Two weeks later, Winterfell, The North.
Robert's arrival was quicker than anyone had expected.
Eddard personally greeted the King in the castle, dressed in a black fur cloak, with the resolute features characteristic of Northerners etched on his face.
When the King's dusty retinue entered Winterfell, Eddard Stark was genuinely surprised. He knew Robert; he wouldn't appear so eager and disheveled unless things were extremely difficult.
Seeing Robert dismount, he quickly stepped forward and knelt on one knee. "Your Grace."
"Get up, Ned." Robert pulled him up and embraced him tightly. "Let me get a good look at you. Seven Gods, you're still so serious."
Eddard rarely showed a hint of a smile, especially since Robert called him by his nickname. "Your Grace has traveled a long way; Winterfell is honored."
"Cut the formalities." Robert patted his shoulder. "We're brothers, remember? Brothers who grew up together in The Vale."
They walked into the castle side by side, with Barristan and several other Kingsguard following behind.
Lady Catelyn waited in the Great Hall with her children. Robb stood beside her, now a strapping young man. Sansa and Arya stood on her other side, with Bran next to Arya. Rickon was still young and held by a wet nurse. Theon Greyjoy stood beside Robb; the Iron Islands ward had now fully integrated into the Stark family life.
And, of course, Jon Snow.
The thirteen-year-old bastard stood a little distance from the group. He resembled Eddard the most, especially his grey eyes. Catelyn glanced at him, then quickly looked away. After all these years, she still couldn't accept this evidence of her husband's betrayal.
It wasn't that she resented Eddard for having a lover outside; after all, almost all nobles in Westeros were guilty of it, and as a Tully, she had long grown accustomed to it.
For example, His Grace the King, who arrived today, was an example of a man prone to philandering; he had already fathered bastards in The Vale during his youth.
What truly bothered her was that Eddard had brought this bastard back to Winterfell, where he wandered under her nose every day, constantly reminding her of the affair. Moreover, this bastard was the one who resembled Eddard the most, so how could she ever give him a kind look?
After a brief greeting with the members of House Stark, Robert asked Eddard to take him to the Stark family crypts; he wanted to see Lyanna. During this time, Catelyn began to arrange the evening's feast.
In The North, cold is a constant theme. Even in midsummer, the crypts beneath Winterfell were terrifyingly cold.
Eddard led the way, with Robert half a step behind him. In truth, Eddard disliked coming here, for it was the resting place of House Stark, containing his father, his brother, and Lyanna. Every visit brought him sadness.
"Damn this cursed North," Robert's voice suddenly broke Eddard's thoughts. "It's cold above ground, and even colder below. Even the dead must be frozen stiff. Ned, I can't believe you've lived here for so many years."
"Because I am a Northerner, Your Grace. We do not fear the cold."
Hearing this, Robert pushed past Eddard and strode deep into the crypts. He didn't want to say another word to this serious fellow.
Eddard watched him from behind, only thinking how much he had gained weight. The stag of the battlefield now looked more like a wild boar.
Robert stopped before a statue. The torchlight illuminated the stone figure: her hair slightly curled, eyes downcast, a faint smile playing on her lips.
This was Lyanna Stark.
Robert stood there, staring at the statue, motionless, as if the outside world's Irritability had vanished from him. He straightened his back, and though his belly still protruded, in that moment, Eddard almost saw the young lord who had once sworn to reclaim his beloved beneath the The Eyrie.
"I killed Rhaegar."
Robert's voice was low, as if speaking not to Eddard but to the statue. "At the Trident, I smashed his beautiful armor with my warhammer, and his chest, which he believed flowed with true dragon blood. I killed him, killed everyone who stood in my way, until blood dyed the Green Fork red. I won."
He took a deep breath. "But even so, I couldn't bring her back, Ned."
Eddard felt a heavy pang in his chest. Whenever Lyanna was mentioned, Robert would immerse himself in his grand and tragic love epic. But Eddard himself had to bear the shackles of the truth, suffering in lies and silence.
With no one else around, Robert finally confided in Eddard.
"Ned, I need you. King's Landing is rotten. Everyone is eyeing the iron throne, trying to take a piece of me. Every damn day I sit on that iron chair, I suffer, and the spikes dig into my ass. It's the most cursed seat in the world."
He paused, then continued, "I dream of charging on horseback, of smashing enemies' heads, not listening to eunuchs prattle about trivial matters, or treacherous little men complain about the empty treasury, or watching those lords scheme with fake smiles."
"I need someone I can completely trust by my side. Someone who won't betray me, won't be bought by gold, won't stab me in the back. Only you, Ned, come and be my hand of the king." Robert stared at him.
Eddard was silent. He didn't want to go south; The North was his home, his responsibility. How many Starks who went south in history had a good end? His father, his brother, and Lyanna.
"Robert," he slowly began, no longer calling him Your Grace. "The North needs me. Beyond The Wall is not peaceful either; the wildlings are active."
"Old Arryn is dead." Robert suddenly changed the subject. "Our foster father, my good Hand. They say he died of illness."
Eddard's heart sank slightly.
He had received a letter informing him of Old Arryn's death, but hearing it from Robert's mouth now carried an unusual undertone.
"Arryn's health was always good."
"Indeed." Robert snorted. "So this illness came quickly and conveniently, didn't it? So conveniently that my Queen and her good brother Jaime were 'diligently caring' for him during that time."
His words were laced with sarcasm.
Lannister. These names instinctively made Eddard feel repulsion and vigilance, which was also one of the reasons he refused to go south.
Beyond The North, the rules were different, and people's hearts were even more so. The warmth of the South, to him, meant conspiracy, poison, and unseen blades.
"The East isn't peaceful either. Viserys, that little Targaryen bastard, has established a foothold in Essos, and he even has a dragon. Hmph, if Stannis hadn't failed to complete his task back then, wiping out all Targaryens, none of this would be happening." Robert was somewhat angry at this point.
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