Small Council Meeting. Also the Mannis finally arrives~
-x-X-x-
Yet again, they find themselves waiting for the Grandmaester to make his way to the Small Council Chambers. Yet again, Jon finds himself considering whether it might be time to send another letter to the Citadel and see if they would finally retire Pycelle and send someone younger to replace him.
The man had been Grandmaester for over forty years now and served more Kings than most people alive had ever even seen. Whether his service was worthwhile or not was debatable, but there was no denying that he'd been around for a long time. Too long.
Unfortunately, given the current climate, Jon knew he couldn't waste time trying to get Pycelle replaced at the moment. Maybe after this whole mess with Renly was handled… but maybe not even then. After all, once Renly was dealt with, there would be a dozen other things the Realm had to handle first before they tried to force the Citadel to make any kind of decision on a reasonable time table.
As the aging Grandmaester finally makes it to his seat, Jon looks around the room, huffing to himself. They were still missing a Lord Commander of the Kingsguard as well as a Master of Laws. To be fair, the Kingsguard was still reduced to just two men after all the deaths, both of whom were effectively assigned to the Queen and Princess full time at the moment.
At least Stannis Baratheon had finally arrived in King's Landing. The stoic and ever-frowning man is in his seat at the table, looking like he'd rather be continuing his rallying the Royal Fleet at the moment rather than sitting here.
Knowing full well that Stannis wouldn't want him to make a big deal about his presence, Jon just gives the Master of Ships a single nod, which he returns.
As for the position of Master of Laws… the position should probably have been refilled by now, but there'd simply been no time with everything that was going on. At least Varys, Petyr, and Pycelle are all in attendance each time he calls a meeting. Small mercies, that.
"… Let's talk good news first. As of today, it is believed that the last of the wildfire caches left behind by the Mad King have been removed from King's Landing. I think we can all rest a little easier now, no longer having to wonder if there might be green flames just lying in wait beneath our feet."
There are nods from the other four men at that, the relief in the air palpable. Stannis perhaps a little bit less so given he'd been gone for so long, but he'd still lived in the city for most of the past two decades. After a moment of silent appreciation, Jon continues on.
"Furthermore, the Lords of the Crownlands have finished rallying and now wait at Hayford Castle for further orders. They can be to King's Landing within hours if we call for them."
Of course, one might wonder why they hadn't called for them yet… but the answer there was simple. The Crownlands were not a true Kingdom, and thus did not have a true Kingdom's strength. The amount of men gathered at Hayford Castle numbered just over ten thousand… but while that was a paltry sum compared to the numbers that some of the Kingdoms could field, it was still ten thousand more mouths to feed than King's Landing was ready for.
Jon had done what he could to prepare as soon as Renly's first letter had arrived and the true depth of his treachery was understood. King's Landing had been on rations for weeks at this point, and they'd been stockpiling what food they could in preparation for a siege.
More and more, it was looking like they would need it… because the ten thousand men of the Crownlands currently garrisoning at Hayford Castle would not be nearly enough to fight off the combined forces that the Stormlands and the Reach were said to have gathering in the Kingswood. As well…
"From what our Master of Ships has told me, the Royal Fleet is also coming together quite swiftly and more ships are being built to reinforce it as fast as possible, yes?"
Stannis simply nods his head.
"Indeed. I have rallied my vassals on the Narrow Seas and had them turn their able-bodied smallfolk to either crewing or construction. We will have naval superiority over my treacherous younger brother if nothing else."
"Oh? What about the Redwyne Fleet? Are you not worried at all?"
Baelish cutting in and asking such an antagonistic question makes Jon want to sigh. But at the same time, it IS a question they need an answer to. That's something even Stannis himself seems to understand as he scowls at the Master of Coin across the table.
"… It will take time for House Redwyne to get their fleet mobilized and all the way from the Arbor to here. As well, while the Stormlands have harbors, they are not as large as the Arbor and will not be suited for resupplying and repairing a fleet as large as the Redwyne Fleet. Furthermore, my foolish younger brother has rushed things to such an extent that I'm not sure if the vast majority of the Redwyne Fleet has even left the Arbor yet. When they do finally come, the Royal Fleet will be ready."
Relieving to say the least, but Jon can't help his shoulders slumping slightly.
"Unfortunately, that may be where the good news ends. While my men in the Vale and Lord Tully's forces in the Riverlands expect to meet at Darry soon enough… the North will be further behind them due to the sheer distance involved. And the less said about the Westerlands, the better."
That was a matter of no small amount of frustration to their young King, all things considered. Frankly, Jon didn't understand it. He'd seen some of the letters Cersei had written to her father. He'd sent them by raven himself, even. And from what he'd heard, Tywin Lannister WAS calling his levies and gathering them together at Lannisport.
However, there was simply no denying that the Old Lion was dragging his feet. It reminded Jon of the last time around, with Robert's Rebellion. Tywin had taken his time there too, calling up his banners, marshaling his armies, and marching on King's Landing. To reinforce it? Some certainly believed that, but in the end he'd been the one to take and sack the city before Robert, Jon, and the other Rebel Lords could even arrive.
