WILLIAM III
The doors to the Throne Room opened with a boom which echoed inside it's high walls, decorated with the banners of each of the rulers in the Seven Kingdoms and the Riverlands.
To Will's left hung the leaping trout banner of House Tully, Lords of the Riverlands, across from it on the right side of the King hung the banner of House Greyjoy - treasonous as they were against his late father, they were still the Lords of the Iron Islands and a part of the Realm in which William was to rule. Closer to the Throne and next to the Greyjoy banner hung the golden rose of House Tyrell, Lords of Highgarden and the Reach and across from them back on William's left hung the falcon and moon of House Arryn; William had it shift positions with that of House Martell, which lay next to it and closer to the Throne. After all, Jon Arryn was no longer the Hand of the King and the Princess Sarafine Martell was to be his wife and the Queen, in due time. The Stark banner hung across from that and finally; at the front of the room on either side hung the banners of William's two houses.
The crowned stag of the House Baratheon on his left and the golden lion of House Lannister on his right. Or his left - now that he had turned the other way and faced the high lords and ladies which has gathered for the coronation ceremony of their new King.
He gazed over the many faces whose eyes were set on him; their new King.
The first rows of standing people consisted of his family. His mother stood closest; still clothed in a black gown in mourning of Robert; but there were hints of gold embroidery in the fabric also which complemented her flowing gold locks. She looked the best that she had since her husband's death, in Will's eyes, anyway. Her age looked to have increased by a decade in the days following the passing of the King but today she looked to have dialled back the clock - still mourning, but fresh in the face. This was her son's day, the moment his whole life had lead to. And while the circumstances weren't as planned - she couldn't be prouder of her first born prince.
Next to her stood Sarafine, who was similarly clothed and equally as beautiful, though Will would admit that he considered his betrothed twice as beautiful as any woman who had ever walked the earth. Her hair nearly blended with the dark shades of her gown and her brown eyes shone bright as she laid them upon her new King and husband-to-be.
Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella stood next along from Sara, all dressed wonderfully for the occasion. Though his eldest brother did wear a slight frown at being stood close to their Uncle Tyrion; the only person aside from Robert who had told Joff when enough was enough. Tyrion had been commissioned by Lord Tywin to serve as William's acting Hand of the King whilst he made his travels from Casterly Rock to the capital. Will hoped that his youngest siblings were keeping the two far enough apart to avoid conflict.
Sansa Stark stood prominently toward the front also, the only member of her house remaining in King's Landing since Robert's funeral. She was placed among her handmaidens and Will's small council.
All of them were dressed in their finest gowns and cloaks - but it wasn't about them. Today was Will's day. His first day of kingship and his last day of childhood. Everything would change once the crown rested upon his head and he knew it well.
The Throne Room that was to be his was silent as the grave when he entered, the High Septon the only one to speak. Will looked to Cersei, the Queen Regent and stand-in Protector of the Realm until he came of age, who smiled at him reassuringly.
"In the light of the Seven, I now pronounce William of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister, First of His Name, King of The Andals, The First Men and The Rhoynar and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Long may he reign!"
"Long may he reign!" the crowd chanted back.
The crown, designed by him and Joffrey, was placed around his thick brown curls. It was golden, like his father's, featuring the stag and lion of his parents houses. The crown had protruding elements; some like antlers, some like the snout of the Lannister Lion. A crown for a king. And it was his until his death.
He looked over his people again; his people. They were all his subjects; high lords and ladies, knights and commoners alike - he was responsible for them all.
The High Septon stepped aside and allowed Will to do what everyone had been waiting for. He bent his knees, lowered his back and nestled his body into the chair which his father had sat for seventeen years; and many kings before him.
The Iron Throne. And now it belonged to William himself - King William. He ran his left hand over the hilt of a sword from the chair. This was his moment, and the time of trial had officially begun.
People came one by one to congratulate Will, offer their condolences for his father and bless his reign. He sat through every one of the greetings with patience, testing himself every moment. All he wanted was to see his family and his princess. To be with them and grow with them and rule with them; rule with her.
