My knees were starting to hurt. It was a strange thought to have, surrounded as I was by hundreds of nobles in the heart of the Faith itself, but I had it anyway. The High Septon continued the speech, unconcerned. "In the sight of the Seven, he shall be anointed." An attending priest stepped forward with the seven oils laid out in a circle, and the old man slowly daubed his fingers in the first oil, daubing it just below my hairline. "As the Father gives justice and guidance to all his children, so shall you."

Then the next, representing the Mother. "As the Mother grants mercy and compassion to all her children, so shall you," He continued, and he made his way through the other four oils before pausing a moment on the last, before he dipped his fingers in. "And as the Stranger grants us all an end, may yours be worthy of your reign, Robert Baratheon." With humor in his eyes he daubed the last just between my brows, completing the circle on my head. He beckoned forth another man, this one bearing a pillow of velvet with my crown on it. I had opted for a band of gold, with ornamentation of blackened iron showing the great houses' sigils, and square gemstones studded along the length matching their main colors, though the Stag took precedence, two of them rearing up next to the large diamond in the center, as opposed to the bowing of the other sigils.

The circlet came to a rest just above my brow, as the old man took advantage of the quiet to allow his voice to carry through the halls. "Rise, King Robert Baratheon! Just as you were recognized as King by your fellow men, now you are known as King before the Gods! Take up your sword and scepter, your grace, and lead us well in the eyes of Gods and men alike!" And as I took up the gilded pair, I turned to look upon the gathered nobles. Nearly as one, they kneeled, hailing me with the roar of "King Robert!" I found myself struck by deja vu. The only difference from a handful of months ago was the size of the crowd, with every major lord (or their heirs, in the case of the more infirm) represented in the hall. Even the Dornish had sent a fine delegation, with Doran in their midst; I supposed the exile of Tywin was a point in my favor.

So began the procession of men, swearing their fealty officially. It was a bit of a tiresome process, in truth, but a necessary one, especially since I had taken the throne by council and sword, rather than inheritance. Even the Most Devout swore fealty in all temporal matters.

As the crowd of men kneeling before me and swearing their allegiance thinned, I allowed my mind to wander a bit. Soon I would emerge from the Sept to the cheering of the crowds; I had arranged for the shipping of tons of grain down the Blackwater, and for seven days and seven nights there would be free bread for all. The Street of Flour was working day and night to deliver on that promise, and I had paid them handsomely for it. A king should be wise about his coffers, but there were exceptions. As the last of the Westermen kneeled before me and swore his fealty, I prepared my speech to the men assembled before me. When he rose, I turned to them all.

"My lords! In the past year we have shown that this kingdom can do great things. I promise you, if you serve loyally, you will toast my reign for the prosperity it will bring! Together we shall build a realm worthy of tales and songs! But a man must prove his word, so I invite you to join me in the Red Keep tonight, where we will feast and the wine will flow like a river!" And as my booming voice echoed, it was overshadowed by the cheer that went up from the assembled nobility. I stepped forward at the head of the procession, my white shadows fanning out in a half circle behind me as the doors to the Great Sept were pushed open for me, revealing the waiting crowd. Thousands had gathered in the square to see their king, and I was happy to oblige, waving to the cheering crowd as I mounted my horse. The Kingsguard moved quickly, mounting their own and forming a spearhead to cover me. My guards formed up in double columns at both sides, their armor shined for the parade as we made our way through the corridor of gold cloaks keeping the path clear. Any moment now…

And there they were, the Knights of the Scale formed up in a wedge, their cloaks and swords matching as they rode gallantly behind us, having moved in from the wings. By now they were closer to one hundred in number, and that was just the knighted men of the order.

The crowds murmured in awe at the sight of the men in their plate, their cloaks waving gallantly in the breeze. Whether they would stand up to the test of true knighthood I could not say, but they presented an image out of a tale.

My eyes continued to scan the area. Even with the general love of the crowd, I was wary of more assassins. I had made plenty of enemies, the two most worrisome being Mopatis and any Lannister leftovers. Even if Mopatis did take up the spy network from Varys' cold, dead hands, it would be weaker than before. The mothers at the orphan houses had told me of strange cases of children with no tongues appearing. The thought left me vaguely nauseous, and I found myself glad I had killed the man at the outset.

