This one took more time than expected, but it's the longest chapter as of now. Have fun!

Jaymar

Jaymar gulped down another tankard of ale. It isn't healthy to drink during breakfast, but with good company... It isn't so regrettable.

Svemir, the strange man with the yellow hood, and Sandor Clegane, the Hound. One may misjudge their intention at first glance. Yet, once you get to know their stories, it isn't so bad to have them around.

Svemir was more cheerful than he ever had imagined. He discovered the man was a Stormsinger, which surprised Jaymar. It appears the cult of the Storm God isn't as dead as it seems.

He also had quite the liver. After three days with him, he never appeared drunk, despite the gallons the Stormsinger digested. Not to mention that his eyes always wandered on the arse of some serving maid, he later clarified that the Stormsingers had the liberty of marriage, as the Storm God encourages copulation.

Clegane may be... sour sometimes, but he could sense some honour in his demeanours. Yesterday he helped a small girl who had collected quite the debt with the innkeeper. The bastard wanted to sell her to one of the whorehouses the Master of Coin had running around, but the Hound compensated everything, and gave the girl some stags to maintain herself. Jaymar knew the rumours of his infancy, but he wouldn't dare to question the man himself.

Jaymar's reputation snowballed after his victory at the tournament, even if some still saw him as a sore thumb. Jaymar the Grim, they called him. Not that they are wrong about his personality, he did pass most of his time brooding.

His thoughts were interrupted when Svemir laughed, "HAH! Good one! Next time we spar, show me how you beat the bastard."

Clegane shrugged, "It wasn't hard, he was only the uppity boy of a landed knight. The brat wouldn't shut up about his prowess, so I challenged him. I don't need to elaborate how after the duel he ran away, all his clothes coated in mud."

Both of them chuckled, "Oh, and that was one time-"

Before Sandor could finish, a herald entered the tavern. "Sers, it is good to see you. King Robert summons you to the Red Keep, he has important announcements to proclaim."

Seven Hells, how did he find us? There are countless taverns in this bloody city.

This means that someone followed Jaymar's group for the whole night. The Spider, perhaps?

Svemir rose from the seat, "My friends, we should start moving." Sandor and Jaymar nodded and left.

King's Landing has a somewhat harsher city guard as of late, and there are countless more patrols than the last time he visited. They all had a look of anxiety... Perhaps after the death of good ol' Janos, some things changed. Well, surely the man in charge is keeping them in line now.

They scaled Aegon's hill and arrived at the gates of the Red Keep. They were stopped by a Baratheon guard, "Welcome back, Sers. By orders of his Grace, Ser Sandor must relinquish his weapons."

Sandor eyed him suspiciously, "And why only me, and not these two too?"

The guard raised his hands, as in defence. "Good Ser, every man affiliated with the Lannisters must surrender their weapons. As I've said, orders from the King."

Svemir suddenly had a cryptic look on his face. Sandor grunted and said, "You lose it, and I shall chop your head off."

The guard shrugged and let the small party enter. The keep was on high alert. Countless Baratheon guards were surveilling every corridor, as if they were under siege.

Jaymar and his companions entered the throne room. Many had already gathered in advance... Nonetheless, many courtiers still had to come. King Robert was sitting on the Iron Throne, his eyes were bloodshot and he seemed very tired. Something serious had happened. It's the only explanation for the King's condition.

A horn sounded, and King Robert raised his hand to speak. "My loyal subjects," He tiredly said, "A treason of the highest order has occurred in my halls."

Some people started murmuring. Seven Hells, what happened? Targaryen loyalists attempted an assassination? A coup brewed by some disgruntled Lord?

"Queen Cersei, against common sense, has copulated with another man."

The hall erupted in a heated discussion. "Seven fucking Hells, that's why they disarmed me." Said the Hound, "Queen Bitch has completely lost her marbles. What the fuck was she thinking?"

"Well, she surely is a cheeky bugger, attempting something like this with a king." Jaymar said, "Svemir, what do you think?"

The Stormsinger cast his eyes towards the King. "Watch." He said.

The horn blew again, and the King continued his speech, "Not only she sullied her bed with such act, but House Baratheon itself!" Robert now stood up, and seemed to be on the brink of rage, "After discussing the matter with my loyal councillors, we have concluded that none of the royal children bears my blood. All of them are illegitimate bastards."

Maiden's tits.

"Death to the traitors!" A man yelled, and the hall degraded into disorder. Shouts left and right rose in the throne room. The guards were having trouble keeping everyone in line. Sandor started laughing, "HAH! I fucking wish to have seen the little shit's anguish. It seems the Gods do have a sense of humour!"

A third horn blast reverberated. Slowly but surely, order was returning in the throne room, not that is going to last.

