The sea churned in fury.
A storm had descended upon Dragonstone without warning, as storms were wont to do in these waters. The boundless dark sea crashed relentlessly against the jagged shores from below, while the skies unleashed torrents of silver rain, as though the gods themselves had vowed to drown all that stood upon the island's surface.
The castle grew both hushed and violent at once.
Bonfires, gargoyles, and human silhouettes alike were swallowed by the Lord of Darkness, while voices, footfalls, and hornblasts disappeared beneath the Storm God's watery assault.
What remained to be seen? Shadows upon shadows upon shadows.
What remained to be heard? The wind's wild laughter, the rain's thunderous song, the sea's wrathful roar, and the castle's pained groaning—but no human voice could pierce the veil of sound.
Without warning, darkness gave way to blinding brilliance. Lightning split the sky, piercing the heart with its sudden, merciless light—a proclamation of supreme divine power.
In that moment, men recalled with gratitude the gentle light the gods bestowed on ordinary days.
BOOM...
The deep, suppressed thunder shook the very souls of those who heard it. The heavens roared in unbridled rage.
No matter how many storms one weathered in a lifetime, their power never failed to remind humans of their insignificance in the grand design of the world.
People trembled and hid within the deepest recesses of the castle, seeking shelter from light and wind and rain and sound, like earthworms burrowing into the soil for protection.
And yet, the Chamber of the Painted Table, standing at the highest point of the Stone Drum Tower, remained an exception.
Candlelight still flickered there. Human figures still moved within.
"The storm grows stronger by the moment, Your Grace," said the Onion Knight, casting a worried glance toward little Shireen. "Perhaps we might move to another chamber to conduct our business."
Joffrey closed his eyes and listened. A rumbling sound echoed ceaselessly within the ancient stone walls around them.
Dragonstone's main keep was called the Stone Drum Tower for good reason—it was said that its ancient walls would rumble like a massive drum whenever storms lashed the island.
It seemed the old tales spoke true.
Another bolt of lightning cleaved the sky, its brilliance flooding through the chamber's four tall windows, rendering the candles all but invisible for that brief, terrible moment.
When Joffrey opened his eyes again, they fell upon the detailed map of Westeros carved into the surface of the twenty-foot table before him. The raised dais beneath his seat corresponded precisely with Dragonstone's position on that map.
Once, Aegon the Conqueror had sat in this very spot, gazing down upon all of Westeros as he plotted his conquest.
Joffrey raised his eyes to survey the lords and their retainers, who stood in respectful silence throughout the chamber, awaiting his command. Such dutiful vassals they appeared to be.
Joffrey's lips curled into a smile. "The storm is no enemy of mine. Listen to it—it welcomes my coming."
The tempest battered against the closed windows and stone walls. The assembled lords exchanged glances, though the constantly flashing lightning prevented any from truly reading the expressions of the others.
"Have you all forgotten?" Joffrey pointed toward the direction of the harbor below. "Decades ago, the last Targaryen fleet was torn asunder by just such a storm in these very waters. Daenerys herself earned the name 'Stormborn' from that night. Does she count it an honor, I wonder?"
His eyes gleamed in the candlelight. "Shall we make a wager? I suspect today's storm will leave the Royal Fleet untouched. What say you all?"
Joffrey's gaze swept across the gathering.
"I stand with Your Grace!" Lord Seaworth of Rainwood seemed to shout with all his strength, yet his voice reached the others as little more than a whisper against the storm's fury.
The youthful Lord of Sharp Point was the second to declare himself. "May the storm show favor to Your Grace."
The remaining lords had little choice but to echo these sentiments.
Joffrey sighed. "How dull. Is there no one who would speak against me?"
None dared break the silence that followed.
"Then let us proceed with our council. Better to conclude our business swiftly, lest Ser Davos grow more anxious with each passing moment."
Joffrey extended his right hand, and from the shadows behind him came a scroll of parchment.
All eyes followed as the scroll was unrolled, circle by circle, before their king.
Joffrey studied it briefly, then passed the parchment to his left. "Jon, let our loyal lords examine this news."
The black-haired bastard emerged from the shadows and carried the scroll to each man in the hall, following the proper order of precedence.
Lord Velaryon could not contain his shock. "Lord Renly stands accused of participating in the murder of King Robert and Duke Stannis? He has fled King's Landing? How can this be possible?"
The pious Lord Sunglass's face grew grave. "If this be true, then Renly has committed the sin of kinslaying. The Seven will not abide such a crime. His only fate is to languish in the seven hells after death!"
The other lords and knights erupted in a storm of arguments to rival the one raging outside.