On the bright side, Jaime did not seem overly against me. Oh, sure, he was arrogant and his acerbic wit was nothing to be scoffed at, but that just struck me as normal Jaime. He had seemed quite exhausted by lordship, though he hid it well, and I had housed him reasonably far away from Cersei, with the other great lords. It was the best I could do, under the circumstances. I had him seated near to me during the feast so I could try to work on charming him. What was interesting was the arrival of Tyrion. His vast array of questions did not end with the letter, and I had allowed him to spend time with me learning more about the place. Renly had come as well, and I had been working on laying the ground between the two so that their seating tonight would go smoothly. He was a bit vain, but he was also friendly and honestly quite desperate for attention. Hopefully things would turn out well.

As we arrived at the gates, the guards began filing in. Several would go back out with chests of stags in hand, tossing them into the crowds, but for now my focus was on getting the lords corralled into the keep's apartments. The feast would begin in the evening, and tomorrow would be my wedding. God, what a thought. Before I'd died I had only ever spectated them, so this would be my first. Still, why not? Westeros was starting to feel like home. It had to, after being here for months and months.

I opted to meet with Lord Hoster again, and then Ned. The first would be to suggest a way to bind the alliance closer for another generation; the second would be about laying the groundwork for the North's repopulation. (Was it repopulating if it had always been like that?)

As the wine was tasted, I looked across at Lord Hoster. He looked quite happy; no doubt the ambitious man was enjoying being so close to the King constantly. Well, he was about to benefit once more. "My Lord, I've called you here because there is something I wish to know,"

"What would that be, Your Grace?" He asked, humoring me.

"How old is young Edmure?"

His brows raised, but he did not let the silence hover too long. "He is ten, your Grace."

"Has he started squiring yet?" I asked. He cottoned on quickly.

"No, your grace. Not yet."

"Then I would have him as my squire, and see him knighted. I know I ask much of House Tully, pulling so many of you away from Riverrun to the court, but you are the heart of the alliance which delivered me unto this throne, and I would see you richly rewarded for it, my lord."

"Your grace flatters me," He managed after a moment. "I would be honored to see my son knighted by the King."

Honestly, I liked Edmure Tully. Sure, he fucked up at the battle of the Fords (mostly because Robb didn't give him crucial information) but he was good hearted, and if I wanted to see the three kingdoms welded together by friendship as well as wedding vows, well, so sue me. In fact, that got me thinking about Garlan Tyrell. Could I manage having him as well? Stannis would be angry, no doubt about that, but I could spin it as punishing them with a hostage, all the while having the Kingsguard hone his talent. In fact, having him as a Kingsguard would be excellent. Really, the power of wardships, squiring and serving as ladies in waiting were all underrated. The former alone had toppled a three hundred year dynasty, after all.

Yes, I would definitely look into that. But for now I needed to focus on the matter at hand. "I look forward to having him as my squire, then. May I ask after his disposition?" I asked, curious as to what he would tell me.

"He's a fine enough lad, quick to smile and good hearted. I'm afraid he's overfond of the smallfolk, but no doubt serving in the court will teach him a healthier respect for nobility." Lord Tully sounded quite fond of his son, at least. His last comment was not that unexpected, of course, but I found myself thinking of it, and remembering the scene where the smallfolk shelter in Riverrun. Compassion was a good thing to have, and I would do my best to help him temper it into something that helped him in his goals.

"I will do my best to see that he is educated in the ways of knighthood, then. It shall make teaching him easier, at least, with the both of you at court," I said thoughtfully.

"Of course, your grace." He said, happily. After that we talked pleasantries, with him congratulating me on my coronation and the wedding tomorrow. I thanked him graciously and gave him leave to freshen up for the feast tonight. Soon Ned arrived. We had laid out the basics earlier, but he had been hesitant about the idea with the religious clashes that might follow.

At least I wouldn't have to get the wine tasted again, I thought, as he sat down across from me. I took a sip of the stuff. Arbor Gold wasn't so bad, all told. Ned waited a long moment.

"You're ready for tomorrow?" I wondered.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" He wondered with amusement, taking a sip of the wine.

"I'm fine," I said with a shrug. "Little bit of nerves never stopped me, did it?"

"No, I seem to recall you fumbling the shot on that stag when we were nine."

