Eddard walked with desperate urgency, as if it were the longest road he had ever walked in his life, like the road to see his sister for the last time.
"It was this boar." Ser Barristan pointed to the wild boar's carcass a distance outside the King's tent, and the smell of blood hit them.
"old gods," Eddard's face instantly turned pale. This wild boar was the fiercest boar he had ever seen in his life, with two long tusks and a huge body, looking like a great Northern bear. More importantly, the crimson blood on the boar's tusks and face indicated that the King was deeply wounded and the fight was fierce.
"Where was the King injured?" Eddard couldn't help but ask.
"Lord Eddard, I have never seen such severe injuries. The boar's tusks tore the King from his groin all the way to his chest," Ser Barristan whispered.
Eddard was silent, staring at Ser Barristan.
"I know your question, Lord Eddard." Ser Barristan's face twitched, "This was the King's command. The Kingsguard needed to stand aside."
"Damn it, damn it." Eddard sighed. This was indeed Robert's style.
"Actually, I had already advised the King," Ser Barristan whispered. "The Red Comet hangs in the sky, which is not a good omen, but the King wouldn't listen."
Eddard quickly walked into the tent. The King's green hunting coat was thrown on the ground, with cut marks and crimson stains. The King's feet were stretched out from under the blanket, still wearing boots, covered in mud and dry grass.
Eddard smelled all sorts of unsettling odors: dust, blood, and even the smell of death.
"Eddard," the King saw Eddard's face and said softly. The King's face was as pale as milk. "Come, come closer."
Eddard pulled back the blanket, and he saw horrific, convulsing injuries; the smell of the wounds was even more terrifying. The King's injuries were too dreadful, severe lacerations that Ser Barristan couldn't even describe their horror. Eddard's stomach churned.
"It stinks," Robert said. "This is the stench of death. Don't think I can't smell it. This time, it really got me bad, didn't it? But I… I didn't let it off easy either, Eddard." The King's smile was as startling as his wounds, his teeth stained blood-red. "I stabbed the boar's eye out. Ask them if it's true… Ask whom?"
"Yes," Lord Renly murmured. "Following my brother's orders, we brought the carcass back."
"Brought it back for dinner," the King said softly.
"Do you have something to tell me?" The King looked at Eddard. "Yesterday, I saw you weren't quite right. Don't forget, we grew up playing together. It just so happens I wanted to be alone with you for a while. Everyone else, leave. I need to talk with Eddard."
"How should I handle this?" Eddard kept asking himself in his heart, whether to comfort his old friend or face the future directly.
"You, and all of you, get out," the King said.
"Brother," Lord Renly seemed unwilling to leave.
"Get out! I'm not dying anytime soon."
Lord Renly turned and left, and even the White Knight departed. The environment here was too simple, without even milk of the poppy.
Eddard gave Jon a look; he had to keep the Northern guards strictly outside.
"Robert, damn it," Eddard said once only the two of them remained, sorrow blurring his eyes. Eddard sat beside the King. "Did you have to be so reckless?"
"Ah, fuck you, Eddard. At least I killed that bastard, didn't I?" The King's breathing was a bit erratic, his black hair obscuring his eyes.
"That girl, Daenerys, she's just a Child, you were right, and if she were pregnant, then I would have committed the great sin of kinslaying, harming Children and kinslaying… That's why, that girl… the gods in heaven sent down this boar… to… punish me." The King coughed up a pool of blood. "I was wrong, I was wrong, she… she's just a girl… Varys, Littlefinger, even my brother… useless… Eddard, besides you, no one ever said no to me… only you."
"But, but there's one thing I want, I want… I want to ask of you," the King continued, enduring extreme pain. "Help, help… help me protect Joffrey's throne. Don't, don't let his brother kill him. bastards grow faster than trueborn Children, with wild blood in their veins. This… this is my retribution… I wasn't this fierce and wild in my youth, and, and… very cunning. He will definitely… definitely try every means to seize Joffrey's throne… This, this matter I only trust you. I, I can't… can't kill my own son, that's kinslaying, but you, you… can do it. Help Joffrey…"
"Your Majesty…" Eddard choked. Was the King really thinking this way, asking him to commit kinslaying for him? Lannister deceived you, Joffrey is not your son.
"Now you can speak," the King looked at Eddard. "You must want to tell me something."
