Would Robert truly want Tywin as Hand of the King?
Staring at that broad, flushed face, Joffrey fell into thought.
He had never believed Robert was as simple as he appeared.
When the Rebellion ended, Robert had stabilized the realm with astonishing speed. He forged marriages, secured alliances, and even showed mercy to former enemies.
Jon Arryn had guided him, yes, but Robert himself had acted decisively.
That was why half the Small Council still consisted of men who had served the previous regime.
Joffrey let his gaze drift across the long table, studying each face, trying to determine who had planted the suggestion.
Pycelle was still catching his breath, as if he had rushed here in haste.
Petyr stroked his chin lightly, his eyes sliding away the moment they met Joffrey's.
Varys sat with hands folded, purple robes shimmering faintly in the candlelight, his expression calm as still water.
Renly Baratheon looked bored, carefully trimming his nails as if none of this concerned him.
Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, sat straight as a spear in shining white armor, appearing to think of nothing at all.
The Master of Ships' seat remained empty. Stannis Baratheon had returned to Dragonstone the moment Jon Arryn fell ill and had not even attended the funeral.
After surveying the fools and flatterers, Joffrey reached his conclusion.
He shook his head.
"Lord Tywin is not suitable."
Several heads snapped toward him.
"Oh?" Robert leaned forward slightly. "And why not?"
"Three reasons," Joffrey said calmly.
"First, Lord Tywin governs with an iron hand. The realm now requires peace and stability, not thunder and force."
Varys nodded faintly.
"Second, when Lord Tywin sacked King's Landing, many still remember it bitterly."
"If he takes residence in the Red Keep, it may tarnish Father's honor."
Joffrey glanced at Littlefinger. The faint smile on his lips stiffened for a heartbeat.
Pycelle wiped sweat from his brow. "Your Highness, those are old matters. Lord Tywin now—"
"Let him finish," Robert interrupted, clearly amused.
"Third," Joffrey continued, "Lord Tywin is Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock."
"If he also becomes Hand of the King, House Lannister's influence in King's Landing would grow too vast."
"The treasury, the armies, the council itself would all fall under the control of the queen's kin. That would disrupt the balance of the court."
"Therefore, Lord Tywin must not serve as Hand."
Silence filled the chamber.
Then Robert threw his head back and laughed loudly.
"Ha! Well said, boy." He pointed around the table. "You lot are clever enough when it suits you."
"But none of you spoke what my son just did."
Varys raised his head first. "His Highness is perceptive and thoughtful. But if not Lord Tywin, whom does His Majesty consider?"
Robert grunted. "What do you think?"
Renly finally put down his nail file and looked up.
Joffrey seized the moment.
"Eddard Stark."
"Lord of Winterfell. Warden of the North. One of the realm's most loyal lords."
His voice was steady.
"Why him? Stark has barely set foot in the South," Renly protested.
Before Joffrey could answer, Littlefinger smoothly interjected.
"Precisely why he is ideal. House Stark has no entanglements at court and would not provoke suspicion."
"And Lord Eddard is famed for honor and fairness." He turned toward Joffrey. "Is that not so, Your Highness?"
Joffrey inclined his head.
Littlefinger had likely recommended Tywin alongside Pycelle. Now that he sensed a more advantageous direction, he shifted immediately.
Robert leaned back, either thinking or pretending to.
Joffrey pressed on. "Father, above all, you trust Lord Eddard."
"As you would a brother."
A sharp light flashed in Robert's eyes. Then he slammed his hand against the table.
"Good! That's it."
"That's exactly it!"
Several councilors quickly voiced agreement.
Renly looked as though he wished to argue, then shrugged. "Very well. Though nephew, you flatter him greatly. I suppose ten of me wouldn't match one Stark."
Laughter rippled lightly.
Flattery followed, directed toward Joffrey. He accepted it with an expression of proud satisfaction.
History had begun to shift under his interference.
He might be nudging Robert as a weapon, but he was fulfilling his assigned role.
[Providence Points +3]
Not much.
He wondered how proud this General needed to be.
Still, he truly did not want Tywin as Hand.
In the short term, it might secure his position.
In the long term, Tywin would dominate the court for years. Joffrey would remain a shadow in his own reign.
Eddard Stark was different.
Some men believed everything. Some believed nothing.
Some trusted the first voice they heard. Others only the last.
The Starks clearly belonged to the first group.
Eddard was honorable and concerned with reputation. With careful guidance, Joffrey could direct his investigation wherever he wished.
Robert looked around the table.
"Any objections?"
None spoke.
"Good. It's settled."
"Petyr, arrange the journey. After the tourney, I'll ride to Winterfell and bring him back myself."
Joffrey's eyelid twitched.
After the tourney?
Jon Arryn's death had already been advanced due to Joffrey's interference. If they delayed two more months, would events fall back into their original path?
He spoke immediately.
"Father, why not ride north first?"
"When Lord Eddard returns south with us, you will host a feast in his honor."
"Why not postpone my nameday celebration slightly and combine the two? One grand event to astonish all Seven Kingdoms."
Robert rubbed his chin.
"Combine them? Hm. Would that be grand enough? I'd rather host months of revelry."
He glanced at Joffrey and waved dismissively.
"Fine. It's your celebration. If you don't mind waiting, we'll hold them together."
Joffrey nodded quickly.
If it were up to him, he would cancel them entirely. Each feast drained the treasury and filled Lannister coffers with debt.
With Jon Arryn dead, no one remained to restrain Robert's spending.
One tourney was costly enough.
Two back to back could cost hundreds of thousands of gold dragons.
When the discussion seemed concluded, Joffrey prepared to leave. He still wanted to test his new poison resistance.
"Where are you going?" Robert said with a grin. "Sit."
"You'll stay until the council ends."