Chapter 13
ROBERT BARATHEON
Robert Baratheon had never desired the throne or the responsibilities that came with it. He was the King, and yet he desired neither the power nor the authority the position offered him.
It was a strange thing to say when he had won the throne after a brutal war. But the truth was that he had not fought for the throne. He had fought for her. For Lyanna Stark.
The cold stone could not do justice to her wild beauty, and the sad thing was that as he closed his eyes to try to imagine her face, riding through the fields with a smile on it. He simply couldn't do it.
He couldn't.
"She doesn't belong here, in this cold, dark place," Robert snarled, and perhaps if she were up there in the South, with a beautiful garden around her, things might have been different.
"She belongs in a garden somewhere, with trees and fields," and Eddard answered in lament.
"She was my sister," and he stood beside him, though gazing at the statues beside her. Statues of his brother and his father.
"This is her place," and the Starks were rather cold in their rules. The crypts were long and contained the bodies of Stark Kings and lords from before the times of Aegon himself.
"Tell me of Jon Arryn?" and now he turned his gaze away from her, as regret filled his heart.
"It was strange. He fell ill suddenly, and then in but a week the fever burned through him," and much of the blame lay with him, for Robert had burdened the man too much. Jon had been running the Seven Kingdoms for him, and his reward for it was shame and humiliation.
"The man held the realm together for more than a decade, and yet now they all question him?" and his own wife questioned the man's loyalty and competence, but Robert had no doubt at all in his mind.
"All because of that snivelling snake," and by now it was certain that the traitor who had ordered the attack on his son was none other than that bastard Little Finger, and the damage he had done to him, and to the Crown was too grave.
"You speak of Baelish," and Robert's blood boiled in rage at the mention of his name.
"I never liked him. Never," he met Ned's gaze, and though they all thought of him as a fool, Robert had been trained to rule over Storm's End. He was heir to the Stormlands, and had been surrounded by liars and lickspittles all his life.
"Yet for some reason, Jon trusted the bastard, and so I remained quiet," and now that very mistake had nearly cost him a son. Robert did not care for the gold or the realm, but the bastard had tried to attack his son.
And he would make him pay for it.
"I was wrong. I burdened Jon too much, and now the entire realm dares to wag their tongues at the most honorable man I have ever known," and he scoffed, as he remembered Cersei's words.
"My own Queen calls him a traitor," and Ned was quick to retort.
"Jon would never betray you," and the words were unnecessary.
"Of course, he wouldn't." The man loved him like a son. He had raised him and Ned and taught them nearly everything he had known.
"The man turned on his King just for us. I would have given him the throne if he had ever asked," and the man had practically ruled the realm for him. He had no reason to betray him.
"No. It's all that Littlefinger's doing! If I ever get my hands on the bastard, I will crush him with my hammer just as I did to Rhaegar," but the man was gone. They had been searching for him for a month now, and now the Spider had finally found him.
"Where is he now?" Ned questioned.
"On a ship, sailing for Pentosh," he answered, and the missive had come when he was midway in his journey.
"I have already asked the Council to send a few capable men after him," and though he would prefer to end his life with his own hands, his lifeless head does just fine as well.
"I want him dead," but right now the capital was in shambles. For years now, he had heard whispers and rumors of lords and ladies, calling him the 'usurper' as they all clung to the legacy of Aegon the Conqueror.
Only the fear of his hammer and the wisdom and sagacity of Jon had kept such curs at bay. But now Jon was gone, and his steel had grown dull. He had let a traitor sit on his council for years, and so those whispers grew louder, as the rats began to come out of their caves.
"I am surrounded by traitors. Many still call me a usurper, and now those tongues have begun to wag without fear. They now dream of a different King, and we cannot let that happen," and so he had come here.
To find a Hand, and to bind the realm together once more.
"I need you, Ned. I need you by my side," and there was doubt in his friend's eyes, as he shook his head.
"I am not worth..." and the years had not made him any wiser.
"I am not trying to honor you," Robert retorted.
"I am asking you to help me run my kingdom. We won this Kingdom together, now help me keep it," and so Robert made the first of the two declarations he had come to make.
"Eddard Stark, I would name you Hand of the King," and while he remained reluctant, Eddard Stark was a man of duty, and bent the knee.
"I will do my best to ser..."
"Stand up, you fool," he cut in before his knee could touch the ground.
"There is no need for such ceremony. You are a friend, Ned. One of the few I have in this world," and there was a booming smile on his face, and even that cold face lit up at his words.
"We were meant to rule together, as brothers. But the Gods had different plans. Still, the time is ripe. You have a daughter, and I have a son," and he had made the decision even before he had set foot here in the North.