The difference this time around was that the Lannister Lord's daughter and granddaughter were both in the city. One would think, all things considered, that Tywin would have been considered their safety of the utmost importance and moved faster to help them.
Admittedly, even if he had… well, the Lannister Armies alone, even reinforced by the forces from the Crownlands, would not have been able to defeat the combined armies of the Stormlands and the Reach in open combat. However, they could have held them off long enough for the Vale, Riverlands, and even the North to eventually arrive and put an end to this farce.
Tywin Lannister delaying his departure from Lannisport and taking his time could quite literally mean the difference between victory or defeat, though Jon would be damned if he didn't do everything in his power to make sure that wasn't true.
Clearing his throat, Varys speaks up with an apologetic smile.
"To add onto the bad news… my little birds whisper that Renly Baratheon and Mace Tyrell's forces have made contact in the Kingswood at this point. They will be upon the city any day now."
Jon grunts, giving the Spymaster a nod. Yes, what scouts they'd sent into the Kingswood had reported the same thing… those who had managed to come back alive anyways. Unfortunately, they'd all but lost control of those woods at this point. The last confirmed news that Jon had heard was of the massive caravans the Reach used to transport their armies reaching the edge of the woods from their end of things.
"… It might be worth considering whether we can hold the city at all at this point. Perhaps a retreat North would allow for us to meet up with the armies forming there. Then, we could come back and retake the city with overwhelming numbers."
Lord Baelish's suggestion hangs in the air for a long moment, silence falling as the other men at the table all pause to look at him. Stannis in particular looks disgusted with Petyr's perceived cowardice. But the truth is… his idea isn't a bad one on the face of it. However, when one looks just a layer beneath the surface, it quickly becomes untenable.
Jon shakes his head with a sigh.
"No. Logically, your plan is a good one Lord Baelish. But the Lords of Westeros are not always logical creatures. Losing King's Landing and the Iron Throne would shake the confidence that the Lords of the Great Houses have in our new King. Allowing Renly to take the city would be ceding him far too much ground. We would be giving him legitimacy he does not deserve."
Not to mention, it might be exactly the sort of thing that would cause Tywin to doubt their ability to deal with these traitors. So far, this technically wasn't much of a war yet. There'd been no battles and the only blood shed at this point was nameless scouts lost in the Kingswood.
But fleeing from King's Landing would be like losing a battle that they didn't even try to fight. It would give Renly the sort of victory he needed to push forward his claim on the crown. And of course, it would give him the Iron Throne.
None of that could be allowed to happen, but most importantly of all… Jon knew that Axel would never go for it. Even disregarding what the Lords of Westeros might think of him for what would appear to be cowardly rather than smart, the young King would rather throw himself at Renly's army alone than flee in the opposite direction.
Indeed, Jon had found himself forced to talk Axel out of any… unannounced trips into the Kingswood multiple times at this point. He'd made the mistake of letting the King know about the deaths of their first scouts, and ever since Axel had been gnashing his teeth over those men dying for him. They'd died in his place, at least in his eyes.
"No… fleeing is out of the question. This is King's Landing. The capital of the Seven Kingdoms and the heart of Westeros. We will make our stand here and-!"
Before he can finish his sentence, the door to the Small Council Chambers suddenly opens, a young guardsman completely out of breath rushing into the room. There's some alarm from the others, even as Jon Arryn rises to his feet.
"What is the meaning of this intrusion? Report!"
Catching his breath after a moment, the young man swallows thickly and lifts his head, showing wide, fearful eyes.
"T-They're here, milord. The Stormlanders, the Reach… t-they're here!"
… Damn.
-x-X-x-
The Small Council ends rather quickly after that, which is good because Petyr has so many things to do he doesn't even know where to begin. He had not expected Renly's forces to arrive quite so soon. In truth, he'd thought he had a few more days before they would come pouring out of the Kingswood.
But no, they were here… and they were quickly moving to surround the city and cut off all traffic. King's Landing was officially under siege.
This in and of itself was not necessarily a bad thing. Petyr had been preparing for a siege for weeks now. In fact, in one way, it was a very good thing indeed. Before Robert's death, the primary way in which Petyr had siphoned funds from the Royal Treasury was via the grandiose banquets, feasts, parties, and tourneys that the fat King had insisted on hosting.
After Robert's death, all of that had stopped… but paying for the removal of all those wildfire caches underneath King's Landing had made for an excellent way to continue siphoning more coin for himself out of the Red Keep's coffers. After all, it was so very easy to pay a cleanup crew one sum, say he'd paid them another larger sum, and pocket the difference for himself. Especially since he was in charge of the books.
Now with the wildfire caches removed however, Petyr was once more in need of a suitable distraction to keep Jon from looking too closely at said books. This siege would be perfect for that, as would the opportunities it brought with it.
In truth, he had known Lord Arryn would reject his proposal that they run away. After all, it was the most obvious and rational choice at this point. Sure, they had King's Landing… but they didn't have the men to hold it. Renly did. Giving it to him, going and joining up with their allies up North, and then coming and taking it back… well, it just made sense.
