Once the bloody farce came to an end, the feast slowly returned to life.
Plump roast meat and grilled sausages sizzled over the fires, dripping fat. The air was filled with the fragrance of garlic and pepper.
Young, pretty serving girls carried plates piled with meat or vegetable salad, hurrying back and forth.
Lord Eddard came to King Robert's seat.
The enormous warhammer, along with a massive iron shield, had been placed behind Robert's chair. The shield was emblazoned with the crowned stag of House Baratheon.
Eddard vaguely remembered that Robert had once stood six feet and five inches tall, towering like a great keep, standing above the crowd. When he wore armor and a helm crowned with branching antlers, he had been a true giant.
His strength had been no weaker than a giant's either. Even Eddard himself could barely lift the spiked warhammer before him, Robert's favored weapon.
But time had turned the giant of old into a tragedy.
The king of today was so fat that walking even a few extra steps left him gasping, red-faced, and struggling to breathe.
Robert was currently drinking beer in great gulps from a huge horn cup.
The attendants on either side clumsily speared pieces of greasy mutton and carefully delivered them to the king's mouth.
Robert chewed in great mouthfuls, meat juices spraying everywhere.
Then one of the attendants' hands slipped.
Plop!
A piece of delicious mutton fell to the ground. The attendant was so frightened that he was almost in tears.
"Seven hells!"
Robert cursed loudly. "Must I even feed myself if I want a piece of meat? You two are both bloody useless!
"Pick up what fell on the ground. Don't just stand there like fools.
"Lancel, pick it up!
"You eat it!"
Only after Robert had cursed himself tired did he notice Lord Eddard had arrived.
"Ned, look at these fools. That loathsome wife of mine insisted I take them as squires, and they're worse than useless.
"They can't even feed me meat. What sort of squires are these?
"They're pigs wearing clothes!"
Lord Eddard looked Robert over carefully and felt that "pig wearing clothes" suited Robert himself rather well.
But he would not say that out loud.
"Your Grace, you are too fat. So fat that you are too lazy to even pick up a piece of meat yourself. That is not a good thing."
Lord Eddard pointed out the root of the problem.
Robert gulped down a great mouthful of beer, threw the horn cup onto the table, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and burst into laughter.
"Too fat! Bugger you, Ned, you're bloody right!"
"Perhaps I really should think about losing weight…" Robert rubbed his chin and said.
"Your Grace, I have something to tell you…" Lord Eddard began, preparing to reveal the secret weighing on his heart.
But from the corner of his eye, he noticed more than a dozen Lannister guards standing silently behind King Robert like statues.
They wore crimson cloaks, their armor bright, their weapons gleaming.
Remembering Domeric's words, and thinking of Robert being surrounded day and night by these Lannister men, Eddard could not help but feel his heart tighten.
"Your Grace, can you have them withdraw?" Lord Eddard looked toward the guards.
Robert naturally would not deny his old friend's request.
"All of you, get out."
"But Your Grace, the queen sent us to protect you," the captain of the guards said with a bow.
"Out. I do not need that stupid woman's protection!"
The guards did not move.
At that, King Robert's gaze grew colder, and he roared, "Do you want me to say the same thing twice? Must I kill you before you understand?"
Only under the king's stern command did the guards slowly withdraw.
"You two, out as well!" Robert shouted at the two attendants beside him.
One of the squires, Lancel Lannister, immediately scurried out as if granted amnesty.
Once they had left, Robert was too angry to speak.
He paced from one side of the pavilion to the other, turned, and paced back again, his face dark with fury.
"They don't even listen when I speak anymore. Those Lannister bastards!"
Robert picked up his horn cup again, filled it with beer, and shoved it into Eddard's hands.
"Drink," he said abruptly.
"I am not thirsty—" Eddard refused.
"Drink. That is the king's command."
So Lord Eddard took the horn cup and drank. The beer was dark and thick, so strong it stung his eyes.
"Now no one is here. Say whatever you want."
"Actually…" Eddard suddenly realized that this was not the right time to tell Robert the truth about old Lord Arryn's death, nor about Queen Cersei's incest-born bastards.
He foresaw that once Robert learned these things, he would surely take up his spiked warhammer and fight the Lannisters to the death.
But the enemy had numbers and influence. Lannister men were everywhere in King's Landing.
Once conflict broke out, not only would Robert die, but Eddard himself might die as well.
"It is nothing. I only came to apologize to Your Grace for not agreeing to the tourney you requested earlier," Lord Eddard said after a moment of thought. He decided to conceal the truth for the time being.
"Don't call me Your Grace. Call me Robert."
Robert laughed loudly. "That little matter? You're the Hand of the King. I should listen to you!"