Joffrey clapped his hands once, and the hall fell silent as suddenly as if the storm itself had ceased.
"I wish not to believe it either. Yet Uncle Renly did indeed depart King's Landing under cover of darkness, with no intention of facing me. I ask you—why?"
Why? The unspoken question lingered in every face that turned toward the young king.
Joffrey's features shifted eerily in the flickering lightning. "My lords, if that dark day should come to pass, would you stand ready to defend the legitimate succession of the royal house and fight for the monarch to whom you swore your solemn oaths?"
There could be only one answer. As one, the assembled nobles dropped to their knees. "It would be our greatest honor!"
Joffrey rose from his seat upon the dais. "Good! With such steadfast support for the crown, Uncle Renly will surely reconsider his path and spare the Seven Kingdoms from the ravages of war."
"I command the following," he pronounced, his gaze falling upon the lords of the Narrow Sea.
"The fleet at Dragonstone shall be divided into four squadrons of forty warships each.
The First Squadron shall sail for Storm's End to persuade Uncle Renly to return to court.
The Second Squadron shall patrol Blackwater Bay and the shipping lanes of the Narrow Sea.
The Third Squadron shall return with me to King's Landing, tasked with guarding the Blackwater Rush and the royal harbor.
The Fourth Squadron shall remain here, stationed at Dragonstone.
The position of Lord Admiral of the Royal Fleet remains vacant for the moment, to be granted according to merit in due course."
Joffrey's tone brooked no argument. "My lords, decide now—which squadron would each of you command?"
The chamber held its collective breath. Squadron commanders!
Joffrey withdrew a crystal sphere from within his doublet and placed it upon the Painted Table, positioning it carefully over Blackwater Bay.
Suddenly, surging magical energy filled the room. A globe of white light rose from the eastern seas of Westeros, casting enormous shadows across the curved stone walls of the chamber.
Every eye fixed upon the map, each detail now sharply illuminated.
Here lay the Vale with its winding valleys; there stood the Westerlands with mountains rich in gold and silver; beyond stretched the vast North, the fertile Reach, the sun-scorched Dorne, and the storm-wracked lands that bore their name...
And there, upon Dragonstone, stood His Grace, the King of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.
The king smiled thinly. "It was too dark before. That is the only failing of a storm. Now our path is clear. Shall we continue?"
Lord Velaryon stepped forward and bent his knee.
Sorcery, he thought with awe. The power of Old Valyria!
His face betrayed uncontainable excitement mingled with shock. "Your Grace, I would command the First Squadron, to fight in your name at Storm's End and return Lord Renly Baratheon to your side!"
Lord Sunglass offered a sincere prayer to the Seven, then knelt to request his assignment. "I would command the Second Squadron, to sweep the seas clean for Your Grace."
The elderly Lord Celtigar opened his mouth to speak, but Ser Davos Seaworth stepped forward first, approaching Joffrey with urgent purpose.
"Your Grace, will Lady Shireen return to the Red Keep with you?"
Joffrey nodded once.
Davos immediately prostrated himself. "I beg Your Grace to grant me command of the Third Squadron. By all my honor and what small reputation I possess, I swear eternal loyalty to your cause! I shall never waver!"
Joffrey descended from the dais and helped the Onion Knight to his feet. "The Third Squadron shall be yours, Ser Davos. Serve well in the days to come."
"Lord Celtigar, Lord Bar Emmon," Joffrey continued, approaching the old man and the rotund boy in turn, placing a hand upon each of their shoulders. "The responsibility of safeguarding Dragonstone in my absence is a heavy one. You must govern together and seek guidance often. The Red Keep is not so distant, after all."
"Yes, Your Grace," they answered as one.
The council concluded, and the nobles began to withdraw from the Chamber of the Painted Table. Lady Selyse, who had been waiting anxiously outside, rushed in the moment the doors opened.
"Shireen!" She embraced her daughter fiercely, then turned burning eyes upon Joffrey. "Your Grace, have you decided the fate of myself and my daughter?"
Joffrey showed neither haste nor annoyance at her tone. "I believe I can cure Shireen's greyscale. Naturally, I shall take her with me when I depart on the morrow. Surely my lady would not wish to see her daughter suffer needlessly when a remedy lies within reach?"
Selyse's expression was one of pure disbelief. "Cure greyscale?"
"I never speak falsely in such matters."
Joffrey turned to gaze out at the raging storm beyond the windows. "King's Landing and the Red Keep have changed greatly, my lady, and shall only improve with time. I believe both Shireen and yourself will find much to your liking there."
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