At Queen Cersei's behest, King Robert's body remained at the inn so Prince Joffrey might look upon his father one final time.
As a mark of respect and mourning, the white stone edifice had been draped in thick black cloth. Those who came and went had somehow procured garments of mourning, and laughter was a sound forgotten.
The innkeeper, Masha Heddle, stood outside, regarding the transformed inn with mingled feelings.
Her establishment sat at the junction where the Kingsroad running north and south met the River Road stretching westward and the High Road leading east to the Vale. Hence it bore the name "Crossroads Inn."
It had existed for centuries, bearing many names throughout its long history.
Due to various notable events that had transpired within its walls, it had been called the Two Crowns, the Bellringer Inn, and the Clanking Dragon. Now, the innkeeper wondered if yet another name would soon be bestowed upon it.
The king had not perished upon the Iron Throne, nor had his passing been presided over by the High Septon in the Great Sept of Baelor. Instead, he had met his end in her humble inn, surrounded by only a handful of nobles, the rest being common soldiers and servants. What name would men give the place now?
Whoosh~
A sudden gust of wind blew with such force that she could not keep her eyes open. She vaguely sensed an immense presence leap to her side in an instant, accompanied by a ponderous sound like a hundred men drawing breath as one.
The dust and wind gradually subsided, allowing her to cautiously open her eyes to a narrow slit.
Ah~
She could not even summon a scream, collapsing weakly to the ground. Could this be the same monster that had slain the king?
Had they returned?
After waiting what seemed an eternity without being torn asunder, she slowly opened her eyes again and raised her head.
A handsome young man garbed in red and gold finery sat astride the creature, gazing ahead with an expression of utmost gravity. She recognized him at once. The beast was the lion from a few moons past, nearly doubled in size, and the young man was the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms—the king-to-be.
Behind him sat a woman bearing a spear, and several others... wait.
What manner of beast was this?
She scrambled backward, using both hands and feet, feeling a measure of relief only when she reached the inn's doorway.
Only then did she notice the figure astride another creature, white as fresh snow. The Imp was struggling to dismount from the white bear's thick fur, while a black-haired youth held a white wolf with eyes red as freshly spilled blood.
The Crown Prince inquired in a voice that trembled, "Father—what has befallen him?"
What words were needed? The black banners everywhere provided the clearest explanation.
Masha simply bowed repeatedly, offering obeisance to her betters.
Soon, numerous nobles poured forth from the inn. The travel-worn Crown Prince and his companions were enveloped by the crowd, receiving countless sorrowful glances and murmured condolences.
Queen Cersei, clad in a black velvet gown, rushed to her beloved son. She embraced the Crown Prince tightly and surrendered to her grief.
"Joffrey, your father... he... he has been murdered by Bloodraven!"
The assembled company lowered their heads in silence.
Indeed, the notorious Lord Bloodraven. Even the innkeeper, who endeavored to remain uninvolved in the affairs of nobles, knew that Bloodraven yet lived, watching the Seven Kingdoms from beyond the Wall.
But the Crown Prince seemed not to hear. "Mother, I bear urgent tidings for Father. Where might I find him?"
All present could not help but exchange bewildered glances.
"The Bold" Barristan shook his head gravely and approached the Crown Prince. "Your father lies in the great chamber on the inn's third floor."
The Crown Prince immediately pushed through the throng and hastened into the inn.
Ser Barristan offered explanation. "His Highness is doubtless overwhelmed by grief and unwilling to accept news of His Grace King Robert's passing. I have witnessed similar cases before."
The crowd nodded in understanding, sighing at the depth of affection between father and son.
The assemblage surged back into the inn, leaving only the innkeeper and those servants not deemed worthy to pay their respects.
Masha exhaled deeply and resumed her contemplation of what new name might befall her establishment.
When the crowd gathered in the chamber where King Robert's body lay in state, they found Joffrey had been standing there in silence for what seemed an eternity.
The arrangements within were modest by necessity.
The statues of the Seven, which ought to have stood seven times the height of a man and been carved from finest marble, were instead rough wooden effigies collected from nearby village septs.
The altar of the Mother was so diminutive that it could accommodate but a single supplicant.
The statue of the Stranger, charged with guiding the dead to the next world and before which King Robert's coffin had been placed, inspired neither fear nor mystery, standing shorter even than Tyrion.
Only the pungent aroma of incense remained true to tradition. Candles, at least, were plentiful among the royal retinue.
Joffrey beheld a hundred candles burning brightly, each sending a blessing to the king in the heavens. May he receive these benedictions and fight joyously in the afterlife, no longer yearning for the mortal realm.
The crowd observed the Crown Prince's rigid posture in respectful silence. They could well imagine the expression he wore in this moment of grief.
Gods be good. May the new king of the Seven Kingdoms rule with wisdom and benevolence.
Joffrey's voice emerged hoarse with emotion. "We must depart without delay. Father's final resting place shall be the holy and magnificent Great Sept of Baelor, the most exalted of sanctuaries. He should not linger here overlong."
The crowd exchanged uncertain glances.
Queen Cersei stepped forward from among them. "Joffrey, we must accept this bitter reality with heavy hearts. Robert has left us, and the realm requires a new king to guide it."
The Queen approached King Robert's bier and lifted the stag crown from its silver cushion.
"You must assume this burden. Do not succumb to sorrow, but bravely embrace your destiny. The Seven Kingdoms have need of you."
The Queen held the crown aloft in both hands and advanced toward the Crown Prince with measured steps.
The crowd grew quieter still, their very breathing seeming to slow.
Ser Barristan, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, remained motionless. His hand gripped the hilt at his waist, ready to offer his sword and his life to the new king.
Lord Eddard Stark, Hand of the King, likewise stood fast. How could he deny Robert's son?
Jaime did not stir. He silently observed as Cersei placed the crown upon Joffrey's head, wondering what future awaited the Seven Kingdoms. Had Joffrey's transformation these past moons been mere pretense or genuine change?
Bran, Sansa, and many others stared at the scene in wonderment. A new king ascended to power—how many times might one witness such a moment in a single lifetime?
The crown finally came to rest upon the brow of the new king. Queen Cersei cradled her son's face and offered a smile of profound emotion before helping the new king turn slowly to face his subjects.
Shua~
The assemblage knelt as one, the friction of armor and clothing creating a single sound that heralded the commencement of the ceremony.
The Queen Mother's chief steward intoned with solemnity:
"All hail Joffrey, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, of Houses Baratheon and Lannister."
There had been one additional appellation, but who would gainsay it now?
The crowd immediately erupted in thunderous acclaim, heedless of the strain upon their voices.
"Long live King Joffrey!"
Ser Barristan stepped forward, knelt upon one knee, and presented his most cherished sword. "Your Grace, my blade is yours. I shall remain your loyal knight until my final breath."
Joffrey accepted the sword, then returned it to the Lord Commander. "Your loyalty stands beyond question. Rise, ser."
Next came Lord Eddard, who offered the circular badge of the Hand. "Your Grace, Winterfell and the North shall ever be your faithful servants. If Your Grace permits me to resign and return to my lands, I shall maintain the North's stability in your name."
Joffrey took the badge, then returned it without hesitation.
"Until I assume personal governance, I decree that the Hand of the King, Eddard Stark, the Queen Mother, Cersei Lannister, and Lord Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock shall rule jointly."
Eddard lifted his head in astonishment.
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