"All right, we'll go with Jaime's plan. By the way, Joffrey, is there anything else you want to say?"
Cersei spoke from the raised dais, confirming Jaime's plan outright. Then she turned to her son.
Joffrey tilted his head toward his mother and saw Cersei gesture toward Jaime.
He nodded, sounding somewhat reluctant as he addressed Jaime below the dais. "Uncle Jaime, once I've been crowned, you'll be my Hand of the King."
"I'll be honored to serve you!"
Jaime glanced discreetly at Cersei, then bowed to Joffrey.
"The most important thing now is to capture Robb Stark. That damned bastard—I have to cross swords with him again. I'll not only make him eat dirt, I'll put countless holes in him..."
"Cough!"
Watching her son grow more and more agitated, his face twisted with rage, Cersei gave a heavy cough.
At his mother's warning, Joffrey immediately stopped speaking. He composed himself,
then addressed Baelish, who had been listening silently. "Baelish, notify the Archbishop of the Great Sept of Baelor. Have my father's funeral arranged within the next couple of days.
"And prepare the Gold dragons. I'm going to hold a tourney, and my coronation must be a grand affair."
"As you command, Your Majesty!"
Joffrey had yet to be crowned, but the shrewd Baelish still addressed him respectfully.
"That's all for today! My father was a traitor, and my brother has fled. My beauty must be heartbroken, so I'm going to take her out to cheer her up!"
After speaking, Joffrey strode excitedly out of the throne room with The Hound, heading for Maegor's Hold.
"All right, everyone else may leave. Jaime, stay behind. I have some questions for you."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
Varys and the others bowed and took their leave, leaving Jaime standing alone in the throne room