27

Chapter 27: Part XXVIINotes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I own nothing, just borrowing for a while.

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Part XVII

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"Here in Westeros Daenerys Targaryen is oft known as 'The Mad King's Daughter' whilst over in Essos they refer to Aerys II Targaryen as 'The Mad Queen's Father'. In some ways it is actually impressive that a family which already included such notables as 'Maegor the Cruel', 'Aegon the Unworthy' and 'Aerion the Monstrous' managed such a precipitous drop in reputation within the span of a single lifetime."

The Wit and Wisdom of Tyrion Lannister - 325 AL

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The Red Keep - King's Landing – 298 AL

The High Septon was clearly unable to differentiate between gravitas of tone and outright pomposity, at least in the opinion of Octavian's ever-critical mind. As a consequence of this the cleric reminded him more of a second-rate mummer hamming it up on stage, than he did a skilled orator. The man artlessly recited the traditional lengthy coronation address in a manner that would have dismayed Uncle Julius in his role as Pontifex Maximus of Rome and set Octavian's own teeth on edge.

At least it was reaching its conclusion, he thought with relief. It wasn't so much that it was an excessively long and drawn-out ceremony objectively, at least from the opinion of an outside observer perhaps, so much that it was subjectively to the person sat on the Iron Throne, the latter being currently himself. Whilst as a symbol of authority the throne was suitably imposing, and regal in its own unique fashion, as a piece of functional furniture it was far from ideal. Well-designed chairs are not a physical threat to the person sat upon them, whereas this one quite unarguably was.

One snippet of trivia Octavian thought well worth noting was that as well as earning his usual appellation as 'The Mad King' the former occupant of the Iron Throne known as Aerys II Targaryen had won another unofficial title during his reign, that being 'King Scab'. The man's complete inability to keep still whilst perched on the foreboding seat of authority, either due to the aforementioned insanity or perhaps mere nervous energy, led to his constantly nicking himself on one of the numerous blades that the thing was constructed from.

If you wanted to be cured of a tendency to fidget this was the furniture for you, the youth currently sat on it decided as he remained perfectly still, as much for reasons of self-preservation as to project a suitably serious demeanour to the nobility gathered to witness the ceremony. The ornate clothes he was wearing for the coronation may have been finely made, and shockingly expensive, but the notion of eschewing them in future for the chainmail of his uniform as Commander of the City Watch held great appeal.

In legend Aegon the Conqueror had deliberately set out to leave behind a throne intended to constantly remind his heirs of the precariousness of their position. It was in fact a metaphor with some literal, if minor, bloodshed attached. If so he must have expected many of them to be either too stupid or too insane to grasp the realities of rule unaided Octavian wryly determined.

The man was downright prescient, Octavian decided as he looked out at the assembled High Born nobles crowding the Great Hall. The most senior members of the Great Houses filling the closest seats to the front with those from the Lesser Houses, and perhaps a smattering of the wealthiest merchants, to be found at the back. Naturally, as Lord Protector and Hand of the King respectively Eddard Stark and Tywin Lannister were to be found closer to the throne than any others. Exactly where to place Oberyn Martell in order of precedence was, as ever, problematic as technically it was his brother Doran who was head of his House but his title as 'Prince' was deemed by Dornish custom to give him seniority over mere lords nonetheless. Mace Tyrell, not only a Lord Paramount but Warden of the South fervently disagreed with such a notion, needless to say, and it took a combination of Tywin's political skills and Eddard's northern bluntness to stop them arguing about it.

To his relief the ceremony finally reached the stage in proceedings where Octavian could stand up and stretch his legs, moving down the steps in front of the throne to where the High Septon would now stand off to one side holding the royal crown above the prince's head while he solemnly called upon the Seven to give their blessings, starting naturally with an exhortation to the Father.

If the Father actually was Jupiter-Zeus, as Octavian suspected, he wondered what the supreme being really thought about the sumptuous trappings and ridiculous traditions of this monarchical rigmarole. Given how successful the armies of the Roman Republic had been in pummelling various kingdoms over the years, it seemed doubtful to Octavian that the supreme being was firmly in favour of hereditary rule. For that matter the closest Rome ever came to perdition was at the hands of Carthage, another republic, not some Macedonian King or Egyptian Pharoah indicating that Jupiter was so indifferent to who your father was he would not so much not pull a hair for it. What mattered was how good you were at ruling, not how you came to rule in the first place.

"May the Warrior grant him courage and protect him" the High Septon intoned bringing Octavian's attention back to the matter at hand as this part of the proceedings drew to a close. "May the Smith grant him strength that he might bear this heavy burden" he continued. "And may the Crone, she that knows the fate of all men, show him the path he must walk and guide him through the dark places that lie ahead" he implored, still holding the crown aloft, preparing to lower it.

The High Septon drew a breath so his next words would reverberate down the hall and off the stone walls. "In the light of the Seven, I now proclaim Joffrey of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister, First of His Name King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms" he declared, lowering the crown into place upon Octavian's head.

Octavian fought back the urge to grin as he recalled the reason his uncle and adoptive father Julius Caesar always wore a laurel wreath upon his own head. Critics said he wore it as a crown, indicating a desire to overthrow the republic and make himself king, in actuality however Caesar had been seeking to hide his receding hairline making Octavian promise not to tell anyone as he would rather be thought of as ambitious than vain because the latter was not a good look for a military commander.

"Long may he reign!" the High Septon exclaimed.

"Long may he reign!" everyone in the hall refrained, followed by an outbreak of spontaneous cheering and applause.

Octavian now smiled for real and offered a nod of acknowledgement and respect to Eddard and Tywin which they returned, Stark smiling himself and Lannister displaying at least a hint of good humour on his face if you paid rapt enough attention.

Since the mood in the hall was now jubilant rather than sombre Octavian decided it wouldn't be too inappropriate to offer another smile and a tiny wave to Sansa Stark who as both his betrothed and the daughter of the Lord Protector was sat on the front row. Rewarded with a beaming smile from Sansa who seemed to giggle then wave back Octavian was pleased he was finally getting better at not only interpreting her moods but also predicting her reactions.

Strategizing was easy, girls were the Eleusinian Mysteries bound up in a riddle worthy of the Sphinx by comparison.

Now all he had to do was plaster on a false smile and feign interest in the prattling's of sycophants for a couple of hours while the High Born of Westeros queued up to pledged loyalty to him.

The real work would start at the Coronation feast. It was time to start moving the Cyvasse pieces around the board before the any of the rabble realised who was playing the game and how well they could play it.

Notes:

Note from the author:

Rumours that Qyburn brought this story back to life are unfounded.