"Me, with the help of the Lord Commander Barristan Selmy and Ser Arys Oakheart, have caught the traitors in the act. The Queen was laying with Ser Jaime Lannister."

"Seven Hells, she was fucking her own brother?!" Sandor raised his voice, and the room descended into chaos again. Father protect me. Who do they think they are, Targaryens?

"SILENCE!"

The King's rage was enough to quieten every courtier. "Ser Boros Blount has been unable to maintain his loyalty to the Crown, so I strip him of his white cloak. He will serve the Wall until his demise. That leaves two spots free, one of which I intend to fill today. Ser Jaymar Swayne, step forward."

Oh Gods, it's really happening

Jaymar approaches the Iron Throne, and the King asks him, "Ser Jaymar Swayne, I honour you with the possibility of joining the order of the Kingsguard. Do you accept?"

The White Cloak. That's everything Jaymar wanted, the greatest ambition a third son could hope to achieve. He bent his knee, "I would be honoured, your Grace."

Ser Barristan stepped forward and donned the cloak. The King laid his war pick on his shoulder and said the words, "Ser Jaymar Swayne, do you swear to obey the King's commands, keep his secrets, counsel him, and defend his name and honour?"

"Yes, your Grace." Jaymar answers.

"Rise now, Ser Jaymar Swayne of the Kingsguard. May you have fortune in your future battles."

Robert

Robert rose from his empty bed. These days have not been kind to him.

After the incest debacle, he had felt somewhat... Remorseful.

When did everything start to go downhill? Why did something like this happen to him?

He suddenly felt the need to talk with Ned, but his friend wasn't here to advise him. Then, an idea dawned in his head.

"BARRISTAN!" He bellowed, and the knight entered the chambers with his sword drawn.

"Your Grace, something's amiss?" The knight relaxed his stance.

"Barristan, come here," Robert said while pointing towards the chair in front of him. The knight put back the sword in its sheath and sat down.

"Drink." Robert said, pointing to the cup of wine.

"Your Grace, I shouldn't drink while on du-"

"Drink. Your King commands it."

Barristan reluctantly gripped the cup and drank the wine. "Your Grace, for what did you wish my presence?" He asked

Robert straightened himself, "Barristan, I wished to ask you something. What makes a good man?"

Robert could see Barristan's surprise at such question. For all these years, Robert didn't confide his doubts to anyone. But now that he thought on it, perhaps relying on the knight might help him.

"My father always told me that being a good man is not something you are, but something you do." Barristan said, "Good men distinguish themselves by their actions. But during my time with Aerys, I've seen great atrocities. And what have I done? I just watched, without moving a muscle."

"That's when I've concluded that being a good man is an... Aspiration. No one is perfect, your Grace. I've yet to meet a human being who has not erred at least once in their life."

Then, Robert felt a question come up spontaneously, "And... Do you think I aspire to be one?"

Barristan's face somewhat softened, "If I may speak freely, your Grace... You are neither the best nor the worst... Just like me." His visage then contorted in grief, "A good knight wouldn't have been silent before all those burning people, just as a good king would punish the murderers of two innocent children."

Robert remembered that day. Jon's urge to appease the Lannisters, even after what they had done... The most honourable man of the Seven Kingdoms, protecting two false knights who kill and rape for enjoyment. A King that did not stand for his murdered nephews, calling them dragonspawns. A wolf so horrified by such an act, that threatened the wealthiest man on the continent of gutting him like a fish. After the quarrel they had, Robert had felt miserable, but did not know the reason. Now, it all makes sense.

Suddenly, something relit Robert's spirit. A good King does not rule analytically, deprived of all emotions, but with honour and justice. That's why Ned is a good ruler, because he is just.

It is said that honourable men do not prosper south of the neck. Jon had to ignore his morals, because he gave up on maintaining them here. But Robert knew, that if Ned came south to serve as Hand, he would not falter. Because he was strong.

If Ned had been in his place that fateful day, he would've not tolerated Tywin's massacre. Because he was honourable.

This was a man that aspired to be good. Robert had the perfect model before his eyes for half his life, and he never took example from him. But now he has a chance to start over, a new wife, trueborn sons, and most importantly...

A new King.

Robert has set his mind. The realm needed new men, good men. His capital is a pit of snakes, and it's the King's duty to slay them and bring order to all the mess. It was time for honour and justice to rein.

A particular glint adorned his eyes, and Barristan appeared to have caught it. The Knight suddenly smiled, understanding Robert's intention from his expression. Robert rose from his seat, "Barristan! We have much work to do."

"Aye, your Grace." He answered, smiling.

The two marched down the corridor. They passed by the rooms of his "children", and Robert recalled how sad and affronted they were once the truth came out. From heirs of the Seven Kingdoms, to bastards born of incest. Joffrey has taken it the worst of all. Even now, he was still in denial. Now Robert knew where all that cruelty came from...

