The Lord Commander

Accompanying His Grace on hunts was one of his easier duties, Ser Barristan supposed. Their party included half the court, but most notably the king's brother, Renly, his young squire, Loras Tyrell, the Lady Lyra, and, of course, the crown prince himself. They rode through the Kingswood together, laughing and talking. Barristan could almost forget his cares, almost.

Well could he recall when Prince Joffrey stumbled into the Small Council chambers, covered in ashes and soot.

"The flames are out at last," he reported dutifully.

"I commanded you to return at once!" Robert scolded him. Rarely had Barristan Selmy seen the king afraid, but he was afraid then, afraid for his son. Being a warrior, that fear oft showed as anger. It was not the way Barristan liked to fight, preferring to keep his head cool and clear, even in battle, but he could understand His Grace's concern.

"There would be no city to return to, had I obeyed. Wildfire cannot be doused or snuffed out, but it can be thwarted. I was on hand to do the thwarting."

Lord Varys shivered and moaned. "Oh, it is a terrible thing, wildfire! Utterly bestial. So many lost. However did that awful substance come to be under the Dragonpit, I wonder?"

Lord Baelish looked over his shoulder and smirked at the eunuch arrogantly. "I was hoping you'd be able to tell us, spymaster."

"Little birds, I am afraid, travel not under old ruins that have sat untouched for a century or more."

Those two often liked to bicker, wasting time in council. The prince put a stop to it straight away. "I know exactly how it happened," he said. "Come in!" he called over his shoulder. In came Ser Jaime, his sworn brother, whose white cloak was stained with the same ash that clung to the prince. "Tell them everything you told me, leaving nothing out," Joffrey commanded.

What followed was madness. Every turn in the tale sickened Barristan further.

How could I have served such a king as that?

And what a terrible choice was put before Ser Jaime! Upon the one hand was his duty to the king, and on the other, the city.

"There you have it," Joffrey announced. "There may be more wildfire caches in the city. Needless to say, sewer construction is halted. I propose that we search the whole of King's Landing, top to bottom. These jars of wildfire are old and getting older. We must be exceedingly careful in disposing of them."

"Even from the grave, the dragons strike at me! I knew they were mad, but not this mad!" Robert thundered.

"It's bad, Father, I'll not deny it, but we managed to evacuate most of the people from the burned quarter of the city. They lost their homes, but not their lives. Homes can be rebuilt. That's something we can discuss once we are assured the wildfire is gone, and the wreckage is cleared away."

"Fine, fine," Robert agreed easily. "Littlefinger, make sure my son gets whatever he wants!"

"Those are dangerous words, Father," the prince couldn't resist the jape. They all laughed like madmen, releasing the tension they felt as the northeastern portion of the city went up in flames. Many feared the fire would reach Aegon's High Hill, but Joffrey's barrier stalled its progress.

The fire burnt itself out nearly a year ago, and Robert's city was on the mend at last. They could afford to enjoy themselves.

"So, Joff, how fares the only thing you care about?" Lady Lyra teased the prince. She sat easily upon her palfrey, riding beside the king like an expert, though she had risen from her first childbed only three short moons past. None took note of the informal way she addressed him. The heir had never been particular about such matters.

"Awful as it is to say, Lyra, the fire made my job easier. Once we cleared away the rubble and the burnt buildings, construction of the main trunk sewer advanced without hindrance of any kind, putting us far ahead of schedule. Your boy Ned will see the completion once he's walking and talking, if the gods are good."

"Terribly boring though, isn't it? You and Tyrion talk about it constantly. Where's the action? Where's the fun?"

"I like a good fight as much as anyone, sis, but sometimes princes have to deal with boring shit."

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"When you're king, it's not sometimes, but all the time!" Robert interjected.

Everyone laughed at the king's jape, though for young Joffery it was more like a sensible chuckle. The heir, now nearly eleven namedays and taller than some men grown, was looking more like Ser Jaime every day, but far more serious. Even so, Barristan could see the Baratheon in him. The crown prince was strong and fierce, though gentle with ladies, children, and smallfolk. He'd make an excellent knight, in time.

"Now, now, my love, you mustn't complain too much! We're out here, aren't we? It's deep summer now, so there's plenty of game. I've got my bow with me this time, mayhaps I'll show you a thing or two," Lyra said gaily.

"Arrows, bah! Hardly sporting, dearest. I like to take my quarry, close and personal." Robert bent in the saddle, leaning over to the much shorter woman.

They both stared deeply into each other's eyes. Prince Joffrey visibly gagged to end the moment. "You two are sickening," he stated mockingly.

"Watch your tone, boy, or I'll marry you to a Frey!" Robert threatened.

"They can't all be bad, Father!" Joffrey spurred his horse on and pulled away, making Robert and Lyra give chase. It was almost like they were his true parents, so close they seemed.

Those thoughts made Barristan sigh. Matters with Queen Cersei remained troublesome. At times, she refused to leave her chambers for months. No one, not Ser Jaime, not even her son, could rouse her. Not for the first time, Ser Barristan thanked the gods for the Kingsguard's vow of celibacy.

Being the Lord Commander, he had to keep up with the king, so he accelerated to a full gallop, still gamely scanning the woodline for potential threats. Once he returned to Robert's shadow, they were deep in conversation again.

"Surely there's something you want for your nameday, son. Come on, even if it's an expanded budget for your sewer project, your father is inclined to grant your wish."

"Well, there is something," Joffrey answered mysteriously.

"I want to give Joff a present too!" Lyra butted in, winning a smile from Robert. His Grace still shaved himself every morning with a razor of the finest Qohorrik steel, mainly because she liked his cheeks smooth. Barristan had inspected the implement himself. It was very fine.

"Out with it, boy!" Robert demanded with such force that a cluster of birds fled from a nearby tree.

"Well, I've been thinking about a weapon."

"Anything you want, save Valyrian steel, of course." The king grinned. "What will it be? A hammer like mine?"

The prince laughed mockingly. "Not my style, father," he said, then got quiet. "You remember the fire?"

"Of course, we remember the fire!" Lyra answered for the king. Since they weren't at court, they could behave as they wished. It wasn't strictly proper, but the Lady Lyra was lovely and full of life. Barristan couldn't help admiring her spirit. "You scared me half to death when you insisted on staying out in all that hell! Half the court fled to the other side of the river!"

"Well, when it was getting bad, I made my way to the street of steel and requisitioned every bit of metal we might use. By chance, I ran into a master smith, the same Qohorrik who made your razor, actually, who told me he could work Valyrian steel."

"Would that we had any," the king rumbled wistfully. "I'm afraid House Baratheon never had an ancestral blade. Sorry, son."

"Oh, but we do," Joffrey gainsaid his father. "I've inspected the armory. There's a dagger, a candlestick, and a paperweight, of all things. Melt it all together, and you might have something usable."

Young Loras Tyrell, who often trained with Joffrey in the yard, couldn't hold back his comment. "Oh! Is it what you were telling me about?"

"Yes," the prince confirmed stoutly. "Those oddments could be melted together and forged into an axehead. For the handle, I could harvest some dragonbone from the skulls in the cellars. There's no way I could use the axe in melees, too dangerous, but a weapon like that would be a hell of a thing in a real battle."

"It's yours!" Robert declared, his booming voice no doubt scaring game away for miles. "Now, let's hunt, damnit! I want to kill something!"