Bonus Chapter
….
The Red Keep.
The Tower of the Hand.
A man with grey creeping into his temples sat at his desk, turning a gold coin over between his fingers as he listened to the report in front of him.
He nodded once it was done.
“Send word to our foreign guest.
He may seek audience with the King the morning after next.”
“At once, my lord Hand.”
The man was Jon Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, Warden of the Vale and of the East, and Hand of the King.
Foster father to both King Robert and to Ned Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell.
Since Robert had claimed the Iron Throne, Jon, the man most credited with binding falcon, wolf, stag, and trout together to win the War of the Usurper, had become the single most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms in every way but name.
The man who should have held that title spent most of his days lost in wine, whores, and the hunt, leaving the actual business of ruling to the man who’d once raised him.
Jon had raised the matter with him more times than he cared to count, and each time, Robert would mend his ways for a week or two before sliding back into the same habits.
Five or six years into his reign, Robert had stopped even pretending otherwise, handing everything over to Jon and washing his hands of the realm entirely.
There was little Jon could do about it now.
Whatever bond they’d once shared, Robert was a king these days, not the boy who used to hang on Jon’s every word.
Jon watched his man go, rose from his chair, and crossed the Myrish carpet to the window, looking out over the city below, still turning the coin in his hand.
Erwin’s coin.
Finely struck, and heavier by far than any gold dragon he’d ever handled.
“A kingdom east of Asshai.
A Great Lord’s second son, with lands wider than the whole of the Seven Kingdoms put together.
What does your being here actually mean?”
He murmured it to himself, looked down at the coin once more, then closed his fist around it.
Composed again, Jon returned to his desk and called the guard at the door without looking up from his work.
“Find the King for me.
Tell him I’ve something that needs saying, and I’ll come to him after supper.”
“At once, my lord Hand.”
He’d said find rather than fetch because he genuinely had no idea where Robert might be at this hour.
Some hillside chasing game, some brothel, or passed out in some farmer’s daughter’s bed, more than likely.
Jon knew well enough what had made Robert this way.
The woman he’d loved and lost, the same loss that had put a crown on his head to begin with.
It was part of why Jon had long since stopped believing he could change him.
Love was the cruelest poison a man could drink.
…
“Heard you wanted me.”
Evening came, and Robert pushed the door open, thicker around the middle than he used to be, finding Jon already at his meal.
The smell of stale wine and cheap perfume clung to him from across the room, enough to draw a frown out of Jon before he’d even said a word.
Jon set down his knife and fork and wiped his mouth.
“I expected to find you drowning in your own cups, not walking over here yourself.
And you ought to lose some of that weight, while we’re on the subject.”
Robert waved the comment off, poured himself a cup of wine, and dropped into the chair across from him.
“Out with it, then.
I’ve somewhere to be.”
No sense drawing it out.
“You’ll have heard by now.
A lord’s son from some ancient kingdom east of Asshai has come to King’s Landing.
Means to seek audience in his father’s name, and his country’s.
I’ve set it for the full court, day after tomorrow.”
“A kingdom east of Asshai?
I thought there was nothing out there but savages and worse.” Robert drained his cup in one pull.
“That’s all?
Anything else worth my time?”
“That’s all?” Something in Jon’s voice sharpened.
“You’re king of the Seven Kingdoms, Robert.
A foreign envoy means nothing to you?
Or does it simply rank below whichever girl warmed your bed last night?”
“Word is this lord’s son, this Erwin, crossed an ocean with thousands of men, a fleet of warships, and treasure beyond counting.
If a storm hadn’t broken that fleet apart first, think on what he might have done once he made landfall instead.”
“And consider this.
If a mere second son commands that many men and ships crossing an ocean, what does his father command?
That whole kingdom of his?”
“The Andals crossed a sea to reach these shores once, and so did the Rhoynar after them.
Still think this is nothing worth your time?”
That finally put a crease in Robert’s brow.
Jon allowed himself some quiet satisfaction at the sight of it.
He’d stretched the truth a fair distance on purpose, hoping the weight of it might drag Robert back toward something resembling his duties.
“That serious, you think?
You called it rumor yourself.
Might be the man’s nothing but a liar.
How does no one hear of a kingdom like this in all these years, and it sitting so far off besides?” Robert turned it over, unconvinced.
“Never hearing of a thing doesn’t mean it isn’t real.
Nothing touching the realm is too small to mind.
I’m giving you the worst of it, that’s all.
But if I’m right, even partly, I want you sharp for this audience, not sitting there half in your cups.”
Jon pulled the coin free and tossed it across the table.
“Look at that.
It’s what he’s been spending in this city.
I had the mint look it over myself.
Weight, gold content, the work put into it, ours don’t come close.
And your liar spent near a hundred of these in a single day.”
“Richest liar I’ve ever come across, if that’s what he is.”
He let the word sit there before adding, “And he rode in wearing armor worked over in lions, head to foot.
Might be we’ve got some other kingdom’s Lannister on our hands.”
The meaning was plain enough without saying it outright.
Whatever house stood behind this boy might have coin enough to shame the crown itself.
That sobered Robert properly.
He turned the coin over himself, and found it exactly as fine as Jon had said, nothing like it in any mint he’d ever seen.
Seemed the boy hadn’t been lying after all.
No ordinary man struck coin like that.
“Fine.
I’ll take it seriously.” Robert stood.
“Morning after next.
Stay here in the Keep tomorrow and get yourself sober.
You’re the face of the Seven Kingdoms in that room, whether you like it or not.
Otherwise every man watching walks away thinking their king’s nothing but a drunk.” Jon said it plainly, no room left to argue.
Robert pulled a face and left without another word, already thinking to himself that if tomorrow was for sobriety, tonight was for one last proper drink.
Tomorrow’s problems could wait for tomorrow.
…
Full refund, no questions asked.