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Chapter 21
The Iron Throne was as uncomfortable as it looked. The fanged steel behind her made it impossible to lean back. A king should never sit easy, Aegon the Conqueror had said when he commanded his armorers to forge a great seat from the swords laid down by his enemies. A lesson to his descendants.
Grey dawn light was spilling in through the high windows of the throne room. The sky was an expanse of dreary ash. It seemed even the gods were mourning Robert. Selene sat the throne in her finest black silk dress, golden antlers emblazoned on her bodice. She didn't have a proper crown yet, so she wore her silver coronet. She smiled at the thought of the moonstone carved into a crescent shape that was fitted in the center of her crown. When Robert had the coronet fashioned for her, he had two moonstones carved. One for the crown, and the other for the necklace he had gifted her. Her stone's twin was being worn on a slim silver chain by Jon Snow a thousand leagues away at the Wall, and the thought gave her strength. Despite the years of use, her crown felt heavier than usual.
Ned sat in an ornate chair on her right as her Hand. The two of them were alone in the throne room.
"I would give all my titles for the freedom to weep." Ned said sorrowfully. "The gods give Robert rest."
Selene had used up all her tears. "He hated rest. The gods give him love and laughter, the joy of righteous battle."
Ned smiled, "Aye, princess."
Selene looked Ned in the eyes. They were so like Jon's..., "My lord, you should return to Winterfell with your daughters. There is a chance this day could end very badly for us. I have a duty here, but you have a duty to your family."
Ned's eyes gleamed, "That's very kind of you, princess. My daughters are scheduled to board a galley today that will take them safely to the north. But you're wrong. I have a duty here, too. Robert was my friend and I will see his wishes done. He named me your regent, and I plan on honoring my promise."
They were waiting for the councilors. Ned thought it a good idea for her to sit the throne. "You look every bit a queen." He said proudly, but she wasn't queen yet. Any moment, the members of the small council would arrive and Ned would show them Robert's will. Her uncle Renly had left some 50 men behind for her protection and had ridden hard to Storm's End and Highgarden to raise the south in her name. Selene was awaiting word from Stannis. As the Master of Ships and a renowned battle commander, it was imperative she gain his wisdom and council. According to Ned, Littlefinger had gotten the City Watch on her side, a small army of two thousand men. All they needed to fear was the Lannister guards, but they were greatly outnumbered. Selene was roused from her thoughts when Ned gasped loudly, as if he had been under water for too long and was finally able to breathe.
"My lord?"
He was murmuring so softly she strained to hear him, "Perhaps the gods have a plan after all." He was looking at her carefully, like he had all those weeks ago when he was still not sure whether to trust her.
She was about to ask again, when Ned spoke.
"Your Grace…How do you feel about the Targaryens?"
"How do I feel?" She repeated. "What an odd question."
A moment passed. "Do you share Robert's hate?" Ned asked guardedly.
"Rhaegar Targaryen kidnapped your sister." Selene said, "The Mad King roasted your father alive and your brother killed himself trying to save him. The Targaryens have committed atrocity after atrocity."
Ned's eyes were sad, but his words were strong, "Perhaps. But those are just two members of a whole House. You mean to tell me you hate the family for the sins of two members?"
Selene thought of the Targaryens of legend. Of the fearsome warriors with otherworldly beauty who tamed fire made flesh. She remembered all her books, with all their stories. Of Baelor the Blessed, Daemon the Good, and Aegon the Unlikely. Of Visenya and Rhaenys, two warrior women who inspired her.
"I suppose you're right." Selene conceded. "I do not hate them all. Only the ones who have bled the realm. In fact," she allowed herself a small smile, "I used to dream of riding dragons."
A ghost of a smile graced Ned's lips. "Perhaps there is a way to solidify your claim to the throne beyond all repute…a marriage, and not with my son."
Selene frowned, "I don't understand."
Ned glanced around the throne room, as if the dragon skulls were still there, listening. "There are still those in the Seven Kingdoms who pray for the return of the Targaryens. A union between the daughter of Robert Baratheon and the son of Rhaegar Targaryen could save the realm." Ned looked away, eyes flicking back and forth quickly in deep thought. "A daughter of lions and stags, a son of wolves and dragons…" His smile was one of disbelief.
Selene's jaw dropped, "Marry a Targaryen?" Thunder clapped outside, as if Robert's shade was as shocked as her. "And forsake my father and all those who died fighting in his rebellion?" Her frowned deepened, "Besides, Rhaegar's son was murdered by the Lannister army during the Sack of King's Landing." Selene had been keeping up with reports from the east, "And the only Targaryen left is the girl, Daenerys."
