"By the name of the Lord of Storm's End, I declare to the realm:
"My nephew Joffrey Baratheon has been murdered by treacherous hands.
"This monstrous crime was plotted by the Hand of the King, Eddard Stark, and the Queen Regent, Cersei Lannister, so they could seize power and plunge the Seven Kingdoms into chaos.
"I now raise my banners to avenge the king's son, execute Eddard, punish Cersei, clear the court of traitors, and restore order. All loyal servants of the crown shall join me.
"—Renly Baratheon, brother to the late King Robert."
Tyrion snorted so hard a snot bubble popped out.
"Lord Eddard," he wheezed, wiping his face, "when exactly did you start banging my sister? I never caught that one—ha ha ha!"
"His Grace is sitting right here!" Eddard's face had gone the color of old iron.
Joffrey flicked his sleeve. No point arguing with crazy.
"Summon the council," he said. "Now."
The small council chamber felt smaller than usual.
Joffrey dropped into the chair and immediately sank into the deep dent Robert had worn into the seat over the years. How the hell did the man manage that when he barely showed up?
The table hadn't changed much. One brainless loudmouth was gone; two Lannisters had taken his place. The two people Renly had just branded "regicide" and "whore" sat on either side of Joffrey, heads lowered, staring at nothing.
Everyone else stayed dead quiet.
Joffrey spoke first.
"Five days ago Stannis tried to kill me with shadow magic. Now he's declared himself king and plans to take King's Landing."
He slid the letter across the table.
"Renly just sent a raven saying he's already marching seven columns to avenge my 'murder' at the hands of the Hand and the Queen. The tone is almost begging."
He looked around the table.
"So. Ideas?"
Pycelle buried his face in his beard and kept his mouth shut. Varys scratched his bald head like something disgusting had taken root there. Tyrion looked ready to speak but started laughing again, shoulders shaking so hard he couldn't stop.
Cersei smacked him upside the head.
"Renly's an idiot. You're an idiot!" she hissed. "What the hell is wrong with the two of you?"
Tyrion rubbed his cheek, still grinning. "Come on, dear sister. Tell me—what exactly happened between you and Lord Eddard that Renly would stake his reputation on this story?"
Eddard's voice came out low and heavy. "You already know what Her Grace and I were doing that night. Neither of us touched the boy. That's obvious."
Tyrion laughed even harder.
Cersei's mouth curved into a cold little smile.
"Obvious?" she echoed. "Not to these morons."
She stood, looking down at the Hand.
"Stark. Are we in this together?"
Eddard didn't hesitate. "No."
"There you have it." Cersei straightened her sleeve. "So how do we deal with these two traitors?"
Eddard tried, "We could send Joffrey's letter explaining—"
Half a dozen stares hit him at once.
Joffrey sighed. "Lord Eddard, Renly's already raised his banners. Even if he learns the truth tomorrow, his lords won't let him stop. They're in it for spoils, land, and titles—not the truth."
He kept his tone even.
"Ser Loras left the city the same night with his men. His… closeness to Lord Renly is well known."
He tapped the table lightly. "We need to warn Lord Tywin that the Reach is no longer safe. Tell him to watch his back when he crosses it."
Joffrey's fingers drummed once more.
"And Stannis."
He looked at Eddard. "You wrote him personally. Did he believe you?"
"He still insists my father is dead and that the letter you wrote in his name is a forgery," Cersei cut in.
Joffrey nodded. Because he'd been unconscious for three days, Stannis's letters had already flooded the city and the Crownlands. He'd had to appear at once, prove he was alive, and wave Robert's sealed decree to show he was the rightful king. Then the ravens went out explaining that Stannis was the real traitor.
In Westeros, with no fast news network, both sides were shouting and nobody knew who to trust.
"The only way to clear this up," Joffrey said, "is to beat them into the ground first. Then we can sit down and talk."
Eddard gave a slow, tired nod.
"If only Robert were still here," he muttered. "Or if he'd announced he was leaving…"
Tyrion smirked. "If he had, you never would've let him sail off. Our good King Robert is probably still bobbing around the Narrow Sea somewhere. By the time we finish this mess, he still won't know his own brothers rose against his son!"
He shot Cersei a wicked grin. "And thanks to your sterling reputation, sister, everyone would rather believe we're hiding his death than admit he ran off to play sellsword."
The table fell quiet.
Joffrey took a deep breath and slammed his palm down.
"My lords," he said, "what we're about to face is an all-out civil war the likes of which Westeros has never seen."
He looked from face to face.
"North against South. East against West. And every ambitious lord in between who thinks this is his chance."
He leaned back in the dented chair that still smelled faintly of Robert.
"Get the ravens ready. We're going to war."