Eddard couldn't help but speak. If he didn't speak now, Robert would truly descend into hell in agony, a life of jest. Robert had his own Children, but now they were enemies. "Your Majesty, what I am about to say will be detrimental to your health. But please forgive me."
"At a time like this, dilly… dilly-dallying, why are you like a woman? You… you're not like the… Eddard I know."
"Your Majesty, I have learned a truth, the truth of Lord Jon's death, the secret Lord Jon discovered…" Eddard looked at the King and, after some thought, decided to speak.
He saw the King's pain and knew the truth would add more suffering to him. But he couldn't bear to see his old friend so deceived by House Lannister, still thinking of Joffrey at the time of his death. If he promised, how would he resolve it?
"What?…" The King's eyes widened.
"The seed is strong, Lord Jon's dying words…" Eddard said gravely. "Lord Jon was not referring to young Robert, but to your Children."
"My…" The King's tone became urgent, his face full of disbelief.
"Joffrey, Tommen, Princess Myrcella… those, those Children are not of House Baratheon; they are not your Children," Eddard said painfully. "Their real father is someone else, the Kingslayer…"
"Wh-what?" The King's eyes widened, and he spat out a large mouthful of blood. Eddard regretted his indecisiveness; he should have told the King the truth sooner.
"Hmm…" Eddard nodded, speaking softly. "Think about it, are there any Children in House Baratheon who don't have black hair and blue eyes? Lord Arryn knew this truth, which is why he met his demise."
"Fuck, fuck you, Eddard. You, you… you kept me in such bitter ignorance." The King's face alternated between white and red. The images of those Children with golden curls, fair skin, and green eyes flickered before him, and the King felt terribly upset. The King truly wanted to pick up his warhammer and smash those who humiliated him to death.
"The seed is strong, the seed is strong… Look, look what I've done. How many of my Children did Cersei kill…" Anger, shame, pain—he couldn't tell which emotion struck the King's heart.
If anyone else had said it, he would never have believed it, but what Eddard said made his head feel like it was shattering, and Old Arryn's death was also suspicious. Was this the truth? The truth he had always been unwilling to know.
"Wrong… We were all wrong…" The King looked at Eddard. "Kill, kill, I want to kill them…"
But the King was merely a spent force; he couldn't even leave his bed, let alone reach his warhammer and shield.
"Get me paper and a pen, they're on that table over there. Write down what I say." The King looked at Eddard. "You see, this… this is my retribution… I slept with so… so many women, and in the end… in the end, the woman by my side was… was a liar. They… they deceived me."
Eddard flattened the paper on his lap and picked up the quill. "Your Majesty, please instruct." "The following is the last will and testament of Robert I of House Baratheon, King of the andals and the First Men—put all those damn titles in there, you know which ones—I am unworthy of being King, I am a fool.
First, Lannister… treason. The King's marriage is… is a mistake. I was deceived by Lannister and Cersei. This marriage was never valid and should be annulled. The three Children born of Lannister's adultery… adultery should not bear the Baratheon name, nor are they fit to inherit my position.
Second, my… my bastards, from The Vale of Arryn, from King's Landing, Across the Narrow Sea, I… I legitimize all of them. They will also be Baratheons from now on, if they wish.
Third, I hereby appoint Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, hand of the king, as Regent and Protector of the Realm… after my death… to rule the kingdom in my stead… until my eldest son, Gendry, comes of age…"
"Your Majesty, this…" Eddard's eyes widened; the weight of the crown was immense. In truth, Eddard felt there was a better candidate for heir, but Eddard did not wish to burden the King further. It was clear that the contents of this letter would ignite widespread war.
"Do you think this… this is ridiculous?"
"No," Eddard shook his head.
"If… if you get the chance, remember to say… sorry to those Children, Mia, Gendry, Barra, and so on… I never raised them. They… they have the right to hate me… I hope… I hope they will like my final gift."
"What else do you want me to write?"
"Write… write whatever needs to be written. Observe, protect, old gods and new gods, you know all those verbose phrases. I'll sign it when you're done, and remember to write two copies. When I die, you run too. Don't go back to King's Landing; this letter will make King's Landing run with blood. The Small Council is full of sycophants and clowns; you won't be able to control it."
"Robert," Eddard's voice was filled with sorrow, "Don't be like this, don't leave me. The country needs you."
