King's Landing the following day.

  He had finally found the key to Jon Arryn's assassination and his son's fall from the tower. Despite how loathed he was to think that Robert's children were actually bastards born of incest, he was certain it was true, and the king's rage would not spare the children when he was duty-bound to report it to Robert.

  That is why he found himself in the gardens in the hopes of convincing Cersei and her children to leave for Casterly Rock. As he looked at the purple "honor" mark on her face, his anger and revulsion towards the woman faded somewhat. "Has he done this before?" he asked in sympathy.

  "My brother would have killed him. He's worth at least a thousand of your friends."

  "Your brother or your lover?"

  Her face remained impassive, but she struggled to hold back a sneer at his words. "The Targaryens wed brother and sister for hundreds of years. We are closer than siblings. We came into this world together, so we belong together."

  "And my son saw you together," she paused, and her silence made his emotions frost over, but he held back for her children and his position. "So you've always hated him, never once wanting to do your duty and have his son."

  "Hated him? I loved him. He was every girl's dream, but he was mine by oath. When I saw him in the Sept, lean, fierce, and bck-bearded, it was the happiest moment of my life. And that night when he came to cim me on my most special night, he crawled on top of me, drunk and half-asleep. He did what he could, what little he could do, and whispered in my ear, 'Lyanna.'

  Your sister was a corpse and I was a living girl, yet he loved her more than me. So don't talk to me about duty, as it's a husband's duty to cherish his wife before the wife's duty to bear him a son in the eyes of the mother." Her normal sneer had returned as if daring him to challenge her.

  "When the king returns from his hunt, I'll tell him the truth; you must be gone by then. You and your children— I will not have their blood on my hands. But know that wherever you go, Robert's wrath will follow you," he spoke softly, not rising to her bait.

  "And what of my wrath, Lord Stark? You should have taken the realm for yourself when you could, as when you py the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground." With those words, she left, clearly not worried about his warnings or maybe too stubborn to realize Robert's title of demon wasn't just talk.

  Two days ter, the king's hunting party and procession returned from the Kingswood.

  "Ned! A boar... It got Robert!" Renly said as he passed Eddard Stark, still covered in blood.

  His heart dropped as he saw the pale figure of Robert, who was speaking to Joffrey. He couldn't muster the will to interfere. Robert spoke with difficulty, "I should have shown you how to be a man. I was never meant to be a father; I should have died in that godforsaken river with my hammer up his arse. Go on, you don't want to see this."

  As Joffrey left the room, Ned approached and inspected the wound. "My fault— too much bloody wine. Haha, stinks like death, but I paid the bastard back. Now I want the funeral feast to be the biggest the kingdom has ever seen. And everyone gets a taste of the boar that got me. Now leave us, all of you! I need to talk to Ned. Out, all of you! Now, Ned, write what I say. Paper and ink's on the table."

  "In the name of Robert titles, titles, you know how it goes, hereby command Lord Eddard Stark titles, titles to serve as lord regent and rule in my stead upon my death until my son Joffrey Baratheon comes of age." At those words, Ned's heart dropped further; his duty told him to expose the truth, but his friendship to Robert won out in the end. A small lie to give Robert some peace before meeting the Seven.

  Robert signed with a relieved smile. "Let them say I did this one thing right. You'll rule now and probably hate it worse than I did, but you'll do it well. That girl and her brother—you were right, Littlefinger, Varys, my brother—all worthless. No one to tell me no but you. Let them live. You can stop it if it's not too te, and my son—help him, Ned. Make him better than me, will you?" Robert panted as sweat covered his pale face.

  "I'll do everything I can to honor your memory."

  "Haha! My memory! Cough, cough! King Robert Baratheon murdered by a pig! Get me something for the pain and let me die."

  Ned left the bedchamber and spoke to Grand Maester Pycelle. "Give him milk of the poppy and any other foreign medicines to ease the pain." The old man nodded and wobbled inside. As he turned...The spider spoke up, "I do wonder who gave the king all that wine. I believe it's his squire, the young Lannister boy."

  Ned turned and spoke after giving a slight nod to Varys, "The king has had a change of heart regarding the Targaryen children. Whatever arrangements you've made, unmake them at once."

  "I'm sorry, but those birds have already flown; it's quite likely they're already dead," Varys spoke sympathetically as Ned simply walked away.

  Later that day, he was once again met with a much cleaner Renly, but before Ned could speak, he was cut off by Renly, "He named you protector of the realm, didn't he?"

