Chapter 2

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I stood beside Cersei Lannister under the dome of the Great Sept of Baelor, praying over the little shit that was my older brother. From what I know of the show, and Tommen's admittedly hazy memories, I very much preferred the silent and pale blue version of Joffrey Baratheon. The dead king had those strange, painted stones over his eyes, and the Valyrian steel sword Widow's Wail rested on his chest.

Not for long, I thought. And it won't stay Widow's Wail either. You had to be a proper psycho to name it that.

It had only been a day since Joffrey's death. The whole court was abuzz with wild rumors and tales. Thankfully, I had been allowed to stay in my rooms. It worked out well enough. My mind could not be idle, not now, and I had needed that time to think. I had plans to execute; secrets and plots to unmask; friends to court and foes to kill. And it all started here in this overly lavish sept, with a conversation I'd been expecting and dreading the whole day.

It was then that Tywin Lannister stepped in through the arching doorway. He stared straight at me as he approached, walking resolutely through the sept like his mere presence was a blessing to the Seven.

"Your brother is dead," my grandfather said from across the resting stone. "Do you know what that means?" When I kept silent, he added, "I'm not trying to trick you"

"It means I'll be the next king," I said simply.

"Yes, you will become king," he said. "What kind of king do you think you'll be?"

"A living one, hopefully," I said. "Kings were cheap and plentiful, not two years ago. But four lay dead, now. Only Stannis still lives."

"He does," Tywin agreed. "Do you think he won the war, then, since he outlived the others?"

I almost snorted. "We wouldn't be having this conversation if he had."

Tywin had a contemplative look in his face. I'd changed gears on him from the beginning of the conversation, answered in a way he hadn't expected. Becoming Tommen after a moment of trauma had been a godsend. Not only would that be able to explain most of my personality changes, but the people around me that knew me best, namely Cersei, would be too absentminded with with the death of her darling older son. At least for a while.

"What's the difference, then, between all the kings in this war? Stannis lives and your brother is dead, it is true. But why can we still have this conversation?"

I suppressed a smile. "It's about legacy, grandfather. Stannis lives, but what will be his legacy when he dies?" Tywin Lannister raised an eyebrow. Hook, line and sinker. "What did Robb Stark leave behind? A broken north, his family killed or missing. Uncle Renly? An exhausted Stormlands and a maiden queen." I shook my head. "Joffrey might have died before Stannis, and made many mistakes, but he left us with five kingdoms. And me, of course, his heir."

Tywin nodded, a glimmer in his eyes. For all the talk around the great and terrible Tywin Lannister, the Old Lion of the Rock, he was an easy man to appeal to. Once you knew what moved him, what he loved and hated and desired, you realized he was just a man killed by his own son on the toilet. He was as formidable a foe as I would face in this world, I knew. But in the end, I'd seen him caught with his pants down.

"I see you have the right idea," Tywin said. "What kind of king does one have to be to leave something for those after him, then? What must he possess?"

"This is hardly the place or the time," Cersei said sourly.

I ignored her. "A strong one?" My grandfather just blinked my way, so I continued, "Justice? Holiness?"

T"Robb Stark was strong and fierce; he was undefeated in the battlefield," Tywin said. "Then Lord Karstark killed your cousins who'd been made prisoners. The Stark boy, foolishly, took his head for it and called it justice. What did that do for him when his own bannermen turned on him?" He walked around the stone to stand next to me. "Stannis Baratheon is said to have the favor of a red priestess and her God. She is said to look into the flames and whisper of great victories and triumphs in his future in the king's ear. Yet he broke his ships against King's Landings' walls and scurried back to Dragonstone. Tell me, what did they lack? Your brother included."

An easy answer. "Wisdom," I told him. "A king must be as wise as he is strong, as just as he's flexible, as pious as he's wicked."

"Yes! Yes! Wisdom," Tywin said with as much emotion as I remember every seeing from him. "Robb Stark was strong and shrewd in battle, but he was no politician, and that got him killed. A wise king knows what he knows and what he doesn't. You're young still, just like Stark. A wise young king should listen to his counselors and heed their advice until he comes of age. And the wisest kings continue to listen long afterwards."

Tywin put a hand on my shoulder and steered me toward the doors. "You know the faults of your brother. He was neither wise nor just or strong. If he had been, perhaps he'd still be alive."

I could almost feel Cersei flinching back from where she stood by Joffrey, so much so that I wanted to continue the conversation next to her just so I could continue to watch her squirm with her overbearing father on one side and her dead son on the other. Alas, it was not to be. Tywin walked me up the stairs as he went on trying to butter me up to give him all the power over the realm, with a sprinkle of sex education on the needs for a healthy heir as soon as possible.

Leaving the Sept, we strode past Jaime on his way to rape his sister next to their sons rotting corpse, trading awkward greetings and platitudes the only way uncle-fathers and nephew-sons could.

A good time, all in all.