Robert Baratheon always did love merriment. There was at least a feast or a joust every three months, and it is considered a dull week if he and his Queen fail to go hunting at least four times. Lyanna has been encouraging Robert to drink less, but now that she had to rule it was easy to see how her husband might find comfort in drink.
These two knights have been arguing back and forth all afternoon. Is the the village they both claim to be lord over really that important?! It doesn't even have a mill.
Lyanna gave her judgement. "I have heard enough. I will grant the title to Ser Kellogg, as he has the better claim.
Ser Barley, who wanted the village for himself, was dumbfounded. "But your Grace-"
"That will be all."
To their credit, both of these knights knew how to take a hint. They bowed, turned around, and left.
"Any more petitions for today?"
Lord Commander Semly shook his head. "That appears to be the last of them."
"I had better convene with the Small Council, to discuss the other matters of the city."
Lyanna stepped down from the pile of swords Ageon called a Throne.
The Targaryens are gone. Perhaps it would be better to replace the dammed thing with a different throne. After all, this is the Baratheon Era now. The dragon skulls that hung from the walls have since been moved to the cellar with the wine, replaced with Tapastries of the hunts Robert and I would go on. Surely I should suggest to Robert a throne that is not made of rusting steel.
But Lyanna shook her head of the thought. Even if they got a new Throne for Robert to sit upon, this room would still be full of the Targaryen residue. Full of memories.
There, right at the food of the Throne, is where Jamie Lannisters did what the six false knights he called brothers-in-arms were to cowardly to do. And there, in the middle of the room, is where my brother Brandon hanged for trying to save Ridkard and I: Robert has long since taken down the hooks used to suspend them from the ceiling. And down that hallway is a stairwell that will take me to the Royal Nursery where that monster Rhaegar was born: if the Old Gods have a hell, then he is burning in it right now.
As Lyanna madd her way across the room, she noticed Lord Commander Semly following her to the Small Counsel Chamber.
"That will be all."
"Your Grace, I must protect the Royal Family at all times."
"If I am not safe in the middle of my husband's own castle, then I seriously doubt you will protect me."
Lyanna did not intent to be this harsh, but she really wished that the old knight was not here.
I would have preferred to have been guarded by literally anyone else.
And there was no shortage of alternatives. There was the honest and kind Ser Jory Cassel, the humorless and seemingly emotionless Ser Mandon Moore, the gentle and loyal Ser Balon Swann, the short tempered yet nonetheless honorable Ser Richard Horpe, the friendly if trustable Ser Arys Oakheart, the brotherly if somewhat cynical Not-A-Ser Sandor Clegane, Elia's untamed brother Oberyn Martell, even the crotchety and arrogant Meryn Trant.
Instead of leaving me with any of these good men, Robert left me in the hands of Rhaegar's lackey.
Wanting to change the focus of her attention, she sat down and listened to what the Small Counsel had to say. Well, what was left of the small counsel. The King, The Hand of the King, and The Master of Ships were away fighting against the rebellious Greyjoys. The Master of Laws, Robert's youngest brother Renly, was busy in Highgarden to improve relations with the Tyrells; Renly even took one of Mace Tyrell's sons on as a squire. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was likley looking after the Crown Prince.
This left only Lord Varys (the Master of Whispers), Lord Baelish (the Master of Coin), Commander Slynt (Commander of the Goldcloaks), and Grand Maester Pycelle.
Lyanna got down to business. "What is the state of the realm so far?"
Pycelle, who was in charge of the Ravens, gave Lyanna news from the front.
"From what your King husband has told us thus far, the war is going well. Reavers are being hunted down and executed in the Westerlands, and Lord Stannis has defeated the IronBorn navy at the Battle of Fair Isle. The only ships that were not sunken were the ones he brought in."
Lyanna was beaming with pride for her husband's triumph.
Robert always was a great warrior. His hammer crushes all enemies, and he leaves his sword only for me.
In a good mood, Lyanna moved to the next object of the day.
"Lord Baelish, I trust the projects comissioned are coming along finely?"
Littlefinger, as he was called, nodded. "Yes your grace, though I must again ask if this is a wise use of the treasury."
Lyanna rolled her eyes.
He and Janos have been opposed to the orphanage I commissioned since the beginning. All they think about is coin.
"Yes it is. From the visits I have made, they are already making a difference. There are many children there who would otherwise have been dead."
Lord Baelish retorted, "Yes, and every day the whores of Fleabottom leave more whelps at the door. You are making an investment that won't ever pay you back."
Lyanna wanted to explain the concept of empathy, but before she could Varys interjected in defense of Lyanna's Orphanage.
"I think it is kind that Our Queen is showing such charity. And certainly the Crown will not be poorer for having a pool to draw recruitment from. Not to mention that it increases popularity with the smallfolk."
The last part was doubly true. When Lyanna visited her orphanage, all the children there were glad to see her. Some of them gave her flowers, some of them told her funny stories, some of them declared their intent to pray for her to have a long and happy life. One child there said that when she grew up she would name her first daughter Lyanna.
"Thank you Lord Varys. Now the orphanage is here to stay, is that understood? Yes? Good, now we can discuss ways to decrease crime."
Several of the guards in the room groaned, as they knew that now Commander Janos would drone on for about an hour.