Which was exactly why Petyr knew Jon wouldn't go for it. And the man even understood that it was a good idea, heh, just as he understood all the reasons it was also a bad idea. It was almost enough to make Petyr respect the Hand of the King. Almost.
Regardless, this siege might be a little bit ahead of schedule, but Petyr would be damned if he wasn't going to still take advantage of it as much as possible. And that meant getting a move on, because those opportunities weren't going to seize themselves.
-x-X-x-
Varys watches on as Littlefinger scurries out of the Red Keep like a rat fleeing a sinking ship. Or maybe more like a rat trying to sell that sinking ship to some unsuspecting rube. His so-called rival was almost certainly going to do everything he could to make coin off of this siege. Meanwhile, Varys… still isn't entirely sure what side he's on.
Oh, he's more on Axel's side than Renly's at the moment, of course. All of his previous reasons for not wanting Renly as King continued to remain true. Meanwhile, studying Axel Baratheon over these last several weeks had been… interesting to say the least.
So far, the young man was a better King than his father had been. Some might say that wasn't a very high bar to clear, but given Axel's youth and inexperience, it was still impressive. That didn't mean he wasn't without his faults though. The sexual relationship with Cersei Lannister was… most definitely not advisable. It might not be quite as bad as whoring and drinking the nights away like Robert had done, but it was still pretty up there.
Axel had most definitely inherited Robert's love for fine women at a minimum.
There was also his strength of arms. Many would be aghast if they ever found out that Varys considered Axel's immense strength and speed to be a flaw… but in his eyes, it was highly suspicious. Certainly, the young King did his best to hide his power, to merely come across as an exceptionally talented young warrior. But Varys knew better.
The claim, of course, was that he was blessed by the Seven. The problem with that was a matter of faith, Varys supposed. On the one hand, he knew for a fact that magic was real. On the other hand… he'd spent the last thirty years on Westeros, serving under three different Kings. And not once in all that time had Varys seen a single sign that the Seven Who Are One were real.
He'd seen no miracles; he'd seen no awe-inspiring events. As far as he was concerned, the Faith of the Seven was built upon a shared belief in certain values… the gods themselves had never been very relevant, at least from Varys' perspective.
Even if the Seven had blessed Axel with inhuman strength, speed, and constitution… that raised another question. Why? For what reason or purpose would the Seven lift up Robert Baratheon's bastard son in such a way?
No… magic seemed more likely. The question then became if Axel was the practitioner… or the victim. This too might seem strange to anyone else if they could hear Varys' thoughts. How could someone like Axel be a victim?
But Varys knew better. And so far, their young King hadn't done a single thing to make him seem like a sorcerer. There had been no profane rituals, no blood sacrifices beneath the Red Keep, nothing. Prisoners hadn't gone missing from the Black Cells, and their new King hadn't performed a single act of magic beyond his unnatural physical capabilities.
In a lot of ways, Varys wanted to like Axel Baratheon. If this whole mess with Renly Baratheon could be handled without too much death, then maybe Axel could even be the King that Westeros deserved.
… But Varys refused to serve a sorcerer. So above all else, he would find out the secret to Axel Baratheon's power. One way or another.
-x-X-x-
A/N: Renly's forces are here and Jon has Axel scared of showing his true nature. Not to worry though everyone, Axel will have a plan for just how he's going to deal with Renly by the end of next chapter!
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-x-X-x-
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Axel finds the solution to all of his problems in the most unlikely of places. From the mouth of Cersei Lannister.
-x-X-x-
"King's Landing is starving and your father continues to drag his feet!"
Cersei isn't surprised when Axel comes barging into her quarters with a snarl on his face and hands clenched into fists at his sides. A consequence of becoming intimate with the young King was that there wasn't any real distance between them anymore. There couldn't be if she wanted him to think she was entirely on his side.
Of course, her father was making that rather difficult for her, all things considered. It had been over a week now since Renly Baratheon and his army had arrived outside of King's Landing and laid siege to the city. To say that the whole of the city was starving would be something of an overstatement though.
Between Lord Arryn's prescient rationing and the unfortunate intervention of one Stannis Baratheon turning the Royal Fleet towards supplying King's Landing by sea, the city was only just starting to feel the bite at this point. House Redwyne should have been blockading the city, but Renly had rushed to start the siege by land as early as possible and that left the Redwyne Fleet trailing behind.
Which was quite frustrating for Cersei, because it made it all the harder for her to turn Axel against his other uncle when Stannis was currently doing everything he could to support Axel's hold over the Iron Throne.
Still, the Queen Dowager was nothing if not adaptable.
"Peace, Your Majesty. I've recently received word from my father… the situation isn't as clear cut as it might seem."
Moving over to Axel, Cersei places a calming hand on his arm and with a disarming smile plastered across her face, she guides him over to a nearby chair, gently directing him to sit down. For a moment the King looks mulish… but finally, he sits. It doesn't stop him from glaring up at her though.
