Lancelot's heart skipped a beat.
"Auntie, what are you saying? Joffrey and I are cousins, naturally we wouldn't look alike!" Lancelot replied.
"Alright, off you go! Go play with Joffrey and Myrcella," Cersei waved him away.
Leaving Cersei's chambers, Lancelot headed straight for Joffrey's palace.
After he left, Cersei stared blankly in the direction he had gone.
"Do you think Lancelot looks like Joffrey?" she asked her handmaidens.
The handmaidens answered cautiously.
"Your Grace, the Prince and Lancelot are cousins. Perhaps it is to be expected that they don't look alike!"
When Lancelot arrived at Joffrey's palace, he found the prince training his lion cub.
"Lancelot, you're here! Excellent! I've named him Storm. What do you think?"
Joffrey pointed to his cub. This particular lion had a unique trait: its fur was unruly, constantly standing on end. No amount of combing could smooth it down. Lancelot had even washed it with Myrish soap, but once it dried, the fur would puff up again.
"You might as well name him Rize! Maybe his fur is full of static electricity," Lancelot joked.
"Storm, come here!" Joffrey called. The lion trotted over to him, nuzzling his leg, then went over to nuzzle Lancelot as well.
"Myrcella named her lioness Joanna. Mother wasn't happy about it at first, but for some reason, she eventually agreed. As for Tommen, he named his Curly because its tail curls up."
"Very distinctive names!" Lancelot commented.
He wondered how big the direwolves of the Stark children were by now, but they shouldn't be larger than lions. Beyond the Wall, direwolves were the counterpart to shadowcats—mountain lions—and couldn't match the size of lions from the Great Grass Sea.
"By the way, Father said we're going to the North in a few days. I heard it's cool there. We can have snowball fights! I don't think I've ever seen snow!" Joffrey said.
"Going to the North? Did King Robert say why?" Lancelot asked.
"It seems to be about the Hand of the King vacancy. He plans to ask his good friend, Lord Eddard Stark, to take the position."
"Uncle Stannis apparently had a huge fight with him about it. I heard he's planning to leave King's Landing."
Stannis is leaving? Without Melisandre's help this time, he'll be nothing more than a clown, Lancelot thought, dismissing Stannis from his mind.
Lancelot and Joffrey found Myrcella and Tommen, and the four of them played in the royal gardens.
After nightfall, they attended the royal banquet together.
Several familiar faces were missing from the feast.
Jon Arryn was dead. Stannis had left. Lady Lysa had taken little Robert and fled back to the Vale.
Robert was in a foul mood today, drinking alone sullenly.
Suddenly, he heard the sound of bones crunching.
"Who brought a dog in here?" Robert demanded.
"Ahem, Your Grace, I've been here the whole time!"
A tall guard behind Joffrey spoke up. It was the Hound, the Mountain's younger brother. His face bore burn scars from childhood, inflicted by his brother, making him fear fire and hate the Mountain.
"I didn't mean you. What is that chewing on bones?" Robert asked again.
"It is my lion, Father! I call him Storm," Joffrey said.
At his feet lay his little lion cub. He had given it all his leftover bones.
"Storm? Does he laugh? You know, in House Baratheon's history, there was a Laughing Storm," Robert remarked.
"Father, he doesn't laugh! But he roars!" Joffrey replied.
"Joff, why didn't you raise a stag? Why a lion?" King Robert asked.
"It was a gift from Lancelot!" Joffrey answered.
"Lancelot. I am the King. Why didn't you bring me a stag? You made a fortune on this trip. Even Jaime's sword has been replaced with Valyrian steel," King Robert said, sounding a bit sour.
"Your Grace! It is said that before the Dance of the Dragons, Princess Rhaenyra of the Blacks saw a white hart. Although she was a Targaryen princess, she was acknowledged by the white hart."
"And the lion is the king of beasts. Joffrey has lion's blood flowing in his veins; it is only natural he has a lion companion," Lancelot explained.
Joffrey nodded in agreement, clearly pleased.
King Robert turned his head away, falling silent.
Across from them, Renly looked a bit lonely. He glanced at the numerous Lannisters, while he sat alone on his side.
"Ser Lancelot, where did you hear that Rhaenyra saw a white hart and was acknowledged by it?" Renly asked.
"Lord Renly, haven't you read The Chronicles of House Targaryen: Fire and Blood?" Lancelot asked.
"Written by Archmaester Gyldayn? Sadly, there is only one volume. A pity."
Tyrion piped up. "Why haven't I read that either? Does such a book exist? Is it a rare copy? Who is Archmaester Gyldayn? Is he still alive?"
"He was a chubby maester with a big beard who loved to drink!" Lancelot said.
Toward the end of the banquet, King Robert announced his plan to go to Winterfell to ask Eddard Stark to be his Hand.
Cersei's face immediately changed.
"My father is the most suitable candidate for Hand."
"Ned is the only man I trust," Robert retorted.
This statement made it clear he didn't trust anyone else present, including Renly.
Good thing Stannis left early, or he might have flipped the table, Lancelot thought.
"I am the King! My word is law!" Robert bellowed.
Cersei dared not talk back and ate in sullen silence.
After the meal, Robert went to a brothel to enjoy himself. Cersei took the opportunity to summon Jaime, and the two exacted their revenge on Robert in their own way.
Lying in bed, the twins began to whisper.
"Jaime, is Lancelot really your son? He doesn't look like Joffrey," Cersei said.
Jaime froze, stopping his movements.
"He has blond hair and green eyes. How could he not be my son?"
"But his face... it doesn't look like us when we were children!" Cersei insisted.
Joffrey resembled Cersei and Jaime as children. Since they were twins and looked identical back then, no one thought much of it.
But Lancelot looked nothing like Jaime did as a child, aside from the coloring.
"His identity has been recognized by the King. Father has also acknowledged him. And in King's Landing, he is loved by the children and the smallfolk, and followed by a portion of the Lannister soldiers," Jaime said.
"He is my son. In the future, Joffrey will be King, and Lancelot will be Warden of the West, Lord of Casterly Rock. They are both my sons."
Jaime had just admitted Joffrey was his son. Fortunately, only the two of them were present. If Robert knew, there would be hell to pay.
---
Late that night, Lancelot, dressed in a black robe, arrived at Grand Maester Pycelle's chambers.
"Ser Lancelot, why have you come so late?"
"I want to know why Jon Arryn died. Did you do it, Grand Maester?"
Lancelot's emerald eyes seemed to shoot cold beams of light, nearly scaring Pycelle into paralysis.
"No, no, no! I didn't do it! He truly died of poison, but it wasn't by my hand!"
He waved his hands frantically, denying any involvement.
"Then who did it? Do you know?"
"Well... it might have been the Queen!" Pycelle whispered.
"You really think that?" Lancelot asked.
Even the cunning old Pycelle thought Cersei had killed Jon Arryn. It showed just how skillfully Littlefinger had played the game. leaving no trace, making everyone believe the Lannisters had murdered the Hand.
"Is it not so?" Pycelle asked.
" The waters run deep in King's Landing, Grand Maester. You may have served four kings, but you haven't touched upon the highest level of the game—the Game of Thrones. You are not a top-tier player," Lancelot said.
"Did Jon Arryn have any other contact with you before he died?"
"He came to borrow a book."
"Give me that book."
Soon, Grand Maester Pycelle found the book: The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms. It contained descriptions of many lords, ladies, and their offspring.
After obtaining the book, Lancelot prepared to leave. Before going, he warned Pycelle.
"As for this book, you lost it. After all, it's just an outdated volume!"
Pycelle understood immediately and nodded in agreement.