..."Good morning, Lord Stark."
Early in the morning, a furious Eddard Stark hurried toward the King's chambers.
Holding a letter in his hand, he walked briskly; the servants along the way, seeing the hand of the king approaching, all set down their work to greet him.
However, Eddard had no time for them; he merely nodded politely to those nearby while his pace quickened even further, as if there were some urgent matter.
"Your Majesty!"
Passing through the royal gardens, Eddard spotted the King from afar, just as he was preparing to head out.
"Oh, look, isn't this my first minister?"
Seeing Eddard arrive, Robert enthusiastically spread his arms to greet him.
He had traded his usual flamboyant attire for a full suit of armor, holding in both hands the heavy warhammer that had been invincible in his youth. He seemed to have regained some of his youthful martial appearance, yet his belly, as large as a ten-month pregnancy, made one wonder if the armor would burst open at any second.
"Your Majesty, where are you going?"
Looking at Robert's outfit, Eddard felt some doubt as to whether he could still wield a warhammer after years of constant debauchery. His gaze shifted to Barristan, who stood diligently guarding the King behind him.
The elderly Kingsguard only gave him a helpless look, while Jaime, standing nearby with a spear and bow, responded in a teasing tone:
"The King wishes to go hunting outside the city, Lord Minister."
"Hunting?"
Hearing this answer, Eddard's brow furrowed even deeper, his eyebrows nearly standing on end and meeting in the middle.
"The Tourney is tomorrow, yet you're still thinking of going out to hunt?"
Thinking of how he had been overwhelmed lately, running around for the Tourney while also investigating Jon Arryn's death, and even finding time to look into Robert's vast number of bastards.
Seeing him so relaxed, not taking his own safety seriously at all, Eddard felt a surge of anger.
"Aren't you being a bit too reckless, Your Majesty?"
Unconsciously slipping back into his role as the hand of the king, he reminded Robert out of concern, completely forgetting the purpose of his visit today.
"Oh, Ned, my brother-in-arms."
Faced with Eddard's questioning, Robert surprisingly did not get angry. Instead, he dropped the warhammer, which hit the ground with a deafening thud, and then warmly spread his arms to give him a big hug.
"You know as well as I do, the Tourney is tomorrow."
"I'm going to hunt the greatest prize in history outside the city, as a reward for the winner!"
"The greatest prize in history? What is it?"
In stark contrast to the enthusiastic Robert, Eddard remained stony-faced, smelling the incredibly strong scent of alcohol on him, his attitude as cold as frost.
"A boar, a grizzly bear, who cares?"
"Anyway, I have a feeling that I'll catch a very, very big prize this time."
Robert excitedly patted his round belly, making his armor clatter.
Ever since he returned from chasing Arthas out of the city that day, he felt his physical condition couldn't be better, as if he had suddenly become ten years younger.
Yesterday, seeing that warhammer that had been gathering dust in a corner for a long time, Robert tried it out and found he could lift it easily with one hand!
If only this weren't the North, otherwise he might even want to go beyond the Wall to hunt a mammoth.
"I must remind you, Your Majesty."
Although Robert's actions just now proved his strength, Eddard was still somewhat worried.
"Going hunting after excessive drinking is not how a wise king should behave."
Hearing Eddard's earnest advice, Robert only felt an exceptional irritation in his heart.
"Enough, enough. Why are you always like a seventy or eighty-year-old man? No fun at all."
"If you ask me, after we took King's Landing, you should have taken the iron throne yourself."
"You would certainly have done a better job of being king than I have."
With that, he brushed past Eddard, picked up his hammer, and strode outside.
For some reason, although his health seemed to have improved during this time, Robert always had an uneasy feeling, as if something important had been lost beneath his sturdy frame.
Furthermore, no matter how hard he tried to recall the conversation with Arthas by the lake that day, he couldn't remember a single word.
It was just that every time he saw that blonde youth, he would involuntarily feel the urge to kneel before him; no matter what the other said, he couldn't argue at all.
"Wait, Robert!"
Seeing him walking further away, Eddard finally remembered the purpose of his visit today and quickly called out to Robert, who was about to step out.
This time, he did not call him Your Majesty.
