Chapter 80 - The Death of Jon Arryn (II)

"Chaos is an opportunity for the bold and a terrible fate for ordinary people." Littlefinger, Master of the Coin.

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In the Small Council Chamber, Robert Baratheon was drinking noticeably less wine than usual. His blue eyes swept the room, hovering over each person present with the authority of a true king.

"Ned will be the next Hand. Send a raven ordering him to come to King's Landing. Also, send a marriage proposal: my sons and daughters will marry his," announced Robert, with an indifferent tone.

Cersei gritted her teeth, irritated by the disdain in her husband's voice, as if he were dealing with goods and not people. The thought of her daughter having to spread her legs for a barbarian from the North almost made her scream with rage.

When Robert finished speaking, all eyes turned to Tywin Lannister. Some had amused expressions, curious to see the Lord of Casterly Rock's reaction. Many had expected Tywin to assume the position of Hand after Jon Arryn's death, but it seemed that Robert had no intention of giving his father-in-law that honor.

"Joffrey will marry Lady Sansa Stark. Tommen will marry Lady Arya Stark. Myrcella, in turn, will marry Robb Stark, the heir to Winterfell," Robert declared, his voice firm and without hesitation, as if it were the only sensible choice.

However, there was something that bothered the king deeply. He had only three legitimate sons to negotiate alliances with, while Ned Stark had four sons, two daughters and even a bastard who bore the name Jon Snow. Robert wished for more heirs to marry off all his friend's offspring, but that was out of his reach.

Cersei, about to protest for the freedom of at least her daughter, felt her body freeze when Tywin's cold, calculating eyes fell upon her. All courage, anger and indignation evaporated before that implacable gaze.

Tywin, realizing that his daughter would remain silent, turned to Robert and, with characteristic calm, said:

"Your Grace, House Tyrell continues to refuse to heed your call. They have reinforced the borders, especially in the west, and their vassals are mobilizing throughout the Reach. It is wiser to marry Prince Joffrey to Lady Margaery Tyrell.

Tywin's words generated murmurs of concern among those present. Everyone there knew that the alliance with the Tyrells was crucial. Without it, the Crown would face serious difficulties in sustaining a prolonged war. From House Tyrell's recent movements, it was clear that they had no intention of supporting the Crown against the Targaryen king on the other side of the Narrow Sea.

Robert didn't reply immediately. He remained silent, awaiting the opinions of his advisors.

"Your Grace, allow me to attack The Arbor. I will destroy House Redwyne's fleet and bring House Tyrell to the Crown." Stannis spoke firmly, his voice rigid and his posture imposing. For him, House Tyrell's hesitation was enough to consider them traitors.

Stannis' words were bold, even arrogant, but no one in the room could ignore the military brilliance of the Lord of Storm's End. Although reluctant, many in the room had a certain confidence in his ability to deliver what he promised.

However, Tywin Lannister was the first to object.

"That's a stupid decision," he said, raising his voice slightly. His cold eyes fixed on Stannis with visible dissatisfaction.

"Attacking House Tyrell now would make them completely in league with Prince Targaryen. We'd be handing over one of the most powerful Houses in Westeros." Tywin continued, deliberately ignoring Stannis' increasingly angry look.

He continued, with the calm and calculating tone of a man who always saw several steps ahead.

"Taking risks right now is like throwing the continent into a civil war. When war breaks out, we'll need all our forces concentrated to defeat our enemies."

"Instead of wasting resources, strengthen the cities' defenses with Scorpions, reinforce the troops, fortify the castles and ships. There's a lot of work to be done before we consider any risky action."

Despite his obvious irritation with Tywin, Stannis recognized that the old strategist had a point. Losing the Royal Fleet in a poorly planned attack would be catastrophic, and the risk was too great at this delicate moment.

Tywin, for his part, knew that destroying House Tyrell would be advantageous in the long run, but it wasn't something that could be done now. It would be a waste of time, soldiers and resources. For the moment, even though they were a dangerous element, the Tyrells remained asleep.

Robert, who had listened to the discussions in silence, made the decision without hesitation.

"We'll do as Tywin suggested. I'll marry Joffrey to Margaery Tyrell. Littlefinger, you will go to High Garden to negotiate terms with Mace Tyrell."

The king's voice echoed through the room with a loud, clear tone. He was perhaps not the most skilled strategist, nor the most cunning general, but as a warrior, he knew the value of quick decisions. Hesitation led to death on the battlefield, and right now, he couldn't afford to hesitate.

Littlefinger smiled, his calm, enigmatic gaze hiding the storm of intent that was raging inside him.

"As you wish, Your Grace." He replied with a discreet but purposeful bow.

For him, this mission was more than just an order from the king. It was a golden opportunity to plunge Westeros even deeper into chaos. Jon Arryn was dead, and the plan to take control of the Vale was already underway.

All he needed was to fan the flames of war, allowing the chaos to spread like wildfire. Littlefinger knew that chaos was the ladder, and he would climb it until he reached the greatest power of all: the Iron Throne.

Robert turned, his cold, calculating eyes landing on Varys, who had remained silent until then.

"What happened to the dragon spawn?" asked the king, his voice laden with icy menace.

Varys bowed elegantly before answering in his usual gentle tone:

"He was crowned by the Reverend Mother in front of seven hundred thousand people who knelt before him." Varys' words fell across the room like a stone thrown into a still lake, spreading waves of tension.

The silence that followed was almost deafening in the room, weighed down by the significance of that statement.

Seven hundred thousand people.

The image of a crowd of that magnitude kneeling before Aenar was overwhelming. If before he was just a young man with a dragon, now, in everyone's eyes, he had become a true monarch.

It wasn't just the fear of his dragon's power that worried them. It was the respect and reverence he inspired in his people. Seven hundred thousand people weren't kneeling out of fear; they were kneeling out of devotion.

At that moment, the collective perception changed. Aenar was no longer an aspirant to the throne.

He was a legitimate king, someone who had come to take what he thought was rightfully his. And this idea hit them hard, because the same law that gave Aenar the right to claim the throne was the one that sustained Robert's reign and would guarantee the legitimacy of his descendants.

But Robert showed no change in expression when he heard Varys' words. Rhaegar also had the support of the people, but it was he who was sitting on the Iron Throne, not Rhaegar.

"What about the Faceless Assassins?" Robert asked, with the same cutting coldness he was accustomed to whenever a Targaryen was involved.

Varys lowered his gaze, sighing ruefully.

"Unfortunately, according to the House of Black and White, the assassination failed." Varys' tone was full of discontent. He hated everything that involved magic, and his aversion was even greater when it came to figures associated with fanatical religious sects.

Robert couldn't help but snort coldly. "The money that was supposed to be sent to Braavos doesn't need to go any further, since House Black and White didn't complete the mission, we don't need to pay it."

No one objected, it was fair not to be paid for a job that hadn't been completed, only a fool would pay for a job that had failed.

"As Tywin said, we'll use this money to strengthen ourselves. Buy food from Essos, even if it's twice as expensive. We can't run out of food when the war starts." Robert spoke with a calm tone, this was also one of the measures to deal with in case House Tyrell really didn't support the Crown when war came.

"Yes, Your Grace." Littlefinger, responsible for the finances of the Seven Kingdoms, replied with a confident tone.

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