"Arrrgh!"
Robert slammed a chunk of bread down on the table so hard the sausage on Joffrey's plate jumped and rolled across the white tablecloth.
"Lysa is just a lord's widow—the Lady of the Eyrie! Where the hell does she get the nerve to fuck around behind Jon's back!"
The king's roar echoed through the dining hall, making the candle flames flicker wildly.
"Now the whole city is gossiping that her sickly little boy is some bastard with unknown blood!"
"That's the Hand's son! My foster father's boy!"
"I swore to protect him!"
This dinner was clearly not going to be peaceful.
Joffrey quietly speared the sausage back onto his silver plate, acting like the entire storm had nothing to do with him.
The king's bright blue eyes burned with fury as he glared at the purple-robed figure standing in the room.
"Spider, where the fuck did this vile rumor crawl out of? Have you found the source yet?!"
Varys kept his hands folded in his sleeves and bowed slightly. His bald head gleamed reddish in the firelight.
"Your Grace, the smallfolk of King's Landing have always loved a good story—especially the juicy kind involving highborn ladies, secret lovers, and questionable heirs."
"Besides, these are baseless rumors. Spreading them is easier than breathing."
The eunuch's soft, sincere tone sounded perfectly reasonable.
"No matter how many little birds I have, I can't trace every foul insect that crawls out of the gutter."
"Excuses!" The king's anger didn't fade. "What the hell do I keep you around for?!"
Before Varys could reply, a cool, arrogant voice cut in from the side.
"Perhaps we should focus on the greater threat hidden behind these rumors."
Cersei's eyes were sharp as needles. "Your Grace, this gossip reveals something truly disgusting."
"The filthy stories about Lysa Tully have already spread throughout King's Landing. It won't be long before they reach every corner of the Seven Kingdoms."
"How can a mother wrapped in scandal possibly serve as regent and rule the Eyrie and the Vale?"
"And how will that sickly child ever command respect or bear the responsibility of Warden of the East?"
Robert's brows knitted tightly, his breathing growing heavier.
"Woman, what exactly are you saying?"
Cersei calmly dabbed her lips with an embroidered golden handkerchief.
"For the stability of the realm, I believe the position of Warden of the East should be temporarily placed in more capable hands."
The air in the dining hall suddenly grew thick.
Littlefinger immediately stepped forward half a pace, speaking slightly faster than usual.
"Her Grace's words naturally come from deep concern for the kingdom's stability."
"However, the Arryn family holds their titles by hereditary right. This touches on ancient law and sworn oaths of fealty. Your Grace should consider this carefully."
"Moreover, young Robert is Lord Jon's legitimate son and trueborn heir—there is no doubt about that. These rumors will fade with time. If we let them shake the very foundation—"
"Foundation?" Cersei interrupted him without mercy, the corner of her mouth curling into a mocking smile.
"Lord Baelish, what do you consider the foundation?"
"The reputation of the royal family and the absolute loyalty of the Vale lords to their liege lord—that is the foundation."
"An heir surrounded by suspicion is the greatest source of instability!"
She turned to Robert, her tone softening.
"Robert, we cannot allow Lord Jon's lands to fall into chaos."
"Until young Robert comes of age, the Vale needs a stronger guardian—someone who can intimidate all sides and faithfully carry out the will of the crown."
Varys chimed in smoothly at the right moment, his voice light and conciliatory.
"Her Grace's concerns are truly understandable."
"After all, stability must come before everything else."
He paused, then cleverly tossed the question back.
"Does Your Grace already have a suitable candidate in mind?"
Cersei seemed to have been waiting for exactly this.
She lifted her chin slightly.
"In my view…"
"It should be Ser Jaime Lannister."
The dining hall fell so silent that only the crackling of the fireplace could be heard.
Littlefinger's smile froze completely on his face. Even Varys's eyes widened slightly.
Joffrey buried his head deeper into his plate.
Mother, oh Mother… you really never miss a single opportunity.
Beside him, Myrcella was frightened by the tense atmosphere and gently tugged his sleeve.
"Brother, why are they arguing?"
Ask me? Joffrey rolled his eyes inwardly.
To take the edge off, he popped a piece of sweet melon into his mouth.
"Just different opinions."
Robert stared at Cersei with a complicated expression—part shock, part calculation.
"The Kingslayer?"
"He's in the Kingsguard! His duty is to protect the king, not to rule the Vale!" Robert growled back, though his earlier fury had noticeably lessened. He seemed to be seriously weighing the pros and cons.
Cersei didn't back down at all, and her reasoning sounded perfectly noble.
"Precisely because of that, Jaime's loyalty goes beyond family and belongs first to the crown."
"Right now we need absolutely reliable strength, not someone who could be swayed by blood ties or rumors."
Littlefinger finally recovered from his initial shock. After giving a half-hearted agreement, he quickly changed direction.
"But Your Grace, suddenly replacing the Warden—especially putting someone from outside the Vale in charge—could create even greater suspicion and backlash."
"Perhaps it would be wiser to send a royal envoy to supervise and assist. Wouldn't that be more appropriate?"
He tried to water the idea down.
"An envoy?" Cersei shot back immediately. "What authority would one envoy have against Vale lords who only pay lip service?"
This time, however, Littlefinger refused to yield and continued stressing the importance of law and tradition.
The eunuch began trying to smooth things over.
Soon the entire dining hall had turned into a heated argument.
Robert scratched his hair in irritation.
"Enough!"
His low roar temporarily silenced the chaos.
"We'll discuss the Vale matter later! Spider, keep digging into the source of these rumors! Cersei… I will consider your suggestion."
The last few words came out reluctant and mumbled, but he had still opened the door.
Littlefinger withdrew with a dark expression.
Varys followed right behind him.
Only then did Joffrey lift his head and take a long drink of cold beer.
The bitter malt slid down his throat.
Poor Littlefinger.
His life really was as bitter as weeds crushed under a cart wheel or goldthread root growing in cracks between stones.
All those years of careful scheming could be ruined by a few casual words tossed around at dinner.
Cersei could easily spend days whispering in Robert's ear until he gave in.
After all, Robert owed the Lannisters millions of gold dragons, and he had just rejected Tywin as Hand. He'd need to offer some political compensation.
Still, this kind of thing should have been settled behind closed doors, not thrown out in the open like this.
Joffrey stared at the knife and fork on his plate.
After taking such a heavy blow, Littlefinger was definitely going to strike back hard.
He would use Lysa to try and drive a wedge between the Starks and Lannisters.
And he was cautious enough that the dirty work would be passed through so many hands that no trace would lead back to him.
However, being too confident also meant being arrogant.
Even when targeted, Littlefinger would rather believe he had simply been unlucky and caught in the crossfire.
Who could have guessed that someone had seen through everything?
Joffrey led his younger brother and sister out of the dining hall.
A single slanderous letter was nothing compared to a proper prince who was about to become family with them through marriage.