"That was only the one time," I said with a wave of my hand. "Felt like a bad omen, shooting the sigil of my house, but I got over that quick enough. My father taught me to, when he had me visit for my nameday." And then he died. It wasn't my memory, so why did it taste so bitter?

Ned chuckled at the thought. "Easier for me, I'd imagine. Bran took me into the wolfswood once, when we were young, and I learned why it's called that. Gave me nightmares for days afterwards, and it didn't help that he teased me." His voice trailed off, a mixture of fondness and grief, and I was suddenly reminded of his loss. I reached out and gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder, though I could not pull him in for an embrace with the desk between us.

After a long while of silence, he finally spoke again. "Well, no use in dwelling on it. You called me here for a reason, didn't you?" He wondered, cocking his brow as if to say, didn't you?

"Much as I'd like to just chat, I do want to hammer things out."

"You and hammering," He said with a soft grin. "Well, you know my concerns, Robert. More folk would be valuable, but we have no way of knowing when winter will come, and if they don't get established quick enough they may well starve. That's not even to speak of the differences of faith - my Lords still grumble about my marrying a southern woman, necessity or no. Though I think they may just be annoyed at missing out on a marriage alliance for themselves," The last bit was tinged with exasperation.

"No doubt that plays a part, but you are right that it is a touchy subject. Gods, your folk fought fiercely to prevent the Andals from taking over. What was it, twenty invasions?"

"Eighteen. Fewer if you don't count the wars between Arryn and Stark - those were more about trade than anything, but the maesters do love to exaggerate."

"Eighteen, then. So it must be handled with some care. I have some thoughts, at the least, though your opinion would be much valued here."

He nodded his head for me to continue, and I did. "My first thought was fairly simple - move people in slowly and try to spread them evenly. That way there won't be villages with lopsided amounts of southerners, and the folk can learn the customs of the north and become integrated - or if not them, then their children. It would be tricky to do so, though perhaps the folk could be brought north to Winterfell and spread out from there. I wouldn't be surprised if things ended up uneven, though - no doubt quite a few would settle in the Manderly's land, since it's fertile and they follow the Faith."

Ned stroked his beard thoughtfully, closing his eyes to think for a moment. "It's not bad, but somehow I get the feeling that this won't go terribly slow. Better to make plans for that as well."

I did agree with that. I wasn't certain yet about exact numbers, but there had to be millions of people in the south, with how big Westeros was. "Well, there are areas that are very sparsely settled, yet quite fertile. The Gift, for example. Parts of the west coast," I said, though I couldn't say exactly which. "The main issue is raiders, but with the Gift strengthening the watch could remedy that, while a series of watchtowers and a mobile cavalry force could respond quickly to raids. Don't the Rills produce fine warhorses for the purpose?"

"Aye, they do," Ned said thoughtfully. "I'd have to talk to Willem about it."

"Well, do so. But really, the biggest problem with the North is that you have no port in the west. The Ironborn can raid with impunity since your ships can't chase the bastards down, which makes policing them that much harder. So, I'm willing to assist you with funds for making a port in the west and getting some ships there - a strong western defense is just as important as an eastern one, and shipping grain to the new settlers would be easier that way." I explained, spreading my hands. "Frankly, I worry about this new Greyjoy in the west. The old one, Quellon, he was making strides towards ending that barbaric way of life, but I fear his son's buried deeper in the muck than anyone who came before."

Part of me considered the truth of it all. There had been some theories that the Iron Islands were overpopulated, with too many mouths and too little land to feed them. If it really came down to it, I might have to look into getting them land as a release valve.

Still, that was for later. For now I needed to plot things out. Ned was looking thoughtful. "Do you think he'll do something rash, then?" No doubt he was thinking of a mass raid. After all, who would be foolish enough to rebel against a King who vastly outnumbers you?

"Rash, aye, I wouldn't be surprised if the bastard does. That's why I want you and your lands ready - no doubt he'll need wood, and that's something the North has plenty of."

Ned's mouth turned to a bitter line. "No doubt, indeed. I'll warn Lord Glover, Ryswell and Mormont. Their lands are most at risk. But constantly being on watch won't help them, especially when the Ironborn can strike quickly and leave before forces can arrive. I'll have work on the port begin quickly."

I nodded my head, raising my cup. "We can discuss things further later. I'm soon to be a married man, you know. How is Cat, anyway?" I had only briefly visited her and my namesake, but I wanted his assessment. Hopefully their marriage was smoother without the elephant in the room.

