Chapter 167

King's Landing. The Red Keep. 299 AC.

Joffrey Baratheon.

That evening, alone in his chambers, Joffrey Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and so on down the list, sat lost in deep thought. It was not the raging war that occupied the young monarch's mind, but the state of things at court. Since earliest childhood he had been taught to fear his grandfather, Lord Tywin Lannister. His nursemaids had fed him stories of the Old Lion's greatness, his mother had spoken of his cruelty, the courtiers dared not breathe a bad word against the head of House Lannister, but the surest proof of it all had always been his father's own behavior. King Robert's.

The Demon of the Trident had been a fearless man, one who had raised a rebellion, won a crown, broken the ironborn, and ruled the Seven Kingdoms with an iron fist. Robert Baratheon had been an idol to many, Joffrey included. The young prince had watched how freely his father dealt with the great lords, how they could do nothing but smile falsely back at him, how the entire Small Council could only bend to the king's whims while he did exactly as he pleased, heedless of anyone. It was then that Joffrey understood: a king does as he wishes, that is his right, and that is as it should be. But every rule has its exceptions, and here there were two: Tywin Lannister and Axel Arryn. Joffrey could understand the reason for his father's deference to the Falcon's eye, but he could not accept it; he considered the whole arrangement an absurdity. A king cannot be friends with his own servants. Friendship belongs between equals, and in this world there was no one above the King of the Iron Throne. And so he refused to hold the same reverence for his father's Hand.

But his grandfather, to the King's misfortune, wielded truly enormous power, power that gave him an almost limitless hold over the kings who sat the Iron Throne. Lord Tywin might be his grandfather a thousand times over, but the young monarch would not tolerate any power standing above his own. During the rebellion he had been able to rely only on his mother's kin, forced to swallow every humiliation while men who thought far too much of themselves ran his kingdom in his place. Patience had its rewards: after a string of defeats, the Old Lion had lost ground and grown vulnerable. When the confrontation with Lord Tywin finally came, Joffrey had found the resolve within himself to seize it all back through decisive action.

The sight of the humbled lion tossing down his Hand's Badge was a moment he would never forget. He had beaten the very bogeyman he'd been frightened with since childhood, the one even his imperious mother had never been able to stand against. Joffrey had won the battle, but not the war within these walls. The Old Lion's position remained just as strong as before, while the king's real power stayed weak. He needed to act quickly.

"You sent for me, Your Grace?" asked one of the few men here who truly understood Power.

"Sit, Lord Baelish. We have a long conversation ahead of us."

"My thanks, Your Grace." The Master of Coin settled into the offered seat with practiced elegance.

"You have served me faithfully, and your counsel has helped me through no small number of difficult matters, so I want to hear your thoughts on what I should do next."

"Allow me to speak plainly." Waiting for the king's nod, Baelish continued. "Your decision to restore the natural order, where the king rules and all others obey, did not sit well with Lord Tywin at all. And yet, in the end, you outmaneuvered him and stripped him of his legislative power. A bold first step, but he won't forget it, and he'll try to claw it all back. You'll need time to secure full command of the Red Keep." Littlefinger's assessment was sharp and matched the king's own thinking exactly.

"And what do you propose?" Joffrey was curious to hear a like minded man's opinion.

"One cannot govern from hundreds of miles away from the castle. Send Lord Tywin far from court." And here Joffrey had hoped Littlefinger might offer something actually useful.

"He won't agree, not now, and he'll find plenty of reasons to stay in the capital."

"Without question, the Old Lion is a cunning man, but you are more cunning still. Lord Tywin wanted to join forces with Lord Arryn to crush Willas Tyrell? Very well, let him carry it out himself. Since it was his idea, he can hardly wriggle out of the appointment, and he'll be forced to take a great part of his strength with him, easing the pressure here in the capital besides." The idea struck him as promising, even if the thought of helping the Arryn turned his stomach. But a king must be willing to make sacrifices.

"So we shall." Joffrey made to end the conversation there, but suddenly remembered an important piece of the plan. "And what of Lord Tarly?"

"We've reached a preliminary understanding, even settled on a price. We need only wait a little longer."

"Good." The king rose, and Littlefinger followed suit. " Keep me informed."

"I live to serve..."

...

The Throne Room.

"I, Joffrey of House Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, command Lord Tywin Lannister to march forth and punish the traitor Willas Tyrell." Seated upon the Iron Throne, Joffrey could not see his grandfather's face, but he could well imagine the Old Lion's jaw clenching tight.

"As you wish, Your Grace." And his imagination did not fail him; despite his many years of composure, Lord Tywin spoke the words through gritted teeth.