Chapter 100 Secret Exposed

He also informed Queen Cersei and Petyr "Littlefinger" Baelish that Jon Arryn had uncovered this secret. Gavin believed that Cersei would stop at nothing to eliminate Jon Arryn to protect herself, and that Littlefinger—who thrived on chaos—would only fuel the fire.

King's Landing - Maegor's Tower

Cersei's face was dark with fury, her emerald eyes blazing with a mix of anger and fear. She clenched the letter tightly in one hand, her other grasping Jaime's arm with force.

"Jaime!" Her voice was sharp and urgent. "How could our secret be discovered? This damned letter says someone not only knows about us—but that Jon Arryn knows! You must kill that old fool at once. Do it now, before it's too late!"

Jaime frowned, visibly uneasy. "The Prime Minister's Tower is guarded by men from the Vale, loyal to Jon. It won't be easy to get close to him. And even if I do kill him—what then?"

Cersei's glare was venomous. "What do you mean, what then? Are you going to stand by and let us be exposed? If Robert finds out, our children—Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella—will all die! Do you understand?"

She paced back and forth, frustration radiating from her every movement. "I despise that I was born a woman! I should be the one wielding the sword, solving this problem myself, not standing here helpless!"

Jaime exhaled, trying to calm her. "Cersei, take a breath. I'll find a way to send you and Joffrey back to Casterly Rock."

"Calm down? How dare you tell me to calm down!" She spun to face him, eyes blazing. "Jon Arryn is already investigating—time is running out! We must get rid of him, or it will all be over! Even if you send me and the children back to the Rock, Robert will hunt us down. The Westerlands cannot stand against the Iron Throne."

Jaime sighed, his face tightening. "I know, sister. But we can't be reckless. If we're caught, the consequences will be catastrophic. We need to be careful—wait for the right moment."

Cersei bit her lip, her expression darkening. After a long pause, she whispered, "Fine. But act quickly. We have no way out. Not for ourselves, and not for the children."

Jaime descended Maegor's Tower, his mind racing. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he hurried through the halls, his steps unsteady. His hands were clenched into fists, knuckles white against his otherwise smooth skin.

Turning a corner too sharply, he nearly collided with Petyr Baelish. Littlefinger, ever composed, flashed his signature smirk and bowed slightly. "Good day, Ser Jaime."

Jaime barely spared him a glance. "Petyr, I have urgent matters. No time for pleasantries." His voice was low, strained. Without waiting for a reply, he strode away, his footfalls hurried and uneven.

Littlefinger watched him go, his sharp eyes flickering with interest. Slowly, he turned his gaze up the staircase leading to Maegor's Tower. The ever-present smirk on his lips faded into something more thoughtful, more calculating. What had unsettled Jaime Lannister so much? And how could he use it to his advantage?

After a moment's hesitation, he straightened his cloak, adjusted his sleeves, and ascended the stairs with measured steps.

The Tower of the Hand

Jon Arryn sat at his desk, the letter trembling slightly in his grasp. The parchment rustled faintly in the silence of his chambers. His brow was furrowed, deep in thought, his mind a storm of turmoil.

The words before him were damning, but the evidence was undeniable. He paced the room, each step slow, measured, heavy with hesitation.

"Could this truly be? Should I tell Robert? If I stay silent, my conscience will never rest. But if I speak, Robert's fury will be uncontrollable. The Seven Kingdoms will be plunged into war—chaos, bloodshed, devastation."

His jaw tightened. "Who sent this? What do they gain? I am being drawn into something deeper... a trap, perhaps."

He exhaled sharply, pressing his palms against the edge of the desk. The wind outside howled, causing the curtains to sway, but it did nothing to dispel the weight upon his shoulders.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. A servant entered, bowing respectfully. "Lord Hand, His Majesty has called for a royal meeting. He requests your presence at once."

Jon Arryn blinked, momentarily startled. His unease did not wane. He inhaled deeply, steeling himself. "Very well. I shall be there shortly."

He carefully folded the letter, tucking it into a drawer before straightening his robes. Weariness flickered across his features, but he pushed it aside. With a final glance at his desk, he followed the servant out.

Ever since the news broke that Gavin Bellerys was to wed Princess Daenerys, Robert had been incensed. Furious, he had sworn vengeance, vowing to sail to the Stepstones and slaughter Gavin—the so-called traitor and last remnant of House Targaryen.

For weeks, Jon had struggled to restrain Robert's temper, convincing him to stay his hand. But the king was not a patient man. His judgment was clouded by hatred.

Recently, Robert—who usually avoided council meetings—had been summoning them repeatedly, determined to wage war on the Stepstones. He had even called his brother, Stannis, to King's Landing.

Every meeting followed the same pattern: Robert, red-faced, roaring with fury, gesturing wildly as he ranted about his thirst for vengeance. "That bastard must die! I'll have his head on a spike!"

The assembled lords stood silent, none daring to challenge the king's wrath. Only Jon Arryn, steady and experienced, still tried to bring reason to the table, attempting to temper the storm before war consumed the realm.