chapter 105 part 1
Chapter 105: The Small Council (Conclusion)
However, the content of Cersei Lannister's words made Petyr Baelish's heart skip a beat.
Petyr spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "Your Grace, this... I must say it is quite vexing. I wish the truth were so simple, but I know my abilities are insufficient. I am merely a messenger."
Varys clasped his hands, his tone consoling, "Lord Petyr, your talents are for all to see. There is no need for such self-deprecation."
The corner of Petyr's eye twitched. "Lord Varys, I only know how to perform my duties to the best of my ability."
Varys immediately replied, "That is precisely the most commendable quality."
Petyr's tone was laced with sarcasm, "Loyalty to one's duty is not something worth praising. Why do I feel there is a hidden meaning in your words?"
Varys nodded slightly, his eyes gleaming. "I only wish to use you, Lord Petyr, as an inspiration for my own unremarkable self. After all, your brilliance is known to all."
"I find it repulsive..." Petyr said coldly. "Lord Varys, it is your uncanny, all-pervasive skills that are for all to see."
Varys's tone was humble. "The Small Council needs someone who can gather information, and I just happened to be here. This is nothing compared to your talent for governance. It can be said that you are irreplaceable."
To Petyr, Varys's sweet words were dripping with mockery.
Petyr's words began to carry a hint of anger. "I would very much like to know who could possibly replace you in your position."
Varys's tone remained humble. "Lord Petyr, no need to trouble yourself. Anyone who can read could do it."
Petyr's smile deepened, but the mirth did not reach his eyes.
Varys, as if completely unaware of Petyr's anger, became even more deferential in his posture.
Why had Petyr and Varys suddenly started this bizarre "argument"? They were deliberately creating a diversion.
These men, who feasted on political machinations, had tacitly decided to prevent Queen Cersei from speaking further.
They all sensed that Queen Cersei's next words would be shocking, and they were not prepared for them.
A few more exchanges, and the argument would naturally escalate. Petyr or Varys would storm out, or perhaps both would leave at the same time, forcing an end to the Small Council meeting.
Queen Cersei would have to wait for the next Small Council meeting... But with the delay, if they discovered her plans were disadvantageous to them, she would not get another chance.
How things would ultimately develop depended on whether there was profit to be gained.
The idea was excellent and followed the rules of the game of thrones, but unfortunately for them, they were dealing with Cersei.
"Enough! Both of you, be quiet!"
Cersei's sharp command completely broke Petyr and Varys's rhythm.
Cersei hadn't seen through their ploy; she simply found the two men—one man and half a man—annoyingly loud.
*How dare they bicker so brazenly in front of me? Do they even see me?*
Ignoring the varied expressions on the others' faces, Cersei said impatiently, "Lord Arryn, I came today to recommend a successor for the Hand of the King!"
As Cersei's words fell, the Throne Room seemed to freeze in time. Everyone present was stunned.
Seeing the reactions on their faces, Queen Cersei smugly lifted her smooth chin.
*Glyn's plan suits me perfectly!*
The members of the Small Council were not so much shocked by Cersei's words as they were by her willfulness.
The Small Council meeting had its own rules. They couldn't figure out if Queen Cersei... was ignorant of them, or deliberately ignoring them.
...
*Has the lion of the Westerlands finally lost its patience now that he is gravely ill?* Queen Cersei's sudden intrusion into the Small Council meeting today made Lord Jon Arryn suspect that Tywin Lannister was behind it.
Lord Jon Arryn's heart was a maelstrom of emotions. He said coldly, "Queen Cersei, I have never forgotten my duties. I have already made arrangements for this matter."
Cersei scoffed. "Lord Arryn, you don't even dare to ask who I am recommending. Are you planning to leave the position of Hand of the King to..."
Here, Cersei paused deliberately before continuing with a sneer, "Are you planning to pass it down to your young son, Robert Arryn?"
"You! Cough, cough, cough..."
Provoked by Cersei's outrageous words, Lord Jon Arryn's anger flared, and he couldn't help but fall into another fit of coughing.
Renly Baratheon laughed. His tone was teasing, "Your Grace, young Robert is still a boy. He has a long time to grow. Your humor has amused me!"
For once, Renly's flippant tone did not anger Cersei, because his words held some truth. Cersei did wonder if House Arryn planned to hold the position of Hand indefinitely.
Although Jon's heir was young, Cersei only momentarily suppressed her vigilance. House Arryn represented the Vale, but the Vale consisted of more than just House Arryn.
Cersei had no intention of letting House Arryn or any other Vale lord continue to parade before her eyes when Joffrey finally sat the Iron Throne. When that day came, everyone she found unsightly would be expelled. Only her Lannisters would remain in the Red Keep.
...
After stifling his cough, Jon Arryn stared at Cersei for a moment before speaking. "It seems that among everyone present, only Her Grace the Queen has no ulterior motives."
Lord Jon Arryn was already convinced that the successor Cersei was making such a fuss to recommend was Tywin Lannister.
Cersei was the queen, and Tywin was her father. No matter how one spun it, nominating her own father could not be seen as anything but selfish.
Besides, he wasn't dead yet. Once he solved the problem of the royal succession—at least while King Robert was still alive—not a single Lannister would be welcome in the Red Keep.
*So, I will give you the chance to formally propose a candidate for Hand of the King, and in return, you will not interfere with my plan to seal the city. A fair trade!*
Petyr Baelish lowered his gaze, his eyes deep... He felt that although some unexpected things had happened today, they had revealed a golden opportunity.
Petyr's grey-green eyes shifted, glancing at Lord Jon Arryn's face, flushed with a sickly fever.
Given Queen Cersei's earlier words and Lord Jon Arryn's grave illness, it was time for his role as a "messenger" acting with the Hand's authority to proactively end.
The great lords had already taken notice of him. They would not permit an outsider to wield the power of the Hand for long.
Lord Jon Arryn's value to Petyr had greatly diminished... No, he still had one last, great value left: to serve as a stepping stone for Petyr's own rise.
Petyr lowered his eyelids, hiding the coldness in his eyes.
...
Cersei sniffed softly and said, "I am the Queen. Naturally, I act out of public interest."
As the sunlight streamed in, the curled golden hair falling over Cersei's collarbone glinted brightly.
"I, Cersei Lannister, in my capacity as Queen, recommend Lord Mace Tyrell of Highgarden as the successor to the Hand of the King."
Queen Cersei's declaration at the Small Council meeting stunned everyone.
A smirk played on Queen Cersei's lips as she said with a dismissive tone, "Well? Lord Arryn, do you still baselessly doubt your Queen?"
Cersei was very pleased with the effect she had created.
None of these incompetent council members were a match for her.
Cersei took a slow, deep breath to suppress her fervent excitement. Beneath her skirts, her long, slender, white legs, pressed together, shifted slightly.