"We've received no word. What could Lord Lannister have to say to you that he couldn't say to his King?"
Smiling softly, Cersei runs her hands down Axel's front, reaching his crotch. There, she swiftly undoes his breeches and pulls out his cock, wrapping her fingers around his shaft and beginning to stroke it. Axel isn't so easily placated though, barely grunting as he continues to stare her down.
"I'm afraid it's quite embarrassing for our House. And my father is quite the prideful man. This isn't the kind of thing that he would want anyone outside of House Lannister to find out about… but you deserve to know all the same."
Axel narrows his eyes, but in a way that shows he's intrigued, not suspicious. Cersei can tell he's hanging off her every word as she lets out a sigh and shrugs… a calculated motion that causes her barely covered breasts to bounce within the confines of her open gown.
"My father is dealing with sabotage, Your Majesty. No doubt Renly has sent offers to all the Lords of the Westerlands telling them that if they can slow my father down, then he will promote them above House Lannister if he takes the throne."
Axel grunts, while Cersei strokes up and down his cock, breathing in slowly for a moment before continuing.
"… This rebellion among my father's vassals is insidious and cloaked in shadow, and it has taken my father all his wits and cunning to find and stamp out the traitors. That is why House Lannister has moved so slowly to gather its forces. But rest assured, once they're finally able to set out, once they arrive… they will be the finest army you could possibly hope for."
All lies, of course. Cersei is making it all up on the spot, though if her father knows what's good for him, he'll go along with it if needed when all is said and done. But the truth is, the letter she'd received from Tywin had said nothing about sabotage or traitors.
Instead, the letter that had reached her hands and then burned merrily in her fireplace had been quite clear about things. Tywin was doing his best to play both sides, to try and make sure that it was House Lannister and the Westerlands who came out on top no matter who won, just as he'd done during Robert's Rebellion over twenty years ago.
Her father had also confided in Cersei that Renly had promised no harm would come to her or Myrcella if he did manage to take the city, so by doing nothing and merely feigning loyalty to Axel, her father truly was coming out ahead, like always.
Of course, Cersei could read between the lines. This was at least partially punishment for her refusal to take Myrcella and run back before Axel's coronation. Tywin had ordered her to do so, to get them out of harm's way, but Cersei had ignored that order. Now he punished her by making it seem like she couldn't keep her promises.
Not to mention Jaime's death… Tywin would never allow Tyrion to inherit, and Cersei knew that her father had long wanted to find a way to extract Jaime from the Kingsguard so he could become Heir to Casterly Rock once more. Instead, he would now have to rely on her or Myrcella to get him a proper heir that he could set Tyrion aside for. He wanted her scared so that Cersei would come running to him with Myrcella by her side, should the opportunity present itself.
No matter. As previously mentioned, Cersei was nothing if not adaptable. And she easily saw through her father's schemes. Of course, she doesn't want Axel to think too hard about what she'd just said regarding sabotage in the Westerlands. Best to distract him before he could spend too much time ruminating over her words.
That's why, without any further hesitation, Cersei shucks her gown off, letting it drop to the floor behind her and climbing right into the young King's lap. Surprised but not really caught off guard, Axel's hands immediately go to Cersei's ass, gripping and squeezing her buttocks as she positions herself above his cock.
Smiling coyly down at him, the Queen Dowager guides his throbbing member up inside of her and slowly sinks down upon the sizable shaft, moaning heartily all the while. He's as big as ever, his hot pulsating prick scraping against her insides and stretching out her walls in all the right ways. Cersei shivers in very real delight, even as she tosses her head back in exaggerated ecstasy.
There's no denying that Axel is everything Robert should have and could have been to her, at least physically. Back in the day, when she was still young and newly Queen, Robert had been handsome enough in her eyes. He was no Rhaegar, but that was fine.
Except then it wasn't. Robert turned out to be nothing but a whoremonger and a drunkard, losing himself in other women and the drink practically as soon as they were married. Cersei knew why, of course. He couldn't see past the fact that she wasn't the Stark Bitch he was originally betrothed to. It killed any chance of happiness they might have had together in the end.
Axel was very different from Robert in that regard. He was neither a drunk nor a whoremonger. He was still a man, meaning that Cersei had not struggled one bit in leading him around by his very large prick, but as far as she was aware, he had yet to take a single other woman to bed aside from her.
Given he was still an unmarried King, that sort of restraint was unheard of. If only he wasn't a Baratheon. If only he and she had been born at different times. If only he'd been her first husband instead of Robert…
As she bounces up and down on his cock, Axel Baratheon leans forward and takes one of her tits in his mouth, his teeth nibbling down on the nipple in particular. Tossing her head back, Cersei cries out again, even as she clings to his shoulders and gyrates her hips.
Yes, Axel was much better than Robert had ever been to her. Not that it would stop her from eventually finding a way to kill him though. This… attraction that she'd developed to the young King was purely physical. She still hated him with all her heart. Him… and his uncles too. Cersei would kill the remaining male members of House Baratheon even if it was the last thing she did. There was a blood debt owed to her for the deaths of her sons and Cersei would see it paid in full.
