"Your Majesty, you misunderstand me," Footly tried to apologize.
"All right," I said, not wishing to be stubborn. "I'll simply outline your daughter's prospects, and you may choose to listen or not. That is all."
"I'm listening," Footly replied with a sour expression. It was obvious he disliked the idea that the king might walk away without owing him anything.
"As you already know, Ser Orm is in my service. Consequently, sooner or later, inevitable changes will take place in his life — including financial ones. And something tells me those changes will be pleasant and promising. Therefore, by granting your daughter in marriage to him, you are first and foremost doing a service to her, to your house, and to your future grandchildren. In truth, it is you who should be grateful to me, and indebted to me, for such a proposal."
"I understand you, Your Majesty," Footly said, looking stunned. Clearly, he had not expected me to turn the situation around so deftly, leaving him the one in debt.
"So, we have an agreement?"
"Yes…" A heavy sigh escaped him.
"Wonderful! Then I shall expect a favor in return, Ser Footly," I could not help the triumphant smile spreading across my face. Clearly, speaking with Tyrion had done me good. "I believe Olivia's happiness is worth it."
Having secured a bright future for Herald Orm, I knew very well that the man would now have an additional reason to be loyal and steadfast in his service. And in time, I would certainly find something to request of Ser Footly.
After all, being king had its advantages!
***
"You read too much," Cersei remarked.
She, the woman who considered herself my mother, had come to my chambers and now watched with displeasure as I studied the heavy volume "History and Dragons". Tyrion had gifted it to me — a book he had once received from Lord Ned Stark during a visit to Winterfell.
"Is that a bad thing?" I asked.
"Shouldn't a king be resting?" Cersei countered with another question.
I set aside the leather-bound book and looked at her closely. What did she truly want?
"I used to think that knowing much was a good thing."
"Since when have you become addicted to reading?" Cersei ignored my comment again.
"Not long ago. Ever since I realized how grave a mistake it had been to squander so much time uselessly. What is it, Mother?"
"I'm worried about you, Joffrey," Cersei said, sitting down beside me and taking my hand. "We are surrounded by many different people. Some of them do not love us."
Hmm. It seemed Cersei was displeased with the changes in me at all — she felt her influence slipping away, not only over me but over the entire Red Keep.
"I know that."
"Good. Then you must understand that you can trust only your closest kin — those who want what is best for you."
"That is what I do," I replied — and could not resist adding, "Lord Tywin and Tyrion give me very good advice."
"Do not mention that vile dwarf," Cersei snapped at once.
"He's the one who filled your head with nonsense and made you read these stupid books, isn't he?"
"Grandfather approves of these new habits," my answer sounded completely calm.
"I approve of them as well," she forced herself to say. "But I fear that because of them, dangerous people have gained influence over your mind."
"Whom do you mean, Mother?"
"You know who."
"No, I do not. I am waiting for you to explain."
"First of all — your uncle, the Imp. He is so cunning and treacherous that you, my son, cannot even begin to imagine it."
"Who else?" I felt frankly disappointed with Cersei. And who thought she was cunning and calculating? To me, she seemed clumsy and rather crudely.
"The Tyrells…"
"Stop," I raised a hand. "You'd better stop there, Mother. I don't want to hear another word."
"So it is true," Cersei drawled, lips pressed tightly.
"No, it is not true. But you refuse to understand that." I rose to my feet. "Can't you see what is happening? Stability is slowly returning to the Kingdom. Don't you notice that people are beginning to calm down, the situation is becoming manageable?"
"What are you talking about?" Cersei frowned.
"I am speaking of the fact that everyone except you is satisfied. Lord Tywin, Lord Kevan, Lord Mace, Jaime, Tyrion, Margaery, and I — all of us are working together. And we are finally beginning to achieve something."
Cersei was so taken aback that she just stared at me silently. Only her beautiful eyes began to flash with an unkind glint. I decided to soften my harsh words a little. And it wouldn't hurt to shield myself with my grandfather's broad back.
"Why not join the rest of us and ask the Hand for counsel on what should be done, and when? We would all appreciate it," I added with a capricious curl of my lips, realizing that this was a good moment to show off some of Joffrey's trademark obstinacy — and to repeat the phrase I had read earlier:
"In my kingdom, everyone must live up to their duties!"
"I shall think about it," she nodded regally, rose from her seat, walked to the window, and — feigning boredom — asked in an even voice, "Tell me, why did you visit Lancel? And why did you drag Margaery along?"
"Why? He is my uncle, he is recovering from injury, he fought bravely at Blackwater, and he needs his family's support."
"Now you suddenly care for your own relatives. Even the brainless ones like Lancel," Cersei said with affected calm, though I could tell she was anxious about what he might have told me.
"He may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but we had a good talk. He recognizes me as his king — and that is what matters most," I said what she wanted to hear. I was wise enough not to tell her everything that passed in that conversation.
Apparently, Uncle Lancel had changed greatly after almost dying. He had suffered a psychological crisis that shattered his entire previous worldview, leaving behind only broken dreams and ruins. Now he stood at a crossroads, unable to decide what to do or where to go next. Life had lost its meaning, and his former values had lost their appeal.
(End of Chapter)
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