Standing in the Throne Room, Jaehaerys sleep-walked through another session of Court. He comforted himself in the knowledge that Oberyn looked even more bored that Jae felt, while Arianne shifted restlessly in her place, glancing at Jaehaerys every once in a while. The two hadn't talked in the two days since their little tryst. She must've expected him to come to her, begging for forgiveness and another tour of her body, but Jaehaerys did not, would not.

Though the Princess had awakened a part of him that had been well-suppressed, and though she tempted exquisitely, he had to resist. He would not be another man who allowed himself to be manipulated by a cunt. He would not.

So he focused on Lord Staunton and his prattling about how Lord Buckwell had illegally seized some mill nobody but him gave two shits about. If Connington did not find a peaceful resolution, there would be blood. The histories only record the major wars, in other words, the ones that include at least one of the Great Houses, but they ignore the minor wars. Petty disputes as they are called are dismissed as insignificant.

But they're not. A great battle like the Battle at Trident might leave tens of thousands dead, but these minor disputes kill dozens, sometimes hundreds of men. Great battles may happen once in a generation, while every other moment some minor Lord or landed knight wishes to kill one of his peers over some ridiculous slight.

"According to our records," Grandmaester Pycelle rasped, shuffling his parchment. "The Plotter's Mill was granted to House Buckwell by King Jaehaerys the Second. It rightfully belongs to House Buckwell."

"Aye, Grandmaester, but I had negotiated a lease with Lord Buckwell which granted me control of the mill for ten years. I had paid the fee in advance, yet now Lord Buckwell has deigned to renege on our agreement only five years into the lease while refusing to return half of the gold I paid him."

Well, at least we know who is in the wrong, Jaehaerys thought right up until the point when Lord Buckwell stepped forth.

"I put an end to our agreement because Lord Staunton used the mill as headquarters from where he sent marauders to rob and murder my people, Lord Regent," Lord Buckwell said, glaring at Lord Staunton. "And I've decided to keep the gold as restitution."

Oh, for fuck sake, Jae thought. There's going to be blood. Which means this is your opportunity, whispered another part of him.

"What do you have to say to that accusation, Lord Staunton?" Connington asked.

"It is not my fault Lord Buckwell cannot maintain law and order in his lands and I won't stand for these baseless accusations."

"Do you have proof of this, Lord Buckwell?" Connington continued.

"Nothing but the confessions of the men who were captured," Lord Buckwell replied.

So who was lying? They both had reason to. Staunton could end up executed if Buckwell had told the truth, whereas Buckwell himself may have invented the story to justify his seizure of the mill. The two Houses had a long history of bad blood and each generation tried to avenge the insults given to the previous.

Jaehaerys watched them both. Staunton was a man of average height, well in his years and with a belly to show it. He looked to be a drunkard judging by his red cheeks and clearly couldn't control himself if his demeanor was anything to go by.

Buckwell wasn't much taller than Staunton, and about the same age, but their different approaches to life shined in stark contrast. Buckwell was slim, he maintained his composure and his eyes held the unmistakable glimmer of intelligence.

So what was it? Was Staunton, who'd reportedly gotten into a lot of debt, trying to dig himself out of a hole by plundering his neighbor's lands, or was Buckwell taking advantage of an incompetent, alcoholic neighbor?

Either he learned more, or he could very well just flip a coin and see where it lands.

"You are both noblemen, Lords of the Realm. The Crown shall not interfere in this matter, since we are sure you will be able to resolve this matter in a peaceful manner." Connington washed his hands of the whole affair. He did not know who to believe and did not want to make the wrong decision.

The man never knew how to handle disputes between loyalist Houses. Only in disputes between loyalists and former rebels did he show himself decisive. Jae wondered how many loyalists had taken advantage of it over the years to steal from their rebel opponents.

He watched the reaction of the two Lords to Connington's words, but neither of them showed any satisfaction. One of them had to be a good actor and no matter how badly Jae wanted to be able to deduce the truth only based on their behavior, he could not. So there was only one thing left to do – decide who would make the better ally.

