The king sank weakly into a mound of pillows, his face twitching. Even his dreams must have been painful.
"How much longer can he live?" Eddard asked.
"By rights, he should already be dead. I have never seen a man with such a strong will to live," the old knight replied. "I think he was holding on just to see you one last time. Once he has seen you, his wish will be fulfilled." The king's life was like the last ember in the wind.
"My brother was always strong," said Great Lord Renly. "He killed that boar. Even with his guts spilling out, he still killed it." His voice was full of wonder.
"As long as his enemy was still standing, Robert would never leave the battlefield," Eddard said.
Then Eddard told them, "No one is to disturb his rest without my permission."
"As you command, my lord." Ser Barristan looked even older than his years. "I have failed in my sacred duty."
The two men still had much to say to one another, but with Great Lord Renly there, they could not speak plainly.
"No knight, no matter how loyal or brave, can stop the king from harming himself," Eddard said. "Robert loved hunting boars. I have seen him kill no fewer than a thousand." He would always stand his ground without flinching, feet planted, longspear in hand, often shouting curses as the boar charged. He would wait until the very last instant, until the beast was almost on top of him, and only then would he strike with one clean, accurate thrust. "Who would have thought a boar would be the thing to kill him?"
"Lord Eddard, you are too kind," Barristan said, looking at him.
"Even the King himself said so. He said it was the wine."
The white haired knight nodded weakly. "When we drove the boar out of its lair, His Grace could barely stay in the saddle, yet he still ordered us to stand aside."
"What was this about the wine?" Eddard asked.
"The King was drinking from the wineskins he carried with him," Ser Barristan said. "I did not count, but His Grace certainly drank more than one. Every time he asked, his squire handed him another."
A bitter taste filled Eddard's mouth. He remembered the two blond boys Robert had sent to fetch the breastplate tongs. At the feast that night, the king had told the story to everyone, laughing so hard he could barely control himself. "Which squire was it?"
"The older one," Ser Barristan said. "Lancel."
"My poor brother, just look at all the lions around him. Lancel is a strong boy, the son of Ser Kevan Lannister, Lord Tywin's nephew, and the Queen's cousin. I only hope the lad does not blame himself too much."
"Take a count. Everyone in the camp is to return to King's Landing with us," Eddard said after a moment.
Barristan looked at Eddard strangely. The situation did need to be stabilized, but returning to King's Landing was far too dangerous.
"Yes." The old knight still accepted the order and departed.
Eddard and Renly left the tent together. Once outside, Renly suddenly asked in a low voice, "Lord Eddard, if you do not mind, could we speak privately?"
"Very well."
The two of them found a quiet spot, and Renly carefully checked their surroundings.
He leaned closer. "What did my brother speak to you about? Was it about the regency? Did he appoint you Warden of the Realm?"
Before Eddard could answer, Renly went on, "We are in the Kingswood now. I fear we will not reach the Red Keep in time. If I am right, someone from the camp has already ridden back to King's Landing."
"You are right." Eddard looked at Renly. The king's side had indeed been thoroughly infiltrated.
"My lord, I have thirty personal guards in King's Landing, along with other knightly and noble friends. Give me an hour, and I can gather a hundred men. But that is nowhere near enough, Lord Eddard. The moment has already slipped away. We are too far from King's Landing."
"Then what do you suggest?"
"Storm's End is not far from King's Landing. The Stormlands are my fief. We go straight to Storm's End. Then, in the name of the king's will, once we march in with a great host, the Small Council will hail you as Regent and place the realm in your hands. After that, we imprison Cersei, and you become Joffrey's guardian."
"If you are unwilling, I can send ships to take you back North."
"My daughter and my men are still in King's Landing." Eddard looked at Renly. The boy he had once known had grown into a man with such great ambition.
"My lord, there is no time. If you remain outside with an army, they will live well enough. But if you walk into the trap yourself, are you going to let yourself become a hostage along with them?"
"Robert still breathes. The gods above may yet spare him. And if they do not, I will convene the Small Council in King's Landing, make the will public, and discuss the succession there."
Great Lord Renly took a step back, his whole body drawn tight as a bowstring. "Every second you delay gives Cersei another second to prepare. Once Robert dies, it may be too late. For both of us."
"Then let us pray that Robert does not die."
"I do not think that likely."
"Sometimes the gods above are merciful."
"The Lannisters are not." Renly turned and walked away.
After Renly left, Ser Barristan returned to Eddard's side.
"What did Lord Renly speak to you about? He looked to be in quite a hurry," the old knight asked.
"Something unpleasant, I suppose. He wanted me to go with him to Storm's End," Eddard replied.
"Lord Renly may not be wrong," Barristan said softly. "Some men have already fled the camp. Those quick legged squires will carry the news to the Queen. If the Queen learns how shocking this will is, we will have no burial place, let alone any hope of carrying out the King's last wish."
"But," Eddard said hesitantly, "my daughters are still in King's Landing."
Eddard had arranged passage for the children on a ship a few days later, but now it was clearly too late. Everything had happened too suddenly.
"If you return to King's Landing, it will be a wolf walking into the lions' jaws," the old knight said, staring at Eddard with wide eyes. "The customs of the past dozen years are not something we can overturn with words alone. You think one sentence can cast aside the Queen and the Prince? If we speak of the royal family's scandal, how many people will believe it? Besides, King's Landing is full of Lannister lackeys."
"There are two copies of the will," Eddard said, looking at the old knight. "Too many eyes are on me. I carry too much weight to simply slip away. But the other copy, I want you to deliver it Across the Narrow Sea."
