noseless wonder to lose the war.  For this reason, once my new Hand and Master of Ships have been formally appointed, I ask that the Small Council to abolish the Regency by lowering the age of majority to 16.  Naturally, I will continue to treasure the wisdom and counsel of my trusted advisors: Grand Maester Pycelle, my grandnuncle Kevan, and Lords Tyrell, Redwyne, and Varys.  Westeros deserves a King who knows that treason must never go unpunished and who has the power to see to it that it never does.  

Once we have made the changes in the Small Council's membership and the age of majority has been lowered, we shall move on to the matter of determining my mother and grandfather's killer.  It is clear that the Imp's wife committed the act and I swear that she shall suffer for the rest of her days, the dwarf's whims be damned.  However, we must determine just how far this conspiracy goes and soon.  I have some thoughts on the matter and I trust Lord Varys' little birds will bring us favorable tidings on that front sooner rather than later.  Mother always used to say that the Stark bitch was so stupid we'd have to execute her if our babies were half as dumb as their mother.  She's too stupid to have planned this heinous crime all by herself.  It is a pity mother never listened to Pycelle's wise counsel, if she hadn't been so weak, she'd have remembered that a traitors' children still have traitors' blood pumping through their veins.  My mother couldn't help it, like all women she was weak, no matter how much she denied it.  Were it not for her soft heart, I imagine she and the late Lord Tywin would still be with us.  

After these matters have been seen to, I will leave the military plans, Lord Martell's dispute with the Mountain, and any other matters in your capable hands."  - King Joffrey of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm

[Lumine]

GM Note: I have made some changes to the chronology due to the differences between show and books, so while ages will remain a bit vague Joffrey's proposal would for all purposes end the regency and give him full power. Once I have Lord Tyrell and Prince Doran's responses or instructions, we should have a POV update here with a potential result. (Of course Tyrion and Joffrey can still post responses)

[Spamage]

I accept your Grace's appointment as Hand of the King and shall serve at your pleasure. It is truly a great honor to be given such a position by such a noble man as Joffrey Baratheon, the one true King of Westeros.

I wholeheartedly support his Grace's decision to put an end to the regency. He has proven the be capable, strong, and brave in these dire times and I am confident he will lead our nation to greatness once Stannis Baratheon's head is safely placed on a spike. Joffrey is wise beyond his years and anyone who disputes this is either blind or a halfwit. I am certain he will be a just and able King and will bring these wretched Iron-Islanders back into the fold and I am eager to help him in doing so.

House Tyrell formally supports the King and will do whatever it takes to see that justice is brought to those who committed such a terrible act at the wedding of not just the King, but my beloved Margery as well. The conspirators must be brought to justice before they strike again!

As for Stannis, is it not best to let him weaken himself in the North and for his army to fall to pieces facing Snarks, Grumpkins, and White Walkers? I believe the Throne should not directly involve itself for the time being, and let the new Warden of the North handle this. Should he be unable to do so, I would then be willing to pursue action but it must be after matters in the south have been settled.

[Cranberry]

OOC: I guess it's okay if I just play as if I were Oberyn here?

Prince Oberyn is sitting silently, watching the lords with a sinister face, keeping himself into the background. He stands as Lord Tyrell finished speaking, giving his opinions last.

Lords and Ladys of Westeros, Your Grace,

He slightly bows his head towards the Kings' throne. He turns around, trying to see as many people as possible while speaking.

It is an indeed very grieving incidence that has brought us all together here, and if I may, Your Grace, I can only give you my deepest condolences for your loss, in my name, that of my brother, and that of all of Dorne.

Grief has its time, but important and immediate matters have theirs too. It is Your Grace's, and only Your, decision which seats in the Council should be filled with which men; if Your Grace wants the Rose to be his hand, the only thing that remains to be said for me are my sincerest congratulations and the best fortunes for Lord Tyrell.

He turns to said, grinning an expressive smile.
Rapidly, he turns to the King.

Your Grace, you are gifted by nature with a witted mind, a strong body and a vein for courageous deeds; as such, only a fool could see your age as an impediment for your full ascent to the throne. We in Dorne remember very well the brave King Daeron, that at the age of fourteen dared our nation's whole army. Why should you be forced to take the throne at an older age, when it is so obvious that Your Grace is just as dowered a king? The whole of Dorne will rejoyce when Your Grace will finally take the throne in full right, all of Dorne will serve our King of the houses of Lannister and Baratheon.