The problem, of course, was how best to make it happen. She had nearly everyone right where she wanted them. Renly Baratheon was at the gates of King's Landing, a traitor trying to wash away the treason he'd committed through the age old method of winning. After all, so long as you won, it didn't matter HOW you won. That was a rule as ancient as history was long.
Unfortunately, they were on a bit of a time crunch. King's Landing was suffering, but not nearly enough. The smallfolk down in Flea Bottom were starving, but they were always starving. Time was on Axel's side, even if he didn't really seem capable of accepting or understanding that fact.
If Renly couldn't take the city soon, then the forces of the Vale, Riverlands, and North would make it to King's Landing. And as soon as her father heard they were heading South, he would almost certainly pick up the pace as well and pick the winning side, which at that point would likely be Axel's.
But if Axel won… Cersei wasn't quite sure how she would convince him to kill Stannis for her on top of Renly. However, if Renly were to win, then the likelihood of Stannis bending the knee to his usurper of a little brother was next to none.
Bouncing up and down on Axel's lap, moaning throatily as he sucks at her teats while gripping her ass firmly, Cersei realizes that she needs… she needs Renly to win. She needs him to kill Axel for her so that he will also kill Stannis. And then, she can have Renly killed at her leisure.
It's an audacious plan perhaps, but it's the best one Cersei has. And while she'll certainly miss Axel's big fat cock and youthful enthusiasm, her need for revenge will accept nothing less than the best plan she can come up with.
The question then becomes… how to go about ensuring that Renly wins and takes the city before Axel's allies come South? Finding a way to let Renly's forces into the city seemed the most obvious option, but it came with too many risks, specifically to herself and Myrcella.
Sure, Renly had promised her father that he wouldn't let any harm come to them, but Cersei knew all too well what could happen to noblewomen during the chaos of a sacking. Even to Princesses and Queens. She would not let herself and Myrcella be the next Elia and Rhaenys.
No, she needed a way to convince Axel to leave the city and die to Renly outside so that the Lord of Storm's End could be let in without any sort of pitched conflict happening within the city itself. Nice and tidy, that would be for the best.
But how? How would she- and then it hits her. Specifically, the orgasm hits her. Cersei cries out, tossing her head back and shuddering as she climaxes all over Axel's cock. Her whimpering moans are muffled by her shoving her face into the crook of his neck, mewling all the while from how sensitive she feels down below, his member still buried inside of her.
And then, in that moment, as she's coming down from the buildup of pleasure, the solution to all of her problems actually comes to mind. Gasping, Cersei shoots up, her eyes widening as she looks down at a blinking Axel. She almost starts to smile, but she manages to hide her grin and look somber instead.
"… You're right, my King. The people of King's Landing are starving. And I know a man like you is a man of action. You can't sit easily and just wait Renly out, can you? It's simply not in your blood."
Axel grits his teeth and shakes his head.
"No. Jon keeps saying we'll be fine, that we have enough food between the rationing and the Royal Fleet's deliveries to last until our allies arrive… but I know that's not entirely true. Those of us here in the Red Keep might be okay, but others in the city are far less fortunate. And it's only going to get worse before it gets better once the Redwyne Fleet has arrived on this side of Westeros in full…"
Smiling now, Cersei gyrates her hips as she runs her fingers along Axel's chiseled jaw. He truly is far too handsome for words. It's almost unfortunate that she's about to trick him into walking a path that will lead right to his own death.
"What if there was a way for you to end all of this sooner rather than later? What if there was a way to settle this without letting the people of King's Landing starve… a way to handle things without there being any bloodshed, any battles. Or rather... a small amount of bloodshed. A single battle between two very small groups of men."
Blinking up at her, Axel furrows his brow.
"… What are you talking about?"
Cersei finally allows herself a coy, sultry little smile.
"Have you ever heard of a Trial by the Seven, my King?"
Frowning, Axel shakes his head.
"I can't say I have…"
Ugh, of course not. He'd been raised a bastard after all. Not letting her annoyance show on her face, Cersei keeps smiling.
"Well, have you heard of Trial by Combat?"
That, at least, causes Axel to slowly nod his head.
"Aye. Any noble or knight who has been accused of a crime can demand a trial by combat at any time, where they or their Champion will fight another to allow the gods to determine the guilt or innocence of the accused."
Heh, he sounds as though he's reciting that from memory. He probably is. Grinning toothily, Cersei drapes her arms over Axel's shoulders and leans in close.
"Well, Your Majesty… a Trial by the Seven is much the same, except it's seven champions versus seven champions. It's considerably rarer, but also considerably more sacrosanct, as our ancestors among the Andals believed that such a battle honored the Seven Who Are One and made them more likely to ensure that those who deserved to win did so. It is often considered to be above even nobility… in fact, some say only those of royal blood can call for a Trial by the Seven."
Licking her lips, Cersei looks right into Axel's eyes. She's heard tales of his martial prowess. He's spent every day since becoming King sparring in the Red Keep's training yard. This, she knew, would appeal to him more than anything.
