Game Of Thrones : Starting as Tommen Baratheon

If this is power, Jaime thought to himself, then why does it taste so much like tedium?

Plotting, politics, manipulations and murders. Jaime watched the business of the Small Council from the end of the table, and he found himself thinking of all the lords who aspired to a seat at this table. They can bloody well have mine.

He watched the King, just barely tall enough to sit at the Small Council without a cushion under his arse, slowly but surely perusing the documents laid before him. Every so often, he would dip his quill into an inkpot, scratch something out or scribble some note on the side, and then sign the documents given to him.

I'm bored, Jaime realised. And sore.

His muscles burned from his sessions with Bronn. Where once he had been arguably the greatest knight in all the realms, now he was barely strong enough to lift a tourney sword. The truth stung more than any bruise ever could. It seemed so simple, changing hands. It wasn't. Every instinct, built and honed over years, was suddenly wrong. Bronn, a common sellsword, had disarmed him thrice over with ease, and sent his blade spinning into the dirt.

Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. What a cruel jape.

The King signed another decree, and Kevan snatched it out from under his quill, "Only a few more, Your Grace." He puled another sheaf of paper from the top of the pile, and handed it to the King, "This is royal pardon for Lord Gawen Westerling, his lady wife, and his daughter, Jeyne."

The King gave the document a quick look over, and then signed it, and the process continued, "This is a pardon for Lord Jonos Bracken of Stone Hedge. This is a pardon for Lord Vance. This for Lord Goodbrook. This for Lord Mooton of Maidenpool."

As the tedium drew on, Jaime entertained himself with thoughts of what kind of King Tommen would be, when he was grown. Being king is a massive amount of responsibility for a child who's never had to deal with any before. A surprising thing to hear from a boy. Even more surprising was what came after. I may not yet be a man grown, but I am far from the child you knew, the one who believed in all those songs. Jaime watched the King sign his name in a surprisingly elegant but still childish scrawl. He watched him read every word on every page, comprehending more than Jaime would have at his age.

Wise beyond his years and hardened by war. This son of mine is no man, not yet, but he is a boy no longer.

Tommen will be a good King, I can tell. Better than Joffrey. Then again, damn near anyone would have been better than Joffrey.

Jaime felt a dull pang of guilt at the thought, but it wasn't genuine. Cersei cared more about the boy than he ever had. He knew in his mind that he should mourn his son, but there was little to mourn. He... he was a monster. The Mad King come again.

"This grants Ser Rolph Spicer title to the castle Castamere and raises him to the rank of lord."

Jaime watched the King read and then sign the document, and he suddenly felt exhausted by the whole affair. I'm a fighter, not a lord. Though... I guess I'm not much of a fighter now, either. Jaime pushed himself to his feet, "You seem to have these matters well in hand, Uncle. I shall leave His Grace to you."

Kevan responded, urging him to mend the ever-widening breach that had formed between him and his father, and Jaime felt his patience fraying. He turned to Tommen, "Sire, do I have your leave to go?"

Tommen looked at him, and then the rest of the Small Council, and then back at him. After a long moment, he shook his head, "You do not, Uncle. I have need of your presence here for a little while longer." Jaime grit his teeth and sat back down, his armour hanging loose over his still-recovering body. The King turned back to Kevan, "Is there anything else, Great-Uncle?"

Kevan nodded, and pushed two more sheafs before the King, "This is a bill of attainder against Lord Edmure Tully, stripping him of Riverrun and all its lands and incomes, for rebelling against his lawful King. This is a similar attainder, against his uncle Ser Brynden Tully, the Blackfish."

Tommen gestured to the last two on the pile, "And those?"

"This is a decree of legitimacy for a natural son of Lord Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort. And this names Lord Bolton your Warden of the North."

Tommen nodded, stacked all four sheafs together without reading or signing them, and pushed them to the side, "I will get to that at a later date."