Buckwell was the more formidable of the two but if he had instigated the whole affair only to now be saved by Jaehaerys, Buckwell would never respect Jaehaerys. He might even come to think Jaehaerys a fool.

The same thing went for Staunton. These drunkards loved to brag about any minor victory and he would undoubtedly mock Jaehaerys in his cups. Besides, incompetence made his loyalty worth very little.

"If I may, Lord Regent," Jaehaerys said, keeping his eyes on the two Lords. "I do not believe the Crown should remain impartial in this matter."

He watched them closely, for the one who thought he'd almost gotten away with it would surely reveal his colors. Sure enough, a brief look of unadulterated hatred passed over Staunton's face. "I do not believe my brother, King Aegon, would approve of any unnecessary bloodshed, least of all on lands that are under the Crown's direct vassalage. Am I correct in this assumption, Prince Oberyn?"

"Indeed you are, my Prince," Oberyn confirmed, lounging in his chair. "Any violence would be heavily frowned upon by the King."

And thus, Prince Oberyn put the Court on notice. An alliance had been struck, and Jae found great joy observing the expressions of his opponents.

"So perhaps it would be better if the Crown acted as a mediator in solving this dispute," Jaehaerys continued.

"And how do you propose we do that, my Prince?" Connington asked

"If you don't mind, my Lords, I have some questions," he said.

Buckwell looked at him expectantly, while Staunton grit his teeth and clenched his fists. If Buckwell was lying, it was the best acting Jaehaerys had seen yet. And those who can keep their composure in spite of the risks are some of the most dangerous men around. He dearly hoped Buckwell wasn't one of them.

Jae put his hands behind his back and descended the stairs leading to the Iron Throne, doing his best to portray the image of an implacable, stoic Prince. He examined the two men, careful to look for any signs of cracking masks. Lord Buckwell held under his scrutiny with ease. Because he'd told the truth or because Jaehaerys didn't intimidate him in the slightest?

Staunton did his best, but everyone took note of his stiff stance and the tremor in his hands.

"If I may, Lord Staunton, for what purpose did you lease the Plotter's Mill?" he asked.

"It sits on a stream that much eased my efforts to bring goods into my lands," Staunton replied, some of his confidence returning to him.

Jaehaerys nodded and turned to Lord Buckwell. "And how long have these raids been going on?"

"No more than a week, my Prince," Buckwell replied, "I've received reports of merchants being ambushed on the road and immediately rode out to track the outlaws with my men. Those who survived the fight told us they'd attacked on Lord Staunton's orders."

"And what makes you think the Plotter's Mill served as their headquarters?"

"They told us so and we attacked the Mill, finding other outlaws using it as shelter," Lord Buckwell replied with a wince.

"You did not mention that at first." Jaehaerys raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Because he's lying!" Staunton exclaimed.

Jae looked at him sharply and that look of satisfaction disappeared from Staunton's face. "You will not speak unless spoken to, is that understood, my Lord?"

 Staunton clenched his jaw and nodded. Jaehaerys looked back at Buckwell, still waiting for a response.

"I had thought my word on the matter would be sufficient," Buckwell replied.

"And normally it would be. But when two noble Lords of impeccable reputation accuse each other of lying, special measures need to be taken."

"Of course, my Prince, I understand," Buckwell replied and bowed his head. He said all the right words and for some reason, it made Jaehaerys all the more suspicious. Staunton may well be innocent, yet too stupid to know how to appear so.

"So, to summarize," Jaehaerys continued, "Lord Staunton allegedly ordered his men to attack merchants traveling your lands and yourself, Lord Buckwell, as any good Lord would do, quickly responded to the threat and tracked it to the Plotter's Mill." Jaehaerys paced before them, their eyes following him. "So I cannot help but wonder; what has changed in the last two weeks that would suddenly make Lord Staunton want to risk his head for some plunder?"

