After a long moment of hesitation, Eddard Stark finally chose his words carefully.
He decided to speak in the name of the man who had truly turned the tide of the war.
Karl Stone.
Ever since the war began, that name had echoed across battlefields and war councils alike.
Karl's achievements had spread quickly through the armies of the North, the Riverlands, and the Vale. Every soldier had heard of the young knight whose bold strategies and fearless fighting had repeatedly changed the course of battles.
Eddard knew something else as well.
King Robert was immensely proud of him.
So proud, in fact, that sometimes it almost seemed as if Robert believed Karl's achievements were his own.
It had begun when Karl had boldly recommended himself during the council at Riverrun.
Then came his brilliant victories in the Riverlands, where he turned desperate situations into triumphs.
Later, he had secured Robert's support to appoint his bastard as Warden of the East, before continuing to reshape the political landscape of the Vale.
Every time news of Karl's exploits reached Robert, the King would celebrate loudly.
Often he would order extra wine.
Whenever Robert received news about Karl Stone, he would drag Eddard into the royal tent late at night and drink until both of them were thoroughly drunk.
The war raging outside seemed irrelevant during those nights.
Robert would sit there, flushed with wine, recounting stories endlessly.
His tales always followed the same pattern.
First came stories about women.
Then his own heroic deeds during the rebellion.
Then the battles they were currently fighting.
Eventually the conversation would circle back to women again.
And at the very end—
Karl Stone's name would appear once more.
It was almost like a story told on a woman's belly: no matter how far the tale wandered, it always returned to the child in the end.
Eddard understood what this meant.
For Robert, Karl Stone represented something special.
After experiencing betrayal and disappointment from so many nobles, Robert had begun to place great value on Karl.
Perhaps the King saw something in the boy.
A different kind of life.
A life Robert himself had once dreamed of.
Karl lived freely—like Robert had before he became King.
A wandering warrior.
A hero on the battlefield.
Someone not bound to the Iron Throne, forced to sit endlessly on a cold seat while dealing with deception and endless politics.
In many ways, Karl Stone was living the life Robert had once wanted.
And perhaps that was why Robert loved him so much.
After thinking through all of this, Eddard decided to begin carefully.
He spoke lightly, almost jokingly.
"Your Grace," he said, "you have a good son."
"He has won this war for us."
Under normal circumstances, such words would have delighted Robert.
The King would likely have burst into laughter, slapped Eddard's shoulder, and demanded another barrel of wine.
But today was different.
Robert did not even turn his head.
His gaze remained fixed on a distant patch of red in the fog.
The banners of House Lannister.
Eddard waited.
But the King remained silent.
As the awkward silence stretched on, Eddard searched for something else to say.
Then the wind shifted.
A cool breeze swept across the field.
And suddenly Robert exploded.
"I know!"
"Damn it, I know!"
His voice boomed across the battlefield.
"Yes, that bastard won the war for us!"
"He's a hero!"
"A great hero!"
Robert's face twisted with anger.
"And what about the rest of us?!"
"What have we done?!"
"Nothing!"
"We can do nothing but sit here and sulk!"
He suddenly pointed toward the red banners in the distance.
"But what happens now?!"
Robert roared.
"That damn piece of shit, Tywin Lannister, chooses to surrender!"
His fists clenched tightly.
"I should be crushing his chest with my war hammer right now—just like I crushed the chest of that Targaryen prince!"
"But instead?"
"That coward surrenders!"
"He's humiliating me!"
The memory of the previous evening burned in Robert's mind.
Only yesterday, they had been discussing strategies in the war tent.
They had argued about how best to defeat Tywin Lannister.
Then suddenly—
A letter had arrived.
A letter of surrender.
Robert had felt only rage when he read it.
It felt like being mocked.
Like a beast with a ring through its nose, forced to follow someone else's lead.
In that moment, Robert had wanted nothing more than to ride out and personally crush Tywin's skull.
But the person who stopped him had been the very man standing beside him now.
Eddard Stark.
His closest friend.
His most trusted brother.
The man he had traveled thousands of miles to bring south as Hand of the King.
Ned had fought beside him.
Bled beside him.
Shared victory and defeat alike.
And yet—
Ned had stopped him.
Because of what Robert considered a ridiculous reason.
Eddard sighed quietly.
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
Dealing with Robert could be exhausting.
Sometimes he couldn't help wondering why Jon Arryn had died so early.