Under Robert's confused gaze, Eddard unfastened the silver hand-shaped brooch pinning his cloak and pressed it firmly into Robert's palm without a word.
"I no longer wish to serve as your first minister. Please find someone more capable."
"Don't fucking joke with me!"
"I am not joking with you!"
Eddard roared, holding the letter up in front of him, his expression very grim.
"I told you long ago not to lay a hand on the Little girl of House Targaryen. Only a cowardly monarch would fear an underage girl far across the sea!"
"Put yourself in her shoes, Robert."
"If someone were to harm Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella, how would you feel?"
For Eddard, who wore his honor like armor, sending assassins to murder two little girls was something he despised.
Coupled with the accident involving his own son, who was also targeted by an assassin while unconscious, Robert's actions had nearly crossed his line.
"You don't understand at all, Eddard Stark!"
Roared at like that, Robert also grew truly angry and began to argue at the top of his lungs.
"Those aren't two little girls; they are the House Targaryen spawn!"
"One of them married the Dothraki Khal, commanding forty thousand Dothraki riders."
"And she killed her own brother with her own hands; her methods are even more ruthless than ours."
"The other has become the captain of 'the great challenge' of Braavos, and has even displayed terrifying magic!"
Under Eddard's suspicious and uncertain gaze, Robert slowly lowered his hammer, looked at him solemnly, and spoke earnestly:
"When the two of them unite, do you know what will happen, Ned?"
"Forty thousand Dothraki riders will board Braavosi warships, cross the Narrow Sea to Westeros, and take back the iron throne that originally belonged to them!"
"Years ago, I should have killed those three Targaryen brats instead of listening to Jon Arryn's advice to spare them."
"But at a time like this, at such a critical moment, my most trusted hand of the king, my brother-in-arms, the lord of winterfell, Lord Eddard Stark!"
"You actually resign!"
He took two quick steps toward Eddard, grabbed him by the collar, and questioned him with bloodshot eyes:
"Is the honor in your heart more important than my throne?"
"Do you have to watch me and my children be destroyed by Dragon fire and damned magic before you are satisfied?"
"Fuck you, Eddard Stark, you are the cowardly one!"
This speech, filled with grief and indignation, left Eddard speechless, standing there in a daze, not knowing what to do.
Seeing him like this, Robert let out a long breath and gently pinned the brooch back on him.
"Ned, I need you in King's Landing."
"For the sake of our late foster father Jon Arryn, for your three young nephews, and for the sake of the Seven, please fulfill your duties as the hand of the king and don't fucking mention this resignation bullshit to me again."
"I can continue to serve the King, Robert."
Under Robert's expectant gaze, Eddard reluctantly put on the badge that originally belonged to him.
But, feeling somewhat unsettled, he did not give the other a pleasant expression. He simply turned slowly and walked out of the Red Keep, his stubborn and upright voice trailing back:
"But the assassin you sent, I must have someone bring him back."
"No matter what, they are still just little girls."
"If one day the Dothraki riders truly come on a Braavosi fleet, I will be the first to charge on horseback, using my own life to protect you, my King."
...In the dungeons of the Red Keep.
In this place that never saw the light of day, Arthas held a torch, his golden eyes looking with a smile at the massive dragon skull before him.
Compared to the other dragon skulls in the dungeon, this one was clearly several times larger.
This was the skull of the ancestor of House Targaryen's dragons, the Black Dread—Balerion!
"Though but a tiny thing compared to Neltharion, it should suffice for this continent."
Setting down the torch, he thrust frostmourne into the ground with both hands. A surge of dark energy, mixed with the countless souls absorbed previously, radiated from the blade in all directions.
The moment the energy touched them, the eye sockets of the dragon skulls all emitted a faint blue light, flickering like flames, as if they had come back to life.
Looking at his masterpiece with a smile, Arthas knew that with his current weak mana, it would take a long time to fully resurrect them as Frost Dragons.
But he was in no hurry; he had plenty of time.
He let go, leaving frostmourne there as undead energy continued to spread outward.
Slowly turning to leave, only the lich king's whisper echoed in the dungeon:
"Jianna Targaryen, Water Elemental?"
"Things are getting more and more interesting!"
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