5th Month of 299 A.C. King's Landing

King Jonothor I Targaryen

The sun was shining through the slits that passed for windows in some parts of the Red Keep. His ancestors must not have liked the sun, for their window designs were so narrow. He would need to change them later on, when things were more settled, for now though, he would keep them. He has more important things to consider. Looking at his small council he speaks. "I have reached my decision. I believe the time is right for the announcement to be made. The more time we take in pushing this down, the longer chance we give to the rebels to make their own announcement, and that is something I will not abide."

Robb as ever is supportive. "I agree Your Grace. When I was in the Riverlands, there was talk that the rebels would try and crown their own High Septon. Thankfully, the fools who tried to do that were slain when we fought." His cousin grimaces and Jonothor feels for his cousin, it could not have been easy. He has heard the tale of the massacre of the God's Eye from his sources and from his cousin both. And by all accounts it was brutal.

"Tell me Lord Stark, when you were in the Riverlands, what precisely did the traitors say before they tried to move?" Jonothor asks, he has heard this before, but he wants the rest of the council to hear it as well.

Robb loyal as ever, speaks once more. "They said they were tired of indecision, and they were tired of having to wait. They would make the announcement themselves, or they would die trying."

"And die they did." Jonothor says simply. He looks at the lords gathered around him, his small council, minus Lady Ellaria, off hunting her demons in Essos. "I will not tolerate such behaviour anymore. The time to put this business to an end has come."

"The sooner, the better I say." Lord Velaryon says.

Ebrose, is as always cautious. "Your Grace, with the current situation in the Reach, and with the Starry Sept and Oldtown itself under danger, would it not be better to perhaps wait? After all, we do not want things to get inflamed."

Jonothor grimaces. "Whilst I understand your concern Ebrose, I think that the time for indecision has long since passed. Princess Daenerys has married the heir to Oldtown, and Ser Baelor here has assured me his father will not have wanted anything to stop this from happening. Regardless, of what chaos was ensured."

Ebrose bows his head, but Jonothor suspects he will not have heard the end of this for some time yet. He is prepared to accept that, for what is to come will finally end all of it. "The Most Devout as construed by your direction Maester, have reached a decision have they not?"

The man nods. "Yes, they have chosen on the moderate Septon Donnor. A man of good repute, who will appeal to both the more devout Causterians and the moderates. He is a firm opponent of the Sparrows, and has always been a most outspoken supporter of Your Grace."

"Good." Jonothor says. "I shall meet with him before the proclamation." None of the members of his council protest, and so he dismisses them. Leaving himself alone with his thoughts and the Kingsguard outside. He runs a hand through his hair, stopping at the iron pronged crown he wears. The symbol of his authority. He runs his hands over the sharp edges, feeling the black steel shift and shape to his touch. He moves his hand away, and rises. He walks, accompanied by the Kingsguard, to where he knows the man, Septon Donnor resides. He knocks, and enters when given permission. Septon Donnor is a short man, brown of hair, and fair of skin. He bows before Jonothor. "Rise." Jonothor commands, the man does so. "You are ready for your duty?" he enquires. He does not want a leader, but he does not want a fool either.

"I am Sire." Septon Donnor replies calmly.

"And you know what your duties will be once you are formally proclaimed before the people?" Jonothor asks.

Septon Donnor's mouth twitches slightly at this, but he nods. "I do Your Grace."

"And you are fully ready to be nothing more than a figurehead, dispensing thought and ideology only as requested?" Jonothor asks. Knowing that if he had asked that question of any of the previous High Septons they'd have hit him.

Again, the man's mouth moves, but his words are simple and straight forward. "I am Your Grace."

Jonothor stands there in silence for a moment, debating what more to say, before eventually nodding his head himself and saying. "Very well then. May the Seven look upon you fondly. I shall see you later." With that he turns and walks back to his own rooms, and preparation for the afternoon. Such preparations as they were involved making love to Margaery several times, then once they were both sated, he bathed, dressed into suitable attire as did his wife, and then he check on their son. His son was such a light in the world, dark hair, colourful eyes, and pale skin, he was going to be a strong boy, that much he knew. From there, he and Margaery walked arm in arm toward the entrance to where the announcement would be made to the throngs of people. Nodding to his council members, and various other members of the court, Jonothor takes a breath, then pushes open the door, accompanied by Margaery and then by Septon Donnor. They stand out overlooking the throngs of people, who had come to witness the announcement. Thousands of them all present and staring up at them eagerly enough. Jonothor closes his eyes a moment, he feels Margaery squeeze his arm, then he opens his eyes and speaks. "My people, you have come a long time waiting for this moment. I promise you now, the wait is over. By right of descent from Hugor of the Hill, and the Seven themselves, I do now proclaim myself head of the Faith, and I do hereby name as the new High Septon, my man in all faith, Septon Donnor."

There is a moment of silence as his words are repeated throughout the crowd, the throng seems to digest it all, and then there is cheering, shouts of "Long Live the King!" and "Death to the rebels!" sound throughout the crowd, emitting a strong sense of pride and hope for all. Eventually, the crowd falls silent and Septon Donnor speaks, the words Jonothor knows he has rehearsed long and hard. "I thank you all, most humbly. I accept His Grace's appointment, and promise in all things to be a faithful servant to the Seven, the King, their representative on this world." The man stops, turns and bows before him, kissing his ring. Jonothor helps him up to his feet, and the crowd roars their approval.