Eddard Stark walked with desperate urgency, as though this short distance were the longest road he had ever taken—like the path that once led him to see his sister for the final time.
"This was the boar," Ser Barristan Selmy said quietly, pointing toward the massive carcass lying some distance outside the king's tent. The stench of blood struck them immediately.
"Old gods…" Eddard's face went pale.
It was the fiercest wild boar he had ever seen. Its body was enormous, its tusks long and cruel, thick as a man's arm. It looked less like a boar and more like a monstrous beast of the North. Even worse, dark crimson blood coated its tusks and snout. The sight alone told Eddard how savage the struggle must have been.
"Where was the king wounded?" Eddard asked, his voice tight.
Ser Barristan lowered his gaze. "I have never seen injuries so grave, my lord. The boar gored His Grace from the groin up to the chest."
Eddard stared at him in silence.
"I know what you're thinking," Ser Barristan said with difficulty. "It was the king's command. The Kingsguard was ordered to stand aside."
"Damn it," Eddard muttered bitterly. "Damn it all." It was exactly Robert's way—reckless to the very end.
"I warned him," Barristan continued in a low voice. "The red comet burns in the sky. It is no good omen. But the king would not listen."
Eddard pushed past the tent flap.
Robert's green hunting cloak lay discarded on the ground, torn and soaked with blood. From beneath the blanket, the king's legs stretched stiffly outward, still clad in muddy boots. The air was heavy with the mingled smells of dust, sweat, blood—and death.
"Eddard," Robert said weakly when he saw him. His face was pale as milk. "Come closer."
Eddard pulled back the blanket.
The wounds beneath were horrific—ragged, convulsing gashes torn deep into flesh. The smell was unbearable. Eddard felt his stomach twist violently.
"It stinks," Robert rasped. "That's the smell of death. Don't think I can't smell it. This time… this time it got me good." He gave a ghastly grin, his teeth stained red. "But I didn't let it off easy either. I took its eye. Ask them… ask Renly."
"Yes," Lord Renly said softly. "By your command, we brought the carcass back."
"Good," Robert muttered. "Brought it back for dinner."
Then his gaze sharpened slightly. "You looked troubled yesterday, Ned. We grew up together—you can't hide it from me. I wanted to speak with you alone. Everyone else, leave us."
"How should I face this?" Eddard wondered. Comfort his old friend—or confront the future head-on?
"Out," the king ordered.
Renly hesitated. "Brother—"
"Get out! I'm not dead yet."
Reluctantly, Renly left. Even Ser Barristan withdrew. There was not even milk of the poppy here—only the raw truth of death.
Once they were alone, Eddard sat beside the bed, grief blurring his vision. "Robert… did you truly need to be so reckless?"
"Ah, fuck you, Ned," Robert coughed. "At least I killed the bastard."
His breathing grew ragged. "You were right… about that girl, Daenerys. She's just a child. If she were pregnant… I would've committed kinslaying. That's why the gods sent this boar—to punish me." He spat blood. "Everyone else said yes to me. Only you ever said no."
Then his voice dropped. "There's something I want to ask of you. Protect Joffrey's throne. Don't let his brothers kill him. Bastards grow faster… wilder. I can't kill my own son, but you… you can."
Eddard felt his throat close. Lannister lies. Joffrey is not your son.
"Now speak," Robert said. "You must have something to tell me."
Eddard hesitated no longer. "Your Grace, what I must say will wound you further. Forgive me."
"The seed is strong," Eddard said gravely. "Lord Arryn's final words. He was not speaking of you, but of your children."
Robert's eyes widened in horror.
"Joffrey, Tommen, Myrcella… they are not of your blood. Their father is Jaime Lannister."
The king choked violently, blood spilling from his lips.
"Think," Eddard whispered. "Has any Baratheon child ever lacked black hair?"
"Fuck… fuck…" Robert gasped. Rage, shame, and grief crushed him at once.
At last, he whispered, "Get me pen and paper."
Eddard obeyed.
"The following is the last will of Robert of House Baratheon…" the king dictated. "…Eddard Stark is named Regent and Protector of the Realm, until my eldest son, Gendry, comes of age."
The words would plunge the realm into war.
When it was finished, Robert signed both copies with shaking hands, sealing them with the sigil of the crowned stag.
"Let Ser Barristan in," Robert ordered. "Not Renly."
The old knight entered, solemn and grave.
"You will guard my rightful heir," Robert said. "This is my final command."
Barristan read the will and trembled.
At last, Robert leaned back weakly. "I want that boar served at my funeral. Roast it. Eat it. But you two—run. This letter will drown King's Landing in blood."
His eyes closed slowly. "Ned… tell Lyanna I said hello."
Eddard felt as though a knife had pierced his heart.
The storm had begun.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)