The answer came from an unexpected source. "My Prince," a voice came from the side and Lord Rykker stepped forth. "What's changed is that Maidenpool has opened its gates to trade goods of those Houses who fought for the Usurper during the Rebellion. I wager Lord Staunton can no longer smuggle goods into the Riverlands for they do not need them."

"You know this how, Lord Rykker?"

"My people have often seen barges sailing up the stream, my Prince. I reported as much to the Lord Regent," Lord Rykker said.

Jae turned and looked back to Connington who sat on the Iron Throne, his face a stone mask. So the man hadn't been trying to wash his hands of the affair – he had wanted to keep his involvement hidden. Connington probably did not care that Staunton had been smuggling goods into the Riverlands, since the Lord had to have charged extortionate prices, thus making himself rich and further draining the Riverlands.

"Lord Buckwell, what do you have to say about this?" he asked.

"I cannot prove it myself, but I agree with Lord Rykker's assessment, Your Grace," Buckwell replied.

What was the chance of those two being in on it together? Rykker's lands neighbored those of both Staunton and Buckwell. Staunton had no living Heir, his son having died during the Rebellion. Did they hope to divide his lands between them?

Connington's involvement assuaged those concerns. They had to be telling the truth, or he'd be on his feet, yelling he'd never received any notice.

Jaehaerys looked to Ser Addam Velaryon, the Commander of the City Watch.

"Men of the City Watch," Ser Addam shouted. "Seize Lord Staunton."

Four men surrounded Lord Staunton and dragged him out of the Throne Room, all the while Staunton pleaded for mercy, professing his innocence.

Innocent men do not beg for mercy, Jaehaerys thought as he nodded to Buckwell and returned to his position to the right of the Iron Throne. A warm feeling filled his chest. He'd prevented the deaths of a great many people. 

"Who's next?" Connington asked when Lord Staunton's shouts receded and silence returned to the Throne Room.

"A man of the Night's Watch has requested an audience, my Lord," Pycelle informed him as a man clad in all black stepped forth, holding something in his hands, an object wrapped in a piece of cloth.

"I imagine you are here to ask if there are prisoners who wish to take the Black?" Connington barked.

"I am, my Lord, but that is not why I bother you this day," the man said with a bow.

"What is your name, man?"

"Yoren, if it pleases my Lord." He nodded to Connington. "And my Prince." He bowed to Jaehaerys.

Jaehaerys nodded to him respectfully. 

"And what brings you here then, Yoren? Speak up, we don't have all day," Connington asked.

"I've come here on the orders of Maester Aemon of Castle Black, my Lord," Yoren replied.

"Aemon Targaryen?" Jae questioned. "My Great-Grand Uncle?"

"That'd be him, yes, my Prince."

"And why did Aemon Targaryen send you to King's Landing?" Connington asked. He was paying attention now, same as the rest of the Court, that cloth in Yoren's hands becoming an object of intense speculation.

"Maester Aemon tasked me with bringing a gift for Prince Jaehaerys." Yoren held up that piece of cloth.

Jaehaerys frowned and stepped forth again, taking the cloth from Yoren's hands. Gripping it, he got an idea of what the cloth hid. He slowly unwrapped it, hands shaking until he revealed a scabbard, followed by the hilt of a sword, a golden hilt, the cross-guard fashioned into two roaring dragons, red rubies adorning their eyes.

He drew the sword from its sheath, the dark steel and trade-mark ripples along the blade showing it to be a Valyrian Steel sword. Maester Aemon had access to only one of its kind.

The Court around him gasped, but Jae only cared about Oberyn's reaction. The Prince of Dorne narrowed his eyes, eyeballs jumping between Jaehaerys and the sword and coming to the very conclusion Jaehaerys had hoped to avoid.

"Dark Sister," someone in the crowd breathed in reverence.

Yoren nodded in agreement and pulled a letter from his jerkin. "Maester Aemon also sent you a letter, My Prince, along with a message I was to convey personally."

Jaehaerys looked at him expectantly.

"Bloodraven sends his regards."