I'd needed a fair few drinks after dealing with my mother and had perhaps gotten more than a little drunk in the aftermath. Still, I'm sure I heard more than a little yelling from my mothers quarters while I was still sober enough to retain my memory.
Sounds like the relationship between Jaimie and Cersei was hitting the rocks.
Good.
I needed Jaimie's head in the game and well on the way to redemption as soon as humanly possible. The sooner he became a good man, the better in my opinion.
"Good morning, your Grace," greeted me as I entered the Small Council chamber. "I trust you are recovering from your small party last night?"
"Sure," I confirmed, still a little too groggy for my own liking. "The tonic that Grand Maester Pycelle prescribed has been working wonders." A nod of thanks was offered to the old man, though I was still debating whether or not to get rid of him. He was stupidly loyal to my grandfather Tywin Lannister and that could be a problem.
"First hangover was it?" Asked Petyr Baelish asked, trying and failing to sound too amused.
I sighed as I assumed my chair at the head of the table. "Unfortunately, yes. But hopefully a mistake I won't be repeating any time soon."
Who was I kidding? With the state of things, I would likely be driven to the drink, much like my so-called father. But hopefully I also didn't inherit his disposition for ignoring the affairs of the realm. Still. I was here at my inaugural Small Council meeting and hopefully it went well.
"With Uncle Renly escorting my fathers remains back to the Stormlands, I do believe we're just waiting on Ser Barriston to begin, yes?" I asked as I took stock of just who was present.
"Ah, will the Lord Commander be attending the Small Council again as per the tradition before King Robert's reign?" Asked Varys.
I nodded. "He will."
In absent a more experienced commander, like my grandfather, he was the closest thing I had to a military advisor. And I needed all the advice I could get in that area.
"Good, good," Pycelle acknowledged, always the one to favour tradition and cite prescience. When he wasn't shilling for Tywin's ideas.
"If nothing else, it will help full up the empty seats," commented Baelish dryly, "what with both Lord Renly on his way to Storm's End and Lord Stannis so recently departed back to Dragonstone." He paused to add the joke, "we are quite bereft of Baratheons."
"Not quite, my Lord," I corrected as I gestured to myself.
"Ah of course," replied Petyr apologetically. "Less Lannisters in the Red Keep now too, what with the Queen Mother and her brother departing for Casterly Rock. Will Ser Jaimie be returning with the escorting troops once they arrive?"
"The plan is for my uncle and the soldiers who previously guarded my mother here at the Red Keep to remain at her side for the moment," I commented. "To help protect her and the children."
Which I was sure both Baelish and Varys knew was bullshit. If they didn't have transcripts or outlines of the argument, then I would eat my chair as a three-course meal.
"The Royal Apartments must seem quite deserted," remarked Varys.
I shrugged nonchalantly. "One of the many cost cutting measures I hope to get moving as I begin my reign is a major reduction in staff along with cutting unnecessary expenditure. With the cutting of needless luxuries and overstaffing won't make a great impact on our budget, but it's a small step in the right direction. Am I right, Lord Baelish?"
My Master of Coin nodded. "Of course, your Grace."
"Excellent. Now, I'm sure we can all find similar savings if we trim the fat a little." Which I'm pretty sure Pycelle, Varys and Baelish would not be doing, even if they paid lip service too it. They were far to entrenched with their own plots and schemes and were probably figuring me for an easily manipulatable mark.
"Incidentally, since we seem to be down a Hand, have you given any thought to who you will be giving the position?" Petyr asked curiously.
"While he is a little busy with the Starks at the minute, I intend to ask my grandfather to take on the position," I admitted with a smile. Tywin would just be another player coming into the capital with his own axes to grind and plots to enact. But with me sitting on the Iron Throne, the centre piece of that agenda would be keeping me where I was and the Seven Kingdom's happily united, prosperous and stable. "Though he will most likely be busy for a while after that settling my mother and my siblings into Casterly Rock."
And making sure Cersei didn't cause any trouble while she was there. "So, with that in mind I will likely be appointed an Acting Hand with his agreement."
"Any idea who that might be?" Questioned Varys.
"Not quite yet, but I plan to discuss it with my grandfather," I admitted. "But if any of you have suggestions, I would be happy to hear them."
There were murmurs, but nothing concrete yet. But in time I'm sure they would each come to me with suggestions of either ineffectual men, men in their pockets or men likely to advance their ambitions.
I was about to comment on the absence of Ser Barriston, when the doors opened. But not to admit a member of the Kingsguard, but the Royal Steward who entered with a grave expression.
"What is it?" I demanded with a curious tone. It wasn't like the man to interrupt such meetings without something important to bring to the table.
"News from Dragonstone, you Grace," the Steward began and then paused looking extremely nervous. Given Joffrey's reputation I wasn't surprised. My body's reputation wasn't exactly great and it would take a long while for me to excise it from the minds of the castles residents.
"Well?" I asked impatiently as the seconds dragged on.
The Royal Steward swallowed. "Lord Stannis has issued a proclamation declaring that the children of Queen Cersei are not the legitimate heirs to King Robert.
"In what way?" Question Varys. "I attended their wedding, as did hundreds of others. And many more participated in the celebrations after."
"Lord Stannis is claiming that all of Queen Cersei's children were the result of King Robert being cuckold…" The Steward paused again and visible winced. "By the Queen's own brother Ser Jaime Lannister…"
The room fell deathly silent, and it took me a moment to realise that everyone had turned to look at me.
"Did the man who would coincidentally be next in line to the Throne if my siblings and I were removed from the line of succession, offer and proof for this vile, preposterous and slanderous accusation? Or was he simply waiting until my father was dead to make it?" I snarled with a very Baratheon-like fury.
Sure, I knew these accusations to be true, but if this was allowed to settle amongst the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms then there would be war. A war we could neither afford nor needed right now.
"No, your Grace, not as yet," replied the Royal Steward as he checked the offending proclamation.
"Well, how fucking convenient," I exclaimed loudly, my chair flying backwards as I sprang to my feet and my hands crashed down on the table.
"Also, he is pressing his claim to the Iron Throne as the heir apparent," added the Royal Steward as his nervousness only increased. Poor lad.
"What a gods damned surprise," I replied my voice practically dripping in sarcasm. "I've just gotten done dealing with the other man who would convenient benefit from my removal from the Throne. Now my own Uncle wants to add fuel to the fire? This kind of talk is only to result in civil war, and hemorrhage money we don't have and cost the lives of men, women and children who shouldn't have to die because of the arrogance of old men!"
"Indeed your Grace," agreed Varys.
I took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to get ahold of myself. "No," I added after a pause. "I am not going to do this to the Seven Kingdoms. Tell Stannis that I am going to postpone my coronation and call a Great Council to decide the issue of who gets to sit on the Iron Throne."
Baelish made an involuntary choking noise. "A Great Council?" He repeated in astonishment.
"It's been done before when the inheritance of the Crown is in doubt," I offered. "If Stannis can actually prove I'm an incestuous bastard and convince the Great Houses to put him on the Iron Throne instead of me, then I'll stand aside rather than fight a civil war. It also gives the North a chance to vent their issues in a more constructive fashion.
I forced my expression into a more confident expression than I actually felt as the Royal Steward and the Small Council stared back at me. Fake it till you make it and then fake it some more.