The next day, I asked for Lord Tywin, and he arrived in my office shortly after.
"You asked to see me, Your Grace." Unlike most men, he said it as a statement rather than a question.
"Indeed, Lord Tywin. Please, have a seat."
After we both sat down and I had poured some wine for us both, I spoke, getting straight to the point, as Lord Tywin preferred.
"I would like to integrate Dorne with the Crown more." I said.
He raised an eyebrow. "That won't be easy, they aren't especially fond of Baratheons nor Lannisters."
"I'm aware, but I believe that there is a way for them to at least be partly sated."
"And what is that Your Grace?"
"All they've ever wanted is justice for the murder of Elia Martell and her children."
"Absolutely not." He said.
"Lord Tywin, there is no reason not to give them to them." I insisted.
"There is plenty reason, Your Grace. It was war, I did what was necessary to ensure peace within the Seven Kingdoms, to hand over Ser Gregor and Ser Armory would be to question the decision, it would bring the Lannister name into disrepute."
"More than it already is?" I asked.
He glared.
"And the decision should be questioned. The death of Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys was unnecessarily cruel, as was the death of Elia. Especially Elia."
He stared at me. "Tell me, Your Grace, what your father would have done had he found the children."
I shook my head. "What my father would have done is irrelevant."
He laughed a sharp laugh. "Your father would have done what I did, he would have ordered them killed. He hated Targaryens. They were a threat to his rule, any Targaryen that survived could be rallied around as an alternative to him. He wanted them all dead. I simply saved him the trouble of having to order it."
"They were innocent children." I protested.
"You preach morals to me Your Grace, yet you told your father to wipe out the Greyjoys, what about the Greyjoy children; Theon and Yara I believe they were called. What about them?"
"Th- They were different." I cursed myself for stuttering.
"No, they weren't." He said flatly. "They were children, just like Elia's children. But it was necessary to kill them, just like it was necessary to kill the Targaryen heirs. Whether you want to admit it or not, you know it was needed."
I had no reply to that. I had told Robert to kill all the Greyjoys, I was happy when the letter came back declaring they were all dead. Yet the death of the Targaryen children made me decry its immorality.
"You are right, grandfather, it probably was necessary. But it doesn't change my mind on the matter at hand. Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch will be given to the Martells. It is for the betterment of the realm. Everyone knows you ordered their deaths anyway, whatever the history books say. You will bring them to King's Landing, they will be arrested, and I will take them to Dorne myself."
He stared at me, and I could see that he was seething inside. "Yes, Your Grace." He said finally.
I nodded. "Good, you may leave."
He stood and bowed his head stiffly, before walking out the door.
I sighed, why is nothing ever simple?
Shaking the thoughts out of my head, I set my mind to going through the ever-present mountain of paperwork that was on my desk. Endless sheets of reports about one part of the kingdoms or another, missives from my Small Council, lords moaning to me, when really they should write to their liege, and other such things. Once, Lord Hawick had written to me about an infestation of rats, as if that was something that was of pressing concern to the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Nonetheless, I made an effort to respond, or at least have someone respond in my name, to every letter I received. Even if it was just to tell them to stop wasting my time.
I had just finished reading a report from Lord Wylde about how the new Ironborn ships were faring in their trials when a shot of pain made itself known in my injured leg. I bit on my tongue to stop myself crying out. I breathed heavily once the pain had subsided. This happened more times than not when I sat still for a long enough time. I braced myself on my desk and forced myself to my feet, crying out as my right leg straightened.
Ser Preston stormed into the room, sword unsheathed, clearly thinking I was under attack. "At ease, Ser." I said, wincing, "I am fine."
He sheathed his sword and looked sheepish. "I apologise, Your Grace."
I shook my head. "It is fine, Ser Preston. I would prefer you to respond like that every time I cry out, and it always be my leg, then to not do so, and it be an assassin ripping out my guts."
He seemed shocked at my rather vivid description of my own demise, but I gave him no time to dwell on it as I grasped my simple-looking cane and started to leave the room. "Come, Ser Preston. I am in need of a walk."
We made our way through Maegor's Holdfast, towards the exit, heading in the direction of the White Sword Tower, the home of the Kingsguard. Along the way, we came across Tommen, flanked by Ser Boros.
"Tommen!" I said cheerfully. "How are you brother?"
"Joffrey!" He exclaimed, seemingly shocked to see me. "I have a lesson with the Grand Maester."
I pulled a face and he giggled.
"Why don't you come with me? I'm going on a visit into the city. We could bring mother and Myrcella along?"
He grinned with excitement. "Can we go and see the glasshouses?" He nearly shouted.
I thought about it exaggeratedly. "I don't know if we have time."
He laughed and punched me playfully. Trying, and failing to keep the laughter out of my voice, I said, "Ser Preston, this man has attacked your king! Arrest him at once!"