Ned hesitated, "Your Grace, do you remember my bast—"
The door to the throne room swung open.
Ser Barristan Selmy, Grand Maester Pycelle, Varys, and Littlefinger and entered the throne room together. Selene straightened, trying her best to look brave when her heart was beating fearfully in her chest. The councilors all blinked up in surprise when they saw Selene sitting the throne. With unsure steps, they approached.
"This is most improper." Pycelle said to no one in particular.
"Princess," Ser Barristan said carefully, immaculate in his white cloak and enameled armor, "My place is beside the young king now. Pray give me leave to attend him.
"Your place is here," Ned told him.
Littlefinger, garbed in blue velvets and a silver mockingbird cape, bowed but said nothing. His eyes glittered with interest.
Varys was pink from his bath and Selene could smell lavender coming off of him from the throne, "The little birds sing a grievous song today," he said. "The realm weeps. Shall we begin?"
"When Lord Renly arrives," Selmy said.
"Lord Renly has left the city," Ned informed the council. From the looks on Baelish's and Varys's faces, they already knew.
"Left the city?" Pycelle asked.
"He took his leave through a postern gate an hour before dawn, accompanied by Ser Loras Tyrell and some retainers." Ned added, "They were galloping south in haste to raise swords."
"Raise swords?" Littlefinger asked in a soft voice.
Ned nodded and rose slowly from his chair with his cane. He drew out a letter. "The king called me to his side last night and commanded me to record his final words, to be opened by his councilors after his death. Ser Barristan, if you would be so kind?"
The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard climbed the steps and examined the letter, "King Robert's seal, and unbroken." He opened the letter and read, "Lord Eddard Stark is herein named Protector of the Realm, to rule as regent until…" Selmy's voice faded, and then he gaped at Selene. She swallowed, but lifted her chin.
"If you could finish, my lord?" Littlefinger asked, curiosity clear on his face.
Selmy took a deep breath, "Until my only trueborn child and heir Selene Baratheon comes of age."
The silence was deafening.
"I would ask this council to confirm me as Lord Protector, as Robert wished," Ned said, "And to bend the knee to his heir, our new queen, Selene Baratheon." Selene watched their faces, wondering what thoughts hid behind Pycelle's half-closed eyes, Littlefinger's lazy half smile, and the nervous flutter of Vary's fingers. She eyed Selmy. His jaw was locked and confusion swam in his eyes.
"I do not understand." Ser Barristan said, looking around the room for an explanation.
Selene was going to speak, when the royal steward's voice rose from the end of the hall, "All hail His Grace, Joffrey of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."
Five knights of the Kingsguard—all but Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan—entered first in a crescent around Joffrey and Cersei as they strode toward the throne. The queen wore a gown of sea-green silk, trimmed with Myrish lace as pale as foam. On her finger was a golden ring with an emerald the size of a pigeon's egg, on her head a matching tiara. Joffrey's gold doublet shone in the hall, his cape of red satin kissing the floor behind him. Sandor Clegane shielded their back wearing his ringmail, soot-grey plate, and snarling dog's head helm.
Behind this group, twenty Lannister guardsmen waited with longswords hanging from their belts. Crimson cloaks draped their shoulders and steel lions crested their helms. But Littlefinger had kept his promise; the gold cloaks entered as well, lining the walls of the throne room, each man's hand clasped an eight-foot-long spear tipped in black iron. Renly's guards were scattered, their black armor plain except for the gold antlers ornamented on the breast plate and small silver antlers sprouting from their helms. Together, Selene's forces outnumbered the Lannisters five to one.
The councilors drifted to the side to make room for Joffrey and the queen as they stopped at the base of the throne. All except Selmy, who stood rooted a few steps below Ned, Robert's letter still in his hand.
Joffrey was ignoring the girl on his throne, "I command my council to make all the necessary arrangements for my coronation," the boy proclaimed, "I wish to be crowed within the fortnight. Today I shall accept oaths of fealty from my loyal councilors."
Selene, gripping the arms of throne, never took her eyes from her brother. "Ser Barristan, be so kind as to show the last will and testament of Robert Baratheon to my mother."
The knight carried the letter to Cersei. The queen glanced at the words, "Protector of the Realm," she read, glancing up at Ned, "Is this meant to be your shield, my lord? A piece of paper?" She ripped the letter in half and ripped the halves in quarters. Selene gave a small start in her seat as her father's words fell to the floor.
"Those were the king's words," Ser Barristan said, shocked.