While armies could conquer empires, it was marriages and alliances that kept it together.
"But they are too young," and he did not even let him speak.
"Baratheon fury, and Northern steel won me the Crown. We will need that unity once more, if I am to keep the throne," and he hoped that a gentle and comely girl would do him well.
Neglecting his children was another one of his crimes, and now he was paying the price for it, much like he was paying the price of putting such a heavy burden on an old man like Jon.
He had tried, but in the end, he simply could not bring himself to care too much, and so the children had been left in the hands of Cersei. She had spoiled Joffrey rotten, and he still could not get the boy's outrage out of his head.
He had cut off an ear from his own brother. An ear, and had then gone on to raise steel on Steffon. He should have had him whipped, for this was not the first time he had done something like that.
The boy may have gotten better at hiding his true nature over the years, but the missing servants and the whispers had not gone unnoticed. In that sense, the fostering had served Steffon well, and while there was little love between him and Steffon, the boy was far saner than his elder twin.
He had been kinder, and even the Old Lion had hailed his intellect. And while thinking about his eldest filled him with rage and anxiety, Steffon still filled him with pride and surety.
Still, he hoped that Ned's daughter could do what he had failed in and rein in Joffrey.
"I am not asking them to be married tomorrow. We can wait a year until they are both old enough and things have settled down. We will have them marry then," and in the end, most of the other Houses would prostrate themselves infront of him for this honor, yet Ned's hesitation was a testament to his love for his children.
"As you wish," and Robert smiled at that, as he slapped him on the back.
"This was meant to be. We were supposed to be bound by blood through my marriage to your sister. Now, our children will fulfill that destiny," and Ned said nothing, as they began to head out of the crypts.
"Still, how are the Princes and Princess?" and Robert had not thought much of them.
"They are fine. A bit shaken by the attack on Steffon," and he had come so close to losing a son, all because of his laziness.
"I can only thank the Gods that Tywin doubled the number of guards, or the attack just might have succeeded," and just thinking about that whole affair made his head hurt.
"He gave them castle forged steel," he began, as he turned towards Ned.
"Castle Forged Steel bought using my gold, to kill my own son! No wonder the realm now questions my right to sit on that throne," but that would change. He would change that.
For far too long, he had let the matters of the realm to his Council, trusting them to rule in his stead, yet only now he was beginning to realise that traitors and fools surrounded him.
It was time for him to take a more active part in ruling the realm, and he intended to do just that. He may have no desire for the throne, but he was King, and what a King he would be if he let the realm fracture so easily.
"He hired fifteen men. Taken from my own cells, and handed steel bought from my own gold to kill my son. A father can suffer no greater humiliation than that," and he had planned it well, but the Gods were merciful.
"Thankfully, Steffon had the mind to double his retinue," and for good reason.
"He had always spoken against that bastard Littlefinger," and even as a child, he had seen through the facade that had fooled them all.
"He knew of Baelish's treason," Ned asked, and the sad thing was that he did not know the answer to that.
"He suspected it at least. He counselled Tywin to stop giving loans to the throne, believing that someone was robbing them. Initially, we all thought it to be a boy's fantasy, but he was right. That little shit was indeed stealing from us," and now the realm was beggared.
"He seems competent," and Robert's face lit up with pride.
"He was fostered by his grandfather, so that is no surprise. Still, even the Old Lion was forced to praise my son's brilliance," yet there was little love between them, but a father could be proud of their son.
Even in those eyes, he saw nothing but disappointment and rage, and the boy was far closer to his mother than he was to him.
"He is quite like you in many ways," and Ned frowned at that.
"He is quieter and far more dutiful than I ever was at his age," and once they were out of the crypts, the cold air hit them once more. And the chill tore through their furs and hit their bones, yet still Robert preferred this to that stuffy castle.
"How I have longed for this," Robert whispered, and for years now, he had been holed up in that castle, drowning himself away in wine and women. He had forgotten the joy of riding through fields, hunting in the wild, and exchanging stories and songs with soldiers.
This was the one advantage of Cersei's absence, for he had ridden at his own pace. He had done as he had wished, caring little for his title and decorum that she followed religiously, and for the first time in a decade, he felt alive.
"For what?" Ned asked.
"Freedom," Robert answered, and he wouldn't understand.
"Still, where to?" Robert asked, and Eddard pointed towards the castle.
"Come, a feast has been prepared..." and yet just as they were about to head towards the castle a loud scream made them stop.
"AGHHHHH!" and they both stilled, as the guards all rushed towards them, and all he heard was a whisper before Eddard broke into a sprint beside him.
"Brann....!"
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