She came forward and he rose from his throne.
"Seven blessings, Your Grace," she curtseyed. He noted the creases on her skirts…undoubtedly from the nervous clutching with her fingers.
"Approach," he asked, kissing her soft hand when she did.
"You need not rise for me, Your Gr-," she began and he smiled.
"I may be King, but I'm still Will. There's no need for formalities,"
"I know," she smiled, "but King William does sound like quite the admirable title…congratulations, Will," she smiled softly.
"Are you well, my princess?"
"Aye, are you?" she asked, almost a whisper. He breathed deeply, choosing his words carefully in such company.
"It's all a bit surreal, in truth," he said, looking around the Throne Room that was now his.
"I imagine it would be," she followed his gaze, stopping at the banner of her house and smiling widely at its new position.
"More surreality to come, I believe," the King reminded himself, and his Queen-to-be.
"Indeed," she smiled, "you best get back to your greetings. I shall see you at the feast, aye?"
"You shall, princess," he nodded as did she.
"Your Grace," she nodded and walked back down the steps and into the crowds, his eyes following her dark robes and hair all the while.
If only she stayed longer, he wished. But responsibility was responsibility and this was his. Another one of these followed; with his convening of the small council at the behest of Lord Varys and his mother.
Ser Barristan and Ser Jamie followed him there, along with Ser Bronn who remained loyal to him without being named to the Kingsguard. They left the Throne Room, Will's crown remaining on his head all the while - this was duty, not leisure. The walk to the small council chamber was not far but the feeling of dread for what would occur inside the small room made it seem longer than walking from one end of the city to the other.
He entered to see his small council, as his father's had been but with some new additions. The long table was filled; Joffrey sat at the right end and Cersei next to him on the corner, with Qyburn next to her, Varys next to him and Littlefinger after that. Tyrion sat in the center and Renly and Stannis next to him, with Pycelle on the left end of the table, Will sat in between Bronn and Jaime, Barristan on Bronn's left, refusing to sit too close to Pycelle - as any sane man would.
"Your Grace," Varys began, "whispers,"
"Aye, the Targaryen girl, tell me,"
"Not from the East, my King, from the Crossing,"
"What could be happening in the Crossing?"
"Alliances, Your Grace," Stannis interrupted, growing frustrated with Varys' inability to tell it to Will straight without cryptic messages.
"Uncle Stannis," Will addressed.
"Our friends the Freys have declared war on House Tully,"
War? Will processed, in the Riverlands?
"What for?"
"In the name of Daenerys Targaryen, Your Grace. The Greyjoys have followed their lead; as have the Bolton's who have declared against the Starks."
William was baffled. He'd always been more of a listener than talker when it came to matters of politics - but here sat his council waiting for his orders. He thought for a moment. The North, Riverlands and gods know where else were now quarrelling - in his realm.
"The Stark's have returned home, yes?" he thought to ask, they were the principal house in the North.
"Via ship after my brother's funeral," Lord Renly reminded Will.
"And they're safe in Winterfell, aye?"
"As far as we know. The Greyjoys aren't bold enough to attack the Stark forces," Pycelle started.
"Greyjoys are bold as any House," Barristan argued, "if not bold, what of their rebellion nine years ago?"
"Treasonous," Pycelle muttered.
"Treason can be as bold as it is foolish," Bronn quipped and Pycelle was silenced.
"Who have the Greyjoys declared against?" Will asked.
"The Crown, it would seem," Littlefinger spoke, "it appears to be another one of their attempts to be independent - however, in someone else's name. It does seem strange,"
"Strange or not, the Targaryen has her allies," Varys mused aloud.
His first official day of his reign and someone had waged war against him. He hoped it would not be a telling sign of his future on the throne.
"Do we know who the Greyjoys are planning to strike against, at least?"
"A considerable amount of the Iron Fleet had been spotted sailing east, possibly to meet the girl herself," Varys started, "but another small fleet has left Pyke. It's destination remains unknown…my little birds are working on it,"
He stood from his seat in frustration, leaning his fists on his table.
