Eddard hurried forward in a panic, as though he were walking the longest road of his life, like the road that had led him to see his sister for the last time.
"That is the boar." Ser Barristan pointed at the carcass lying a short distance from the king's tent, and the stench of blood rushed straight at them.
"By the Old Gods." Eddard's face turned pale at once. It was the fiercest boar he had ever seen, a massive brute with two long tusks, huge enough to look almost like a great northern bear. More importantly, the dark red blood smeared across its tusks and hide showed just how grievously the king had been wounded, and how savage the struggle had been.
"Where was the king hurt?" Eddard could not help asking.
"Lord Eddard, I have never seen such terrible wounds. The boar's tusks tore the king open from the groin all the way to the chest," Ser Barristan said in a low voice.
Eddard said nothing, only stared at Ser Barristan.
"I know what you are wondering, Lord Eddard." Ser Barristan's face twitched. "It was the king's command. The Kingsguard were to stand aside."
"Damn it. Damn it all!" Eddard let out a heavy sigh. That was exactly Robert's way.
"I tried to dissuade the king," Ser Barristan said quietly. "The Red Comet hangs in the sky. That is no good omen. But the king would not listen."
Eddard strode into the tent. The king's green hunting cloak had been thrown onto the floor, slashed open and stained with deep red filth. The king's feet stuck out from beneath the blanket, still in his boots, caked with mud and dry grass.
Eddard caught a whole mix of unsettling smells, smoke, blood, and even the scent of death itself.
"Eddard," the king said softly when he saw him. His face was pale as milk. "Come. Come closer."
Eddard pulled back the blanket and saw a ghastly wound so terrible it made his whole body tense. The stench from it was even worse. The king's injury was beyond dreadful, a savage tearing wound so horrific that even Ser Barristan's words had failed to capture it. Eddard's stomach churned violently.
"It stinks," Robert said. "That is the stink of death. Do not think I cannot smell it. This time it really did me in, did it not? But I... I did not let it off easy either, Eddard." The king's smile was as shocking as his wound, his teeth smeared red with blood. "I drove my knife right into the boar's eye. Ask them if it is true... ask..."
"Yes," Great Lord Renly murmured. "On my brother's orders, we brought the carcass back."
"Brought it back for the feast," the king said softly.
"Is there something you want to say to me?" The king looked at Eddard. "You were not yourself yesterday, and do not forget, we grew up together. As it happens, I want a little time alone with you too. The rest of you, leave. I need to speak with Eddard."
What should I do? Eddard kept asking himself. Should he comfort his old friend, or face the future head on?
"You, you, and the rest of you. Get out," the king said.
"Brother." Great Lord Renly sounded unwilling to leave.
"Get out. I am not dead yet."
Great Lord Renly turned and left, and even the white cloaks withdrew. The place was far too crude. There was not even any milk of the poppy.
Eddard gave Jon a look. He had to keep the northern guards outside and make sure the tent was tightly guarded.
"Robert, damn you," Eddard said once only the two of them remained. Grief blurred his eyes. Sitting down beside the king, he said, "Did you truly have to be this reckless?"
"Ah, to hell with you, Eddard. I killed that bastard at least, did I not?" The king's breathing was ragged, his black hair falling over his eyes.
"That girl, Daenerys, is still only a child. You were right about that. And if she was with child, then I would have committed the great sin of kinslaying, murdering a child and my own blood... That is why that girl... why the gods above sent that boar... to... punish me." The king spat out a mouthful of blood. "I was wrong, I was wrong. She... she was only a girl... Varys, Littlefinger, even my own brother... useless fools... Eddard, no one but you ever dared tell me no... only you."
"But... but there is one thing I want, want... to ask of you." The king forced the words out through unbearable pain. "Help... help me keep Joffrey on the throne. Do not... do not let his brother kill him. Bastards grow faster than trueborn sons. Wild blood runs in their bones. This... this is my punishment... I was never that fierce or savage even in my youth, and he is... he is cunning too. He will surely... surely try every possible way to take Joffrey's throne... This... this is something I trust only you with. I... I cannot kill my own son. That would be kinslaying. But you... you can. Help Joffrey..."
"Your Grace..." Eddard choked on the words.
Was this truly what the king thought? That he should commit kinslaying in his place? The Lannisters deceived you. Joffrey is not your son.
"Now you can speak," the king said, looking at Eddard. "There is surely something you have been wanting to tell me."
Eddard could not hold back any longer. If he stayed silent now, Robert would go to his death in torment, after a life turned into a cruel joke. Robert had children of his own, but now they stood as enemies. "Your Grace, what I am about to say will do your body no good. But I beg your forgiveness."
"At a time like this, stop hemming and hawing. Why are you acting like a woman? You... you are not the Eddard I know."
"Your Grace, I have learned the truth. The truth behind Jon's death, the secret Jon discovered..." Eddard looked at the king, hesitated for a moment, then spoke.
He could see all the king's pain plainly before him. He knew the truth would only add to it. But he could not bear to let his old friend be deceived by House Lannister to this extent, dying while still thinking of Joffrey. And if he gave his word, how could he possibly bring this matter to an end?
"What?..." The king's eyes widened.
"The seed is strong. Lord Jon's dying words..." Eddard said heavily. "Lord Jon was not talking about little Robert. He meant your children."
"My..." The king's breathing quickened, his face full of disbelief.