He turns to the audience, again taking a smiling expression.

Regarding those petty lords that dare to question Your Grace's army, I can only counsel you to let your new Hand, and the brave knights of the Reach to once again show their courage in battle, and quell those last nests of rebellion. The army of the Rose is near, it is fresh and big, and it is the fastest and most efficient way to let your new Hand lead his army to the Tullys and Blackravens or whatever the names are of these petty Riverlords in their muddy huts they call castles.

His smiles disappears, followed by a somehow angry, grieved expression.

Finally, I am here today to demand justice for my sister and her children. Their murderer runs around free, and I demand that he be brought to Dorne, for interrogation and to meet his fate. I want to see Clegane in Sunspear!

Your Grace, Lords and Ladies,
That would be all.

Oberyn returns to his seat in the background, watching the ongoings with alert.

[Dr. Cynic]

Your Grace, I can assure you that Lady Sansa could not have poisoned my beloved sister and father. If you insist on this, you may find yourself a new Master of Coin. Come, Bronn. Let us head for The Rock and leave my nephew to his own devices.

Rising from the table whistling, I slowly walk out of the chamber with Bronn in tow.

[Lumine]

Right, that would be all for the Council. I'm currently writing the update, and we will have the viewpoint of Grand Maester Pycelle.

[Lumine]

The Grand Maester:

"Nothing but a broken old man. Or so Pycelle bitterly thought, knowing full well that most if not all of the room thought that was his case. He had served the realm for forty years, under five Kings and with countless hands… and most of them were dead anyway. And the doddering old man, the lickspittle, still gets to sit on the Council. It was a testament to his skill that he had been able to survive the game for so long, and before his trip to the black cells he was inclined to think that he had won the game, for death was unlikely to be violent to a man most disrespected. But the imp closed that door, and he proved me that living is not the same as winning the game. He was getting slower, he knew that much, but that would not stop the man who had lived through such times. If they knew half the things I know, half the secrets I’ve had to keep over decades of schemes… The fires of Summerhall, the Defiance of Duskendale, the sack of Kings Landing… and the truth behind the King he served now.

-How dares he… How dares he! – He heard Joffrey scream after Tyrion left the chambers –
-A most disrespectful act, your grace. – The oaf proudly declared -
-Sign of the times, I am afraid. – Pycelle declared with gravity, playing his part while Prince Oberyn and the Spider rolled his eyes –

Playing my part. He wished Lord Tywin was still alive. The man had been created by the gods to rule the Seven Kingdoms, and he had done so for many years until stupidity and madness – as he would have said - threw it all away. Pycelle had served Aegon the fool, Jaehaerys the weak, Aerys the mad, Robert the drunk and Joffrey the… he couldn’t finish the sentence. He was being courteous to him now, appealing to his wisdom. First King that I have served under to say those words, and an old man has his vanity. Truth was, Pycelle thought Joffrey could be a competent King, but he worried about who would actually teach him to become one. The oaf and the imp he clearly didn’t trust, and while he considered Ser Kevan to be the right man for the task he knew he was not going to be chosen.

-I believe that settles most of our affairs. – Said Ser Kevan, clearly uncomfortable –  As Master of Laws, I certify that the Council has decided to declare the regency abolished and King Joffrey as having full personal rule over the Seven Kingdoms.-
-And who is Master of what now? – Asked Prince Oberyn, putting his boots on the table and yawning –
-I am the Hand of the King. – The oaf was growing even larger with pride – And my good Lord Redwyne is now Master of Ships.–
-And I assume the imp is nothing.-
-I believe we should still consider my nephew as Master of Coin. – Ser Kevan said, carefully choosing his words – At least until we can clear this issue.-
-Good. Before we end this council session, there is one more thing left to do. ¡Guards! –

Guards? That is most unexpected. And to Pycelle’s shock the room was suddenly filled with Gold Cloaks commanded by Ser Addam Marbrand, who carefully approached the Dornish Prince from behind to halt any potential escape.

-Prince Oberyn Martell, I charge you with treason against the realm, and I name you the murderer of both my mother and grandfather. – Said Joffrey, the smile of the Mad King on his face – Ser Addam, arrest this traitor! -

Prince Oberyn said nothing, and for a minute he and the King just stared at each other, the room in complete and utter silence. To his surprise, Pycelle was trembling. He had aged too much from the young man that Aegon V did not want as his Grand Maester. And he certainly had a good reason."