"Challenge Renly to a Trial by the Seven, Your Grace. If he doesn't accept, his own vassals will begin to think of him as nothing more than a coward. As well, time is on your side… he will agree, because it is the best shot he has for taking King's Landing before the other Lords and their armies arrive to put a stop to his warmongering."
For a long moment, Axel is quiet and Cersei fears she might have overstepped. Admittedly, she recognizes that she's going out on a limb here. If Axel were wiser to her tricks, he would almost certainly realize she's manipulating him and doesn't have his best interests at heart.
"You're right."
Fortunately, he's quite foolish when it comes to a beautiful woman. Cersei lets out a giggling little yelp when Axel suddenly pulls her off of his cock without even reaching his own release. Before he can stand, she places a hand on his chest and sinks to her knees between his legs.
"Hold, my King. At least let me take care of this before you go running off to challenge your uncle to a fight to the death~"
Oral sex is not something Cersei enjoyed doing that much. She preferred to be on the receiving end, rather than giving. But in this case, she's in a good enough mood to take care of Axel with her mouth, leaning forward to wrap her lips around his cock and begin sucking him the rest of the way to his release.
She did so love it when a plan came together, after all.
-x-X-x-
A/N: Cersei really does think she's the most brilliant woman to ever live. But hey, stopped clocks and all that.
Feedback is GREATLY appreciated, every comment helps me shape the story with a Daily Free Write like this one!
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-x-X-x-
Axel summons his Small Council to hear their advice… but really, he's already made up his mind.
-x-X-x-
Axel is trying his damnedest to be a better king than his father was, but one way in which he found himself mimicking Robert was the fact that he had no love for Small Council Meetings. As such, he knows it surprises all of them, including Jon, when he calls for such a meeting of his own initiative.
Sitting at the head of the table, he waits until everyone is seated before dropping the announcement on the lot of them.
"I intend to challenge my uncle Renly to a Trial by the Seven. I've already brought the idea to the High Septon to make sure that he and the Faith would be on board with such a thing and he was extremely supportive. However, I will not do anything without at least hearing the advice of my Small Council first. You have until the end of this meeting to convince me that this is a bad idea."
Its heavy handed and Axel knows it. Especially since everyone in this room probably knows that he barely gives two shits about the opinion of most of the men on his Small Council. Pycelle was a doddering old fool who should have been replaced ages ago, Baelish was a weaselly penny pincher, and Varys was only as good as the information he rarely seemed to manage to bring to the table.
In truth, the only two men Axel actually wants to advise him in this moment are Jon as his Hand and Stannis as his Master of Ships. No doubt the others all recognize this, because they all look between the two men for a moment before settling on the Lord of the Vale and quietly waiting for him to speak first.
Silence reigns as a result, because poor Jon Arryn looks absolutely gobsmacked by Axel's declaration.
"A Trial by the Seven… Axel… my King, that would be the height of foolishness! I know it may not look like it, but we have the advantage right now! Despite certain Lords dragging their feet, despite the unfortunate geography of the situation, we are nevertheless in a winning position! It would be foolish for us to give that up!"
The thing is… Axel knows that. Just as he knows Cersei Lannister doesn't have his best intentions at heart. He's not an idiot. Sure, he's weak to a pretty face and weaker still to a beautiful body, but he can tell when he's being manipulated. Jon himself has told Axel that Cersei wasn't trustworthy, and while she has yet to prove to be as much of a snake as the Lord of the Eyrie claimed, he trusts his Hand more than he trusts his bedwarmer.
… However, just because Cersei is manipulating him for some selfish reason Axel doesn't quite comprehend yet does not mean this is a bad idea. Fixing Jon with a look, Axel tries to convey his feelings to the older man.
"I travel this city every day, as you well know. I journey to the Great Sept of Baelor each morning to pray before the Seven and ask for their guidance. When I leave, I tend to take unconventional routes back to the Red Keep. To let myself see the city as it truly is."
Gesturing to the window behind him, through which the whole of King's Landing sprawls into the distance, Axel growls.
"I've seen the smallfolk starving in the streets already! If this is what a winning position looks like, I don't want to ever see what it looks like to lose, Jon!"
His Hand grimaces but nevertheless persists.
"… There are over five hundred thousand people in this city, Your Majesty. There will always be those who are worse off. Starving, even. Especially during a siege. But Lord Stannis has made sure we've continued to retrieve shipments of foodstuffs by sea. Even with the Redwyne Fleet finally arriving to start to harrying our ships, we're doing alright. We have enough to survive this siege, at least until our allies can make their way down the Kingsroad and reinforce the Crownlands army waiting at Hayford Castle."
The thing is, Axel can tell that it pains Jon just as much as him. The suffering of the smallfolk that is. But unlike Axel, his Hand has been alive for a long time. He's seen too much, becoming inured to the grief. He's had to weigh the cost of different types of lives against one another one too many times and its made him jaded.
