Jaehaerys POV
Jaehaerys sat at the head of the long oak table in the Small Council chamber, his hands folded before him. Sunlight poured through the narrow windows, casting long beams across maps, ledgers, and rolled parchments spread across the table. The meeting had already lasted for hours, yet no one dared complain. Ruling a kingdom was never a short task.
Lord Martyn Tyrell, Master of Coin, cleared his throat and adjusted a stack of account books before him.
"Your Grace, the royal treasury continues to grow. Trade through King's Landing has been stronger than expected this year. The merchants from Pentos and Tyrosh have paid their tariffs without complaint, and the harbour has seen more ships than it did this time last year."
Jaehaerys gave a small nod.
"And the roads?"
"They continue to improve, Your Grace. Safer roads mean more merchants are willing to travel inland."
A faint smile crossed Jaehaerys's face.
"Good. A kingdom grows rich when its merchants travel without fear."
He spoke again.
"And the repairs to the Rosby Road?"
"The work continues, Your Grace. Another month, perhaps two, and wagons shall be able to travel its full length without sinking into the mud."
"Good."
Jaehaerys leaned back slightly.
"A king builds more with roads than with castles. Roads bring trade. Trade brings prosperity. Prosperity brings peace."
Septon Barth nodded.
His gaze shifted toward another parchment.
His Master of Laws, Lord Rodrik Arryn, leaned forward.
"There is also a dispute between House Brune and House Staunton over grazing lands."
Jaehaerys sighed quietly.
"Again?"
The lord nodded.
"They each claim the boundary stones have been moved."
Jaehaerys almost smiled.
"The stones always seem to move whenever sheep are involved."
A few quiet chuckles spread around the chamber.
"Send men to survey the lands again. If either lord is found to have moved the markers..." He paused. "...fine both heavily."
Ser Rodrik blinked.
"Both of them?"
"Especially the guilty one."
More laughter filled the room.
Jaehaerys allowed himself a small smile before returning to business.
The hours continued.
They discussed grain stores before winter.
Taxes in Gulltown.
Repairs to river crossings in the Riverlands.
A request from White Harbour to expand its docks.
Petitions from minor lords.
Complaints from merchants.
Dozens of problems.
Dozens of decisions.
It was exhausting work.
Yet Jaehaerys enjoyed it.
Wars won glory.
Peace built kingdoms.
Eventually the pile of parchments had dwindled to almost nothing.
Jaehaerys looked around the chamber.
"If there is nothing else?"
Silence.
He nodded.
"Then we are finished."
Every councillor rose.
One by one, they bowed before leaving the chamber until only Jaehaerys remained.
The room suddenly felt much quieter.
He let out a slow breath and rubbed his temples.
His eyes drifted toward the window overlooking King's Landing.
Hundreds of thousands of people lived because of decisions made within these very walls.
Some would praise his name.
Others would curse it.
Such was the burden of a king.
A knock echoed against the door.
"Enter."
The door opened.
Ser Ryam Redwyne stepped inside, dressed in gleaming white armour.
Behind him came Ser Lyonel Dondarrion.
Jaehaerys smiled.
"Ser Ryam. Ser Lyonel. You are finally here."
Both men bowed deeply.
"My king," they said together.
Jaehaerys stepped away from the council table.
"Ser Ryam."
"Your Grace?"
"Guard the door. I wish to speak with Ser Lyonel alone."
Ser Ryam bowed.
"At once."
He stepped outside, closing the heavy door behind him.
Silence settled over the chamber.
Only Jaehaerys and Lyonel remained.
The young knight stood stiffly, hands behind his back, looking as though he expected judgment.
Jaehaerys could almost see the nerves upon him.
He smiled kindly.
"Relax, Ser Lyonel."
Lyonel did his best, though his shoulders remained tense.
Jaehaerys walked slowly around the room.
"I shall ask you only once more."
He stopped beside the great council table.
"Have you reconsidered my offer?"
Lyonel lowered his eyes.
For several long moments he said nothing.
Finally he answered.
"I must still refuse, Your Grace."
His voice was respectful but unwavering.
"I am not worthy of such a position."
Jaehaerys had expected those exact words.
Still...
It was remarkable hearing them.
Most knights dreamed of the white cloak.
Many would have betrayed friends, family, even honour itself for a place within the Kingsguard.
Yet this young man refused it.
Not out of arrogance.
Not out of spite.
But because he genuinely believed another deserved it more.
Jaehaerys almost admired the foolishness.
Or perhaps...
It was wisdom.
He walked toward a small table where a silver pitcher of Arbor red rested.
He poured himself a cup.
The wine shimmered crimson in the afternoon light.
He took a slow sip before speaking.
"So tell me, Ser Lyonel."
He turned.
"What do you believe yourself worthy of?"
Lyonel hesitated.
"I do not know, Your Grace."
He looked almost ashamed.
"Only the gods know."
Jaehaerys hid the small scoff that rose within him.
The gods.
How often men blamed or praised the gods for what they themselves chose.
He set the cup down.
"Perhaps."
He clasped his hands behind his back.
"But I know what I have seen."
He began walking slowly around Lyonel.
"I have seen a knight who crossed half the realm carrying out his king's command."
He continued.
"I have seen a knight who walked willingly into danger to fight for his king."
Another step.
"I have seen a knight who slew a man most men would have fled from."
Another.
"I have seen a knight rescue my niece from brigands who greatly outnumbered him."
Another.
"And I have seen a knight refuse a place amongst the Kingsguard.
He stopped directly before Lyonel.
"You sell yourself short."
Lyonel lowered his head.
"I only did what any knight should do."
Jaehaerys smiled.
"No."
His voice became softer.
"You did what every knight swears he would do."
He paused.
"There is a difference."
Lyonel remained silent.
Jaehaerys returned to his wine.
"I said I would respect your decision."
"I shall."
He lifted the cup once more.
"I will not force a white cloak upon a man who believes himself unworthy to wear it."
Lyonel visibly relaxed.
"But..."
Jaehaerys smiled.
"...I hope that one day, when you finally decide you are worthy..."
"...you will remember today's conversation."
Lyonel met his eyes.
"If that day ever comes, Your Grace..."
"...I shall remember."
Jaehaerys nodded.
"I believe you."
He took one final sip before setting the goblet aside.
"You may leave now, Ser Lyonel."
Lyonel bowed deeply.
"Thank you, Your Grace."
He turned and walked toward the door.
Just before opening it, he looked back.
"I hope I have not disappointed you."
Jaehaerys smiled.
"You have disappointed me only in refusing."
A small smile appeared on Lyonel's face.
Then he left.
The chamber became silent once more.
Jaehaerys remained standing for a long while.
His eyes lingered on the closed door.
Few men refused kings.
Fewer still refused power.
There had been no greed in the young knight's eyes.
No ambition.
Only doubt...
...and duty.
Such men were dangerous to tyrants.
And priceless to good kings.
He slowly picked up his goblet again, turning it between his fingers.
"Maybe it would be a waste for a knight like you to guard a single family, Ser Lyonel," he murmured to the empty chamber.
"This realm will need Knights like you."
He looked out the tall window toward the banners of House Targaryen fluttering above the Red Keep.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Until then..."
"Let us see what kind of man you become."