"We have a new king now," Cersei Lannister replied. "Princess Selene, when we last spoke, you gave me some counsel. Allow me to return the courtesy. Bend the knee, child. Bend the knee and swear fealty to my son, and we shall allow you to marry the Stark boy and live out your days in that grey waste you wish to call home."
"Would that I could," Selene said grimly. If her mother was so intent on war, than that was what she would give her. "Joffrey has no claim to the throne. I am Robert's true heir."
"Liar!" Joffrey screamed, his face reddening.
Selene stared down on her brother's face, "Joffrey is the product of incest. Born of the queen's adultery with her twin, Ser Jaime Lannister."
The hall erupted in whispers between councilors and knights and soldiers. Joffrey was screaming. Ser Barristan was speaking fervently with Ned. The only two who were silent were Selene and Cersei. Mother and daughter stared each other down.
Finally, the queen spoke, hushing the hall. "You condemn yourself with your own mouth, princess. Ser Barristan, seize this traitor."
The Lord Commander didn't move. Renly's guards drew their swords.
"And now the treason moves from words to deeds," Cersei said, "Do you think Ser Barristan stands alone?" With an ominous rasp of metal on metal, the Hound drew his longsword. The five knights of the Kingsguard and twenty Lannister guardsmen in crimson cloaks moved to support him.
"Kill her!" Joffrey screamed up at the Iron Throne, "Kill all of them, I command it!"
"You leave me no choice," Selene told Cersei. She looked down at who could only be Janos Slynt, the Commander of the City Watch. "Commander, take the queen and her child into custody. Do them no harm, but escort them back to the royal apartments and keep them there, under guard."
"Men of the Watch!" Janos Slynt shouted, donning his helm. A hundred gold cloaks leveled their spears.
"I want no bloodshed," Selene told her mother, "Tell your men to lay down their swords, and no one need—"
With a single sharp thrust, the nearest gold cloak drove his spear into a northerner's back. His blade dropped from nerveless fingers as the wed red point burst out through his ribs, piercing leather and mail. He was dead before his sword hit the floor.
Selene's shout came far too late. Janos Slynt himself slashed open the throat of a Baratheon guard. Selene stood, right hand flying to Stormsbane. A large hand grabbed her wrist. She looked up into the dog helm of the Hound, who had sprinted up the steps to stop her. She struggled against him in vain, as he twisted her arm behind her back. Pain shot through her body as her eyes found Ned. Littlefinger had a dagger placed securely around his throat, and he whispered something in his ear.
Selene watched as the gold and crimson cloaks slayed every northerner and Baratheon guard. Her mother walked the steps as slowly and as calmly as if blood wasn't spilling around her. Cersei was still taller than her, and the queen looked down on her daughter. Her eyes were like green ice. She tucked a dark curl behind Selene's ear.
"My sweet summer child…" She mumbled with a small smile. "You will regret this for the rest of your days."
###
The One Day Queen, the people called her, according to Lori's notes. One Hour Queen is more appropriate, Selene thought miserably as she paced in her chambers. Her rooms had become her prison. She was not able to be alone with anyone, even her personal handmaiden. But Lori had managed to hide notes in her food when she delivered it under the watchful eye of Ser Mandon Moore of the Kingsguard, her personal jailer.
Renly has raised the Stormlands and Reach in your name and demands your freedom, Lori has scribbled, Stannis is also gathering swords, but he sits on Dragonstone.
Selene sighed. There was no creature as dangerous as a truly just man, and she wasn't sure if Stannis was her enemy or ally. With Stannis beside her, she would gain the power of the sea and the full support of the Stormlands. As her enemy, she would lose houses loyal to him and have another rival claimant to the throne.
Ned Stark has been charged with treason and sits in the dungeons. Robb Stark is leading a host south.
Selene buried her face in her hands. She had asked Ned to go home to safety, but he had refused. And now he rots in a dungeon as Robb leads an army. Selene thought of the boy she had danced with in Winterfell, and tried to imagine him as a wartime commander.
In the privacy of her room, with nothing else to do, she had all the time in the world to grieve. She wept with sorrow for her father. She worried for Eleni, who was still trapped in the stables and prayed Joffrey hadn't already killed her out of spite. She had sleepless nights filled with concern for Tyrion. She hadn't heard a word about him in weeks and had no idea if he was dead or alive.
Thinking of Tyrion, she flipped open the pages of one of her favorite books, trying anything to distract herself. The Dragonseeds of the Dance. During the Dance of Dragons, when Prince Jacaerys noticed his mother's side had more dragons that dragonriders, he had promised gold and titles to any Targaryen bastards who could mount a dragon. These bastards were called dragonseeds, and Selene's favorite was Nettles, the small dark-skinned girl who was foul-mouthed and fearless. She was only a few years older than Selene when the civil war started, and cleverly tamed the wild dragon Sheepstealer by bringing it freshly slaughtered sheep each morning.