The knight of the Kingsguard unsheathed his sword and took a step forward, grasping Tommen's arm. Tommen, squirming in a vain attempt to get free from Ser Preston's grip, reached under his arm and produced a dagger, before raising it towards the throat of the man from House Greenfield.
"Tommen, Ser Preston, stop!" I ordered, suddenly finding the situation a lot less funny. It may have started as a joke, but if Tommen actually decided to try and use the blade, things could escalate quickly.
The two separated swiftly and as we continued on the way to the Kingsguard's tower, I asked my brother, "where in the name of the Seven did you get that blade?"
"Mother gave it to me", he said, shrugging, "said that I'd need it if someone ever tried to hurt me because of my status."
I cringed; clearly my injury has set off Cersei's paranoid-overprotectiveness again.
"Well, there's no point in you having a blade if you can't use it properly. If Ser Preston had wanted to, he could have disarmed you before you even raised it. If you like, I could arrange for someone to teach you to use it?"
Tommen grinned "Thank you, Joffrey!"
By this point, we'd reached the tower, and after collecting the two others who were there and on duty, we set off again in search of my mother and sister. We found them both in the private dining hall, and after adding them to the gang, we finally headed out to the city. Heading in the general direction of the glasshouses, progress was rather slow; the smallfolk often stopping or reaching out to touch us, to the displeasure of both the Kingsguard and my mother.
"I wish you would order them to stop", she murmured after a while.
"There is no real harm in what they are doing. It may be irritating, but to tell them to stop would anger them, and they're displeased enough as it is."
"Ungrateful beats." She huffed.
"Can you blame them, mother? Many have lost their homes, and food is in short supply."
"You have given them refuge in the Keep; you have built glasshouses. Do they not see that you are trying?"
"I imagine they do. But it is not much comfort when they are cold and hungry at night."
By this point we had reached the glasshouse, and a large crowd had followed us along the way.
"Let us in!" One person yelled.
"We need food!" Another protested. The atmosphere was getting tense.
A guard at the door looked at me questioningly. I shook my head and turned to Cersei. "Take Tommen and Myrcella in and let them have a look around, I shall wait out here." She looked slightly worried but complied. Once my mother and siblings were safely in the glasshouse, the guard gave the order to bolt the entrance. Hearing this, the crowd began to jeer.
"My people!" I shouted. The jeering lessened as the crowd saw I wanted to speak.
"I understand your feelings, but the glasshouses are not yet ready for harvest. Anything you find would not be fit for consumption."
"Any food is better than no food!" Someone exclaimed.
"I understand, I do. But it would be a short reprieve. Taking from the glasshouse too soon will simply delay any future production. It will extend your hunger."
The crowd seemed angry, but pacified, understanding the futility of their plan.
"However, there is good news. With the war now over, food is now being sent from the Reach again. The shortage should not last much longer."
While still unhappy, a riot seemed to be much less likely. While I wish there was more I could do for them, there simply wasn't enough food to go around at the moment.
After a while, with the crowd slowly beginning to disperse, my family emerged from the glasshouse, and we continued our journey into the city.
"How was it, Tommen?" I asked.
"Amazing! Ula says that the potatoes are nearly ready for harvest."
"Good news. Maybe you can help harvest them when the time comes?"
"That is hardly work for a prince!" Cersei interrupted.
Tommen looked down, pouting. "Please, mother!"
"You are not a common gardener, Tommen. You are a lion, a prince."
Not wanting to have an argument in public, I let it slide for the moment.
We soon found ourselves on a street with merchants on either side of the road. Spotting a carpenter's shop I made my way over to it, everyone else electing to stay outside, apart from Ser Preston, who accompanied me inside.
"Good sir", I said to the shopkeeper, "do you take commissions?"
His eyes widened slightly as he looked up, but he kept his composure better than most.
"Of course, Your Grace, what do you have in mind?"
"I find myself in need of a cane."
"I can definitely do that for you, Your Grace. Do you have any specific requirements?"
I pondered this for a moment before replying, "I'd like a stag and a lion carved into the wood if possible."
He nodded eagerly. "Of course, Your Grace. I should have I ready within a moon's turn."
I smiled, and thanked him, before reaching into my pocket, and counting out ten gold dragons from a small bag.
"Your Grace there is no need for payment until the piece is ready a-"
"Step away, wench!"
The exclamation came from outside and was followed by the sound of a sword being unsheathed. I quickly apologised before stepping outside the shop.
"What is going on!" I demanded.
"This whore," my mother snarled, "dares to suggest that she is pregnant with your child!"
She pointed towards a woman being dragged away by Ser Boros and Ser Mandon.
"Sers, let her go." I ordered, and when she turned around my breath hitched.
It was Alis
A/N
Well, it's definitely been a while. Sorry! Happy Christmas, New Year, Passover, Ramadan, Easter and all the other celebrations that have gone by since I last updated this fic. I hope you can forgive me!
As always, let me know your thoughts.