Chapter 101 Jon Arryn's Plan

In front of the door to the Royal Council Chamber, Jon Arryn paused and sighed, his heart heavy with resignation. He knew Robert would not heed any advice at this moment, yet he couldn't bring himself to abandon the effort. He understood all too well the kind of disaster an unnecessary war could bring upon the kingdom.

Pushing open the door, a tense and oppressive atmosphere greeted him inside the Royal Council Chamber.

King Robert Baratheon sat on the throne, his face clouded with fury, his anger simmering like a volcano on the verge of eruption. His eyes locked onto the ministers below, and the weight of his gaze seemed to penetrate the very souls of those present.

Ignoring Jon, who had just entered, Robert's voice rang out low and threatening:

"Gavin, that bastard, intends to marry Daenerys. He's clearly after the Stepstones and has set his sights on the Iron Throne! He's openly challenging my authority, and I will not tolerate it! And that Daenerys—the remnants of the Targaryens—traitors, every last one of them! They must pay. I'll send an army to tear the Stepstones to pieces!"

Jon Arryn took his seat, his expression grim and filled with concern. "Your Majesty, please, calm yourself. We must not forget the lessons of history. The Iron Throne has been dragged into costly wars with the Stepstones time and time again, and each time it has wounded us. The Velaryon family, once so powerful, has never fully recovered from a conflict over the Stepstones. We cannot afford to make the same mistake again."

Robert's brow furrowed, and he fixed Jon with an expression of displeasure. "Are we to simply let these traitors go unpunished? I am the king, where is my dignity?"

Before Jon could respond, Stannis Baratheon, the Sea Lord, spoke up. "Your Majesty, the state of the royal fleet is dire. The ships are old, and manpower is lacking. Should we go to war, the fleet will need repairs and a replenishment of personnel, which will take time."

Petyr Baelish, the Minister of Finance, joined in, his tone cautious. "Your Majesty, our treasury is stretched thin. We owe large sums to the Iron Vault, the Church, and the Lannisters. The Iron Throne does not have the funds to sustain this war."

Robert scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "Then go to Tywin and borrow more! I've heard it said that every turd that man drops is made of gold!"

Jon Arryn quickly interjected, his voice firm but respectful. "Your Majesty, Duke Tywin Lannister may be wealthy, but it's important to maintain respect for the Warden of the West. And an over-reliance on loans is not a sustainable strategy; it will only deepen our debts."

Robert remained silent, his fingers clenched around the armrests of the throne as if trying to suppress the fury that boiled within him.

The chamber fell into an uncomfortable silence as each minister pondered the situation.

At length, Grand Maester Pycelle spoke cautiously. "Your Majesty, I understand your anger towards these traitors, but we must carefully consider the consequences. War depletes men and resources, and it risks unrest within the kingdom itself."

Robert's anger flared again. "So we do nothing? Gavin's actions are a direct challenge to my reign. If I don't respond, others may think me weak and ineffectual!"

Jon Arryn, after a moment of thought, suggested a more diplomatic course. "Your Majesty, perhaps we can first attempt diplomacy. Send an envoy to Gavin, offer him the title of Prince of the Stepstones and Guardian of the Narrow Sea, and demand that he surrender Daenerys voluntarily."

Renly Baratheon, ever the optimist, nodded. "Yes, diplomacy can sometimes yield unexpected results. We could put pressure on the Stepstones and force Gavin to comply."

The other ministers seemed to agree, but Robert's anger erupted in a violent outburst. "You spineless cowards! I want decisive action, not weak-willed peace talks! You prattle on about diplomacy, but none of you have the courage to bring that bastard's head to me! What good is all this talk of pros and cons, diplomatic solutions, and negotiations? It's all nonsense!"

The room fell silent, the ministers too afraid to even breathe as Robert's fury washed over them.

After a long, tense pause, Robert's anger slowly subsided. His breathing heavy, he glared at the council. "Listen to me—give Gavin one last chance. Demand that he hand over Daenerys and confess his guilt. If he refuses, I will personally lead the army to crush the Stepstones."

The royal meeting ended in bitterness and frustration, with Robert's temper casting a long shadow over the proceedings.

Jon Arryn left the chamber, his mind racing with concern for the kingdom's future. The other ministers departed in silence, each weighed down by the same heavy thoughts.

Back in his private chambers, Robert stormed in, his face as dark as a stormcloud. He barked at Lancel Lannister, his servant, who jumped at the sudden command. "Idiot, pour me some wine!"

Lancel, trembling, quickly filled Robert's glass.

Robert flung himself into a chair, his frustration bubbling over. He thought that once he became king, he would be free to act as he pleased. Instead, he found himself constantly at odds with his ministers, trapped in a web of rules and obligations. Though he knew they were often right, the weight of it all chafed at him.

He slammed his wine glass down in frustration. "This is maddening!"

He turned to Barristan Selmy, standing nearby. "Get your things ready. We're going hunting in the Royal Forest."

Barristan hesitated, his voice quiet. "Your Majesty, state matters are pressing, and you'll be gone for more than ten days. It may not be wise."

Robert's anger flared again. "What nonsense is this? I can't fight, but I can't even go hunting? What kind of king am I if I can't even have that?"

Understanding Robert's volatile temper, Barristan nodded, not daring to argue further. "Yes, Your Majesty. I'll prepare your weapons at once."

Robert snorted, still seething with frustration. He glared at Lancel. "Why are you still standing there? Pour the wine! Do I have to tell you every time?"

Lancel, pale and trembling, quickly refilled Robert's glass, though the king drank without a word. The wine spilled down the sides of his mouth, soaking into his beard.

"This life is unbearable," Robert muttered, banging his fist on the table.

Lancel stood motionless, afraid to speak. Robert sat, his face a mask of anger and helplessness, his muttered complaints filling the room.

After a time, Barristan returned, his voice calm but respectful. "Your Majesty, everything is ready."

Robert rose abruptly, his voice booming, "Let's go!"

The small party set out for the Royal Forest, Robert riding ahead, his scowl still darkening his features.