The two traitors were still locked in the deepest black cells, and Robert knew very well how the kingdom's law goes: the Kingslayer will be sent to the Wall, while his sister goes to the block. He only needed the presence of Tywin in court, so that he could renew his fealty after all was settled.

The two were before the small council's door, where Ser Jaymar awaited the King's arrival. As Robert entered the room, every member stood up.

Robert eyed every single one of them. He could count on the counsel of Stannis and Jon, but the others were a different matter. He knew Renly would never act against him, but he could sense some kind of plot he brewed alongside the Tyrells. Robert wouldn't be surprised if he's offered the hand of Margery Tyrell, but he didn't want another powerful influence to fill the Lannister vacuum, it would shatter his plans. Varys was still a mystery, Robert had no proof that the eunuch actively sabotaged the Kingdom, but his total ignorance of the incest piqued his suspicions. Guilty or not, Robert still wanted to get rid of him: keeping him alive after the rebellion had been a mistake, despite his usefulness in some matters. Petyr Baelish has done miracles for the Kingdom's treasury, it seems. For every eventuality, he would somehow materialise money from thin air. Lately, his demeanour has been... Odd. He passed most of his time outside court, making trips for what he justifies as "Overseeing the realm's investments". The man was always slithery, Robert was sure his loyalty lies with only himself. Lastly, Pycelle.

It was obvious he was a Lannister creature, but it seems his claims of knowing nothing about the incest were true. The Grand Maester admired Tywin Lannister, but he would not jeopardise the lions with such a pitiful scheme. A learned man would surely see its apparent fallacies. The solution is simple: if Robert manages to keep Tywin on a leash, Pycelle would be subdued too. The fart will surely die of old age soon, it wasn't Robert's problem.

"Good morning, my council. Are we ready to review the realm's issues?" Robert proclaimed formally.

"Aye, your Grace." Everyone said in unison.

They sat down, and Robert asked, "Well, Jon. I presume you took care of the boy, haven't you,"

"Aye, my King. Preston, please go fetch him in the courtyard." His foster father answered.

Jon's servant left the room, and came back after some minutes. Robert smiled as he saw Gendry's face, confused as it may be.

Robert looked at Renly, "Well, what do you think?"

"He certainly has the looks," he answered, "Lad, what's your name again?"

"G-Gendry, my Lord. Apprentice of Tobho Mott."

Renly questioned Stannis, "Brother, so you're the one that discovered him, am I right?"

"Nay, but you're not completely wrong. Lord Arryn gave me intelligence of his existence. Still, we hadn't concrete proof of that damned matter. We couldn't risk alienating ourselves from the court." Stannis answered. If Jon had told him of it, I would've believed him. But Stannis... Gods, I'm a terrible brother.

"The boy needs some manners beaten into him, he even forgot to bend the knee as he entered the room." He continued.

Robert could not bear this chattering anymore. The poor lad was shaking like a leaf. He probably imagines some torture awaits him. "Gendry, come forward."

He did as instructed, and sloppily kneeled.

"Rise, boy, you don't need to break your knees."

"A-Aye, your Grace."

Robert cleared his throat, "So, you know what happened three days ago, do you?"

"A-Aye, your Grace. The Queen... Ehm... Betrayed you. She was imprisoned alongside her brother. And her children... Are not yours."

Robert nodded, "That's a good summary." Then he rose from his seat and approached Gendry, "Look, Gendry, there's something important you need to know. I... am your father."

His son looked at him dumbstruck. "What..."

"Your mother was a lovely woman, Gendry," Lord Baelish suddenly said, "She worked in one of my whorehouses some years ago. After you were born, she disappeared, and I never saw her again."

Gendry tried holding back his tears, "I didn't know her. I just remember the songs she used to sing."

"A splendid voice she had." Robert said, "It saddens me to know she passed away."

Gendry looked deep into his eyes, "All this time, I thought my father abandoned me..."

Robert patted his son's head, "And I'm truly sorry, son, I didn't know of your existence. But even if I did, I would've just put you in danger. You could've been assassinated by the Queen."

"I see..."

"But now that she's gone, there is no danger. Take the knee, son."

Gendry shakily kneeled, probably understanding what that meant.

"I, Robert Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Roynar, the First men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, hereby recognise Gendry Waters as a member of House Baratheon, and Prince of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Now rise, Gendry Baratheon, my son."

Gendry slowly stood upright. "I thank you... Father."

"'Tis is the least I can do. Soon enough, you will meet your half-brother and sister. Ser Jaymar, accompany my son to his chambers."

"Aye, your Grace."

The two left the room, and Robert sat down again. "Well, my Lords, let us continue."