[Chancellor Tanterterg]

"Until such time as my nuncle has come to his senses and handed over his traitor wife, I temporarily name Lord Seneschel Garth Tyrell as acting Master of Coin, Ser Daven Lannister acting Warden of the West, Ser Damion Lannister Castellan of Casterly Rock, and Ser Kevan Lannister acting Lord Paramount of the Westerlands.  

Additionally, I hereby strip the traitor Prince Oberyn Martell and those who share his traitor's blood: Prince Doran Martell, Princess Arriane Martell, Prince Quentyn Martell, and Prince Trystane Martell of all lands, titles, incomes, and holdings."

- King Joffrey of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm
_________________________________________________________________
Later that day...

The sound of Tommen's pathetic bawling filled his brother's chambers.

"I SAID STOP CRYING YOU COWARDLY LITTLE BASTARD!"  A King may do as he pleases, Joffrey thought to himself, and it pleased me to storm into Tommen's room and threaten to force the whelp to eat his own kittens alive.  And the little sh**t actually had the nerve to say he hated me.  Tommen should be thanking me for merely having Ser Meryn kick a couple of his rodents to death instead of gutting the whining wretch like a pig.  Yet here the ungrateful little bastard was sobbing like a little girl over pair of oversized rats named Lady Whiskers and Boots of all things.  The noise was growing unbearable.

"I AM YOUR KING AND I ORDER YOU TO STOP CRYING!  You sound more like the Stark bitch than a Baratheon.  It looks like we'll have to toughen you up!" said Joffrey as he approached his brother's only remaining kitten. 

There was a loud whoosh as Joffrey plunged Widow's Wail into Ser Pounce's flesh and it was done.  Tommen grew more and more silent even though his tears never stopped.

Joffrey watched as a red pool of blood spread out across the floor where his brother's last kitten once stood, and he smiled.  Tommen defied my order to stop crying, Joffrey thought to himself.  Defying any order of mine is treason and so long as I am King no treason, great or small, shall ever go unpunished.  No traitor will ever go unpunished.

And there were so many traitors to deal with.  So very many traitors and so little time...

[Lumine]

Small Council Update:

(Changed to reflect changes)

King: Joffrey I Baratheon (298 - )
Hand of the King: Lord Mace Tyrell (300 - )

Master of Laws: Lord Mathis Rowan (300 - )
Master of Coin: Ser Garth Tyrell (acting) (300 - )
Master of Ships: Lord Paxter Redwyne (299 - )
Master of Whisperers: Lord Varys (278 - )
Grand Maester: Vacant.

Lord Commander of the Kingsguard: Ser Jaime Lannister (298 - )
Commander of the City Watch: Ser Osney Kettleblack (300 - )

[Chancellor Tanterterg]

"I hereby name Lord Mathis Rowan acting Master of Laws, I name Osney Kettleblack acting Commander of the City Watch, and I name Ser Osfryd Kettleblack as Ser Balon Swann's replacement within the Kingsguard."  - King Joffrey of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm

[Chancellor Tanterterg]

"Ser Meryn, why do the small folk despise me so?  Don't they know that I'm the King?  By what right do they judge me?" asked Joffrey as he paced around his chambers restlessly.  The question had been gnawing at him since he learned that two traitors had been whispering about it.  Naturally, he'd had their treasonous tongues removed, but he still wished to hear Ser Meryn's thoughts on the matter.  Truth be told, Ser Meryn Trant was a poor substitute for the Hound.  I suppose the Hound's treason was a harsh, but necessary lesson: A King must never truly have friends, there is no one whom he can truly trust.  Friends and even family were merely potential traitors.  If even the Hound could betray him, then all men were nothing but traitors waiting to strike.

"Sadly, true greatness is rarely appreciated in its own time, Your Grace." replied Ser Meryn.  A poor substitute he may be, thought Joffrey, but at least he is a good deal wiser than the Hound.  True, a King should not have friends, but did that mean he only needed enemies?  He had developed a certain fondness for Ser Meryn and even Ser Osfryd much like that which he'd had for the Hound.  If a King cannot have friends, surely that did not mean all men must also be his enemies?