"It's imperative that we uncover their destination before they reach it," he began, walking around the small council chamber in thought, all eyes following his trail, "she could have more allies somewhere else, they could be going to join forces. Whatever their purpose and wherever they're travelling - find out. Lord Stannis, what do you recommend for the fleet heading east?" he finished.
That was kingly enough, wasn't it? he thought. Stannis remained quiet for a moment, considering their options in his head. Will looked to his uncle who ended the silence with a loud exhale.
"The Iron Fleet is one of the fastest in the Seven Kingdoms, Your Grace. We can't catch them on their way to wherever they're going...but we can prepare for their return. We'll commission ships of each loyal house to wait off the east coast,"
"And if their force is too big?" Renly asked.
"Too big a force kills the element of surprise, which appears to be what they're going for. If our armies are met with a small force...they can extract information, prepare the land armies and their castles for siege," his master of ships recommended.
"Uncle Tyrion," Will began, "see to it that these preparations are made. Grand Maester, send ravens to those on the eastern coast with my uncle's instructions immediately," the King instructed, "what of the Freys? What moves have they made?"
"None yet, but Lord Walder will not sit still for long. His men will lay siege to Riverrun soon enough," Varys said ever so morbidly.
"We're cut off from the North now, with the Lord of the Crossing officially an enemy of the Crown," Renly informed.
"And the Bolton's?" Will breathed.
"Guerilla tactics mostly. We'll wait to hear from Lord Eddard of any developments in their rebellion," Stannis continued.
"Mother," he turned to his silent Queen Regent, "how fares Casterly Rock?"
"Provisions are high, Lord Tywin is calling the banners last I heard,"
"Good," Will said, satisfied, "we will need him soon enough, I imagine."
The room remained silent for a short period of time after that. Will was thinking to himself and it appeared that they were all waiting for him to speak…but he didn't know what more to say. His brother spoke.
"How has this Targaryen managed to gain allies while roaming the Red Waste?"
"We believe she's made it out of there alive, Prince Joffrey. As to where she is residing currently - we do not know. But my birds are working," the Spider said, dismally. William looked to Joffrey, nodding in thanks. Joffrey returned the gesture and continued his line of question.
"And your birds, do we have them in the enemy houses?"
"With the Greyjoys, yes. But the Iron Islanders are a stern people and don't often give up battle plans so easily. I am making arrangements for birds in the Dreadfort and the Crossing. We shall have more information once they are settled,"
Will thought for a moment and watched Joff do the same.
"Is there anyone representing the Crown in the North?"
"How do you mean, Your Grace?" Renly questioned.
"I mean…someone to stand for the Crown during the War in the North. Someone needs to keep the Northerners assured that they are not alone and that they have our support."
"It is a good idea, Your Grace," his Hand spoke, "solidarity, I like it…it's what the Realm needs more of, it would seem," Lord Tyrion poured himself a goblet of wine from the table, "who do you suggest?"
Will thought…the choice rather obvious in truth. A Kingsguard would be a fine choice and the Realm would think him both bold and kind for the white cloak in the North - fighting for the unity of the Kingdoms - especially one who shared a name and blood with the King himself.
"Ser Jaime," Will announced, looking down to his Uncle who stood in the gold plate of his honourable order and faced his new King.
"Your Grace, I would happily do you the honour," he nodded.
"Very well," Will raised his voice, "Uncle Jaime, you will sail on the Eastern Coast, dock at White Harbour and travel to Winterfell by horse,"
"When shall I leave?" Jaime seemed satisfied, to Will's relief.
"Tomorrow. Uncle Tyrion will make the arrangements,"
"Aye, I will," the younger of his uncles joined in.
"If I may be excused, Your Grace, it seems I must go and prepare for my voyage," Jaime requested and Will nodded.
"Dine with me tonight, Uncle, I should like to speak to you before you go," the King requested in response.
"As you wish," the Kingsguard smiled and exited the chamber.
"Council is dismissed," Will finished.