"Grand Maester Pycelle, you will take on my children's education. Gendry in particular might have trouble, but I want all my progeny to know the meaning of being a Baratheon. Am I clear?"

Pycelle nodded, "Yes, your Grace. I will do my best."

"Well, Lord Varys, I asked you to investigate the movements of the High Septon. Have you found anything of note?" Robert asked.

"Nothing truly threatening, my King. Despite this, my little birds have discovered that some rumours are spreading about your new faith, your Grace."

Bollocks, something must be done.

"Monitor the situation. At the first signs of rebellion, we will muster our forces. The High Septon should not be underestimated."

"As you order, your Grace." Varys replied

A small child entered the room abruptly. One of Vary's little birds. Always silent and loyal, I wonder how he trained them to be this efficient.

The child gave Varys four scrolls and left the room. The eunuch unrolled one of the parchments, and his abnormally neutral visage suddenly contorted in... Horror?

He shakily placed the scroll on the table, "My Lords... Terrible news from Leng."

"Truly? They broke the silence?" Stannis asked.

Varys choppily nodded, "Yes, but this... is beyond madness..."

Robert was somewhat disturbed. Madness in these already confusing times could be rather problematic, but he could not imagine something even more far-fetched than what happened these months.

Renly was about to say one of his damned quips, but thankfully Stannis interrupted him, "We've seen enough madness as of late. Speak."

Varys cleared his throat, "My Lords, this is a missive from the Purebloods of Qarth, pleading for help. A man, who styles himself as the Hand of Chaos has unsealed the labyrinths of Leng. He now has unleashed a curse that drives everyone who's afflicted to madness, the Scourge they call it, and is now spreading everywhere. Many heroes have tried to slay the Hand of Chaos... But all have failed."

Silence reined in the room.

For the first time in years, the small council did not know how to react.

Pycelle was trembling, muttering something under his breath.

Baelish's confident façade completely broke, substituted with one of disbelief.

Stannis and Renly were both completely still, trying to absorb what was told.

Jon was the one who broke the silence, "And what... is their situation now?"

"The outer city has completely fallen into anarchy. The citizens... began killing each other. The once pristine waters of Qarth are now tinted red."

This is terrifying. Robert could not let the same fate befall King's Landing, or any Westerosi city.

Stannis raised his voice, "And how did they manage to warn us? Their city is under siege, and Qarth is distant from Westeros."

"They claim to have used glass candles, my Lord. The message was sent to Volantis, where one of my little birds witnessed the transcription."

Robert remembered the raven from the Citadel, announcing that the glass candles could be relit. So he ordered, "Pycelle, send a raven to the citadel. We need those candles. From now on, every Paramountcy must have at least one functioning glass candle, we cannot ignore their usefulness."

"Certainly, your Grace. I have one in my study. With your leave, I will attempt to light it."

Robert waved him away, "Do anything you want. Have a nice day, Grand Maester."

The old fart shuffled out of the room. Robert then spoke again, "So, what are the areas that the Scourge hit the hardest?"

"The city of Yin was the first to be hit, and the curse spread towards Qarth and Great Moraq." Varys answered.

"I see. Then we must interrupt any trade route towards the Far East. No one that comes from there shall enter our Kingdom." Robert concluded

Baelish shuddered, "Seven Hells, this will hurt a good portion of our income. We must set up an alternative source of profit if we don't wish for the economy to tank."

Robert had an idea, "I believe we must organise some prospectors. The Crownlands had never been properly searched for silver or gold mines. If we're lucky, we might find something."

Jon was to speak next, "Yes, that's a good course of action, but we must find a more reliable source. Perhaps we could invest in manufactories, then reap a partial profit out of the goods sold."

Baelish nodded, "That does sound a good idea. I know some who are quite capable at their craft, I will personally take care of everything."

Robert wasn't so assured by the Valeman. Now, this is suspicious—a man who has many businesses under his control that claims to know where to invest. I wonder where all the money will go.

But Robert played fool, "Certainly, Lord Baelish. You have my blessing. I hope your endeavours will be successful. This council is over, we will reconvene tomorrow after luncheon. Dismissed!"

All the Lords bowed and left the small council's room. Everyone but one: Jon.

His foster father was first to speak, "So, you suspect Baelish too, Robert."

Robert smirked, "Aye, it appears his plans are spiralling out of control. That would explain why he's overexposing himself. With the return of magic, the world has become more volatile."

Jon smiled, "I would've never expected this from you, Robert. You've truly changed these past months, it appears all the scoldings were useful after all."

Robert couldn't do anything but laugh, "Boxed 'me hears you have, old man."

Jon chuckled too, and then asked, "So, has the raven to Lord Tywin departed?"

"Aye. Let's hope that the old lion doesn't do anything problematic. A war it's the last thing we need."."/span/p