"What?"
A stunned silence fell across the hall.
"You… you want to fight seven at once?"
Arthas Lannister's words hung in the air like a blade poised to strike. Shock rippled through everyone present. Since the dawn of recorded history in Westeros, no one had ever dared to challenge seven members of the Kingsguard simultaneously. Never.
The Kingsguard—seven knights clad in immaculate white armor and robes—were the personal protectors of the king, sworn to a lifetime of service. They held no lands, fathered no children, took no wives. Their loyalty was absolute. Their duty was unyielding. To challenge one was considered bold; to challenge all seven at once was unthinkable.
Some of the greatest warriors of Westeros had worn the white cloak: Arthur Dayne, the legendary "Sword of the Morning," Barristan the Bold, and even Arthas's own elder brother, Jaime Lannister, the infamous "Kingslayer." To defeat a single member was to earn fame across the Seven Kingdoms. To face all seven… that was madness.
Yet here stood Arthas, the sole heir of House Lannister, declaring it openly, without hesitation, without doubt.
"Don't, Al!"
Cersei's voice broke the tense silence first. Her steps echoed as she moved a few paces forward, finally stopping at the top of the dais. Her eyes, normally sharp and commanding, now glimmered with concern.
"That's far too dangerous," she said, her voice barely concealing the panic behind it. "Even considering you defeated Jaime, I cannot believe anyone in Westeros—except perhaps a Targaryen atop a dragon—could truly take on seven Kingsguard and survive."
Petyr Baelish, standing at the edge of the hall, forced a polite smile but could not hide the amusement in his eyes. "Indeed, Lord Arthas. Such a move borders on… reckless."
Baelish's words were calculated. On the surface, they were warnings, but underneath lay encouragement, a subtle challenge. Chaos was his playground, and the death or triumph of the Lannisters in such a spectacle could benefit him greatly.
"Your Kingsguard are elite," Baelish continued, lowering his voice in mock concern. "Even one against seven would be a feat beyond comprehension. You risk death."
Varys, the Spider, stepped forward, his bald head gleaming under the hall's torchlight. Calm, measured, he added his voice. Though his little birds had reported Arthas's earlier victory over The Mountain, he had not expected this audacity.
"Your Majesty, Lord Arthas is confident in his strength," Varys said cautiously. "Perhaps he should first accompany Commander Janos Slynt to understand the defenses of King's Landing. After the tournament, he may rightfully assume command of the City Watch."
Cersei slowly sank back onto the iron throne, her hands gripping the armrests so tightly that her knuckles turned white. "Very well. That plan is satisfactory," she said, her voice ringing through the hall. She turned to Arthas, her emerald eyes wide with pleading.
"Arthas Lannister," she implored. "I, Cersei Lannister, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, now appoint you as deputy to the Commander of the City Watch. Do you accept?"
A flicker of hope crossed her face, a silent plea: "Do not throw your life away. Agree."
Arthas's golden eyes swept the hall, studying each expression: some worried, some gloating, some indifferent. His cold, disdainful smile was deliberate, measured, and unnerving.
"I refuse, Your Majesty," he said, his voice firm, unwavering.
Cersei's hands tightened around the throne, white-knuckled, as her heartbeat thundered in her ears. "What did you say?" she demanded.
"I said, I refuse!" Arthas's voice rang louder this time, echoing across the high-ceilinged chamber. The young man's defiance, calm and resolute, carried the weight of undeniable authority.
This was a feeling unfamiliar to Arthas, something he had never experienced as Prince Arthas Menethil of Lordaeron. Even when Uther doubted his decisions, or Jaina questioned his actions, or his father demanded obedience, no one had ever dared question his strength so openly.
"Ser Barristan," Arthas called, his gaze fixed on the aging but formidable knight, "as the sole legitimate heir of House Lannister, I take full responsibility for my words."
"I, Arthas Lannister, under the witness of the Seven, hereby issue a formal challenge to all seven members of the Kingsguard. I wonder if you, Barristan the Bold, dare to accept?"
The legendary knight's blue eyes widened, the strength in them rivaling a hawk's piercing gaze. "Arrogant," he said, though his tone held admiration rather than anger. The aura emanating from Arthas—the calm confidence, the latent power—was undeniable even to one of Westeros's greatest swordsmen.
"I did not expect House Lannister, known more for schemes than valor, to produce such a fearless warrior," Barristan admitted, drawing his longsword. The steel gleamed, catching the torchlight as he planted it into the floor, kneeling on one knee.
"Your Majesty," he declared, voice ringing with authority and pride, "I, Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, accept the challenge. I will lead six others to face Arthas Lannister."
A murmur of astonishment swept through the hall. Cersei's teeth clenched as she stared at Barristan, disbelief and frustration flickering across her face.
"In the name of the Seven," she muttered through gritted teeth. Her eyes shifted to Arthas, a mix of warning and begrudging admiration. Despite her desire to control everything, Arthas had chosen his own path, defiant, unyielding, and dangerous.
"Rest assured, my dear sister," Arthas said lightly, a gentle smile gracing his handsome features. "I will be careful not to harm Ser Jaime."
The words, casual and certain, conveyed a confidence so absolute it was unnerving. Jaime, a seasoned Kingsguard, was already being dismissed as an inconsequential pawn in the young Lannister's eyes.
Cersei's lips pressed into a thin line, disappointment flashing across her features, but she chose silence. She turned on her heel, leaving the hall with a huff, unwilling to witness more of Arthas's audacity.
Barristan, eyes still glowing with battle intent, followed her, duty-bound, his hand never leaving his sword.
Baelish stepped forward, his smile broad and calculating. "Lord Arthas, I admire your courage. After this, your name—'Arthas the Bold'—will echo throughout Westeros!"
"You flatter me, Lord Baelish," Arthas replied, his golden gaze piercing, a subtle warning hidden within his calm demeanor. "When I assume command of the City Watch, I expect every illegal merchant in King's Landing to follow the law."
Baelish's stature shrank under Arthas's imposing presence, the arrogant Master of Coin suddenly feeling the weight of the young Lannister's authority. "L-Lord Arthas, I meant only… your victory will be… profitable for all," he stammered, retreating a few steps while trying to maintain composure.
Varys, the Spider, followed next, his words measured and sincere. "Such an unprecedented feat commands admiration. Your bravery is remarkable, Lord Arthas. May you become the greatest warrior in the history of Westeros."
He departed quietly, leaving Arthas alone in the hall, a rare moment of calm descending upon him. The young Lannister turned his attention to Grand Maester Pycelle, who had slumped in his chair, snoring as if oblivious to the extraordinary events unfolding. Arthas shook his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. Even in feigned frailty, Pycelle had displayed remarkable cunning.
Stepping toward the hall's exit, Arthas knew the challenge ahead would not be easy. Seven Kingsguard, each a master of arms, awaited him. Though his swordsmanship had reached its pinnacle, he could not underestimate the task. He would need strength, focus, and strategy.
"Arthas, you foolish fellow," a sharp voice called from behind.
Arthas turned slightly, a cruel smile curling his lips. "Is this how you greet your uncle?" he replied without turning fully, the steel in his tone unmistakable.
"Where are your manners, Joffrey?"
The hall, once filled with whispers and tension, now seemed charged with the quiet hum of anticipation. The game was set, the players ready. And at the center of it all stood Arthas Lannister, the boy who dared to face seven Kingsguard alone.