After two straight hours of that shit, Joffrey finally survived his first small council meeting.
One word for it: fucking boring.
Under feudal rule, local lords handled all the day-to-day crap. Anything they couldn't fix went up to their regional duke. Only the truly massive problems—war, famine, plague—ever reached the king.
So the ruler of the entire Seven Kingdoms basically only governed the crownlands and the half-million souls jammed inside King's Landing.
The reports were either "two men died in a fistfight in Flea Bottom" or "some ship fucked up docking and smashed a hole in the pier."
Even the bigger issues were usually two minor lords squabbling, with the loser crying to the Iron Throne for justice.
It always came down to money.
After listening to them drone on forever, Robert finally kicked everyone out.
Then he grinned at Joffrey.
"Now you see why I hate this shit, huh?"
After lunch with Robert, Joffrey yawned his way back to Maegor's Holdfast, ready to pick up his poison-testing plan.
The Hound was already waiting outside the door, wearing a strange expression.
"Done?" Joffrey asked.
Sandor nodded, then shook his head.
"Someone's here for you," he muttered, giving Joffrey a quick look.
Joffrey scratched his head, thought for a second, then pushed the door open.
Sure enough.
His mother was inside.
Cersei sat by the window, gazing out at the distant streets, one hand propping her chin. Her golden hair spilled over her shoulders, gleaming like molten gold in the sunlight.
That old bastard works fast.
Joffrey pressed his lips together. Pycelle had slipped out of the meeting early. He'd figured the old man would run straight to her.
Just hadn't expected her this soon.
"Joffrey, what the hell were you thinking?!" Cersei turned, eyes blazing like an angry lioness, voice low and fierce. "I finally convinced that drunk to name your grandfather Hand while he's here for your nameday."
"And you go dragging that old wolf into it?"
Joffrey closed the door quietly and stepped behind her, gently squeezing her shoulders.
"Mother, calm down. Let me explain."
"Don't give me that." Cersei shrugged him off. "First you stand vigil with that drunk, then you go grilling the Grand Maester about herbs. What exactly are you up to lately?"
"Mother, I'm thinking about the Lannisters' position here in King's Landing."
Joffrey chose his words carefully. "Didn't you find it strange that Father suddenly agreed to this?"
Cersei frowned. "What are you saying?"
Joffrey leaned in close, voice low. "Father has never liked Grandfather. Yet today he asked for opinions in front of the whole council. That's not like him at all."
"I think he was testing the room—seeing exactly how many people actually support the Lannisters."
"That drunk couldn't come up with something like that," Cersei scoffed, though her tone had already softened.
"He didn't have to. Someone else fed him the idea," Joffrey said, shaking his head. "The Spider, Littlefinger, and my two uncles—they're always watching every move we make."
"If Grandfather actually became Hand, we'd instantly become everyone's target!"
Cersei opened her mouth to argue, then stopped.
"So we need a shield," Joffrey continued. "Eddard Stark is the perfect one."
"He's rigid and honorable. Put him in front and he'll take most of the arrows for us."
He lowered his voice again. "And men like him have obvious weaknesses. His actions are predictable. He values family and honor above everything."
"As long as we don't cross his lines, he'll actually be a stabilizing force. And when we need to, we can steer him."
Cersei stayed quiet.
Then she stood and walked back to the window.
"So why did you go after Pycelle?" she asked, back turned, staring out over the city. Her voice was calmer now. "And asking about the Tears of Lys?"
Joffrey sighed.
"I'm looking into Jon Arryn's death," he said honestly. "The way he got sick was too suspicious. Someone else is bound to start asking questions."
"Mother, what you did wasn't completely safe. If anyone connects the dots, they'll use it against us."
Cersei spun around, eyes wide. "What do you mean… Pycelle! That old fuck!"
Joffrey poured a cup of golden Arbor wine and handed it to her. "He didn't volunteer it. I figured it out myself."
Then he sat down and asked sincerely, "Mother, can you tell me how deeply you were involved?"
"Why did you make sure the Grand Maester didn't treat him properly? Was Lord Jon becoming a threat to us?"
Cersei studied him carefully with those emerald eyes. After a long moment she finally spoke, voice thick with complicated emotion.
"You've grown up, Joffrey. Much faster than I expected."
She returned to his side, posture sliding back into her usual lazy arrogance, but something in her eyes had softened.
"Don't dig any deeper into Jon's death," she said firmly. "Some mud pits you step in and you never climb back out."
Cersei reached out and gently stroked his golden hair.
"Remember, you are going to be king. Everything I do is so you can sit safely on the Iron Throne."
"I'm willing to sacrifice anything for that."
"Even… even your uncle. In my heart he's not worth one ten-thousandth of you."
Joffrey lowered his head.
"Yes, Mother."
Cersei gave him one last deep, unreadable look, then turned and swept out.
The door clicked shut.
Joffrey sat there for a while, silent.
Finally he let out a long breath.
Being stuck in the middle was fucking hard.
His father loved him.
His mother loved him.
But trying to patch the crack between them? Easier to ask them to kiss a White Walker's ass.
After quietly drinking two cups of wine, Joffrey cleared his head.
The confrontation had gone smoother than he expected. Cersei was still domineering, but she'd accepted his explanation and silently approved his plan with Eddard Stark.
She just hadn't gone into details about how they'd coordinate later.
The real reason was still his age.
He was only twelve.
He shoved the thought aside.
"Dog!" he called loudly. "Get in here!"
Sandor walked in slowly, hands behind his back, eyes fixed on the corner of the room.
Seeing the odd behavior, Joffrey deliberately put on a stern face. "You were right outside the door. You heard everything?"
"No, no," the Hound shook his head.
Which meant he had definitely heard.
It was fine. Three people knowing didn't count as a leak.
Who knew where the Spider's little birds were hiding, listening for secrets.
Joffrey didn't press it and went back to what they'd been talking about earlier.
He'd already wasted a whole day. Time to test the ability.
"How did the poison work?"