Axel respected Jon's opinion, but he would sooner march out alone and take on Renly's entire army by himself than he would allow the current state of affairs to continue. At least this Trial by the Seven offered him the possibility of concealing his true nature a little while longer.
"We'll survive Jon. But how many smallfolk must die just so I can continue hiding behind these walls like a coward? How many babies must wither away, leaving their mothers in despair? How many mothers and fathers must starve, leaving their children orphaned?"
Silence falls when Jon opens his mouth but can't seem to find the words. After a moment, Axel looks to Stannis next.
The Master of Ships has done as much for his reign so far as Jon in Axel's mind. Not only has he stayed loyal where Axel's other uncle turned treacherous, he's also been the city's only source of new food throughout this siege.
But the recent arrival of the Redwyne Fleet in the Narrow Sea might soon change that, even if Stannis is a proud man and not the type who likes to admit defeat, let alone a disadvantageous situation. So in the end, his response is to be expected.
"… You risk much by offering Renly a way out, Your Majesty."
His disapproval evident in his tone, Stannis has a frown on his face as he sits there at the table. Unlike Jon, he doesn't know what Axel is capable of. He doesn't know that this Trial would only end one way… in Axel's favor. Still that ignorance has allowed Axel to think up a way of hopefully placating him.
"Well… to be fair, all I'd be doing is sacrificing my own claim to the crown. If I lose, then you become the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, not Renly. Even if I have to take the Black, then the Vale, the North, and the Riverlands should still come to your aid and make sure you take your place as King."
"They will, I'll make sure of it."
Jon's words seem to give Stannis some pause, the Master of Ships looking as surprised as Axel has ever seen him. Even Axel is a little caught off guard by how quickly the older man backs him up. Finally though, Stannis simply inclines his head in acceptance and falls quiet.
Looking at the others sitting quietly at the table, Axel waves his hand in an almost dismissive gesture.
"Speak your minds."
Of the other three men, Pycelle speaks up first, talking in his stumbling, stuttering manner.
"W-Well Your Grace… it would seem to me that you have your h-heart set on this. And if the High Septon believes it to be a worthy endeavor…"
Pycelle trails off for a moment, in that way of his. Then, he seems to come back to himself, smiling what he probably thinks is a grandfatherly smile.
"I am sure the Seven Who Are One will b-bless the worthiest side of such a Trial."
Empty platitudes at best, but then Axel expected nothing less from the ancient Grandmaester. Though he doesn't fail to notice that Pycelle makes no mention of Axel himself being the worthiest of the two sides. Old man is hedging his bets, isn't he?
No matter. Axel sweeps his gaze to Varys and Baelish next. Smiling rather smarmily, the Master of the Coin speaks first.
"There is much to be said about ending this war as swiftly as possible, Your Majesty. It seems you've found the best way to go about that. I can find no fault in relying on such an ancient tradition."
Hmph. Lord Baelish makes all the proper noises, saying all the right things… and yet, every time Axel hears the other man speak, it sounds less and less sincere. Does he actually believe the things he's saying? Or has he just become a master at saying what he believes others want to hear?
Lord Varys, meanwhile, clears his throat.
"Ahem. The Lord Hand is right; it should be pointed out. Renly Baratheon is already living on borrowed time. We have the supplies to outlast this siege while the armies of the Vale, the Riverlands, and the North make their way down to us. While House Redwyne might start to cut us off at sea, one could argue that they are too little too late. However, there is some question of how things would go from there."
Axel raises an eyebrow, gesturing for Varys to continue. The Spider does so with a small apologetic smile.
"Tywin Lannister has sworn fealty to you but takes his time putting action to his words. There is still a possibility that the Lannister Armies might join forces with the Reach and the Stormlands when they finally arrive at King's Landing, putting things on a more… even footing. Three Kingdoms against three, and with the more populous, prosperous Kingdoms arrayed against us."
Grandmaester Pycelle sputters.
"P-Preposterous! The Lord of House Lannister would not side against our young King under any circumstances, not after swearing loyalty! What a ridiculous assertion!"
His small smile remaining on his face, Varys just hums as he looks between Pycelle and Axel.
"Perhaps not. But it's about the implication, isn't it?"
Blinking, Axel frowns in confusion.
"… The implication?"
Nodding, Varys shrugs.
"Indeed, my young King. If we wait for all the Great Houses and their armies to finally reach King's Landing, then the most advantageous position will go to Lord Tywin. Rather than having bled his army via protecting against the siege by arriving earlier, he will instead arrive just in time to play Kingmaker… as he's done once before."
Pycelle lets out another gasp of outrage, but Axel holds up a hand, cutting the Grandmaester off. Truth be told, he found Varys' words more compelling than he would have thought. And now he's irritated, because while he had just been thinking that he wasn't letting Cersei's manipulations get to him… he actually had believed her when she'd said that her father sent a letter speaking of sabotage and treachery in his lands.
Was that a bold-faced lie? Tch.
Varys just dips his head.