"She's well. Mostly she's been visiting Lysa and her father, since we'll be heading North soon."

"Aye, no doubt you'll fill Winterfell with children's laughter, you fiend. I expect at least three namesakes, you know."

"Three?" He asked, raising his brow and smirking.

"You're right. I'm a king now. Five."

"Well, your majesty, why not go for a holy number and demand seven?"

"Don't tempt me." We chuckled, and silence settled in for a moment before he finally broke it.

"So, fostering Edmure?"

"Squiring," I corrected him, and then narrowed my eyes. "How'd you hear about that so fast, anyway?"

"It was the only thing Hoster could talk about, when he returned."

"Well, the Tullys are both the center of my kingdom and the center of our alliance," I explained with a wave of my hand. "Giving them influence keeps them tightly knit to my side. And, well, I'm planning to foster him, Renly and Tyrion Lannister together. The issue with this realm, Ned, is that it's so damned fractured. Seven Kingdoms brought together by dragonfire, when it should be one Kingdom."

"I suppose from that view it does make sense. But there are differences between kingdoms - major ones, even. The North and Ironborn follow different gods, the Vale is separated by many mountains, the Reach and Stormlands and Dorne all bear old enmities… this task you've put upon yourself, I don't think it can be done by just one man."

"No, I don't think it will be. But I can sow the seeds, and perhaps one day my sons or their sons can reap the fruits. We could be a major power, Ned, greater than any of the Free Cities, if only we would be united instead of a dysfunctional, squabbling mess. Gods know we have a major war every generation or so - the Conquest, Dorne, the revolt of the Faith, the Dance, the Blackfyres… you see my point? We already have long winters as a constant thorn in our ass, why add more?"

Ned shrugged. "It is the way of men."

"Maybe making war is, but it doesn't have to be turned inward. Men want glory, they can have glory. On the Stepstones, or in Myr, or Lys. They keep slaves, Ned. Bloody slaves, and no Targaryen did a damned thing about it because the bastards were too obsessed with keeping their bloodline pure and fighting each other over that ugly throne." Of course, involving ourselves in Essos would be a terrible idea before we unified more. They only left us alone because Westeros was typically neutral, after all. But, controlling the Stepstones would allow me or my heirs to choke the slave trade, and even before then it would be a great source of tariffs.

"Aye, so do the Ironborn. Thralls, they call them."

"Bad enough that that's true, but at least thralls' children are born free. The ones across the sea could be from an unbroken chain of slaves, stretching back thousands of years. They're no better than cattle, to those bastards."

"Robert, there's no use in getting worked up about this. It's a travesty, but earning the ire of the Free Cities would be the worst possible outcome for the kingdom right now."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I know that, Ned. Dammit all, I know it too well. But a man can still have his fury, can't he?"

He shrugged, and I took a deep breath. "I never asked for this crown. But it's on my head now, and I'm going to leave this kingdom better than I found it. If I can do the same for the rest of the world, all the better."

"You have my support in that, Robert. You know that."

"I know, Ned. You've been a staunch supporter and a good friend. Don't ever let me get so arrogant that I think I can do it all alone."

"I won't, I promise." At least he had a wry smile for my efforts.

Eventually I stood and embraced him. "Go on, you old fool, the feast will be starting soon. I have to get ready," I said, shaking my head.

"Old?" He wondered, and I could sense the smile on his lips. "I'm younger than you by half a year."

"Don't remind me," I grumbled, before pulling back. "Go on, you lout."

When he had left, I saw to getting ready. It was strange how quickly you could acclimatize to having servants do things for you, but with how busy my days were it was a welcome relief. As I soaked in the warmth, the hazy steam took form for just a moment. A crow, if my eye was correct. "Piss off, you. I've a feast to get to. Ambush me in my dreams, at least then I don't have other things to do." Already I was hauling myself forth from the water.

Once I was dressed in a fine velvet doublet and my hair was tamed, I made my way through the halls. The crown rested heavy on my brow, a constant reminder, and as we crossed the yard from the royal apartments, my cloak snapping in the wind, my eyes caught on two crows watching over us. Soon enough we made it into the great hall, where table after table was arrayed to fit the guests. Folk were already streaming in, and I made my way up to the dais, sitting at the head of the feast. Stannis soon joined me just to the right, and I snapped up the opportunity to talk to him.

