Hugh Hammer (ASOIF/SI)

 As ever there was a spring in his step this morning, a rather

 pleasurable tryst with a whore last night had suitably drained his

 stones and reduced the pressure of too much seed, and his good

 mood was even more to do with other matters not involving the flesh.

 For it looked like his plans were finally moving towards fruition,

 things were all falling into place to enable him to assume his rightful

 place as Regent of the Seven Kingdoms. For stabilities sake he

 would have to retain that spawn of Daemon as King, but as Aegon

 would be wedding his blood that was only a small insult to be borne

 stoically. The Kings younger brother however, he had no use of the

 lad so he would have to be disposed of, and such very action was

 already in train.

 Those two bastard dragonseeds would have to be dealt with also,

 slightly more problematical to his mind, but manageable, indeed

 assassins were even now making their way through the Red Keep,

 to see to the ending of both of them. And with that their dragons

 would no longer be a problem, and the only dragons would be those

 of the King and Queen, small and immature creatures, barely able to

 support their weight as riders and thus virtually useless.

 He counted off the Lords whom he had in his corner, more than

 sufficient so long as the dragons were dealt with, though afterwards

 he would have to deal with the more, well, ambitious of them,

 starting with Urwin Peake, who was not going to put a Queen's

 crown on his daughter's head, come what may. The girl herself was

 due to soon suffer a rather tragic and violent end, shortly after he

 had disposed of all obstacles in his way Lord Peake would find his

 daughter sadly murdered and horrendously violated. The same men

 who had been so through in their tasks with Princess Rhaena,

 though short a few members, were still available to him to use as

 required. And he required them to deal with young Myrielle Peake in

 their usual fashion.

The Maester he was trusting with the poison assured him that it was

 nearing its maximum potency, and that it would soon kill its intended

 target, the Lord Regent, Corlys Velaryon. Its effects would mimic that

 of a heart attack, and as Lord Corlys was in his seventh decade of

 life, a heart attack would surprise nobody. And given what was about

 to happen who could say that this fatal heart attack would not be

 brought on by the events to come?

 Lord Stark had not yet removed himself from Kings Landing and the

 Red Keep, a rather annoying fact that stuck in his gut, that heathen

 savage and his equally heathen and savage wife had welcomed their

 first child, a girl a scant few weeks ago. He was almost of a mind to

 have all three of them murdered also, but the fact that there was still

 a goodly contingent of north men in the capital stayed his hand. Well,

 it stayed his hand so long as the Stark kept his frozen nose out of his

 business, if he got a whiff of the Stark getting involved he would

 have to act, and act ruthlessly.

 Hence why over the last several moons he had moved knights and

 men at arms into Kings Landing and its environs for support when he

 made his move. He once again did the calculation in his head, yes,

 he had enough forces to prevail, no matter what. As it should be, he

 was not going to rush this, and risk everything, all his plans had been

 carefully laid, slowly matured, and delicately emplaced.

 As Hand it had been easy to ensure that his men were placed into

 the necessary positions of power, and into the vital places within the

 administration of the Red Keep and the Realm, and he was steadily

 working on the Gold Cloaks. Without their former patron Prince

 Daemon, they had been ripe for the picking, and he was sure that he

 had enough of them suborned to his cause by now.

 House Baratheon he discounted as it was led by that idiotic woman

 Lady Elenda, who had her hands full with three bratty daughters who

 seemed to think that they were the Gods own gift to manhood.

 Likewise, he also discounted the Lannister's, despite their endless

 coin, they were led by a seemingly equally idiotic woman, whose

only concern seemed to be getting marriages for her pair of

 daughters, both of whom seemed to have not an iota of sense

 between them. As evidenced by the piquant piece of information he

 had just become aware of, how Lady Tyshara had been discovered

 naked in Prince Hugh's bed, and with her maidenhead missing to

 boot! And the very fact that there had not been an immediate

 scandal was proof enough to him that the Lannister's must have

 been spreading around their coin like penny loaves to the masses to

 keep things quiet.

 The fact that he had only become aware of this in the last days was

 proof enough to his mind of this, but he would add it to his quiver and

 retrieve it as needed, should the Lannister's become a problem for

 him.

 Anyways, all was ready, he had with him the documents necessary,

 the Order of Degradation, stripping that ridiculous bastard Hugh of

 his Knighthood, and an Order of Refutation from the Starry Sept

 denying the legitimisation of Hugh as a Targaryen. By the time he

 would read these out in Court Hugh would of course be dead, as

 would Addam Velaryon, but Lord Corlys, sitting atop the Iron Throne,

 would not yet know that. The lords who were loyal to his cause

 would loudly agree with him in the Throne room, making a scene,

 and as this distraction was happening the knights and men at arms

 of his would be busy seizing control of the Red Keep.