"Yes, but why must it be that way?" asked Joffrey.  "A good King is supposed to be loved by his subjects, every song and story says so." he continued. "I have been the greatest King the Seven Kingdoms have ever had and even if I weren't, a King may do as he pleases.  Mother would always say it was best to let the small folk starve.  I shot six or seven of them and in so doing gave the rest of them fresh meat.  And what do these ungrateful little monsters do?  They call me Maegor II.  Maegor the Cruel, they used to call this Maegor.  Is it cruel of a King to feed his subjects a meal as befits their station?  Some men might call that mercy.  Surely such filth can't expect me to waste bread on them.  Is that why they don't love me, Ser Meryn?  Because I won't give those...creatures...a royal feast in their honor?"  There were other traitors, Joffrey thought to himself.  Highborn Lords, disloyal counselors, and others, some within his own family.   Yet these traitors are not without their motives, little as the reasons for their treasons matter.  What does it gain the small folk to spit in the eye of their King?  Surely they see that I am the King and that this makes them mine to favor or torment.  I am the King!  That means all men, great or small, are merely...things.  Things that belong to me.  Even Ser Meryn is simply a toy for me to play with until I break him, should I choose to do so.  Even the small folk must see that.

"Your Grace, if I may speak freely, you are not cruel but strong.  Strong enough to protect the Seven Kingdoms from the likes of your Nuncle Tyrion and that vicious cutthroat of his.  Not only are you not cruel, you proved yourself a greater warrior than even your father when you broke Stannis and his army at the Battle of the Blackwater and have been the greatest King the Realm has ever seen.  The small folk are simply too soft-headed to appreciate the fact that their King is the wisest, strongest, most merciful man ever to grace Westeros.  If ever a King whose greatness rivaled that of the Seven themselves, then surely it is you, Your Grace" said Ser Meryn.

Once again, Ser Meryn has the right of it, thought Joffrey.  If only the Small Council had half his wisdom.  Like a God...and why not?  I have the power of life and death over every man in the Seven Kingdoms.  In all the songs and stories, Kings were given an almost God-like reverence by their subjects.  This foolishness of worshiping the Seven.  That was the root of the problem with the small folk.  The time is not right.  There are still too many traitors.  They must all be dealt with first and they will be in time.  So long as I am King, no treason shall ever go unpunished.  They will taste the cold steel of Widows Wail and then, when theyp are all wearing red smiles, I will outlaw the worship of the Seven.  The small folk should pray to me for I alone hold the power of life and death over all of them.  Then they will see my greatness.  They will worship me as all men should worship their King.  But for now, I must tend to other matters.  There are traitors everywhere and they must pay for their heinous crimes.

"Your Grace, you instructed me to inform you if Tommen was caught defying your order forbidding him from crying.  Do you still want me to knock him unconscious like the last time?" said Ser Boros Blount as he entered the room.

"No, bring the disobedient little brat here first." answered Joffrey.  "Try not to do it in one blow again, I expect a good show this time.  Perhaps after a longer beating he'll finally learn his lesson.  Oh and remember not to kill him or else I'll have to kill you too.  Hard as it may to believe, the craven whelp may yet be of some use to me."

"As you wish, Your Grace," replied Ser Boros.  A weaker King might've considered Ser Boros Blount, fool that he is, the sort of man who could be trusted, thought Joffrey.  Fortunately, I am made of stronger stuff.  I can't believe I never saw it earlier.  Ser Boros has the traitor's look.  Yes, Ser Boros had was the traitor's look, I'm sure of it.  With his bald head and flat nose.  It was in his voice too.  Clearly Ser Meryn didn't notice, but I did.  I'll deal with him later, for now there are more dangerous traitors to deal with than that oaf.  But I won't forget about him and someday Ser Boros must suffer a special punishment for committing treason while wearing a white cloak.  But what punishment?  Suddenly he had the answer: I'll have him burned alive, thought Joffrey.  The King smiled as the sound of traitors screaming in pain filled his head.

[Lumine]

OOC: First of the POV update, three more will come in the next hours.

The Spider:

"To think my head could be in one of those spikes, one shudders at the thought. Varys was standing in the middle of the crowd, looking at the dozen heads put right on the entrance to the Red Keep. But unlike Eddard Stark and his unfortunate entourage these heads were not even noble, just smallfolk executed for speaking up against their supposed King. King’s Landing grew more unstable each day as more and more heads were put up in spikes, from the sparrows to the people of Flea Bottom. The armies around the capital were dwindling, the refugees growing, and the doors still closed. How long until Joffrey finds himself unable to control the capital? It reminded him so much of Aerys’s final days that he had to hide his troubled expression.
 
