A feast was underway in the Red Keep's banquet hall to celebrate Prince Joffrey's name day. The long tables were laden with delicacies, and the air was filled with the aromas of food and wine.
Robert Baratheon sat at the head of the table, clutching a roasted leg of lamb in one hand and raising a wine cup in the other.
Cersei sat beside him in a yellow gown, her long golden hair loose over her shoulders. She barely touched her food, only taking small sips of wine, her eyes occasionally flicking toward Jaime Lannister, who stood beside Robert in white armor, his face expressionless.
The musicians played a lively tune, but the atmosphere at the feast was strange. Some nobles whispered among themselves, their eyes moving between Joffrey and Robert, their laughter sounding rather forced.
Robert drained his cup, then suddenly slammed it onto the table. "Silence!"
The music stopped abruptly. Everyone turned to look at the king.
Robert staggered to his feet and pointed at the nobles. "What are you all talking about? Do you think I'm deaf?"
No one dared answer. Old Jon Arryn said softly, "Your Grace, you've had too much to drink."
"I have!" Robert roared. "But I haven't lost my wits. What are these rumors spreading through the city?"
His eyes fixed on Tywin Lannister.
The old lion had traveled all the way from the Westerlands for his grandson's name day. He sat at the other end of the long table in a dark red formal robe, his face devoid of expression.
"Your Grace," Tywin began, his tone steady, "rumors are a specialty of King's Landing. If they trouble you, I can send men to trace their source."
"Trace their source?" Robert sneered. "And then what? Cut off a few commoners' heads, and everyone