Varys bowed low, voice soft as silk.
"His Grace left a secret decree naming you his heir. If you refuse the crown, the gods themselves would not forgive it."
He lifted his head, eyes gleaming.
"Your Grace, this servant dares speak plainly."
"Lord Eddard is honest to the point of foolishness and merciful to the point of stupidity. Is a man like that fit to serve as regent?"
"You need not wait until you turn sixteen for him to hand power back to you."
"In my humble opinion, the sooner you take full control, the better."
The eunuch's voice grew even smoother.
"King's Landing sits at the mouth of Blackwater Bay, directly across from Dragonstone. From here you can command both north and south."
"The gods have given you King's Landing the same way they give a strong wind to a great banner, or a sheath to a perfect sword."
"Why wait any longer to claim the throne?"
Joffrey stared at him for a long moment.
"Spider."
"Listening to you is like drinking fine wine. It's almost intoxicating."
"Pure pleasure."
He chuckled.
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"Your Grace, this servant suggests," Varys sank even lower, "that you summon the court at once and hold the coronation."
"At the same time, send word to every lord that King Robert left of his own free will. There was no accident."
"That way no one will think the capital has fallen into chaos."
"Once that is done, you will assume the reins of government with both divine will and popular support."
"Perfectly legitimate!"
Joffrey stayed quiet a while.
"What's your goal, Lord Varys?" He actually used the eunuch's name for once. "Why are you pushing this so hard?"
"Peace." Varys kept his head bowed, answering without hesitation.
"The realm needs peace above all else, Your Grace." He even changed how he addressed him.
"This servant swears it on the manhood I no longer possess."
Joffrey looked down coldly at the eunuch groveling on the floor.
This bastard—does he have split loyalties too?
Master of Whisperers who served two kings, the eight-legged spider whose little birds were everywhere in the Seven Kingdoms.
He certainly talked a noble game.
But Joffrey still wasn't sure whether the man served the peace of the stag or the peace of the dragon.
"I understand. You may leave."
The twenty-foot oak doors boomed shut.
Only Joffrey and the Hound remained in the throne room.
Joffrey glanced at him.
"You got nothing to say?"
The man had been strangely quiet ever since Joffrey touched the white stag.
The Hound turned so the burned side of his face faced the throne.
"What, you want me to congratulate you on becoming king?"
"Go ahead and congratulate me then," Joffrey said, carefully leaning back against the blades.
The Hound snorted and said nothing.
Joffrey didn't push. He simply started laying out the mess he now had to clean up.
Robert had slipped out of the city last night in secret, taking a dozen knights and lords who wanted to join his adventure.
They sailed aboard the royal flagship Robert's Hammer.
The crew only knew they were carrying passengers to Pentos; they had no idea one of those passengers was the man the ship was named for.
In the past two days Joffrey had gone through the accounts and discovered money only ever flowed out, never in.
Tax records were a nightmare.
And that damned Littlefinger had left behind a mountain of chaotic loans and ledgers.
Now that he was dead, no one could figure out who owed what to whom.
"You could just appoint a new Master of Coin," the Hound said suddenly.
"Your father dumped everything and went off to have fun, didn't he?"
Joffrey slapped his palm.
Right.
He was the king now.
Why was he still trying to do everything himself?
He'd gotten so used to performing in front of everyone that he'd forgotten he didn't have to anymore.
He only needed to set the big direction.
He started thinking about his inner circle.
First, the Master of Coin.
Tywin was out—he only wanted to be Hand. Putting him under Eddard would mean daily shouting matches.
Mace Tyrell was an option; the crown owed his family a fortune.
But the puffed-up fish was both stupid and old. He looked Tywin's age but was actually only a little older than Cersei.
No. Joffrey needed someone who could actually work, not just decorate the room.
In the end, it had to be family.
"You want me as Master of Coin?"
Tyrion stared at him with his mismatched eyes, looking almost comical.
"You don't want it? Then I'll just give it to old Gyles."
"I want it! I want it!" Tyrion wrapped his arms around Joffrey's leg.
"Best nephew in the world, I've always thought of you as my second-favorite person!"
"Every letter I sent Father was full of praise for you!"
"Otherwise, when you visit Casterly Rock, I'll have Maester Crellen dig them out and show you!"
As for the Master of Laws, he kept it with his uncle Renly.
"Big nephew," Renly said, eyes darting but face all smiles.
"I've always been on your side—you can see that, right?"
"Big brother ran off to play and told me to help you. Don't worry, I'm firmly in your camp!"
Joffrey nodded. "I know."
As for the regency…
"You don't know?"
"Joff, he's a traitor!"
Cersei's face was thunderous.
"Get rid of both your uncles as soon as possible."
"That overdressed little one was meeting with a pack of knights yesterday and whispering with that old wolf."
"The sour-faced older one is still holed up on his island doing gods-know-what."
"The Spider told me he's been meeting with some red priest and hiring pirates."
"I think they're plotting rebellion!"
She grew more agitated.
"If Robert hadn't actually been fine, they would have turned on us."
"You should name me regent. I'll protect you."
It took Joffrey a full hour to calm his mother down.
Night had fallen.
He still had to speak with Eddard.
To keep it simple they met on the drawbridge of Maegor's Holdfast.
Night wind blew through the crenellations, carrying a surprising chill.
"Tomorrow we make it official," Joffrey sighed softly.
Robert had only told Eddard to read the decree to the Small Council after he left.
Aside from those with inside channels—Cersei, Renly, Varys—most people had only learned the truth today, same as Joffrey.
So far the news of the king's departure had stayed inside the Red Keep.
"The ravenry is going to be flooded with letters from every lord in the realm," Eddard said, resigned.
Joffrey stared into the darkness below the bridge.
"The future of the kingdom…"
"From now on it will rest on your support."
He looked up and smiled.
"Father-in-law."
Eddard actually laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Joff, once you take the throne there are a few things that must be handled immediately…"
He started listing them one by one.
Joffrey listened, nodding occasionally, asking a question here and there.
The two of them stood on the drawbridge, their shadows flickering and stretching in the torchlight.
"It's getting cold," Joffrey said.
It was still summer.
Yet tonight the wind felt strangely icy.
He scratched his suddenly itchy neck and joked, "Winter is coming, huh?"
This time Eddard didn't answer.
His eyes went distant.
Then shocked.
Then terrified.
"No!"
A sharp sting bloomed at the back of Joffrey's neck.
He closed his eyes.
"So tired…"
"I need to sleep."