If anything, Varys could draw some satisfaction from knowing that the last thing he had seen before leaving the Red Keep was the scowling Kettleblack put in charge of the Gold Cloaks covered in excrement as he brought the prisoners to be executed. He had been on the council for twenty five years, serving Aerys, Robert and Joffrey, and yet it had been surprisingly easy to leave it all behind and smuggle himself out of the keep with a disguise once he realized Joffrey had meant to put him to death. The bastard shouts and screams, and I keep on paddling. Qyburn was the new Master of Whisperers, another symbol of Joffrey’s increasing power, for he had managed to fill the council with the Velaryon bastard, the endless cough of Lord Rosby and, of course, the stern City Watch Commander. I’ve seen drunkards, madmen, imbeciles and utter fools… but the new small council is worse. It is a real shame and a real sign of the times when one can find himself missing Pycelle, Baelish and Lords Renly and Tyrion. But now was not the time for contemplation, for Varys had decided that there was something he had to force himself to watch.

-Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell! – Shouted Joffrey – You have been accused of treason, of conspiring to kill my grandfather and my mother! You have chosen a trial for combat, so I brought forward my champion: Ser Gregor Clegane! –

Ser Gregor looked as fierce as ever, but Prince Oberyn had somehow managed to stay calm. How admirable of him, even when his paramour suffers such a horrible fate at the hands of Qyburn. If Oberyn was to win his duel, Joffrey would most certainly be embarrassed. Varys found himself wishing for the Prince to win, but he knew very well the odds were with Clegane.

-I will win this duel and prove my innocence! – Shouted Oberyn – And perhaps then you will allow me and my paramour to leave this city! –
-Your paramour? You mean the dornish whore? – Joffrey almost took pleasure in Oberyn’s furious expression – Too late for that. I gave her to Qyburn, and she proved to be very useful to us… that is, until we cracked her head open.-

Oh, gods, Oberyn did not know. He spent all those days in a cell, waiting for Lady Ellaria… and he did not know about her gruesome fate. For all the things he had seen in the Free Cities, he had to admit that he had never seen a man so angry as Oberyn Martell was in that precise moment. Lord Rowan gave the order with a disgusted look on his face, and the Viper threw itself against the mountain as if he did not care about winning any more. He screamed, shouted the names of Elia, Ellaria, Aegon and Rhaenys, and his attacks were past enough to wound the Mountain more than a few times. The crowd was unsure of whether to talk at all, and both men fought against each other more like animals than the Prince and the Knight they were supposed to be. It did not take long for Oberyn to make a mistake, allowing Ser Gregor to claim his spear and wound the Viper. Alas, he allowed his rage to best him. A shameful end for such a man, and a hollow victory for the boy King.

-You raped her… you killed her children! –

Ser Gregor broke the spear in half with his knee and then launched himself against his opponent, swinging his great longsword. The Viper managed to dodge and then he drew a dagger, quickly moving for the face of the Mountain. To his merit, Ser Gregor was rather quickly in putting his sword through the side of the Viper, but not before the Viper ripped his face open with the dagger. Both men shouted in a brutal, horrifying way and they fell to the ground, still moving. To Varys’s disappointment, it was Oberyn who stopped breathing first, but not before screaming the names of Elia Martell and Ellaria Sand to the whole court of King’s Landing."

[Chancellor Tanterterg]

OOC:
Just to clarify, Lord Rosby and Aurane Waters were named to the newly created positions of Deputy Master of Coin and Deputy Master of Ships.   Deputy Master of Laws is still vacant.

[DKrol]

A Raven to all  the Lords of the Sevens Kingdoms, Great Houses and Landed Knights Alike

"Most Noble Lords and Ladies,

For 283 years my ancestors ruled the Seven Kingdoms. Aegon the Conqueror, Jaehaerys the Wise, Baelor the Blessed, Daeron the Good. My father, Prince Rhaegar, was beloved by the Seven Kingdoms - small folk and high born alike. The Targaryens ruled justly and with honor and the Seven Kingdoms flourished under their rule. The Seven Kingdoms were united and the King’s Peace stretched from the Wall, to Winterfell, to the Twins, to King’s Landing, to Horn Hill, to Sunspear. In the absence of the Targaryens the Seven Kingdoms are at war - crops are being trampled, fields salted, woman raped and murder. The Targaryens kept the Ironborn in Pyke and forced the Kingswood Brotherhood into submission. It is time for the Dragons to return home.

