Steadying his mind, Stannis exhaled deeply. He did not grow angry at Eddard Stark's words.
"I would never assassinate him. Why would I do such a thing?"
"Lord Stark, I am only thinking of the realm. Matters of succession should not be left in such a void. We both know the peril of such uncertainty."
Stannis made an effort to keep his tone from sounding too stiff, offering at least a small explanation for his earlier words.
Eddard Stark, of course, knew that Stannis Baratheon would never do such a thing.
Yet he still had to respond to Stannis's reckless remarks.
Otherwise, if those words ever reached Robert's ears, the outcome would not be something a single reprimand could mend.
But before Eddard could reply, Stannis pressed on.
"Stark, we cannot deny that accidents may come as soon as tomorrow."
"Perhaps from wine, or from women—or even from that mass of flesh he carries. You and I both know Robert well enough; it may take nothing more than a hunt on horseback to end his life."
"Stark, I do not curse Robert—but as for what that would mean for the realm, I think I need not say another word."
Eddard, who had been ready to ease up when Stannis seemed to realize his own error, now found himself truly angered as Stannis persisted in his reasoning.
"Shut your mouth, Stannis!"
Eddard Stark barked another rebuke, his whole posture pressing forward toward Stannis.
His eyes burned with anger as he glared at Stannis Baratheon, who still would not stop his relentless words.
Seeing Eddard's fury, Stannis paused, then, realizing his mistake, chose to fall silent.
He had grown impatient without noticing.
Once he saw Stannis back down, Eddard Stark also restrained his anger and sat back down.
For a while, the private chamber fell into an awkward silence.
The Hand of the King sat still, holding his cup in a daze.
Meanwhile, Stannis Baratheon sat upon his stool, both hands resting on his knees, watching the silent Hand before him.
Amid the silence, Eddard Stark unconsciously sank into thought.
He had to admit—he could not refute Stannis's words.
After all, setting aside distant history, even within the Targaryens' two centuries of rule, many incidents had arisen from unforeseen accidents.
Each one had dealt harm to the royal dynasty's authority.
Once he had calmed himself, Eddard finally lifted his head and looked deeply at Stannis Baratheon.
"You want me to support you as the heir to the Iron Throne?"
Eddard Stark laid bare the truth that neither of them had spoken outright since their meeting.
Then he added, "And what do you think would happen if Robert heard what you just said?"
At these two questions, Stannis's gaze flickered slightly.
Though Eddard's tone remained firm, Stannis understood that he had achieved the purpose of his visit.
His brows relaxed a little; he picked up the cup from the table once more.
He did not drink, merely swirled the wine within, then looked at the Hand and said frankly, "I know you dislike me—and Robert dislikes me as well—but that cannot become a reason to prevent me from claiming the lawful right that belongs to me."
Eddard did not deny it, his eyes still deep and solemn as they met Stannis's.
For Stannis had spoken the truth.
When the King left no direct heir, the crown passed to the next brother.
Yet soon after, Eddard Stark spoke again—shattering Stannis's fragile delusion.
"But Robert will soon take a new queen—and a true heir of his own blood will be born. What good will your claim be then?"
"At least that will take a year," Stannis pressed relentlessly, seizing upon the opening.
"Unless he legitimizes that bastard of his right now—but if he truly did so, which house would support him?"
"There are few houses as powerful and wealthy as the Lannisters."
"And you were not wrong earlier—Robert is still young. Once he sires a trueborn child with some noblewoman, what do you think he will make of Kal Stone then?"
"Will he still treat him as he does now?"
"Do not forget how the Targaryens' Dance of the Dragons came to be!"
Stannis's words struck like blades—merciless and precise.
They pierced directly into the very question that Eddard Stark, despite his calm façade, could not help but ponder in silence—and fear.
For a long time, he had dared not think through what should be done about it.
Everything Kal Stone had done, he had seen with his own eyes.
Robert had even, more than once, tested him privately under the pretense of drunken talk.
He knew—the King truly wished to legitimize Kal Stone, to raise him up as his heir.
For in Kal Stone, Robert saw everything he had once desired, everything he had imagined himself to be.
One could say that Kal Stone lived as the very embodiment of Robert's ideal self.
Yet the helpless truth remained—Robert was a King. Under drink, he could test whether his old friend would support him.
But every time that question arose, Stark had been unable to give an answer.
For after his total break with the Lannisters, the march to war, and now the complete destruction of their house, the Iron Throne urgently needed a suitable "partner."
Robert Baratheon had held power for barely over ten years; his reign was fragile—
So fragile that he even feared the two surviving Targaryen children of the old dynasty.
Robert could afford not to care who his queen was, or whether he had a wife at all.
But Eddard could not—and each time this question surfaced, the answer within his heart had already long been decided.
And that was why he was so conflicted—why he had deliberately avoided the question altogether.
Kal Stone might well make a fine King. Whether in handling affairs of state, dealing with others, or even in his insight and approach toward a nation's economy and governance, he possessed his own distinctive mind and method.
Even in leading troops to war and in personal charisma, he was undeniably exceptional.
He was as brilliant as Rhaegar Targaryen once was.
No—Rhaegar did not even measure up to him—
Faced with Stannis Baratheon's pressing words, Eddard Stark closed his eyes, allowing that buried unease within his heart to resurface once more.
But Kal Stone was still not Rhaegar. He lacked just that one thing.
Only a little.
Even if his mother had been of minor nobility—even if he had possessed the slightest standing or influence beforehand—
It was precisely that small lack that made both Robert and Eddard, King and Hand alike, unable to make the final decision.
Silence lingered for an unknown span before Eddard Stark relaxed his furrowed brow and drew a deep breath.
Then the Lord of Winterfell opened his eyes, meeting Stannis's deep blue, sea-colored gaze. "Kal Stone is still of Robert's blood, Stannis—you cannot deny his excellence."
Eddard Stark's tone, no longer firm, replied with quiet weight.
"But he already holds all of the Westerlands. Robert has given him enough."
Stannis Baratheon sharply caught that faint trace of softness in Eddard Stark's words.
Lifting his cup to his lips, he took a sip of wine.
Hidden behind the rim of the cup, the slight curl of his mouth went unnoticed by Eddard Stark.
Setting the cup down again, Stannis looked calmly at Eddard and said evenly, "What he needs now is to take a family name of his own—to cast off the bastard name of Stone."
"Then, with decades, even centuries, to build his own house—that is what he should be doing."
"He may indeed be one of the highest lords now, but he has no foundation. No one will choose to support him."
"And the blood in his veins is only half Robert's. The other half remains base."
"Eddard Stark, he should not harbor illusions about the Iron Throne. It does not belong to him."
...
Having just escaped one of House Tyrell's schemes against him, Kal was only halfway along the road back when he encountered Samwell Tarly, who had come looking for him.
He brought Kal good news.
As Kal had expected, Tyrion Lannister did indeed wish to leave this place that had brought him so much sorrow.
And as for now—of course, he had already been tied up by Kal's men and was presently waiting in his chamber for Kal's "favor."
Kal rubbed his hands together in satisfaction, then patted Sam's shoulder.
"Well done, Sam. I've received word that your father will soon arrive in King's Landing. Don't worry—whatever happens then, I'll shield you from it."
"And if he dares threaten you again, believe me, the Lordship of Horn Hill will be yours and not your brother's."
After giving Samwell such a pleasing promise, Kal departed in high spirits.
Left alone, Samwell—who had just heard that his father, Lord Randyll Tarly, was already on his way to King's Landing—stood trembling in place, tears streaming down his face.
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