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Ever since his wife Joanna Lannister died, Tywin had never smiled again.
After finally settling the score with his old friend and enemy, the Mad King Aerys, he had only one goal left: strip that white cloak off Jaime and make him the rightful heir to Casterly Rock.
But the entire family had the same stubborn-mule temperament.
Cersei refused to leave King's Landing, so Jaime wouldn't either.
And Cersei was addicted to the power she held here—she wouldn't let go for anything.
Joffrey sometimes wondered what it would take to make both of them willingly ride back to Casterly Rock.
"Bring Tywin here!
Make him smile twice!"
It would have been a win for everyone—two, three, maybe four sides at once.
Too bad there was no such easy fix right now.
With the enemy at the gates, Eddard would never execute a commander on the eve of battle. His punishment for Jaime had been deliberately light.
Everyone in the Red Keep knew exactly how the Lannisters operated.
They admitted mistakes by never actually admitting them.
That went for the two brothers.
The sister? She never admitted, never corrected, and never acknowledged a damn thing.
Varys's little birds reported that when Jaime visited the families of the fallen soldiers he took full blame. The second he stepped back into the council chamber the story flipped to "the failure was entirely the enemy's dirty tricks."
Joffrey could only shake his head.
"Spider," he asked, "which Stormlands lords have replied to us?"
Varys answered in that soft, silky voice.
"House Selmy of Harvest Hall can still be won over. After all, our own Ser Barristan personally denounced Lord Renly's lies."
"House Connington's position is… ambiguous. King Robert returned Griffin's Roost to them, but stripped most of their vassals. They say they will turn on Renly the moment battle is joined—if we restore their former holdings."
Plenty of minor lords were secretly sending ravens to King's Landing too.
But feudal oaths and geography kept them from declaring openly.
A low whistle sounded outside the walls. Varys twitched the corner of his mouth.
"Your Grace… Lord Stannis refuses to stay quiet."
Joffrey glanced out the window.
Several trebuchets had been hauled into range and were flinging stones at the walls from a distance. Most crashed harmlessly into the open fields. The few that actually hit barely chipped the mortar.
The defenders answered with their own engines from the battlements, but the accuracy on both sides was equally pathetic.
King's Landing's biggest trebuchets were positioned on the square below the Mud Gate to stop Stannis's fleet, so they were almost useless against these land-based ones.
After Jaime pulled back to the city, Duskendale had held out for exactly three more days before it fell.
House Rykker's men had retreated into their keep and let the pirates loot the market and villages at will.
Once the Crownlands' strongest lord refused to fight, the lesser lords whose household troops had been taken away kept their gates bolted shut.
Stannis marched his army south under cover of night.
He swaggered past half a dozen Crownlands castles and planted a sprawling camp directly north of King's Landing.
Worse, he had detached over a hundred ships to anchor in Blackwater Bay to the east, sealing every sea lane tight.
The south bank of the Blackwater now flew crowned-stag banners as well—Renly's—mirroring the ones above the Red Keep.
Lucky for them, that uncle still hadn't crowned himself.
Otherwise the fight outside King's Landing would have been a genuine war of three kings.
That night Joffrey summoned every noble, knight, and commander inside the city for one final pre-battle rally.
Eddard pulled him aside beforehand and spoke in a low voice.
"Your Grace, whatever you do, do not tell them Stannis outnumbers us. Morale is everything."
"Understood," Joffrey nodded.
You didn't have to say it. I almost forgot.
The hall blazed with candlelight. Everyone took their seats, faces tight.
After a short opening Joffrey opened the floor.
Lord Rykker asked first, voice heavy with worry.
"Ser Jaime fought a fierce battle against Stannis at Duskendale but was forced to withdraw when enemy reinforcements arrived. Your Grace… can you tell us exactly how many men Stannis actually has?"
Joffrey looked around and saw the same question on every face.
"Since you all want the truth, I won't sugarcoat it."
"Counting sailors and soldiers together, Stannis probably has fifteen to twenty thousand men."
A collective murmur of shock swept the hall.
Eddard's head snapped toward him, eyes wide.
But Joffrey wore a small, mysterious smile.
"Before he rebelled, Stannis already had two or three thousand men on Dragonstone. Add his sworn lords and you reach five or six thousand. Over the past half year he hired sellswords from the Free Cities and pirates from the Stepstones—another six thousand. After Duskendale fell he joined forces with the Crackclaw traitors."
"All told, roughly fifteen thousand."
Eddard coughed loudly beside him.
"What about his knights?" someone else asked.
Joffrey's voice stayed calm and strong.
"Stannis claims he has over a thousand knights. That's a lie."
"But he does have around three hundred battle-worthy ones."
"Let me name a few."
"Monford Velaryon, Lord of Driftmark—young, handsome, and capable."
"Adrian Celtigar, Lord of Claw Isle, called the Red Crab. He swings a Valyrian steel axe and fights like a demon."
"Then there's the infamous Salladhor Saan, the slippery Onion Knight, and the red priestess who commands dark magic."
"And so on. All dangerous men."
With every name the mood in the hall grew heavier.
When he mentioned the red woman, someone in the corner made a quick prayer gesture.
Joffrey scanned the room, reading every face.
The tension was perfect.
He slammed his palm on the table.
Bang!
Everyone jumped.
"But when I look at Stannis's great army I see nothing but ants on the ground."
"One flick of the hand and the whole swarm turns to dust!"
They stared at him.
"Ten days ago Stannis spread the lie that my father was dead and plunged the Seven Kingdoms into chaos."
"Now the realm is split three ways, yet we hold five kingdoms plus the Crownlands."
"Only two kingdoms and Dragonstone were tricked by my uncles into rebellion."
"Judge for yourselves."
"King Robert personally decreed me his heir to the Iron Throne. Those two traitors have nothing but empty rumors."
"If I lead the armies of the realm against them, won't their lords throw down their swords and bend the knee the moment they see our banners?"
Some heads began to nod.
Joffrey raised one finger.
"First, most of Stannis's men are sailors. Once they step onto land their fighting strength drops by two or three parts."
He raised a second finger.
"Second, the bulk of his army is made up of pirates and sellswords who joined for loot, not loyalty. Their effectiveness drops another two or three parts."
A third finger went up.
"Third, Stannis has marched hard, day and night. He took Duskendale and immediately raced here to besiege us. His army is already spent—another two or three parts weaker."
"So when you add it up, Stannis's so-called great host is really only worth about one-tenth of its number—roughly two thousand effective fighting men."
Murmurs of discussion filled the hall.
Joffrey clenched his fist.
"And finally—the most important point."
"Stannis just won what he thinks is a great victory at Duskendale. His men are now arrogant and overconfident."
"And proud armies always fall!"