Some seven-and-ten years ago, an upstart Lord grew jealous of the people’s love for my father. Robert Baratheon - the Usurper, the Whoremonger - was a violent glutton. He slew my father, killed the hope and love of the Seven Kingdoms, and took the Iron Throne to fulfill his own desires. His swords stormed the Red Keep and brutally murdered my mother and my sister in cold blood. A mother and a babe of three years were raped and slaughtered at the hand of the Stag. I was secreted away by those who remained loyal to House Targaryen and raised by Lord Jon Connington in the Free Cities.

Now, a boy sits on the Iron Throne. A boy so violent and terrible his own Kingsguard fears him. A boy so terrible he has his own brother beaten by once honorable knights. A boy so arrogant he presumes the small folk should worship himself rather than the Seven. This boy should be in the yard of a castle, squiring for a knight and learning to use a sword. The Iron Throne is made for a man grown.

The King in the Iron Throne must be powerful, yet kind. He must be firm, yet caring. He must be a man grown and blooded, yet young at heart and slow to anger. He must be of high birth, yet knowledgeable to the struggles of the small folk. He must be a Targaryen, yet a friend to all Houses. For those who doubt my blood, I say only look at mine face. I am Targaryen through and through. Lord Connington tells me I am the image of Prince Rhaegar.

I urge you to follow the path of Lord Selwyn Tarth, Lord Elwood Meadows, and the noble knights and Lords of the Golden Company of Volantis and bend the knee. I swear before the Seven that any Lord or knight who kneels before me shall be received into the King’s Peace. Those who bend the knee will be allowed to keep their lands and titles, while those who opposed me shall fall under the might of the dragon. Bend the knee for the good of the Seven Kingdoms. Bend the knee for the honor of the Iron Throne. Bend the knee for Rhaegar, Elia, and Rhaenys.

With hope,
Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

[Lumine]

The Unmaester:

"Qyburn felt very ambivalent about the Red Keep. On one hand, the enormous dungeons allowed him to fulfil his wildest dreams due to the support of the King, but the open corridors and the countless spies of the court bothered him, as he knew full well that he wouldn’t live long should people discovered what he had created. Getting rid of those pesky dornishmen had already caused quite an uproar, as the screams of Ellaria Sand could even reach the chambers of the King – who reportedly never had a more pleasant night -. She was brave, at the beginning. When all the rest were dead, not so much. The whores were less interesting to dismember. The maesters had taught him to despite whores, but what did the maesters really know, with their closed minds?

-Here we are, Grand Maester, these are your chambers. – Said Ser Osfryd –

Qyburn and Osfryd were escorting Grand Maester Vaellyn – that stern old bastard – to the chambers that had belonged to Pycelle, as the Grand Maester insisted in being allowed to search through Pycelle’s old archives. Qyburn did not know what Vaellyn intended, but he knew very well that it couldn’t be good for the King. Perhaps another Grand Maester would have realized that Joffrey was not to be challenged, but Vaellyn never cared about what others thought about him. As Ser Osfryd opened the door, Vaellyn couldn’t help but to approach the grand box put in the middle of the room with curiosity.

-What is this box for? – He asked, trying to look inside the box –
-It’s your coffin. – Qyburn smiled –

Vaellyn couldn’t even turn back, for Ser Osfryd had already pierced him through the chest with his sword. Qyburn looked through the window and saw that it was empty, so Ser Osfryd and him chose to rush and quickly dump the body. What a waste of a body. I never get the chance to experiment on old men, which is strange to think of.

-I have to report to the City Watch, Lord Qyburn.-
-Of course, Ser Osfryd. I’ll return to see the King. –

He loved his new position. For all the supposed might of Lord Varys, the eternal Master of Whisperers, he had only been a mummer’s farce, mere smoke and lies told to confuse and scare. He already had many of his informants in his pocket, and he has sure that he would be the one to capture the eunuch. His job was apparently the least desirable one, and yet he had found It marvelous. Spreading tales of Aegon being Aegon Sand, son of Oberyn Martell and sodomite lover of Lord Connington, turning the Mountain into the perfect fighter – and good Ser Robert would be finished in less than a fortnight – and managing the secrets and perversions of the pious court of Joffrey Baratheon.

