Game of Thrones: I Created the Magic Web

Sorry, I thought it was just a common cold, but it's getting worse these past two days. I can't write much. Please bear with me. I will make it up in the next few days. Thank you.

Sansa heard the nobles whispering around her, but the whispers quickly subsided. Pycelle continued to read: "For Ser Janos Slynt, Commander of the City Watch of King's Landing, for his loyalty and service, His Majesty desires to elevate him to the nobility immediately, and grant him the ancient castle of Harrenhal and all its fiefdoms and taxes. His descendants shall inherit this honor for generations to come, without end. Therefore, His Majesty commands that Lord Slynt shall immediately become a high-ranking official of the court, assisting in governing the affairs of the kingdom. His Majesty commands, and the high council agrees."

Out of the corner of her eye, Sansa saw Janos Slynt walk in. The murmurs grew louder, mixed with angry voices. Many proud lords with thousands of years of family history were reluctant to make way for this balding, frog-faced commoner. His black velvet robe was inlaid with pure gold scales, which jingled softly with each step, and his shoulders were draped with a black and gold plaid cloak. Two ugly boys walked in front of him, staggering as they held metal shields as tall as themselves, undoubtedly his sons. The sigil he had chosen for himself was a golden, bloodied spear on a night-black field. Sansa couldn't help but get goosebumps.

After Lord Slynt took his place, Grand Maester Pycelle continued, "Finally, in these perilous times of conspiracy and unrest, with the recent passing of our beloved King Robert, our high council believes that the safety of King Joffrey's life is of paramount importance…" He looked at the Queen Mother.

Cersei stood up. "Ser Barristan Selmy, attend."

Ser Barristan, who had been standing at the foot of the Iron Throne, as still as a statue, knelt on one knee and bowed his head. "Your Grace, I am at your service."

"Rise, Ser Barristan," Cersei Lannister said. "You may remove your helmet."

"Your Grace?" The old knight rose, took off his tall white helmet, and seemed somewhat at a loss.

"Ser, you have served the realm faithfully for a long time, and every good man and woman in the Seven Kingdoms is grateful to you. However, I fear your service must now come to an end. The King and our high council wish for you to lay down your heavy burden."

"My… burden? I fear I… I don't…"

At this moment, the newly ennobled Janos Slynt spoke, his tone heavy and direct: "What Her Grace means is that you are dismissed from your position as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."

The tall, white-haired knight stood there, seeming to shrink in size, and gasped for breath. "Your Grace," he finally said, "the Kingsguard are sworn brothers, bound by oath for life. Only death can release the Lord Commander from his sacred duty."

"Ser Barristan, whose death do you speak of?" The Queen Mother's voice was as soft as silk, but her words shook the entire hall. "Yours, or your King's?"

"You couldn't protect my father," Joffrey said from the Iron Throne, his voice accusatory. "You're too old. You can't protect anyone."

Sansa watched the knight look up at his new king. She had never thought of him as old before, but now he looked ancient. "Your Grace," he said, "I was chosen as a White Knight at the age of twenty-three. And since I first took up a sword, that has been my only desire. I gave up my family's castle, the girl I was to marry wed my cousin, I need no lands, no heirs, only to serve the realm for my entire life. Ser Gerold Hightower was my witness when I swore my oath… I swore to protect the King to the best of my ability… to shed my blood for him… I fought alongside the White Bull and Prince Lewyn of Dorne… and Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. Before I served your father, I guarded King Aerys, and his father Jaehaerys… I have served three kings…"

"And they all died," Littlefinger pointed out.

"Your service is over," Cersei Lannister announced. "Joffrey needs younger, stronger men around him. The Small Council has decided that Ser Jaime Lannister will take your place as Lord Commander of the White Swords."

"The Kingslayer?" Ser Barristan's tone was harsh, filled with contempt. "That oathbreaker who stained his sword with the blood of the king he swore to protect?"

"Ser, watch your tongue," the Queen Mother warned him. "This is my beloved brother, and the King's own uncle."

At this moment, Lord Varys spoke, his voice softer than the others. "Ser, we are not ungrateful for your past service. Lord Tywin Lannister has generously agreed to set aside a large tract of land north of Lannisport as your fiefdom. It is not only by the sea, but also rich in minerals and manpower, enough to build a strong fortress and provide all the servants you need."

Ser Barristan looked up sharply. "A place to live out my days in comfort, and people to bury me when I die, is it? My lords, I thank you for your kindness… but I spit on your pity."

He reached up and unfastened the clasp on his shoulders, and the snow-white cloak fell to the ground in a heap. Then, with a clang, his helmet fell to the ground. "I was born a knight," he told them, unfastening the buckles of his breastplate and letting his armor fall to the ground as well. "And I shall die a knight."

"A naked knight, you mean?" Littlefinger interjected.

Everyone burst into laughter: Joffrey on the throne, the nobles who had come to court, Janos Slynt, Queen Cersei, Sandor Clegane, and even the Kingsguard—those five brothers who had been with him through thick and thin just moments before—they all laughed. Their laughter must have been the most hurtful of all, Sansa thought. She watched the brave old man stand there, his face red with shame, too angry to speak. Finally, he drew his sword.

Sansa heard gasps all around. Ser Boros and Ser Meryn rushed forward to confront him, but Ser Barristan froze them both in their tracks with a look of utter contempt. "Sirs, there is no need to fear. Your king is safe… but not because of your protection. Even now, I could cut down all five of you like cheese. If you intend to serve a Kingslayer, then you are all unworthy to wear that white cloak." He threw his sword at the foot of the Iron Throne. "Take it, boy. Melt it down and put another blade on the throne, if you like. It will do you more good than the swords of these five. And perhaps Stannis will sit upon it when he takes your throne."

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