Robert sat down again and began grumbling.
"Bugger you, Ned. You and old Arryn both deserve to die!
"I loved you both so much, and how did you repay me?
"You made me this damned king."
"Your Grace, your claim was lawful. You were the most qualified to be king." Lord Eddard's gaze deepened.
After Robert's Rebellion ended, the reason Robert sat the Iron Throne instead of Eddard or old Arryn was mostly because Robert's bloodline was closest to the Targaryens.
The founder of House Baratheon had been the Hand and bastard brother of Aegon the Conqueror, and Baratheon blood had carried the blood of the dragon from the beginning.
In recent generations, Robert's grandmother had been the daughter of Aegon V, granting Robert another infusion of legitimate Targaryen blood.
Robert's ascension was easier for the realm to accept than Eddard's or old Arryn's, especially for those nobles and lords who had once supported the Targaryens.
"I told you to drink, not argue.
"Damn it, since you people made me king, at least listen properly when I talk.
"Ned, look at me. Look at what I became after I became king.
"Gods above, I have grown so fat I can barely walk. How did it come to this?"
King Robert clutched his chest in pain.
"Robert…"
"The king is speaking now, so shut your mouth and drink.
"I swear to you, I have never been happier in my life than when I was fighting on the battlefield and winning the throne. And I have never been more lifeless than after I actually gained it…
"Heh. If you won't drink, give it to me."
Seeing that Lord Eddard was not speaking, King Robert frowned.
He snatched the horn cup from Eddard's hand, drained it in one gulp, belched loudly, and wiped his mouth.
"Ned, let me tell you a secret.
"More than once, I have dreamed of giving up the throne, taking my horse and hammer, sailing to the Free Cities, and spending my days fighting, adventuring, singing, and whoring. That is the life I was meant to live.
"A sellsword king. The singers would love me to death.
"Do you know why I never truly did it?
"Because the moment I imagine Joffrey on the throne, with Cersei squawking beside him, I cannot bear it…"
"Prince Joffrey is still young," Eddard said awkwardly. He naturally loathed that bastard born of Cersei's incest, but he could hear the pain in Robert's voice.
Robert sighed and shook his head.
"In truth, old Arryn gave up on me long ago. He said I was not a good king.
"Tell me, who was better, me or Aerys II?
"Eddard Stark, I know you cannot lie, not for love and not for honor.
"But I am still young. And now I have you to help me. Everything will get better.
"Together we will create a peaceful age that future generations will sing of, and then we will knock all those Lannisters down into the seventh hell…"
The sadness in King Robert slowly faded. A moment later, he began happily talking about their childhood days at the Eyrie.
He laughed heartily, and Lord Eddard, remembering the past as well, could not help but smile.
This was the king he had grown up with.
This was the Robert Baratheon to whom he was willing to swear his life.
At that moment, Lord Eddard could not help but think that perhaps Robert was not as hopeless as his son-in-law Domeric had said. There were still people around the king who were truly loyal to him.
As long as Robert roused himself again, as long as he once more became that giant who had swung his spiked warhammer on the banks of the Trident,
then together, they could unravel the Lannisters' conspiracy and bring the murderers of old Lord Arryn to justice.
Yes, there was also Tyrion Lannister, the one called the Imp, locked away in the dungeon.
He had brutally murdered Lady Darry.
There truly was not a single good person in House Lannister.
Eddard decided that once they returned to the Red Keep, in a place that was absolutely safe, he would find the proper moment to tell Robert everything.
When that time came, Cersei would face judgment, and the Kingslayer would be finished as well.
If Lord Tywin dared to raise an army in rebellion, Robert would shatter him without mercy, just as he had shattered Rhaegar Targaryen on the Trident.
Eddard could see it all with perfect clarity.
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🏰🩸 GAME OF THRONES: SECRETS BENEATH THE DREADFORT
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🚨 SOMETHING IS BURIED BENEATH THE DREADFORT...
And perhaps it was buried for a reason.
The North is a land of old blood, older grudges, and secrets hidden beneath snow and stone.
But few places inspire more fear than...
The Dreadfort.
30+ chapters ahead are already available.
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🩸 THE DREADFORT HIDES MORE THAN BONES
🏰 Dark northern secrets
⚔️ Political intrigue
🐺 Westerosi power struggles
🩸 Bloodlines & betrayal
❄️ The brutal North
👑 Ambition & survival
💀 Mysteries best left forgotten
The North remembers.
But the Dreadfort?
🩸 The Dreadfort hides.
🔥 30+ CHAPTERS AHEAD.
👉 Go beneath the Dreadfort before the public readers reach the door.
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❄️ Winter may be coming. The secrets are already here.