-Lord Qyburn, please enter.-

And there was, the young King who had given him the support he needed.

-Your grace, the matter with Grand Maester Vaellyn has been solved.-
-Good. I expect the Citadel won’t send another bumbling fool.-
-Maesters are maesters, your grace.-
-Indeed. I may have to teach them a lesson once we’re done with this “dragon”. I may even get the chance of defeating him in single combat, like my father did to Rhaegar.-
-It would be fitting, I suppose.-

Then they heard the first scream, followed by the sound of arms. Qyburn and the King looked at each other, then they looked through the walls and to the entrance of the Red Keep. Several Cold Cloaks and Ser Boros were fighting for their lives against a host of Tyrell troops, as the fortress was under siege. Ser Meryn and another group of Gold Cloaks rushed through the gates to guard the King.

-Your grace! The Tyrells have betrayed us, the Red Keep is under siege! –
-Where is that fat traitor!? –
-In the Tower of the Hand, with the Queen. We must evacuate, your grace, they’re too many! –
-Very well, Ser Meryn. Lord Qyburn, give the signal to Lord Hallyne. Time to burn this nest of traitors.-
-Understood, your grace.-

Qyburn ran from the Kingsmen as fast as he could, hoping to reach the high walls as soon as possible, without even bothering to think of the King and the approaching Tyrell troops. Once he reached the walls he commanded an archer to fire a single flaming arrow towards Visenya’s Hill, then he set towards one of the secret passages. He knew he would not have the time to save Ser Robert, but he wouldn’t be the one going down in flames that day."

[/quote]

[Lumine]

The Knight of Flowers:

"Oh, gods, how have things gone so wrong? Ser Loras was scared, angry, worried and about to lose his sanity. He had been informed of his father’s move at the last moment, and he had rejected his protection to rush to his side. He couldn’t allow Joffrey to do any harm to Margaery or her child, because he knew the wrath of the King to be terrible. At first it had not been so terrible, the Tyrell troops were quick in finding many key Lords and imprison them and the Red Keep was surrounded while the Gold Cloaks fought isolated or surrendered. But then the air started to give a horrible smell, the skies began to shine, and from Visenya’s Hill Ser Loras saw the one thing he did not want to see ever in his life. Wildfire.

-Ser Loras! We couldn’t reach the Tower of the Hand and our exits are blocked! –
-Seven Hells! Soldiers, to me! –

The whole city was burning in what could only be the seven hells brought into life. Soldiers, women, children, all kinds of people running away from the flames to no awail, as the gates had collapsed and even the Red Keep had turned into a flaming fortress. The gods curse Joffrey for this! Not even the Mad King would have done something so horrible! He forced himself to think that Margaery and his father were safe as he tried to find a way out. One by one his men were dying from the fire, the houses falling on their heads or even the people of the city, taking Loras responsible as a knight of the Kingsguard. He was alone when he finally managed to reach the area near the docks, where Aurane Waters’s fleet rested on the bay, refusing to abandon Blackwater Bay for some reason.

-Ser Loras! Come here, traitor! –

It's him. Seven Hells, it's him. Joffrey was covered in blood, yet inexplicably unharmed as he held Widow’s Wail in his left hand. For a moment Loras even forgot that he was supposed to be his King, out of his mind as he was.

-How could you!? You monster, how could you!? –
-A good king… must… kill all the traitors! –
-And Margaery!?-
-How cares about that whore! Your King is giving you an order, come here! –

Whore! A whore!? Ser Loras couldn’t contain himself anymore and he charged toward Joffrey, both young men clashing with the rage of a Stag in the Trident. Joffrey was not bad when it came to fighting, but he was outclassed by the youngest of his Kingsguard. Perhaps another knight would have forced Joffrey to yield, perhaps they would have restrained him so he would be spared from the flames, doing their duty to the last moment. Alas, he never had the time to think of such matters, for his sword had already impaled Joffrey to the ground. He is vomiting so much blood… like… like Renly.

-Traitors… in the end, they are all traitors…-

Joffrey was dead. Oh, gods, the King is dead and I killed him. I am… I AM A KINGSLAYER.