"How're the men?" I wondered, choosing a safe topic to start with.

"They're getting accustomed to service." He said, his habitual frown turning to me. "Some of the first are helping teach. The best will keep the role permanently."

"You're well suited to it," I said with an easy geniality. "You'll forge those men into fine steel, mark my words. Speaking of steel, tell me your thoughts about the Tyrells."

His jaw clamped down harshly for a moment, and I was reminded that even months on he still had a bit of gauntness from the siege. Finally he spoke. "They have not caused any further trouble, which is the best I can say for them. I still dislike them greatly. They're arrogant, and willing to do whatever it takes to grasp power and hold on."

"I don't disagree with your points at all," I said calmly, nodding my head. "Which is why I have two points I want to run by you. The first is your own marriage. Tell me your thoughts on the Hightowers."

"They're powerful. Only the Tyrells are more powerful, and that's with the obligations owed them as Lords of the Reach. But they don't do much; they haven't played a hand in politics since the Dance."

"Indeed. That is why I am considering having you marry one. Who better to offer a check on Tyrell power? But I will not force it on you. It is still your choice."

"I will do my duty."

"I know that. I am asking you your thoughts on the matter, Stannis, because even though they only sent forth a token force, there were still Hightowers in the army besieging Storm's End. I will not begrudge you if you don't want anything to do with the entire region."

He went stony silent for a long moment, and I scanned the room. More were filing in by the second, being led by servants to their proper places.

"I…" He paused, clenching his jaw. "I will do it, if it means Mace Tyrell always has that reminder in the back of his mind." The way he spits out the name tells me just how furious he is with them, beneath the stony exterior.

"Good. We can figure out the rest later. As to the second matter, I want to bring Garlan Tyrell to court as a cupbearer." Stannis' head turned painfully slowly, his eyes boring into mine.

"Why?" He ground out.

"For the same reason I'd have you marry a Hightower. If Lord Mace's second son is raised here in court, there will always be that reminder in the back of his mind that if he rebels, his son can replace him. One who will know that loyalty to our house can bring him far." And also because I want to tie the kingdoms together.

"You sound more and more like those vipers every day," He said, sounding frustrated.

"I know," I said, clapping my hand gently on his shoulder. He tensed for a moment but didn't move away. "That is the trouble of being king, sometimes you have to strike like a viper before you're bitten by one. At least I have the solace of knowing that you'll warn me when I'm becoming an arrogant, vicious fool. Still, tell me you see no sense in the idea and I'll call it off now."

He seemed pleased by the remark, though it was hard to tell. "How do you know that the Tyrells will be cowed by that threat? That they won't use Garlan to strike you?"

"I know the first one because they have to rely on their own family. They can't rely on other lords, since they're still considered upstarts, so they're more tightly knit than most. And as to the second, he's a boy of five, maybe six." I shrugged a bit. "Odds are he'll be so awed by getting to train alongside kingsguard and serving in the court that he'll struggle with any decision of that kind."

He frowned. Eventually he sighed and nodded once. "If it comes to it, don't hesitate, Robert." The line of his cheekbone flared as he grimaced.

"I won't." I said, thinking now of purple eyes and silver hair.

My eyes wandered over the hall, at the mass of humanity gathered within. Lyanna waved from the front of the hall, then made her way to Ned. I offered a wave back, my eyes continuing to wander. Lord Jaime sat down two places to the left of me. I placed Tyrion next to Renly, which seemed to be paying off - Tyrion was pointing excitedly at the dragon skulls lined along the edges of the hall, and Renly was nodding furiously. It had seemed a poignant choice at the time, to leave the skulls of dragons in the hall.

I had deliberately placed people from different kingdoms together when I could, usually using marriage ties to string them together. It wasn't wholly successful - just a table down I saw two men already deep in their cups arguing about something, and at a few tables I saw awkward silence reigning.

No matter. I would hone that skill as time went on. Instead I turned to the left - Lyanna would be up to her position soon enough, but for now I would talk to Jaime.

"Lord Jaime," I said, in a genial tone. He raised his brows and turned his eyes towards me.

"Your grace?" He asked, cocking his brow.

"Are you planning on participating in the melee? I'd like to test my skills against you. The only one better is Ser Barristan and I'm certain he's pulling his blows." I turned my gaze to him. The knight had the decency to look embarrassed, but he didn't deny it.