Kevan seemed to be getting annoyed, "Your Grace-"

Tommen cut Kevan off with a wave, "Worry not, Great-Uncle, I will have the matters seen to in a timely fashion. As it is, there was some important business I wanted to lay before my Council."

"And what is that, Your Grace?"

"The war."

Varys tittered and many of the other lords sported raised eyebrows. The King had not voiced interest in such matters yet, and it was a strange thing to hear him voluntarily speaking of it. Till now, the King had been content to observe the business of the Council, but not to truly participate. Kevan addressed him in an even, almost curious, tone, "The war is over."

Tommen quirked an eyebrow, "Do you take me for a fool, Great-Uncle?"

Kevan shook his head, "No, Your Grace."

"Then why did you lie to me?"

"I did not lie."

Tommen nodded, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but has my Uncle Stannis been defeated?"

"Your Grace-"

"And what of the Ironborn? Have the Greyjoys suddenly bent the knee to the Iron Throne? Has Dragonstone? Has Storm's End? And what of the Targaryen girl in the East? Has she suddenly keeled over and died without my knowledge? Or perhaps she has abandoned her quest for the Iron Throne? Because if she has, I'd very much like to know."

Kevan seemed to be reaching the end of his patience, "You are yet a child, Your Grace, with much to learn. Neither the Lord Hand nor I thought it wise to burden you with such matters so soon."

Tommen smiled, "Of course, Great-Uncle, your efforts to protect me are much appreciated. And yet, I cannot learn without experience, can I? If I stray, I have you as my trusted advisor, alongside Grandfather, to advise me upon the correct course of action." The true meaning in his words were clear, and Kevan nodded after a long moment, an intrigued look in his eyes. Tommen glanced about the chamber, and said, "I notice that the Small Council seems... smaller, than usual. Several key position lie vacant. And we cannot go about the business of administering the Kingdoms like that, can we?"

There was a round of murmured agreement, and Kevan narrowed his eyes at the King, "No, Your Grace, we cannot."

The King pulled out a spare scrap of parchment, quickly scribbled on it, and handed the note to Jaime, "Have these people summoned to these chambers, immediately."

First a cripple, Jaime thought, and now a glorified servant. Nevertheless, Jaime stood from the chair, grateful for the chance to stretch his legs, and walked out of the chambers, reading aloud to the guards outside the names on the list. Tyrion, Bronn and... Paxter Redwyne? What is my son doing? His task completed, Jaime returned to his seat as the King was conversing with the Spider, "Tell me, Lord Varys, of the Wall."

Even Varys seemed surprised at the question, "The Wall, Your Grace?" Tommen nodded, "Well, Your Grace, it is my understanding that Lord Stannis has taken residence at the Wall. Supposedly, he has gone to fight off an invasion of Wildlings."

Tommen licked his lips and nodded, "I see. And did the Lord Commander have nothing to say about this?"

Varys simpered, "Lord Commander Mormont is dead, Your Grace. As I understand it, the Wall has no leader for the moment, till one of their number is elected to succeed him."

"And the Targaryen girl?"

"I have only rumours, Your Grace. Some say she is in Astapor, others in Yunkai. It is said that she birthed a three-headed dragon in the city of Qarth. They all agree on one thing, however: she has set Slaver's Bay alight with... with Dragonfire.

Supposedly, she means to eradicate slavery, and there have been many slave revolts following where she is rumoured to have gone, though precious few have proved successful. Still, she is referred to as the Mother of Dragons and the Breaker of Shackles."

"A commendable goal, if a poor attempt at reaching it. The girl leaves a trail of blood in her wake." Tommen frowned and narrowed his eyes, "Meereen? Are there any rumours of her in Meereen?"

Varys frowned, very clearly making it seem as though he were deep in thought, "A couple, Your Grace."

...

If you want to read ahead of the public release, or just want to support me.

you can join my p atreon :

[email protected]/Nolma