"As you command. Lord Eddard, but you..." Ser Barristan looked at Eddard, deeply worried for him.
"Once I return to King's Landing, I will make my own arrangements. The matter of the Small Council will be difficult to deal with. Most likely, all I can do is take my children and return to the North," Eddard said.
"My lord, forgive my bluntness, but we have already delayed too long. What you are doing is certainly honorable, but you are also the Regent. If you go back like this, I fear..." Ser Barristan valued honor, but he was not rigidly bound to old ways.
"I am placing my other hope in you, Ser Barristan."
"As you command." Ser Barristan looked at Eddard. For the moment, there was no better course.
A moment later, even more alarming news arrived. Renly had already left with his own attendants and headed south, and no one could stop him.
"Lord Renly has always been alert," the old knight said.
"But if Renly is doing this, is he not worried about Loras?" Eddard could not help asking.
"Loras belongs to House Tyrell. No one dares offend the granary. Besides, Renly has many friends. I think the young Ser will be able to get away. It is you I am worried about." Barristan looked at Eddard. Fewer than a hundred men would make no difference at all in King's Landing.
"Enough. I simply cannot stop worrying about my daughters." Eddard let out a sigh. "My bastard son, take him with you as well."
"Yes."
"There is one more thing," Eddard said.
"What is it?" Barristan asked.
"I am going to write a letter to Lord Stannis. I hope he can send a fleet or soldiers to help me," Eddard said.
"..." Ser Barristan was speechless. This was likely nothing more than wishful thinking.
"My lord, we both know Lord Stannis's temper. If he learns that his brother has granted the Iron Throne to a legitimate bastard, he will surely fly into a rage and take it as an insult."
"If he still loves Robert, I think he will help me," Eddard said. "I need to prepare."
The old knight said no more. After leaving Eddard, he busied himself in camp, counting the available men.
After Barristan left, Eddard Stark returned to his tent and for a long while was completely swallowed by grief. All he wanted was to go to the Godswood, kneel beneath the heart tree, and pray that Robert Baratheon, who had once been as dear to him as a brother, might live. But there was no time for that now.
Eddard took out the King's final will. This would shake the realm. People would say he had clung to his friendship with the King and stirred up bloody chaos because of it.
It was only a fragile white scroll, sealed with yellow wax and covered in a few short lines, yet stained with a spread of blood. Victory and defeat, life and death, truly all hung by a single thread.
Eddard pulled out a clean sheet of paper, took up his pen, and dipped it in ink.
"To Great Lord Stannis of House Baratheon," Eddard wrote, "By the time this letter reaches you, your brother Robert, the king who has ruled us for the past fifteen years, will already be dead. He was wounded by a boar while hunting in the Kingswood. The secret you know, your brother also learned upon his deathbed, and now I know it as well. House Lannister has already committed treason. Joffrey and the others are born of incest and are not of the royal bloodline. Your brother has resolved to legitimize all of his bastards, and the Iron Throne should pass to his eldest son in Myr, Gendry Baratheon. If you still hold King Robert dear, then you should send troops to King's Landing to preserve order, or dispatch a fleet to Myr to welcome the new king..."
The words seemed to twist across the page, and Eddard had to stop writing and think. Lord Tywin and Ser Jaime would never endure such humiliation. They would rather raise banners in rebellion than flee. But would Stannis truly do as Eddard hoped? Eddard did not dare think too far ahead, but this was his only chance.
Since Jon Arryn had been murdered, Lord Stannis must have been living in fear as well. But now he had to move before the Lannister armies marched, either sailing at once for King's Landing or for Myr.
Eddard chose each word carefully and finished the letter, signing at the end, "Warden of the Realm, Hand of the King, Great Lord of Winterfell, Eddard Stark." Then he blotted the ink dry, folded the letter twice, and melted sealing wax over the candle flame.
Jon Snow entered the tent and saw Eddard after he had finished writing.
"My lord, do you want me to leave with Ser Barristan?" Jon asked.
"Yes, child." Eddard looked at Jon. "King's Landing is too dangerous. Barristan bears an important task, and he will take you Across the Narrow Sea."
"It is because it is dangerous that I want to stay with you," Jon said. "The King is about to die. King's Landing will surely be in chaos. With so few men, how can we dare go back there?"
"I can only pray for good fortune," Eddard said. "If the world still has faith in justice, then I still have one sliver of hope."
Eddard himself felt deeply uneasy. Going before the Small Council and turning the whole situation around would be no easy matter. Cersei had likely already arranged the Red Cloaks, the Kingsguard, and the City Watch. How many of them could be trusted? Would they really believe a will brought by a man from the North?
Eddard could only pray that Stannis would act quickly and help him stabilize the situation. Otherwise, he would have to wait until after he escaped King's Landing before he could try to restore the balance.
"My lord..." Jon looked at Eddard, his eyes red.
"All right, child, I will be fine. I am not foolish enough to challenge the Lannisters to a duel head on. I will wait for my chance, bring back your two sisters, and then return to Winterfell."
"But you must be careful. The Red Cloaks, those guardsmen, are loyal to gold." Jon looked at Eddard, feeling that the odds were grim.
Just as they were still speaking, a low horn suddenly sounded through the camp, taking the place of the bells that would have announced the King's death.
Eddard hurried out of the tent, and sure enough, panic had already gripped the camp.
The Red Comet hung high in the sky. King Robert had died on his hunting bed. Robert Baratheon was no more.