  Ned nodded. "She won't care, but give me an hour, and I can put a hundred swords at your command to strike tonight while the castle sleeps. We must get Joffrey out of his mother's hands as protector of the realm or not. He who holds the king holds the kingdom, and every moment you dey gives Cersei another to prepare. By the time Robert dies, it will be too te for both of us."

  Ned frowned deeper. "And what of Stannis?"

  Renly smiled in amusement. "Saving the seven kingdoms from Cersei and delivering them to Stannis? You have odd notions about protecting the realm. This isn't about the bloody line of succession; it didn't matter when you and Robert rebelled against the Mad King, and it shouldn't matter now.

  What's best for the kingdoms or the people we rule? We all know what Stannis is. He inspires no love or loyalty and supports strange ideas and people from across the sea. He's not a king, but a puppet of others at worst and a stick of wood at best. I AM. I am a king."

  Renly spoke confidently, but Ned was buying none of it; this sounded like rebellion at worst and a fool's game at best. "Stannis is a commander; he's led men to war and destroyed the Iron fleet."

  "Yes, he's a good soldier, but tell me something: do you still think good soldiers make good kings?"

  "I will not dishonor Robert's st moments by shedding blood in these halls and dragging frightened children from their beds," he spoke with resolution as he left to write to Stannis, having had enough of the younger brother.

  Hands Chamber:

  Ned confided in his only reliable ally, Peter Baelish, about the true status of Joffrey's and Tommen's legitimacy and Stannis's right to the throne.

  Littlefinger smiled as he spoke, "My lord protector, you would be wise to do everything in your power to deny the throne to Stannis and make sure Joffrey succeeds."

  Ned's face darkened. "Have you not a shred of honor?"

  "You are now hand of a dying king and protector of the realm; all the power is yours. You need only reach out and take it. Make peace with the Lannisters, wed your daughter, and release the Imp. We have time to remove Stannis, and if Joffrey seems to cause problems, we simply reveal his secret and seat Lord Renly there instead."

  "We?... What you suggest is treason."

  "You'll need someone to share these burdens, and my price will be modest; it's only treason if we lose."

  "Make peace with the Lannisters, you say? The people who tried to murder my boy?"

  "That's why it's called making peace; we only make peace with our enemies."

  "No. I won't do it. Stannis is the heir to the throne."

  "So it will be Stannis and war. Then why did you call me here, certainly not for my wisdom?"

  "You promised Catelyn to help me. The queen has a dozen knights and hundreds of men-at-arms, enough to overwhelm what remains of my household guards. I need the gold cloaks, and the City Watch is two thousand strong and sworn to defend the king's peace."

  Peter gave a slight smile as he moved to sit at the table. "Look at you... You know what you want me to do, and you know what has to be done, but it's not honorable, so the words stick in your throat. When the queen procims one king and the hand another, whose peace do the gold cloaks protect, and whom do they follow? The man who pays them."

  Two days ter

  "LORD STARK! King Joffrey and the queen regent request your presence in the throne room. King Robert is gone; the gods give him rest." The bells of King's Landing tolled at the passing of the king, but Ned had no time to admire the sound.

  He met with Peter on his way and received the good news that he could count on the City Watch. Along with the troubling report that Renly left the city the night before.

  "All hail his grace Joffrey Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm." Ned approached the throne with his retainers.

  The boy king spoke: "I command the council to make all necessary arrangements for my coronation. I wish to be crowned within the fortnight, and I will be accepting all oaths of allegiance."

  Ned ignored him and instead handed Robert's will to Ser Barristan to read to the court. When he finished, the queen took the letter and ripped it for all to see, much to the distaste of the old knight.

  Cersei spoke with arrogance and pride: "Bend the knee, Lord Stark, and we will let you live out your days in the gray waste you call home."

  "Your son has no cim to the throne."

  The queen sneered: "Then you think you can leave while you condemn yourself with such treasonous snder?"

  The boy shouted as the Hound raised his sword: "KILL ALL OF THEM! I COMMAND IT!"

  Ned turned to the City Watch for support: "I want no bloodshed. Tell your men to y down their swords and be escorted to the royal apartments."

  "Men of the Watch!" The spears came out, but a slight side-eye the queen gave told everything. "NOW!" As spears passed through the backs of the North men, cries of agony echoed throughout the hall.

  Ned had no time to react when the cold knife of Peter Baelish was on his neck: "I did warn you not to trust me."