Why had this giant child been left for him to manage?
Robert continued raging, unaware of Eddard's thoughts.
"Yes, Karl Stone is a hero!"
"I admit that!"
"But Ned, do you know why he became a hero?!"
Robert spat angrily.
"That bastard forced me!"
"He threatened the lives of my people!"
"Hundreds of thousands of them!"
Robert's voice grew colder.
"I swore long ago that I would kill Tywin Lannister."
"I would cut off his head and display it on a spear for all of King's Landing to see."
"Only then would my anger be satisfied."
Eddard remained calm.
"Your Grace," he said gently, "I understand."
"If Tywin Lannister were my vassal, I would ride to him immediately and pronounce your judgment."
Robert turned sharply.
"Then why did you stop me?"
"You should have supported me!"
"You should have helped me cut off his head!"
Eddard's patience finally snapped slightly.
"I am supporting you, Your Grace."
"Tywin deserves death."
"I wanted you to cut off his head fifteen years ago."
Robert froze.
Eddard continued coldly.
"But who argued with me back then?"
"You did."
Robert grimaced.
He remembered.
When they first entered the Red Keep after the rebellion, the corpses of the Targaryen children had been presented before the Iron Throne.
Eddard had been furious.
Just as furious as Robert was now.
Robert cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Ned… I am the King."
Eddard snorted.
"If you proposed the same thing today, I would agree immediately."
"I would even hand you Ice myself."
"Times have changed."
Robert muttered stubbornly.
But at least his tone softened.
Eddard took a deep breath.
He calmed his anger.
Robert was right about one thing.
He was the King.
Their positions had changed.
And Eddard had sworn loyalty.
"Your Grace," Eddard said calmly, "when Tywin Lannister arrives with a white flag, the decision will be yours."
He stepped back respectfully.
Robert grunted.
"Fine."
"But if he cannot give me a convincing reason…"
Robert's eyes burned with anger.
"His head will decorate the walls of King's Landing."
He pulled his horse's reins and rode back toward the camp.
Eddard watched him go.
Then he turned toward the distant red banners.
"Prepare the field," he ordered.
"We will accept Tywin Lannister's surrender."
"And end this war."
Soon the meeting ground was ready.
Nobles from the North, the Riverlands, and the Vale gathered in rows.
Some sat on stools.
Others stood behind them.
At the front stood a raised platform where King Robert and Eddard Stark sat.
Neither spoke.
The nobles sensed the tension.
No one dared break the silence.
Finally a guard arrived.
"Your Grace," he announced.
"Lord Tywin Lannister has arrived."
Robert and Eddard exchanged glances.
Eddard nodded firmly.
Robert sighed and nodded reluctantly.
"Bring him in," Eddard ordered.
Moments later Tywin Lannister appeared.
Tall.
Bald.
Golden sideburns framing his face.
His armor was deep crimson with golden lions engraved across the breastplate.
Behind him stood four unarmed men.
Tywin walked calmly toward the platform.
He stopped five paces away.
Then bowed slightly.
"Greetings, Your Grace."
His voice was calm.
Robert's anger instantly returned.
"If you greeted me at Casterly Rock instead of a battlefield," Robert growled, "I might be happier."
"Tywin."
"I remember promising to cut off your head."
Tywin slowly raised his head.
"I surrender to you, Your Grace."
"If you wish, you may cut off my head."
His voice held no fear.
Robert's temper exploded.
"You think I wouldn't dare?!"
He raised his hand.
"Guards—!"
But suddenly Eddard grabbed his arm.
"Your Grace!"
Then he turned toward Tywin.
"Lord Tywin Lannister."
"You know very well what House Lannister has done."
"If you wish to surrender…"
"State your terms."
Tywin looked at him calmly.
"I am a defeated man."
"What terms could I possibly demand?"
Eddard's voice hardened.
"If that is truly what you think, I would gladly grant your wish."
Tywin paused.
Then finally spoke.
"I only ask that House Lannister survive."
"That the thousand-year legacy of my house continues."
Before Eddard could reply—
Robert snorted coldly.
"You think that's possible?"
"Tywin."
"You lost."
"What makes you think you have the right to negotiate with me?"
Robert leaned forward.
"You buried the Targaryen dynasty yourself."
"Surely you haven't forgotten that."
The tension between lion and stag hung heavily in the air.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)