 Lord Corlys could splutter and rage all he wanted, along with that

 ridiculous so-called Grand Maester Gerardys, who was also due for

 a very sudden retirement from his post, with the agreement of the

 Citadel of course.

 All in all, it was a decent plan, nothing fancy or risky, it depended on

 good old simple treachery and force of arms, and he felt confident

 that it would go his way, and that by dusk he would be sitting atop

 the Iron Throne as Lord Regent to his grace, King Aegon. Who

 would be known as the third of his name from now on, the removal of

 Alicent's first born son from the rolls of Targaryen Kings was the first

 thing he would correct when he ascended the Iron Throne.

It pleased him no end that he was about to surpass his uncle Otto,

 whom he had never really liked, and thoughts of this brought a smile

 to his face as he entered the Throne Room, packed as it had

 become over the last few moons. He had made sure that his

 supporters always attended court, to get everyone used to large

 numbers in the Throne Room, this day, if one looked carefully, there

 were many knights and men at arms present, though none were

 dressed in their military garb.

 It was a thin pretence, and one which would not hold up for long, but

 then again he did not need much time, only enough to distract the

 Lord Regent and the lackeys surrounding the base of the Iron

 Throne. The Kingsguard he did not give a seconds thought to, there

 were enough swords in this room to comfortably overwhelm them.

 Likewise, the Red Keep guards that lined the room, his men every

 one of them.

 He pushed on through the thronged throne room to stand before the

 Iron Throne, looking up at Lord Corlys perched atop the great

 hulking mass of twisted and partially melted swords. Even at this

 distance he could see that the famous vitality and vigour of the Sea

 Snake was absent, the man looked haggard and ashen, and his

 shoulders slumped were he sat. That was a good sign he hoped and

 wondered if the old cunt would even live long enough to realise what

 was about to happen. Oh, he did so hope so, it would spoil his

 enjoyment of his victory if Corlys did not know of his own failure and

 of his triumph. He waited calmly for the criers to call for silence and

 when it had descended he launched into his prepared speech.

 As he said his words he was aware of the rising hubbub of voices

 around him, and their increasingly strident tenor, all was going to

 plan. He read out both documents from the Faith of the Seven,

 stressing that they had been signed by the senior seven of the Most

 Devout, and that Hugh had to be removed forthwith from any

 positions of power. He promised that the lad would be allowed to

 leave the Red Keep and Kings Landing unharmed, though without

 his dragon of course.

Lord Corlys looked like he was having an apoplexy his face going

 suddenly bright red, before he tried to stand, only to stumble, grab

 out at the Iron Throne to steady himself, stumble again and grab at

 his clothing, appearing to rip at his doublet with a spasming hand,

 before he collapsed and fell from atop the Iron Throne, his body

 being sliced and cut by the blades as he fell, a protruding sword

 impaling him through his thigh, to leave him suspended and flailing

 about twelve feet off the floor of the low dais that the Iron Throne

 perched on.

 Pandemonium broke out at this, shouting and screaming filling the

 air, forcing the smile that threatened to split his face wide open to

 recede he called for calm, and directed the men known to him to

 restore order. Fighting was quickly coming to an end, those who had

 been stupid enough to not welcome his advances were butchered by

 those loyal to him, and the unfortunate Grand Maester joining them,

 his throat cut as he had tried to flee.

 He ascended to the dais of the Iron Throne, and scanned the crowd,

 a ball of ice suddenly forming in his stomach. Neither the Starks, the

 Lannister's or the Baratheon's were present at court, a very unusual

 occurrence, as they were normally regulars at court.

 This spelled bad news, it might yet be just coincidence, but as the

 minutes ticked by he became more and more anxious that things

 were not going to plan. The men who had been dispatched to

 murder Hugh and Addam should have made it back to the Throne

 Room by now, with the bodies to display to all. Likewise, the men he

 had sent out to secure the Red Keep should be reporting success to

 him here in the Throne Room.

 Suddenly from above an earth-shattering series of roars slammed

 into the Throne Room, the unmistakable sounds of an enraged

 Vermithor and Seasmoke, the bright, almost blinding light of

 dragonfire visible through the windows of the Throne Room.

 Ormund Hightower lost control of his bowels and soiled himself then

 and there, his mind collapsing into sheer and utter shock and terror,

failing to notice that the corpse of Lord Corlys Velaryon had slipped

 off the blade it was suspended from and had fallen to the ground.