The king's bedchamber.
A dense crowd stood quietly inside the room, each person positioned according to rank and status.
Everyone knew that something momentous was about to happen tonight.
Cersei was especially uneasy.
Standing beside Robert's bed, she cast a subtle glance at the maid next to her.
The maid understood at once, slowly retreating into the crowd until she vanished from the room.
Robert did not look at Cersei. He feared that if he did, he would lose control of his anger and order her execution on the spot.
He nodded weakly at Ned. "Ned, my Hand. You announce it."
Ned stood by the bed and swept his gaze across everyone present. His voice was deep and steady.
"In the name of Robert of House Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."
"I, Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King, hereby proclaim in the king's name—"
"That King Robert's natural sons, Gendry and Edric Storm, are hereby legitimized, granted the Baratheon name, and given equal rights of succession."
For a brief moment, the room fell silent.
Then it erupted like a wildfire.
Cersei, Renly, Grand Maester Pycelle, and everyone else stared in disbelief at Robert lying on the bed.
Cersei cried out in shock and fury. "You're mad, Robert!"
Robert shot her a cold look. It silenced her instantly.
She knew then that Ned Stark had told him everything.
'Damn it… cursed Lancel. Why didn't he let Robert die on the road?'
Hatred churned in her heart. 'Just wait. Once everyone leaves, I'll send him to the Seven myself.'
Cersei was not worried about her own safety.
She knew Robert well. If he had not ordered her arrest immediately, it meant he did not intend to deal with her just yet.
A decisive glint flashed in her eyes as she lowered her head and thought rapidly.
Varys's eyes flickered with a trace of delight.
Not long ago, he had been worrying about how to contain the conflict between lion and wolf. The Narrow Sea was not yet ready.
Now, with the legitimization of bastards, the situation would grow far more complicated.
And complexity meant time.
Littlefinger's eyes darted back and forth. The king's sudden decree forced him to reconsider his cooperation with Cersei.
Renly hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Your Grace, how do you intend to arrange your… natural sons?"
He had never met Gendry and worried Robert might place him at Storm's End.
Robert looked to Ned and said softly, "Gendry is fourteen now, the eldest of my natural sons. I will have him fostered by Lord Stark."
Ned met his gaze and understood the unspoken meaning: Robert wanted him to raise Gendry and support his claim.
Ned sighed inwardly but answered, "Yes, Your Grace."
Robert relaxed slightly and turned to Renly. "As for Edric, he will be entrusted to you, Renly."
Renly nodded, relieved.
He did not yet know the truth of Joffrey's birth.
He assumed only that the queen and the Lannisters had angered his brother, prompting Robert to follow Targaryen custom and legitimize his bastards.
'Brother and Ned are so close… Joffrey's position is finished,' Renly thought, casting a pitying glance at the silent Cersei.
He did not realize that Cersei, cornered and desperate, was already preparing to strike that very night.
The others were equally stunned by the king's command, especially those sworn to House Lannister, whose faces were tense with anxiety.
But since the queen herself said nothing, they had no standing to protest.
An unnatural silence settled over the chamber.
With his orders given, Robert said weakly, "You may all leave. Ser Barristan and Ned stay."
Cersei did not even spare Robert a glance as she turned away, already beginning preparations for the night ahead.
The others followed her out.
Soon, only three men remained in the room.
Robert looked at the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. "From this moment on, without my order, no one except Ned is to enter or leave Maegor's Holdfast."
"Keep the queen and her children in their chambers. They are not to go anywhere."
Barristan's expression was grave. He asked no questions. "Yes, Your Grace."
He turned and left to carry out the king's command.
Once Barristan was gone, Robert shook his head, trying to clear the fog in his mind.
"To be safe, I must leave my will first."
The pain wracking his body was already blurring his consciousness.
Yet he forced himself to endure, arranging everything before the last of his strength failed.
He took a deep breath and steadied himself. Seeing Ned take up quill and parchment, he spoke.
"This is the will of Robert of House Baratheon. You know all those damned titles. Write them yourself."
He skipped the formalities and continued.
"I appoint the Lord of Winterfell, Hand of the King, as Regent and Protector of the Realm until my lawful heir comes of age."
Ned finished the final line. Robert signed and sealed it, and the wax was pressed firm.
"My friend," Robert said weakly, "if anything happens to me, I leave my children in your care."
