Elsewhere.
Lianna held a ripe apple to Joffrey's lips.
The girl's fingertips were slender and pale, carrying the sweet scent of the fruit.
Joffrey opened his mouth.
Instead of biting the fruit, his lips intentionally brushed against Lianna's fingertips.
Seeing Joffrey's mischievous grin, Lianna pulled her hand back like a startled fawn, a charming blush blooming on her cheeks.
"Your Grace... not here..."
"There are too many people in daylight..."
"Call me Joffrey."
Joffrey laughed proudly, enjoying the girl's shyness.
He liked Lianna.
This girl from the brothel, though lowborn, wasn't like Sansa Stark, who always wore a mask of hypocritical courtesy.
Lianna's eyes always shone with undisguised adoration and love for him.
This feeling made him feel like the true master of Westeros.
"Joffrey..."
Lianna's voice was sweet as honey.
"You looked so heroic shooting just now!"
"Just like the legendary Dragonknight, Prince Aemon!"
"Of course."
Joffrey puffed out his chest, feeling his small stature grow a few inches taller.
"No one in the Seven Kingdoms is better with a crossbow than me."
"Mm!"
Lianna nodded vigorously, her watery eyes full of trust.
"I heard Lord Lynn in the North once shot a giant direwolf with a bow!"
"He is a true hero, just like you!"
Hearing the name "Lynn," the smile on Joffrey's face froze slightly.
He didn't refute Lianna, but nodded.
At the same time, an inexplicable guilt and irritation rose in his heart.
He had planned the position of Hand of the King perfectly.
It should have been Lynn's!
Lynn had quelled the rebellion in the North for him and won the allegiance of the Vale and the Riverlands.
But his mother forced him to give that symbol of supreme glory to the old man who only knew how to count gold in Casterly Rock!
"Lord Lynn is amazing."
Lianna seemed oblivious to Joffrey's mood change, continuing in a tone full of longing.
"Later, he single-handedly pacified the entire Northern rebellion and uprooted House Bolton!"
"I heard he beheaded Ramsay in front of everyone!"
The girl's admiration pricked Joffrey's heart like tiny needles.
He didn't allow Lianna to admire other men.
Even if it was Lynn... his savior... still... no!
Yes, Lynn had the style of a king...
Executing traitors personally, using enemy blood to demonstrate his supreme authority.
But him?
Since ascending the throne, what earth-shattering thing had he done?
Everyone treated him like a petulant child, a puppet to be manipulated at will.
His mother was like that, those damn ministers were like that.
And now, even his grandfather from Casterly Rock was like that!
"How can an old man who only knows how to hide in a castle and scheme be compared to a hero like Lord Lynn?"
Lianna tilted her head, asking innocently.
"Joffrey, I really don't understand. Why didn't you make Lord Lynn your Hand?"
"With him assisting you, you would surely become a greater king than Aegon the Conqueror!"
This sentence completely ignited the fire in Joffrey's heart.
"Enough!"
Joffrey slammed his goblet onto the floor, standing up abruptly.
"It's not that I don't want to!"
"They forced me!"
Joffrey paced the room irritably like an enraged lion cub.
"It's Mother! She insisted on making Tywin Lannister Hand!"
"She doesn't understand at all!"
"How is an old man reeking of copper coins fit to stand beside me!"
"Only Lynn!"
"Only a wise and brave warrior like Lynn deserves to be my Hand of the King!"
Startled by his sudden outburst, Lianna shrank back, but a trace of imperceptible amusement flashed in her eyes.
She stepped forward, hugging Joffrey gently from behind.
"Don't be angry, Joffrey..."
"I was just joking, don't take it to heart. You need to be calm now."
"You are still young; you can't outmaneuver them yet."
"But I believe in you. One day, you will be the King whose word is law, not the puppet they manipulate now."
Hearing the word "puppet," Joffrey flared up immediately.
"Lianna, I just don't want to bother with them."
"Are you looking down on me?!"
Lianna shook her head.
"Your Grace, how could I? I never meant that."
"It's just that you..."
"Never mind..."
Lianna's young body was soft and warm, her voice soothing.
"Don't overthink it. Difficulties are temporary."
"Lianna will always believe you can achieve great things."
"You are King Robert's son, the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms. The entire realm is yours."
"One day, whoever you want as Hand will be Hand. Who would dare oppose you?"
"Right!"
Joffrey seized on the key point. He turned around abruptly, gripping Lianna's shoulders.
"I am the King!"
"I AM THE KING!"
Unprecedented courage and determination surged in Joffrey's chest.
He would show those who looked down on him who the true master of the Iron Throne was!
He would reclaim his power!
And the first step was starting with that old man who stole Lynn's position!
...
The Tower of the Hand, Red Keep.
The atmosphere at dinner was suffocating.
At either end of the long table sat the two most powerful men in Westeros.
The King, Joffrey Baratheon.
And the Hand of the King, Tywin Lannister.
Joffrey sawed viciously at the roast pigeon on his plate.
The knife screeched against the porcelain, but he didn't take a bite, just venting his frustration on the meat.
