A dinner party was being held in the banquet hall of The Red Keep to celebrate Prince Joffrey's name day. The long tables were filled with various delicacies, and the air was thick with the scent of food and wine.
Robert Baratheon sat in the main seat, a roasted leg of lamb in one hand and a wine cup in the other.
Cersei sat beside him, wearing a long yellow dress with her long golden hair flowing down. She barely touched the food, only sipping her wine, her eyes occasionally glancing at Robert's side, where Jaime Lannister stood in his white armor, expressionless.
The musicians played a light tune, but the atmosphere of the banquet was somewhat strange. Some nobles whispered to each other, their eyes darting between Joffrey and Robert, their laughter sounding somewhat forced.
Robert gulped down the wine in his hand and suddenly slammed the cup onto the table. "Quiet."
The music stopped abruptly. Everyone looked at the King.
Robert stood up unsteadily and pointed at the nobles. "What are you all talking about? Do you think I'm deaf?"
No one dared to answer. Old Arryn said softly, "Your Grace, you have drunk too much."
"I have drunk too much," Robert roared, "but I am not yet muddled. What is going on with those rumors in the city?"
His eyes glared at Tywin Lannister.
The Old Lion had traveled specifically from the Westerlands to attend his grandson's name day. He sat at the other end of the long table, wearing a dark red formal robe, his face devoid of any expression.
"Your Grace," Tywin spoke, his tone steady. "Gossip is a specialty of King's Landing. If you are concerned, I can send people to investigate the source."
"Investigate?" Robert sneered. "And what then? Chop off the heads of a few commoners to make those people shut up completely?"
He suddenly pointed at Joffrey. The Little Emperor sat beside Cersei, impatiently tearing at a piece of meat on his plate. "Joffrey, stand up."
Joffrey was startled and hurriedly stood up. Emperor Joffrey feared his father most of all.
"Come here," Robert ordered.
Joffrey walked tremulously before him. Robert roughly grabbed his chin and stared at his face.
The hall was so quiet that everyone's breathing could be heard.
Robert stared at Emperor Joffrey for a long time, then released his hand and laughed loudly. "Good, a fine look, just like your mother."
He sat back in his chair, took the wine the steward had prepared, and gulped another cup. But his hand holding the cup was trembling slightly.
The banquet ended early. The nobles left in a hurry, fearing they would be swept into the storm. Robert was helped back to his bedchamber by the Kingsguard, muttering all the way.
Cersei returned to her own room and smashed all the perfume bottles on her dressing table. Jaime slipped in afterward and saw her sitting amidst the shards on the floor, her hand cut and blood dripping onto her dress.
"That stupid pig..." Cersei's voice was trembling. "He is doubting Joffrey."
Jaime closed the door, walked over, and knelt beside Cersei, forcefully tearing off a piece of his cloak to wrap her hand. "Those are just rumors."
"They aren't just rumors." Cersei grabbed his collar. "I know Jon Arryn is investigating. That old fossil, he must know."
Jaime was silent for a moment. "Then make him shut up."
"How? Kill him? He is the hand of the king."
"For you, I will make sure he never speaks again." Jaime's voice was soft but resolute.
Cersei's eyes brightened for a moment but then dimmed again. "Too risky. And Father won't agree; he only wants to stabilize the situation and wait for the reaction from the Targaryen side."
"Targaryen." Jaime repeated the name, a complex emotion flashing across his face. "Viserys, I heard he has raised a few dragons in the East."
"So what?" Cersei sneered. "Across the Narrow Sea, the dragons surely can't fly over."
She stood up and hugged Jaime. "Let the rumors spread. The more they spread, the less Robert will dare to move against us. He needs Lannister gold and the armies of the Westerlands. As for Jon Arryn, let Father worry about him. I believe his lordship will resolve it perfectly."
Then, her face regained its former beautiful smile. "Jaime, we haven't been together for days. Stay tonight."
As she spoke, she leaned her head against Jaime's neck, gently sucking on it.
Jaime's body trembled slightly, and in the end, he could not resist Cersei's temptation. He picked her up and walked toward the bed.
Soon, wanton and joyful cries came from the room, but the guards at the door acted as if they heard nothing. Because they were all soldiers from the Westerlands; almost all the guards in The Red Keep were Lannisters.
A king whose palace guards are all the queen's people—this truly is one of a kind. He well deserves to be cuckolded.
At the Tower of the Hand, Old Arryn was even more troubled by Robert's performance today. He didn't know how long Robert could endure before exploding.
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
Arryn put away the documents on the table. "Come in."
Petyr Baelish entered. Littlefinger had his usual amiable smile on his face, holding a stack of documents and a jug of Arbor Gold.
"My Lord, these are the expense reports for the King's upcoming needs; they require your approval." He placed the wine jug on the table. "This is Arbor Gold just sent from The Arbor. It is said to soothe the nerves."
Arryn rubbed his temples. "Petyr, I have something I want to ask you."
"My Lord, please speak."
He prepared to ask Littlefinger about the matter indirectly. Because he was under great pressure, he needed Littlefinger's wisdom to provide him with new perspectives.
After all, Petyr was promoted by Arryn himself and had always been diligent, so Arryn trusted him quite a bit.
"If you discovered a secret, and once this secret was revealed, it would lead to the division of the kingdom and spark a war. But if you hide it, it would be a betrayal of the entire realm. What would you do?"
"Me? I am just a small person of humble birth." He looked into Old Arryn's eyes and replied, "But I feel that some secrets are like a festering wound. If you don't treat it and continue to cover it, the decay will worsen. But if your method is wrong and you tear it open directly, it will bleed incessantly. A clever person would clean it first, then bandage it."
"Clean it?"
"Cut away the rotten meat that is already spoiled," Petyr said. "For example, make those who shouldn't exist disappear, and make those who should shut up stay silent forever. Then find a suitable way to let the wound heal slowly."
Arryn stared at him. "Are you saying..."
"I didn't say anything, My Lord." Petyr stood up. "It is late now; you should rest. By the way, this wine is very good. I will have the servants send you a jug every day from now on."
Having said that, he bowed and withdrew from the room.
After the door closed, Old Arryn sat in his chair, thinking quietly.
Finally, he opened a drawer, took out a blank sheet of parchment, and began to write a letter to Tywin.
The tone of the letter was tactful, but the meaning was clear. He stated that he knew the truth about the princes, but for the stability of the kingdom, he was willing to make a compromise.
However, the condition was for Cersei to enter a motherhouse, and the three children were to renounce their inheritance rights, with it being publicly announced that they had died of illness. Then Robert would marry a new queen to give birth to true legitimate heirs. In exchange, the Lannister Family could retain its current status, and he would help cover up the scandal.
At the same time, he reminded Tywin that he believed in Tywin's loyalty to the iron throne, and that they had a common enemy: the Targaryens across the Narrow Sea.
This was the best solution he could think of at the time, avoiding bloodshed while preventing bastards from succeeding to the throne. And he believed Tywin was a clever man who would know what to do.
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