Robert gripped his hand tightly, squeezing hard. "Eddard Stark, you… truly cannot lie." He said through pain, "This country… this country knows very well… what kind of foolish King I am, a foolish King like Aerys. May the gods forgive me."
"No," Eddard told his dying old friend, "Your Majesty, you are not like Aerys. You are much better than him."
Robert managed a faint smile, blood still at the corner of his mouth. "At least, people will say… the last thing I did in my life… was not wrong. You won't disappoint me. This country is in your hands. You'll hate ruling… more than I did, but you'll do it very well. Have you finished writing?"
"Yes, Your Majesty." Ned handed the two sheets of paper to the King. The King signed twice solemnly, leaving a trail of blood between the lines. "It needs to be witnessed when sealed, but now only my personal seal can be used."
Eddard picked up the King's personal seal, which was a galloping stag.
"Let, let Ser Barristan in. Don't, don't let Renly come," the King instructed. "That boy has been led astray by me."
"Your Majesty." The Old Knight hurriedly entered the tent.
"You once guarded several generations of Kings and this country, but I never heeded your advice. This is not your fault, but rather my own absurdity. A country… after all, is not a battlefield," the King said, looking at the Old Knight with a sigh. "You are right, people like the Kingslayer are not fit to wear the White Cloak. The White Knight is full of the stench of the lion. I can only trust you."
Ser Barristan didn't know what to say until Eddard handed him a copy of the will.
"Deliver the will to the rightful hands, one for you, one for Eddard. Across the Narrow Sea, this is… this is the King's last mission for you. You once guarded several generations of Kings; I… I count on you to guard my… legitimate heir. Though that boy… doesn't seem to need it much either."
Ser Barristan quickly read the will, every word making him tremble with fear. After Lord Eddard's secret conversation with the King, the entire country was about to fall apart.
"I want that boar as the main course for my funeral," Robert rasped, "with an apple in its mouth, roasted crispy and delicious. Eat that bastard up. I want everyone to be stuffed."
"But you two won't get to eat it. Run quickly and deliver the will to its rightful place. Promise me."
"I promise you," Eddard said.
"That girl," the King said, "Daenerys, they say she's exceptionally beautiful. It seems that boy has good taste in women. If you have a way, if… there's still time… command them… Varys… don't let them kill her. She's like my daughter-in-law. Let the stag and the dragon reconcile. And help my son. He grew up without support, and I fear he'll become too ruthless. Eddard, if he needs you, let him become… a better man than me." He winced in pain, "Gods have mercy on me."
"They will, my friend," Ned said, "They will."
"This is my duty." The Old Knight looked at the King. The red comet brought death and would also bring unprecedented chaos.
The King closed his eyes, seemingly a little relaxed. "To be killed by a wild boar in the end," he murmured, "If it weren't for the pain, I'd laugh aloud. Will that boy think this is… retribution? But we are father and son after all. He… he should avenge me."
"Keep, keep my will very safe."
"Should others be allowed in?"
Robert nodded weakly. "Alright. Gods, why is it so cold in here?"
So the servants came in and tended to the fire. Lord Renly also anxiously entered the tent.
"Renly, the Queen,… the Queen is a liar. Remember I am your brother. Remember to go with Lord Eddard, obey Lord Eddard's command… command."
"Yes…" Lord Renly bowed his head, not understanding what his brother was saying. The bedroom was stiflingly hot, his forehead covered in glistening sweat, looking like a younger, dark-haired, handsome version of Robert.
"Damn it, Eddard. This blood-red comet is not a good omen. That wild boar seemed overly fierce… But… but I won. But… but I need to sleep. Will I dream?"
Eddard gave him the answer. "Your Majesty, you will."
"That's good," the King smiled, "Eddard, I'll say hello to Lyanna for you. Please take good care of my Children."
These words were like a sharp knife twisting in Eddard's gut. He then thought of the bastards, of Barra still in her mother's arms, Mia in The Vale of Arryn, Gendry fighting Across the Narrow Sea… "I will… cherish your Children as if they were my own," he said slowly.
"I will also take good care of those Children, brother," Lord Renly assured the King. Renly looked at Eddard suspiciously; his brother most likely had other words to impart.
The King nodded and closed his eyes. His cheeks twitched in pain, and he would likely never wake again.
The Old Knight glanced at the King; all the tumultuous storms he had to hide deep within his heart.
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