Tywin ate methodically, every movement textbook elegant.
He didn't even glance at Joffrey, as if sitting opposite him wasn't the King of the Seven Kingdoms, but empty air.
Fuck your mother.
This disregard fueled the fire in Joffrey's heart.
"The situation in the North has stabilized."
Tywin wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin and finally spoke.
"Lynn has integrated the forces of the Vale, Riverlands, and North. He is now the most powerful force in the Seven Kingdoms outside the Crownlands."
"We must acknowledge he can no longer be ignored."
"So?"
Joffrey sneered, dropping his cutlery.
"What are you trying to say? That Lord Lynn is a threat, eyeing my Iron Throne, and I should cut down a loyal subject?"
Tywin's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
"Your Grace, you've had too much wine."
"I haven't had too much!"
"I haven't had a fucking drop!"
Joffrey slammed the table and stood up.
His handsome face was flushed red with rage.
"I'm perfectly sober!"
"Let me make this clear today!"
"I think you are the one gone senile, Grandfather!"
"You think I don't know what you're thinking?"
"You want to control me! Just like you control my mother!"
"You want to turn the entire Seven Kingdoms into Lannister property!"
"But please, never forget!"
"The Seven Kingdoms belong to House Baratheon!"
"Not your Lannisters!"
Tywin put down his goblet.
He raised his eyes.
Those pale green eyes looked quietly at Joffrey.
There was no anger, only the indifference and impatience of an elder looking at a misbehaving child.
"Your Grace, you are tired."
Tywin's voice remained calm, yet carried unquestionable authority.
"Go back to your chambers and get a good sleep."
"Whatever you have to say, say it tomorrow."
"We will discuss state affairs tomorrow morning."
Tired?
Fuck!
That phrase again!
That tone treating him like an ignorant child again!
The last string of sanity in Joffrey's brain snapped completely.
"I said it once, I am not tired!"
Joffrey's voice turned shrill, filled with hysterical madness.
"The one who is truly tired is you!"
"Tywin Lannister!"
"You're not just old! You've lost your nerve!"
Joffrey stared dead at Tywin's impassive face, using all his strength to roar the question that had been coiling in his heart.
"Tell me, Grandfather!"
"When my father was fighting bloody battles on the Trident, where were you?!"
"Huh?!"
"You were hiding in Casterly Rock!"
"Like a frightened rabbit, shivering in your dirty rabbit hole!"
"No!"
"You turtled up even tighter than a swamp turtle!"
"You waited, you watched, you calculated!"
"Not until my father won the war did you dare crawl out of your shell with your army to pick up scraps in King's Landing!"
"My father won the throne with his warhammer and courage!"
"You stole the fruits of my father's victory."
"And now, it's the same."
"Lord Lynn conquered the rebellious Riverlands and Vale with sword and blood, upholding Baratheon rule!"
"And you?!"
Joffrey rounded the long table, walking step by step to Tywin.
Mimicking the arrogant manner of his father Robert in his memory, he pointed a finger at Tywin's nose and cursed.
"You're still the same, shrinking in Casterly Rock!"
"You rely only on betrayal and opportunism!"
"You are no lion!"
"You are just a... hyena that only dares approach when it smells blood!"
"You are unworthy to be my Hand of the King!"
"Unworthy!"
The room was deathly silent.
Servants and guards stood pale as sheets, wishing they could turn into wall paintings or floor rugs.
Can he say that?
He's gone mad!
A boar must have kicked Joffrey in the head.
They had never seen anyone dare speak to Tywin Lannister like this.
Let alone his own grandson, the King of the Seven Kingdoms.
Cersei stared blankly at Joffrey, her mind blank.
She was scared witless, unable to say a word.
First Lynn's unknown moves, then Tywin's dismissal, and now Joffrey flipping the table.
She felt tired.
Heart-tired...
What could she say?
Nothing.
This damn brat never gave her a break!
Tywin Lannister didn't move.
He sat peacefully in his chair, his expression unchanged.
Only the color of his pale green eyes seemed to deepen slightly.
Like two bottomless pools, calm on the surface, surging underneath.
He quietly watched the boy king whose face was twisted with anger and triumph.
A long time passed.
Long enough for Joffrey to start feeling a panic.
Tywin Lannister smiled.
He made no sound, just the corners of his mouth curving up infinitesimally slow.
That smile was colder than the deepest ice of the Land of Always Winter!
"Good."
Tywin spat out two words lightly.
"Very good."
He slowly rose from his chair.
His movements were slow, but carried an invisible pressure, making Joffrey subconsciously take a step back.
"It seems I have indulged you too much."
Tywin's gaze moved past Joffrey, landing on the two Kingsguard in white cloaks at the door, who looked nervous.
"Ser Meryn, Ser Arys."
His voice was calm, yet it made the battle-hardened knights shudder.
Tywin's gaze returned to Joffrey's face, which was turning pale with fear.
"Take him back to his chambers."
"Then, take down his breeches."
"I am going to personally teach him what it means to... respect his elders."