The next day, the Small Council convened.
The atmosphere in the Red Keep's Council Chamber was oppressive.
Several of the kingdom's highest officials sat along either side of the long table.
Varys wore his loose purple silk robes, his hands tucked into his sleeves and a gentle smile on his face.
Grand Maester Pycelle reclined in his chair, his long white beard hanging to his chest, the gray maester's chain around his neck clinking softly.
His eyes were half closed, as though he were about to doze off.
The others sat stiffly upright, their eyes lowered, scarcely daring to breathe.
What had happened in the courtyard yesterday had already spread to every corner of the Red Keep.
King Joffrey had dismissed his grandfather, the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms, in the most brutal fashion.
And today, he would appoint a new Hand of the King.
An upstart from the North, the man who had descended upon them astride a dragon.
Creeeeak-
The heavy wooden doors of the Council Chamber swung open.
Lynn walked in, dressed in a fitted black outfit.
He wore no ornaments denoting his rank, with only Longclaw hanging at his waist.
Yet the moment he entered, every eye turned toward him.
Even the air in the room seemed to shift subtly with his arrival.
Lynn ignored the looks of awe, scrutiny, and jealousy.
He walked straight to the head of the long table and stopped beside the seat reserved for the Hand of the King.
A moment later, Joffrey strode in, surrounded by Gold Cloaks.
He wore golden ceremonial robes and the Crown today, his face brimming with a triumphant smile. He looked like a king who truly held power.
Liana followed behind him, as gentle and humble as ever.
"Sit, all of you."
Joffrey