"She wasn't Targaryen!" A young Selene had told Tyrion many years ago in the Red Keep's library.
"Her name doesn't matter," Tyrion had explained, "She had the blood of the Targaryens, and according to the maesters, that's all you need to ride a dragon."
Selene had pondered this, "My father's grandmother was a Targaryen princess," she pointed out, "Could I ride a dragon one day?"
Tyrion had smiled, "Only if you take me with you."
Selene was jarred from her memories by a knock on the door.
"Enter." She called.
A large stranger in roughspun clothes entered her chambers. He removed his hood.
"Varys?"
"We don't have much time, my dear, so we must be quick." The eunuch said, glancing nervously behind him at the closed door.
"Where is Ser Mandon?" She asked as Varys took a seat and poured two glasses of wine. There was no way she was allowed to be alone with Varys.
"Never mind that." He pushed the goblet forward with two fingers. "Drink."
She sat across from him, grabbed the cup, but did not drink, "The Stark girls…"
"The younger girl escaped Ser Meryn and fled," Varys said and Selene let out a great sigh of relief, "I have not been able to find her. Nor have the Lannisters. A kindness, there. Our new king loves her not. The older girl is still betrothed to Joffrey. Cersei keeps her close. She came to court a few days ago to plead that Lord Stark be spared. A pity you couldn't have been there, her song was so sweet." He leaned forward tentatively, "I trust you realize Lord Stark is a dead man?"
Selene swallowed a mouthful of wine. She was almost too afraid to ask, "And am I?"
Varys smile was sad, "A bit rash, perhaps, but not dead yet. Lucky for you the king is your brother."
"Lucky," she spat.
Varys continued, "To kill you would make him a kinslayer. Due to your sex, he can't send you to the Wall. To exile you would be foolish. You could gain support and bide your time in the Free Cities. No. Cersei will keep you close for now while the rumors of Joffrey's legitimacy die down and marry you off to some lord to hold his claim."
There are worse fates, Selene thought. Like what awaits Ned…
"The queen won't kill Lord Stark," Selene argued, "Lady Catelyn holds her brother."
"The wrong brother," Varys sighed, "And lost to her, in any case. She let the Imp slip through her fingers. I expect he is dead by now, somewhere in the Mountains of the Moon."
Queens do not weep, her father had told her. But she felt the tears rise to her eyes all the same. The last thing Selene wanted to do was cry in front of Varys, but the thought of Tyrion's death was more than she could bear. Who else could she lose?
In pity, Varys handed her a handkerchief. Selene wiped at her eyes, all hope draining out of her.
"Why have you come here?" She asked through a clenched throat, "If this is my fate and the fate of those I love, slit my throat and be done with it."
"Your blood is the last thing I desire."
Selene felt a sudden fury, "When they slaughtered my guard, you stood beside the queen and watched, and said not a word."
"And would again. I seem to recall that I was unarmed, unarmored, and surrounded by Lannister swords." The eunuch looked at her curiously, tilting his head, "When I was a young boy, before I was cut, I traveled with a troupe of mummers through the Free Cities. They taught me that each man has a role to play, in life as well as mummery. So it is at court. The King's Justice must be fearsome, the master of coin must be frugal, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard must be valiant…and the master of whispers must by sly and compliant without scruple. A courageous informer would be as useless as a cowardly knight." He drank from his glass.
Selene studied the eunuch's face, searching for truth beneath the mummer's scars and stubble, "Can you free me from the Red Keep?"
"I could…but will I? No. Questions would be asked, and the answers would lead back to me."
Selene had expected no more, "Will you at least consent to carry messages for me?" She needed to write to Renly, Stannis, and Robb.
"That would depend on the message. I will gladly provide you with paper and ink, if you like. And when you have written what you will, I will take the letters and read them, and deliver them or not, as best serves my own ends."
"Your own ends. What ends are those, Lord Varys?"
"Peace," Varys replied without hesitation, "If there was one soul in King's Landing who was truly desperate to keep Robert Baratheon alive, it was me." He sighed, "For fifteen years I protected him from his enemies, but I could not protect him from his daughter. What strange fit of madness led you to tell the queen that you had learned the truth about Joffrey's birth?"
Tommen and Myrcella's faces swam before her. "The madness of mercy," Selene admitted.
"Ah," Varys said, "To be sure. You are an honest and honorable girl, princess. I often forget that. I have met so few of your kind in my life." He glanced around the room, her prison cell, "When I see what honesty and honor have won you, I understand why." He paused, "The queen will visit you tomorrow."