Ned tucked the will into his robes and nodded, grief heavy on his face.
"Robert, rest now. I'll have Grand Maester Pycelle prepare something for the pain."
He called Pycelle in loudly. The maester mixed another cup of milk of the poppy.
This time, Robert did not refuse. He drank it down. His thoughts soon grew hazy, and he drifted into sleep.
Just before losing consciousness, his eyes wandered to the Kingsguard standing at the door.
"Strange… it feels like I forgot something…"
But Robert would never remember.
Aside from the fearless Ser Barristan, nearly the entire Kingsguard was tied to the queen. Some even served her directly.
Ned watched Robert sink into deep sleep and said to Pycelle, "Grand Maester, you must treat the king with utmost care. He must live."
Pycelle bowed, his hunched form betraying nothing of his expression. "Yes, Lord Hand."
Ned cast one last long look at Robert, then turned and strode out.
Outside the chamber, the queen had already been escorted away by Ser Barristan, with Ser Preston placed in charge of guarding her.
The king's bedchamber itself was entrusted to Ser Boros and his men.
Ned inspected everything carefully. Finding no immediate flaws, he left Maegor's Holdfast in haste.
Night had already fallen.
Ned did not return to the Hand's Tower.
He left the Red Keep and went personally to Tobho Mott's smithy, bringing Gendry to his side.
Only after seeing the boy safe did Ned finally relax a little.
Gendry stood honestly beside the Hand, unaware that his fate had changed beyond recognition.
Staring into the deep night, an inexplicable sense of danger rose in Ned's heart.
He murmured, "Winter is coming."
After careful thought, Ned used the cover of darkness to find Yoren of the Night's Watch. He gave him detailed instructions and handed him a sealed letter.
Only then did he quietly depart.
That night, undercurrents surged through all of King's Landing.
The Hand was moving, and so were others.
And Queen Cersei herself lit the fuse. In Maegor's Holdfast, she sat calmly in her chambers, waiting.
When the night grew deep, Ser Preston knocked softly and entered.
"Your Grace, Ser Barristan is patrolling Maegor's Holdfast. We have half an hour."
Cersei rose gracefully. "Let us go."
Excitement, anticipation, and fierce resolve flashed through her eyes as she led her people toward the king's bedchamber.
At the door, Ser Boros and Grand Maester Pycelle were already waiting.
"Is it ready?" Cersei asked.
Pycelle let out a low laugh. "Your Grace, everything is prepared."
Cersei nodded and swept into Robert's chamber.
Looking at Robert, sleeping like a dead boar, a look of cruel satisfaction crossed her face. She ordered his wound pressed, jolting him awake in agony.
The moment Robert opened his eyes, he knew something was wrong.
He tried to call for Ser Barristan, but the Lord Commander was outside on patrol, far beyond earshot.
Cersei looked down at him coldly and waved her hand. "My dear, it's time for your medicine."
Several servants rushed forward and pinned Robert down.
Furious, he struggled. "Cersei, you whore—"
Before he could finish, a servant forced a cup of milk of the poppy mixed with the Tears of Lys down his throat.
The poison took effect swiftly.
Robert shut his eyes in agony and never woke again.
Cersei stood there silently, gazing at his corpse for a long moment, then turned and left the chamber.
When Ser Boros closed the door, the corridor fell silent, as if no one had ever been there.
Yet on the queen's return, the young servant Hugherman witnessed the scene.
The next morning, at dawn, nearly every member of the small council received word that the king had died from his grievous wounds.
Ned was struck with fury and disbelief.
When Hugherman secretly told him that the queen had visited the king's chamber in the dead of night, Ned immediately ordered Littlefinger to summon Janos with the City Watch into the Red Keep.
As he prepared to enter the castle himself, Varys's warning suddenly echoed in his mind.
After much hesitation, Ned ordered Arya, Gendry, and Rickon to be sent out of King's Landing along separate routes.
Once everything was arranged, he led his remaining guards into the Red Keep to demand justice.
The result—
By midday, news spread through King's Landing that the Hand of the King had betrayed the realm and been thrown into prison.
The news raced across the land.
Over half a month later, far away at Deepwood Motte, Galon finally received Robb's summons.
"Someone, notify the four great clans. It's time for us to take the stage."
With Galon's command—
The war machine he had painstakingly forged at Deepwood Motte roared to life.
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