"I wouldn't mind testing your skills, your grace, if you promise not to do me in like your last foe. My chest is not so noble and strong as Rhaegar's was, I'm afraid." Ah, there was the snarky wit I had come to expect from him.

"So long as you promise to do the same. I'm a bit younger than the last king, but I wouldn't put it past a skilled swordsman like you." That managed to get a surprised chuckle out of him.

"Then I'll see you on the melee field, Your Grace." His eyes flicked to someone behind me. I turned to see Lyanna, watching us with amusement.

"All you boys ever talk about is your swords." She said, with a wry smirk.

"It's the tales they tell us when we're young. Your sword is your life." I said, imitating the master-at-arms from long ago.

"Sure," she said, rolling her eyes.

For a moment, there was comfortable silence. Then the chatter started up again as the food was served. I ate, I drank, but mostly I talked. Three courses came and went.

When the tables were put up to the sides, I offered Lyanna the first dance. I was not terribly graceful, but she made up for it. We separated all too soon, other dance partners taking her place. Some of them chattered, others focused on the dance, but I think they all knew they could not compete. All the tales said I had fought the war for only one woman, after all. Cersei Lannister seemed the most displeased with that thought, but soon enough she was having a dance with her brother. My mouth pressed into a bitter line. I would need to fix that problem sooner rather than later.

Still, the night passed surprisingly quickly. I was so exhausted by the time I got back to my rooms that I slipped into the warm embrace of sleep only a moment before I got my boots off.

I dreamed of crows, quorking at me. Hundreds of them. They tried to bite me, but they failed. The same two watched from a branch above, and I felt foreboding. When I woke in the morning, it morphed into nervousness. Marriage. How absurd that this was what I found myself nervous about, instead of being king, fending off assassins, or a hundred other things.

I slipped into the clothes prepared for me, carefully chosen to match my house colors while flattering as much as possible. I put on a different cloak than normal, this one cloth of gold with a stag made of studded onyx. The second cloak was waiting to be brought below by one of the servants and duly placed in Stannis' hands.

Things passed in a blur. Wedding gift after gift was presented, each attendant trying to outdo the next. I did appreciate the fine new warhammer the most, admittedly. It was beautifully crafted, after all. We rode lazily down the hill and onwards towards the Sept; the smallfolk cheered us on. Soon I was entering the sept. The High Septon greeted me, his head bowed by the crystal crown. "Back so soon?" He asked with a soft chuckle, and I matched him for it. It helped ease the tension coiled up around me.

For once, the Gods smiled down upon me. No assassinations, no coups… just Lyanna, advancing down the center aisle, flanked by Ned. She looked beautiful; her house colors already lent themselves well to a wedding dress, and the seamstresses had worked well with that, making her look like a snowstorm advancing, diamonds along the seams reflecting light and catching the eye. Her hair was coiled in a halo, the hairnet's tiny diamonds seeming like fresh snowflakes on her hair, forever a moment from melting.

If the hush that came over the hall was any indication, the nobles thought the same. Like some Queen of Winter, she glided through the hall. And why not? Durran Godsgrief had wedded a Daughter of Storms. The Baratheons would not be outdone.

The moment passed quickly. The crowd filled with hushed murmurs, before the High Septon raised his hands for silence. "Who comes before the Gods?"

"Robert of House Baratheon."

"Lyanna of House Stark."

Seven vows, seven blessings, and seven promises followed. When no challenge against the marriage was raised, things proceeded quickly. Ned stepped forward, helping pull away Lyanna's cloak. I turned to Stannis, taking the cloak our father used from his hands and wrapping it around her shoulders. "With this kiss, I pledge my love," we echoed.

It was sweet. She leaned into it, and so did I. I felt little urgency. If it lingered too long, well, the nobles would just have to accept that. When I drew back, the septon was speaking.

"One flesh, one heart, one soul. Now and forever."

A/N Another chapter done! Writing this one was fun, since it was both dialogue and description heavy, both areas I want to work on. I wanted to try and make each character's dialogue a bit distinct; hopefully that showed well. Admittedly both the coronation and weddings themselves were short - Joffrey's coronation is never shown and the wiki is a bit lacking on that part, and weddings are tricky for me to write. Regardless, if you enjoyed the chapter, do leave a review!