Aerys couldn't stand up to the old woman's haggling. On top of the new lands, he reluctantly added the title Warden of the Realm.
It was one of the three ancient royal titles.
The other two were "King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men" and "Lord of the Seven Kingdoms."
"Warden of the Realm" carried real military weight—it meant supreme command over every army in Westeros.
In the past, a regent could hold it when the king was a child or too weak to rule. A king could also voluntarily surrender the title and grant it to someone else.
Once it was given to Daeron, Aerys no longer had it.
"You are the most generous and benevolent king who ever lived," Olenna gushed, "and an absolutely flawless father."
Daeron: …
After Fish beats Lion, we now have Rose beats Madman.
Even the roses are venomous.
"Warden of the Realm is solid," Daeron thought. "It turns my wartime 'Supreme Commander' title into a permanent military overlordship."
At only thirteen years old, he had just become Warden of the Realm.
Lord Corlton and the rest of the Small Council looked ready to burst into cheers.
With this title, the next step was regency. They could all become kingmakers.
A few days later, the various factions could no longer wait. The Red Keep summoned a Small Council meeting.
Small Council Chamber
Daeron sat alone in black and silver directly across from the king.
To his left, Olenna Tyrell cradled a bouquet of bright red poppies he had given her. She kept sniffing them, clearly delighted by the vivid color.
He had told her the flowers symbolized how sharp and poisonous her tongue was.
She didn't get the joke and loved the Gold Star-quality special blooms. She had already asked twice if she could keep them in her guest room to brighten up the dull Red Keep décor.
"Prince, the meeting is starting," Varys coughed politely, trying to nudge Olenna.
"Good, Lord Varys," Daeron answered cheerfully, making zero move to begin.
Varys sighed inwardly.
The prince now had the legal right to attend Small Council as Warden of the Realm.
Olenna had simply invited herself.
According to her, "My son Mace threw out his back getting out of bed this morning, so this old bag of bones will have to test the waters for him."
Everyone knew the truth: she didn't trust Mace's negotiating skills and had come to hammer out the family's cut herself.
"Your Grace, we should begin," Tywin said calmly, reminding the king who was actually sitting on the throne.
Aerys ignored him. He was too busy under the table, wiggling his feet and admiring his brand-new purple shoes.
The toes curled up elegantly. The material was impossible to identify, but they felt incredible—his headaches had eased, his body no longer felt so frail.
His second son had given them to him, claiming they were a lost treasure of the Dragonlords bought from across the Narrow Sea.
Fairy Shoes: Defense +1, Immunity +6.
"They're comfortable… and they look magnificent," Aerys muttered, "though they do pinch a little."
Good, Daeron thought. They're supposed to.
He had been farming dungeon chests for days. He deliberately picked the tightest pair he could find for dear old Dad.
Those shoes had the highest immunity stat in the entire Stardew system—second only to the Mermaid Boots (+8). Perfect for a king whose mind was slowly unraveling.
Seeing that the king was still reading his shoes instead of the room, Tywin raised his voice. "Your Grace! We need to discuss the disposition of Storm's End!"
Aerys finally looked up, irritated. "Then discuss it. Why are you shouting?"
Tywin's jaw tightened. This man is impossible.
Aerys hid his new shoes and went straight back to his favorite fantasy. "House Baratheon rebelled. Storm's End belongs to the crown, and the entire Stormlands should be absorbed into the royal domain."
"There is no precedent for this in the history of the Seven Kingdoms," Tywin shot back, speaking for the entire nobility.
"The Stormlords have always answered to the Storm Kings of House Durrandon, then to the Baratheons who took their sigil and banners. They have never been directly ruled by the Iron Throne. Forcibly expanding the Crownlands will only provoke them and create new dangers."
The rest of the Small Council—all nobles themselves—nodded vigorously.
"So your solution," Aerys sneered, "is to hand Storm's End to some loyal lord and create a new Lord Paramount?"
He jabbed a finger at Daeron. "By that logic, shouldn't the greatest hero receive it? My boy here?"
Daeron tilted his head. Well… that would be nice.
Tywin gave his student a quick glance. "Prince Daeron already possesses a princely fief that has been expanded twice. He should not receive Storm's End as well."
Translation: I helped make you powerful, but not powerful enough to ditch House Lannister.
The council stayed silent. Some didn't want Daeron growing too strong; others simply feared another rebellion in the Stormlands.
Daeron watched the whole ugly performance with calm eyes.
This is exactly what the Small Council was created for after Aegon's Conquest—an organization for dividing the spoils among the winners.
Olenna took a slow sip of wine and gave him a meaningful look. Your turn, boy.
Daeron tapped the table three times. Every head turned.
"Prince, you have thoughts?" Tywin asked formally.
Daeron looked straight at his father. "Your Grace, my lords."
He stood.
"The rebellion is not over. The Riverlands are in chaos. The North and the Vale are watching us like wolves. We have only just pacified the Stormlands, and already we are fighting like dogs over the carcass in this chamber. How exactly do we plan to finish the other three kingdoms?"
Tywin started to interrupt with the usual "first restore order" speech.
Maester Aemon spoke first, voice soft but carrying. "Let the prince finish."
Daeron didn't hold back.
"I have decided Storm's End will not be granted to any lord yet. I will administer it myself until the rebellion is settled, after which we will vote on a permanent Lord Paramount."
Both Aerys and Tywin went quiet, weighing the implications.
Daeron kept going.
"I will also create three new offices to restore order in the Stormlands."
He walked to the giant map on the wall and pointed.
"First: Master of the Kingswood—a military commander who will patrol the royal forest, command the Red Keep's garrison, manage the royal stables, and suppress poaching."
"Second: Warden of the Coppergate Pass—a crown-appointed official who will establish a customs station at the main gateway into the Stormlands and collect tolls."
"Third: High Warden of the Kingsroad—who will oversee the entire length of the Kingsroad, maintain the roads, ensure security, and collect tolls only from merchants. All revenue will be returned by the Iron Throne to fund road repairs."
"Tolls?" Olenna and Tywin said at the exact same time.
Daeron smiled calmly. "Don't worry. Not a single copper from the smallfolk. Only merchants pay. And every groat collected will be spent on the roads—no skimming."
Olenna shook her head, stunned. "I have never heard of anything so… creative."
Tywin's face had gone thunderous. He saw exactly what his brilliant student was doing.
Daeron never hid it. "The four-kingdom rebellion proved the old feudal system is broken. I am simply introducing new institutions that fit the times."
He looked around the table, purple eyes steady.
"In plain terms, my lords…"
He placed both hands on the table and spoke the sentence that would be remembered for centuries:
"I will command all the armies of the realm."