⟪ The answer is so clear in her mind that she can, for a moment, not even fathom that he would ask, that they should be so divided that this thought does not come as naturally to him as it came to her. Has their separation been so long? It had not yet begun to best those horrid years she had spent at Casterly Rock while he served with the kingsguard, after their plan had gone so terribly afoul.
No, the answer is clear as day, and he, too, must see it: Joffrey wants his realm, wants his crown, and wants his throne. He has taken to his role as the rightful king, the only heir Robert may have now that she is seeing his bastards slain. Gold as his hair, gold as the sword she means for him to wield in time, gold as the blood in his veins, the self-same gold will be his legacy.
Tommen and Myrcella, perhaps, are softer of heart, and less fit for ruling for it. Tommen might wish for a new pet or a proper courser, Myrcella still holds notion for a sweetly-loving husband and days spent with her plants, her cakes, her kind, foolish friends. They would not name the crown for their greatest desire, and her glare only becomes more piercing when that thought occurs to her. ⟫
They will not want to be called bastards born of incest, or to be slain for it in their beds.
⟪ Nowhere would be safe. The wave she gives to the truth that she, too, has been captured, is dismissive, impatient. The matter of their children is the greater ordeal. ⟫
Joffrey knows he must rule. ⟪ Eventually. ⟫ Anyone who does not want the realm does not understand that there is no yielding it. There is victory or there is death.
no subject
No, the answer is clear as day, and he, too, must see it: Joffrey wants his realm, wants his crown, and wants his throne. He has taken to his role as the rightful king, the only heir Robert may have now that she is seeing his bastards slain. Gold as his hair, gold as the sword she means for him to wield in time, gold as the blood in his veins, the self-same gold will be his legacy.
Tommen and Myrcella, perhaps, are softer of heart, and less fit for ruling for it. Tommen might wish for a new pet or a proper courser, Myrcella still holds notion for a sweetly-loving husband and days spent with her plants, her cakes, her kind, foolish friends. They would not name the crown for their greatest desire, and her glare only becomes more piercing when that thought occurs to her. ⟫
They will not want to be called bastards born of incest, or to be slain for it in their beds.
⟪ Nowhere would be safe. The wave she gives to the truth that she, too, has been captured, is dismissive, impatient. The matter of their children is the greater ordeal. ⟫
Joffrey knows he must rule. ⟪ Eventually. ⟫ Anyone who does not want the realm does not understand that there is no yielding it. There is victory or there is death.