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The next morning Olenna Tyrell lay in her guest chamber, fuming so hard she could barely breathe.
"Carving off Horn Hill and Highgarden's own lands? Daeron Targaryen is getting too bold for his own good."
She kept muttering, trying to ease the ache in her chest.
She had tried everything—marriage alliance, promised lands, even settling for a council seat for her son. And what did she get? A new duke on her doorstep.
"I've never been humiliated like this in my entire life."
Her son and daughter-in-law had already slipped out the door. Only Willas stayed, sitting quietly beside her bed.
Olenna rolled over. "If I go back to Highgarden, are you coming with me?"
"Grandmother, calm down," Willas said gently. He knew she was venting.
House Tyrell had fought hard for that council seat. Willas and his aunt were already close to the prince and princess. They couldn't just walk away.
Olenna glared. "I can't swallow this insult."
Willas poured her a cup of wine. "Look at what happened to the Arryns, Baratheons, Starks, and Tullys. Compared to them, we and the Lannisters are still the king's loyal servants. We've been rewarded handsomely."
He was right. On paper, House Tyrell had never been stronger.
Olenna drank, then sighed. "You're right. I admit it." She patted his hand, her anger finally cooling. "At least the family's future looks bright."
She muttered one last jab. "Tywin Lannister can laugh all he wants. His sons are useless. Let's see how he manages that."
Willas smiled and said nothing.
Three days later the executions began.
Fishermen's Square, King's Landing.
Under the supervision of Master of Laws Lord Staunton, Jon Arryn and his heir Ser Elbert Arryn were brought to the block.
"High as Honor," Jon whispered as he knelt, resting his head on the blood-stained wood.
The headsman's greatsword flashed once.
Thud.
Aerys slammed his fist on the table in the throne room. "Excellent! Spike their heads on the gates so every traitor in the realm can see!"
"Your Grace," Lord Corlton asked carefully, "what about the rest of House Arryn's lesser kin?"
"Send the rest to the Wall," Aerys snapped. "All of them."
Daeron sat quietly, watching the Mad King gloat. He had already decided the fates of Eddard and Robert. Those two were more complicated.
Later that same day the Small Council gathered again—this time without the king.
Daeron took the head of the table and spoke plainly.
"My lords, I promised Lord Mace a seat on the council. To make room, the Small Council must be reorganized."
The councillors exchanged uneasy glances.
Daeron continued, calm and steady. "I am creating a Standing Council. It will meet on the third, sixth, and ninth days of every month so the Small Council can hear regular reports and make decisions."
He laid out four new permanent seats.
"First: Master of the Royal Household. He will manage the king's private purse, separate it from the royal treasury, and handle all court expenses."
"Second: Master of the Kingswood. He will oversee the royal forest, the royal stables, and the new Constabulary Knights—a permanent royal force to patrol the Crownlands and keep order."
"Third: Master of Works. He will handle all construction, roads, waterworks, and resource management across the realm."
"Fourth: Commander of the City Watch. He will command the two thousand Gold Cloaks who guard the gates and keep the peace in King's Landing."
Daeron looked at each man in turn.
"These four new offices will sit with us on the Standing Council. Together we will run the kingdom."
He gave a small, satisfied smile.
"Gentlemen… this is now my Small Council."