Selene's eyes snapped up in surprise, "Why?"
"Cersei is frightened of you…but she has other enemies she fears even more. Her beloved Jaime is fighting the river lords even now. Lysa Arryn sits in the Eyrie, ringed in stone and steel, and there is no love lost between her and the queen. In Dorne, the Martells still brood on the murder of Princess Elia and her babes. And now Robb Stark marches down the Neck with a northern host at his back. But it's Robert's brothers that are giving the queen sleepless nights…Lord Stannis in particular. Your claim is the true one, with his help as your battle commander and master of ships, his threat is the closest.
Stannis has yet to rise in my name, She thought, He sits, and he waits, for what I am not sure. But she kept her mouth closed.
Varys continued, "So here is Cersei's nightmare: While her father and brother spend their power battling the Starks and Tullys, Lord Stannis will land, proclaim you queen, and lop off Joffrey's curly blond head….and her own in the bargain, though I truly believe Cersei cares more about the boy."
"I am my father's true heir," Selene insisted, "The throne is mine by rights."
Varys tsked. "Cersei will not want to hear that, I promise you. Stannis may come to save you, but you will be a corpse long before he can free you. No doubt you will suddenly take ill like our friend Jon Arryn. You are being given your life back, princess, if you'll take it. Cersei is no fool. She knows a tame stag is of more use than a dead one."
"You want me to serve my mother's bastard?" Selene said, incredulous, "The boy who has tortured my siblings? To marry some lord far away while my father's memory is destroyed by that viscous idiot?"
"I want you to serve the realm," Varys said, "Tell the queen that through the madness of death, Robert proclaimed you heir. Tell her that you are her loving and loyal daughter, and that you only sought to carry out your father's dying wish. Apologize and beg forgiveness from your brother the king. Offer to denounce Stannis and Renly as faithless usurpers. I believe she will allow to live out your days in a castle far away from court…perhaps Highgarden?"
Selene opened her mouth to speak, but Varys was quicker, "Not Winterfell. I don't think she trusts you enough for that."
"Is this all your own scheme?" Selene said through narrowed eyes, "Or are you in league with Littlefinger?"
That seemed to amuse him, "I would sooner wed the Black Goat of Qohor. Littlefinger is the second most devious man in the Seven Kingdoms. Oh, I feed him choice whispers, sufficient so he thinks I am his…just as I allow Cersei to believe I am hers."
"And just as you let me believe you are mine. Tell me, Lord Varys, who do you truly serve?"
Varys smiled thinly, "Why, the realm, my dear princess. How could you ever doubt that? I swear it. I serve the realm, and the realm needs peace." He finished his last swallow of wine. "A pity…you would have been a great queen. Feared by your enemies and loved by the people. I secretly hoped your ascension would be smoother. Alas, the gods do not always reward the righteous with justice." He stood to leave, "Give me your word that you will tell the queen what she wants to hear when she comes calling."
"If I did, my word would be as hollow as an empty suit of armor. It makes no difference if I tell the truth or lie, either way my father's legacy is tarnished. You said it yourself, they will not kill me."
"And what of your dear lioness?" Varys said softly.
A chill pierced Selene's heart, "Eleni…"
"That beast has been behaving rather strangely as of late. It roars all day and night and claws at the stable doors, and it hasn't been fed in so long…"
Selene turned away so Varys wouldn't see her wet eyes.
Varys sighed, "The High Septon once told me that as we sin, so do we suffer. If that's true, princess, tell me…why is it always the innocents who suffer most, when you high lords play your game of thrones?"
"I never wanted this." Selene said quietly. Her hands tightened into fists. "Any of this."
There was a gentle knocking on the door. Three quick knocks, a pause, followed by three more quick knocks.
"That's my cue," Lord Varys walked to the door. "Oh," he said on afterthought, turning. "Lord Stark has a message for you."
Selene whirled, "What is it?"
"I do not know. He refused to tell me, refused to even write it down. He says he will only tell you in person."
Does he still wish to speak with me about Targaryens?, Selene thought. Ned Stark was prisoner in the dungeons, his leg must have him in agony, his daughter a hostage, his son leading an army….and yet he still wished to speak to her about Targaryens. Whatever it was, it must have been more important that Selene could ever imagine.
"Will you take me to see him?" Selene asked, already knowing the answer.
"No, my dear. Too much risk for me. I am sure you understand." He placed his hand on the handle and turned it, looking back on her one last time. "Remember, princess, the next person could bring you freedom or a lion's head…The choice is entirely yours."