The Red Keep stood battered but unbroken, its high towers casting long shadows over a city still reeling from war. Smoke curled faintly in the sky from the outskirts of King's Landing where tents sprawled in haphazard lines. The scars of siege were etched across the buildings, and the streets were filled with the weary, the wounded, and the grieving.
Inside the Iron Throne room, King Robert Baratheon sat upon the throne that so many had died for. He bore the crown of a conqueror, but his eyes held the weariness of a man who had lost more than he had gained. Flanking him stood Jon Arryn, his mentor and the newly appointed Hand of the King. They had spent the morning reviewing reports from across Westeros—famine, rebellion, shattered infrastructure, and fear.
"Call them in," Robert said finally, his voice low.
The great doors opened and the victors of the war entered the throne room. Tywin Lannister came first, clad in crimson and gold, his steps measured and his expression cold. Jaime Lannister, now a knight of the Kingsguard, walked behind his father. He was clad in white armor and bore no expression of triumph, for the war had claimed too many.
Following them were Hoster Tully, Stannis Baratheon, Renly Baratheon, and a small host of trusted lords and bannermen. Conspicuously absent was Edward Grafton of Gulltown. Though he had provided logistical support and a safe harbor to essential naval operations, Edward had not raised his banner for either side, and he had remained in the Vale throughout the conflict, strengthening his own power base and expanding his hold over the Three Sisters.
Robert rose from the throne, towering and broad-shouldered, the crown sitting heavy on his brow.
"We won. Barely. And yet there is no feast in my heart. Westeros bleeds, and it falls to us to stop the bleeding. Let us begin."
Jon Arryn stepped forward, parchment in hand. "His Grace has named his Small Council, and we must secure the realm. First, as Hand of the King, I accept the burden of restoring the administration."
There was nodding. No one doubted Jon's ability, nor his loyalty.
Robert turned to Jaime Lannister. "You saved your sister, your brother, and your House. But more importantly, you fought well. You did not kill your king—Rhaegar took that duty. But your sword never faltered. Will you take the white cloak, Ser Jaime?"
Jaime knelt. "I will, Your Grace."
A knight of great prowess and famous name, Jaime rose as Ser Jaime of the Kingsguard, and took his place in the hall, gleaming and silent.
Tywin Lannister approached the throne next, his steps echoing in the silence. "Your Grace. With the war behind us, it is time to secure the future. My daughter, Cersei, remains unmarried. A match between the Crown and House Lannister would solidify your reign."
Robert looked down at the hall, his blue eyes darkened with contemplation. The war had left him with few choices. The Targaryens were shattered. The Tyrells held the Reach, but their loyalty had come late. The North was loyal but distant, and the Vale now existed in a strange neutrality thanks to Edward Grafton's growing influence.
"A queen for the kingdom, and peace with the West," Jon Arryn said quietly. "Cersei is beautiful, and strong."
Robert hesitated, then nodded once. "So be it."
Tywin bowed. "You honor my House."
The rest of the meeting focused on immediate matters: relief for the starving, the rebuilding of roads and ports, and the reestablishment of regional authority. But the specter of Edward Grafton remained present in all discussions.
"He didn't choose a side," Stannis muttered. "Yet now he controls Gulltown, the Three Sisters, and trade with Essos. He may not have fought, but he won more than we did."
"He sent ships, and coin," Renly countered. "Without Gulltown, the eastern warfront would've collapsed."
Jon Arryn intervened. "Edward Grafton holds power in the Vale, yes. But he is not our enemy. He seeks order, and we must treat him with caution—but not hostility."
Tywin said nothing, but his mind was already calculating the long-term implications of a semi-autonomous Gulltown.
As the council ended, Robert looked again at the Iron Throne, forged in fire and death.
"We've won a kingdom. Now let's see if we can keep it."