"To get to my point, Your Grace… all of this is to say that there is wisdom in ending things before Lord Tywin is allowed such an advantageous position. A Trial by the Seven is one such route to doing so, even if waiting for our allies from the North might ultimately be… safer. And as you've already pointed out, even if you were to fail, Lord Stannis would still have the most prominent claim to the throne."
… Perhaps he'd misjudged his Master of Whispers. Smiling at the bald man now, Axel nods.
"Thank you, Lord Varys. I have now received all of your counsel. Leave us so that I might speak with my Lord Hand alone for a moment."
Pycelle, Baelish, and Varys all look like they each might want to stay a little while longer. But Axel's tone is final and Stannis doesn't hesitate to rise and begin walking out of the room, causing the other three men to stand up and follow after him as well.
Soon, it's just Axel and Jon sitting at the table. Looking at his Hand, Axel raises an eyebrow. He feels a little guilty for blindsiding Jon with this. But at the same time…
"Do you think I'll lose?"
Jon flinches at that, inhaling sharply. Because they both know the answer to that question… no. No, Axel will not lose. Not in a Trial by the Seven. After taking a moment to let out a long, shuddering breath, the older man fixes him with a hard gaze.
"No, I don't. But do you think you can win without giving too much away?"
Axel grins. Jon is coming around; he can feel it.
"Yes, I do. I've been practicing with the knights in the Red Keep's yard every single day since I was crowned King. I've been training myself as much as I've been training them. I've been learning how to hold back just enough to not seem… too unnatural."
Jon huffs.
"You've only partially succeeded at that, Axel. Rumors abound about your martial prowess. Perhaps if you wanted not to seem unnatural, you shouldn't have begun regularly trouncing five fully armored knights at a time."
That… Axel's grin drops, replaced by a frown. He'd needed the challenge, and even then five armed men in full armor hadn't been much of one.
"… I'll hold back even further in the Trial. Seven versus Seven… I'll only double up on my opponents if I absolutely have to, otherwise I'll just take on one at a time and deal with them carefully."
Humming for a moment, Jon seems to think before coming to another question.
"And where will these six brave men fighting alongside you come from? The Kingsguard is still vastly depleted. Need I remind you that you have yet to name a single new brother to the Order meant to safeguard your life."
Axel just rolls his eyes at that.
"You and I both know I don't need Kingsguard protecting me day and night. I'm more than capable of protecting myself. Still… the Trial would be the perfect time to handle some tryouts, would it not? Ser Oakheart and Ser Trant will stay out of things and continue guarding the Queen Dowager and the Princess. Meanwhile, I'll pick six of the men I've been sparring with to fight alongside me. If we win, any survivors will be inducted into the Kingsguard. Kills two birds with one stone."
Jon nods, seeming to find no issue with that. Well, almost no issue.
"If you have no casualties, you'll wind up with six new members of the Kingsguard when there are only five vacancies."
This time, Axel resists the urge to roll his eyes. But he can't help the slightly derisive scoff all the same.
"Whoever Renly fields couldn't possibly be so bad that all six of the knights on my side will survive. Especially if I'm holding back and only going after one of my opponents at a time."
Inclining his head to concede the point, Jon grimaces, coming to the final issue at hand.
"… All of this is predicated on your enemy making the utterly foolish decision to accept your challenge in the first place, Axel. Renly Baratheon should be the only one who has an inkling of what you're truly capable of, given those men of his who survived their failed ambush on the Kingsroad and managed to make it back to the city. He fled on their word. How can you be so sure he'll agree to this?"
That was an issue, admittedly. But…
"He'll have to agree. Not just because we'll hold out until our allies reach King's Landing if he doesn't. But also because the High Septon will spread word of the sanctity of this would be Trial. If he rejects it, then all will know he's afraid of being judged by the gods themselves."
Jon still doesn't look entirely convinced. Sighing, Axel shrugs.
"Not to mention, if my uncle has any sort of heart whatsoever, he'll recognize that this is the option that ends this stupid war with the least bloodshed. Maybe it's too much for me to hope for, given he's the one who started this insanity in the first place… but all the same, with how fast he's moved, its clear he was hoping to handle things before it came to open, pitched battle. On the surface, this seems to allow him to avoid that altogether, as well as avoid facing the armies coming for his head."
Finally, the Lord of the Vale sighs and nods his head in defeat.
"Very well. I imagine you wish me to draft up the challenge for you."
Perking up, Axel smiles, unable to help but teasing Jon just a little bit.
"That would be within your duties as my Hand, yes."
When Jon just gives him a long suffering look, Axel chuckles.
"Look, if Renly wins the Trial and proves himself more worthy in the eyes of the Seven, I'm more than willing to give up the throne and take the Black if I survive. And then he'll be facing Stannis and his claim, along with whichever Kingdoms back him. But… I think we both know it won't come to that. We both know who's going to win this damn thing."
Huffing, its Jon's turn to roll his eyes, though Axel note that he does so good-naturedly, fighting to hide a smile.
"Indeed my very young King. Indeed."
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A/N: Will Renly do the smart thing and reject the challenge? But then where will he be if he doesn't accept? Hmmm~
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