While Eron valiantly fought for his life hundreds of miles away, the impending doom of Westeros loomed ominously, with the Jedi at the very heart of it all.

Four years and three moons had passed since Robert Baratheon, to the astonishment of many, named Tywin Lannister as his Hand instead of his son Jaime, as many had expected.

It was during one of his routine hunts that the king met his untimely demise, pierced by a poisoned assassin's arrow.

(this occurred around the maiden voyage of the Ladytide departing from Braavos.)

At first, The identity of the elusive assassin remained a mystery, but ravens were swiftly dispatched throughout the seven kingdoms, spreading the sad news. Two days later Lord Varys, with his vast network of spies, confirmed that the same prisoner who had threatened the king in Winterfell was responsible, even though he managed to escape. The announcement was followed by a decree summoning all nobles and heads of houses to King's Landing for the funeral and to pledge their loyalty to the young King Jeffrey, however, being a minor, Lord Tywin would rule as regent until he came of age.

As fate would have it, not everyone was content with the explanations provided. Just three days after the king's demise, dissenting factions began to voice their dissatisfaction. Leading the charge were Robert's own brothers.

Renly Baratheon, the maester of law, abandoned his post and boldly claimed that his brother's murder had been orchestrated from within the Red Keep. He argued that since most of the Lannister guards were present during the hunt, the reliability of the assassin's identity was questionable at best. Though he refrained from declaring war or rallying any bannermen from the crownlands, Renly mysteriously vanished, leaving no trace of his whereabouts.

On the fifth day, Roberts' second brother, Stannis Baratheon, decided to pull a disappearing act as well, he left his role as maester of ships. And who swooped in to take his place? None other than Mace Tyrell,

But hold on to your dragons, because things went from bad to downright terrible. Word started to spread like wildfire that Ser Barristan, the Lord Commander of the King's Guard, had been nabbed and locked up. Why, you ask? Well, officially it was because he failed to protect the king. But between you and me, the real reason was that he got caught trying to send a secret message to Lord Stark, warning him to stay away from his buddy's burial.

It was clear that the delicate political web that held the seven kingdoms together was on the verge of unraveling.

Ravens were flying left and right, loyalty was being questioned, and everyone was scrambling for support.

Lord Tywin, being the sharp cookie that he was, could see the writing on the wall. The only thing keeping the peace was the king's burial. Once that was done, Westeros was about to crumble.

Tywin knew he had to play his cards right. He needed to work every advantage he had up his sleeve. After all, in this Game of Thrones, you were either sitting at the table or you were on the table

********************************************

KINGSLANDING

The Red Keep

In the throne room, the remnants of the small council gathered. Lord Tywin Lannister, now king regent, sat at one end, while Queen Cersei occupied the other. Lord Bailish, Varys, the maester of Whisperers, Mace Tyrell, the new maester of ships, Jaimie Lannister, standing in for Ser Barristan, and the grizzled grand maester Pycell completed the council.

With a single glance, even a fool could discern that this council was comprised of Lannister loyalists; it was essentially a Casterly Rock council in disguise.

As the chamber fell into a hushed silence, Lord Tywin Lannister's piercing gaze swept across the room. His stern countenance demanded respect and obedience from all present.

Leaning forward at the head of the table, he clasped his hands together.

"Lord Varys," Tywin addressed the Master of Whisperers, "do we have a report on which houses we can expect to pledge their allegiance to House Lannister?"

Varys cleared his throat, but before he could respond, the grand maester interjected with his trembling voice.

"My Lord," the old man began, "I may be mistaken, but shouldn't it be which houses will support the iron throne?" It was a valid question, albeit a foolish one coming from someone with the title of grand maester.

All one had to do was look around to realize that this was a coup.

Although Lord Tywin had been declared regent (ironically instead of the king's mother), he had already taken his seat on the iron throne numerous times. This went against tradition, as a regent was expected to sit at the foot of the throne.

"I must say, dear grand maester, it seems quite obvious that my son is a Lannister," Cersei remarked curtly, her words dripping with a hint of disdain. Tywin nodded, signaling for Varys to continue.

Clearing his throat, Varys responded with a smooth and calculated voice, "My lord, House Frey has reaffirmed their loyalty to House Lannister, as long as we hold up our end of the bargain. And with the majority of other houses confirming their attendance for the king's funeral, we can be confident of their support."

Lord Tywin nodded approvingly, fully aware of the strategic importance of these alliances. "Excellent. The Freys will prove to be quite useful in securing the Riverlands for us."

Petyr Baelish respectfully inclined his head. "Indeed, my lord. House Frey's strategic position along the Trident will greatly benefit our cause. With their support, we gain control over vital river crossings and trade routes in the region."

Lord Tywin's eyes narrowed. "And what of House Tully? Have they shown any signs of submission?"

Varys glanced at his colleague, Baelish, who couldn't help but reveal a sly smile, showcasing his cunning nature. "House Tully remains defiant, my lord. However, House Bracken and House Blackwood have declared their support. They seek our aid in case House Tully decides to wage war against them," Varys smoothly replied.

"I'm sure we can arrange that, can't we, Lord Pycelle?" Tywin turned to the grand maester, not even waiting for a response. "We can establish a law that deems attacking our allies as treason."

The old man having finally caught up with the game being played, offered a feeble smile, nodding in consent. "Of course, my lord."

"Has House Stark confirmed their attendance for the King's burial?" Tywin inquired, his anticipation barely concealed.

Lord Varys lowered his gaze and shook his head. "Not yet, my lord."

A heavy silence filled the room, revealing Tywin's reliance on House Stark's presence for his plans to succeed. It seemed Lord Tywin had deduced that war was imminent in the Seven Kingdoms, and in times of conflict, having strategic allies could be the ultimate game-changer.

The upcoming royal burial ceremony presented a golden opportunity for Tywin—a chance to bend the stubborn to his will or, if necessary, remove them from the equation entirely.

And so, the Game of Thrones had begun, with all its cunning moves and calculated gambits.

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