-Kingslayer! – He shouted as he ran towards the docks, no longer thinking as a sane man would –

More and more houses were burnt, hundreds of people claiming for help and aid while they were brutally murdered by the flames of the pyromancers. Ser Loras could not hear them scream as he kept running, crying bitter tears as he realized that most of the ashes covering his face and the entire sky had probably been people that very same morning. He finally reached the last ship left in the port. It was the King Robert, Waters's own flagship. He forced himself to stop when he saw the young admiral standing on the stairs leading to the deck, several crossbowmen – and Qyburn, to his surprise – aiming at him.

-Ser Loras Tyrell! – Waters shouted, his hair covered in ashes – First Kingsguard I get to see today! Where is the King? –
-The King… I… -
-Interesting to see that you hesitate, I’m pretty sure I heard someone shout “Kingslayer” very loudly.-
-He burnt down the city! I… I couldn’t! Ser, please, you do not understand! –
-Wrong answer, Ser Loras. –

Waters gave the signal and his men fired at once, six or seven arrows piercing Ser Loras and throwing him to the ground. He has his blood flooding the ground as Waters and his ship sailed away from the hell of what used to be King’s Landing, and Ser Loras wept one last time for everybody. He wanted to think of Renly, yet all he could see was Joffrey and his bloodied face before everything went dark."

[Lumine]

Jaime II:

"-Is that smoke? – Jaime asked, unsure of what he saw at the horizon –

His squire said he thought so, as Ser Ilyn moved his head as if he wanted to say yes. Jaime felt a strong sense of unease as the smoke kept rising, and he ordered his men to charge towards the capitol, still a few minutes ahead of them. He had left Riverrun once he realized Lord Tarly was not going to let him do anything important, and he had faced a hard choice between Casterly Rock and King’s Landing. But he was still the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and his duty was in the capitol, standing beside… Joffrey. But the unease kept growing as the city was more and more near, and once the whole zone surrounding the capitol was visible to them he went absolutely pale.

-Oh, no… no… Not him. Of all people, not him.-
-Who, my Lord?-
-Aerys. – He replied before racing ahead –

He had saved that city twenty years ago from Aerys and his wish of burning the city to ashes, and now he could see King’s Landing burning in green, a green that could only be that damned wildfire. Seven hells, Joffrey, what have you done… How could you? Finally they all reached the Tyrell camp outside the city, filled with horribly burned refugees and a few confused and scattered troops. Jaime wanted to curse, he wanted to scream, he wanted to take his sword and do something, yet all he could was to stay silent as he sought someone who could tell him what he knew and didn’t want to hear. It was then that he saw one of the captains of the Gold Cloaks lying on a tent with half his arm gone, and he sat with him.

-You! What happened here? –
-Ser Jaime… it’s you… you must run…-
-Who did this?-
-The Tyrells betrayed the King… they stormed the Red Keep, and then the city started to burn…-

As the fire had already reached the walls and people stopped getting out of the city Jaime felt possessed with a strange resolve as he gathered more and more information. Nobody knew what had happened with the King and Ser Loras, but the rest of the Kingsguard were probably dead. The oaf and the queen had cooked to death inside the Tower of the Hand, and it seemed Lord Rowan was in charge. Jaime did his best to avoid the Tyrell guards and look for anything that could provide some hope, when he saw him.

-Uncle Jaime!–
-Tommen!-

Jaime pushed aside a crude joke at the expense of Joffrey to rush and help his son, dressed as a common peasant while none other than Ser Balon Swann posed as his father, also dressed in rags. Ser Balon had decided that it was too dangerous to let the Tyrell put their hands on Tommen, so he had changed his clothes and he had managed to smuggle him out of the city. To think the man with the traitorous father was the one to keep his vows… The three of them ran away back to the Lannister guardsmen that had travelled with Jaime, all of them shocked at the sight of King’s Landing. Ser Ilyn looked at him, as if expecting orders.

-The Tyrells have betrayed the crown, and they have paid for it. – Ser Jaime said, knowing he needed to prevent them from panicking – We march to Casterly Rock now.-

Most of them were dead now. Father, Cersei and probably Joffrey… But Tommen and Myrcella were still there, and he knew Tyrion and his uncle would fight for them as well. With Tyrion having saved Sansa, Cersei’s children were his only way of fulfilling his duty and saving what remained of his honor. It was very bitter to know that, in the end, Aerys Targaryen had taken the most horrible revenge on him. It was not a dragon that Aerys had turned when he died, he had turned into a Lion, he had turned into his own… son."

[Lumine]

King's Landing has been completely destroyed, and thus this thread is locked.