"Joffrey, Tommen, Princess Myrcella... those, those children are not of House Baratheon. They are not your children," Eddard said painfully. "Their true father is another man. The Kingslayer..."
"Wh, what?" The king's eyes flew wide, and he spat out a great mouthful of blood. Eddard regretted his hesitation. He should have told the king the truth much sooner.
"Yes..." Eddard nodded and said softly, "Think about it. Has House Baratheon ever produced children who were not black haired and blue eyed? Lord Arryn died because he learned this truth."
"Damn you, damn you, Eddard. You... you hid this from me for so long." The king's face went pale, then red, then pale again. The images of those children with their golden curls, fair skin, and green eyes kept flashing before him, and the bitterness in his heart was unbearable. More than anything, he wanted to seize his warhammer and smash to death the people who had humiliated him like this.
"The seed is strong, the seed is strong... look, look what I have done. How many of my children has Cersei killed..." Whether it was rage, shame, or agony, he could not tell. All of it struck at the king's heart at once.
Had it come from anyone else, he never would have believed it. But coming from Eddard, it felt as though his skull were about to split apart. Old Arryn's death had been suspicious too. Was this really the truth, the truth he had never wanted to face?
"Wrong... we were all wrong..." The king looked at Eddard. "Kill... kill... I will kill them..."
But the king was spent. He could not even leave his bed, much less reach his warhammer and shield.
"Get paper and a quill. They are on the table over there. Write what I say." The king looked at Eddard. "Do you see? This... this is my punishment... I bedded so... so many women, and in the end... in the end, the woman beside me was... was a liar. They... they deceived me."
Eddard spread the paper across his knee and took up the quill. "Your Grace, please give your commands."
"The following is the will of Robert the First of House Baratheon, of the Andals and the other men... put in all those damned titles, you know which ones. I am unfit to be king. I am a fool."
"First, the Lannisters... treason. The king's marriage was... was false. I was deceived by the Lannisters and by Cersei. This marriage was never valid and must be annulled. The three children born of the Lannisters' adultery... adultery... shall not bear the name Baratheon, nor do they have any right to inherit my throne."
"Second, my... my bastards, those in the Vale, in King's Landing, across the Narrow Sea, I hereby... hereby legitimize them all. From this day on, they are Baratheons as well. If they are willing."
"Third, I hereby appoint Eddard of House Stark, Great Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King, as Regent and Protector of the Realm... after my death... to rule in my stead... until my eldest son Gendry comes of age..."
"Your Grace, this..." Eddard's eyes widened. The weight of the crown was crushing. In truth, he believed there was a better choice for the succession, but he did not want to trouble the king further. It was obvious that the contents of this letter would unleash a vast war.
"Do you think... think this is ridiculous?"
"No." Eddard shook his head.
"If... if you get the chance, remember to tell those children... I am sorry. Mya, Gendry, Barra, and the others... I never raised them. They... they have every right to hate me... I hope... I hope they will like my final gift."
"What else do you want me to write?"
"Write... write whatever ought to be written. Obey, protect, the old gods and the new, you know all those tedious phrases. When you are done, I will sign it. Make two copies. Once I die, you had best run as well. Do not go back to King's Landing. This letter will turn King's Landing into a river of blood. The Small Council is full of flatterers and clowns. You will not be able to control them."
"Robert," Eddard said, his voice full of sorrow, "do not speak like that. Do not leave me. The realm needs you."
Robert gripped his hand hard and squeezed. "Eddard Stark, you... you truly do not know how to lie," he said through the pain. "This realm... this realm knows full well... what kind of foolish king I have been, a foolish king like Aerys. May the gods forgive me."
"No," Eddard told his dying old friend, "Your Grace, you are not the same as Aerys. You are far better than he ever was."
Robert forced out the faintest smile, blood still clinging to the corner of his mouth. "At least people will say... the last thing I did in this life... was not wrong. You will not fail me. I leave the realm to you. You will hate ruling it even more than I did... but you will do it well. Have you finished writing?"
"It is done, Your Grace." Ned handed the two sheets to the king. The king solemnly signed both, leaving smears of blood between the lines. "A seal ought to be witnessed, but for now we can only use my private seal."
Eddard picked up the king's private seal, the charging stag.
"Le-Let Ser Barristan in. D-Do not let Renly in," the king ordered. "I led that boy astray."
"Your Grace." The old knight hurried into the tent.
"You have guarded generations of kings and this realm, yet I never listened to your counsel. That is not your fault, but mine. A kingdom... is not a battlefield, after all," the king said, looking at the old knight with a sigh. "You were right. A man like the Kingslayer is not fit to wear a white cloak. The white cloaks stink of lions. You are the only one I can trust."
Ser Barristan did not know what to say, until Eddard handed him a copy of the will.
"Deliver the will where it needs to go. One copy with you, one with Eddard. Across the Narrow Sea, this is... this is the king's final task for you. You have guarded several generations of kings. I... I am counting on you to protect my... lawful heir. Though that boy... does not seem to need it much."
Ser Barristan read through the will at once, and every word made his heart pound. After Lord Eddard's private talk with the king, the whole realm was about to split apart.
"I want that boar served as the main dish at my funeral," Robert rasped. "Stuff an apple in its mouth, roast the skin nice and crisp, and eat that bastard. I want everyone stuffed to bursting."
"But the two of you will not be there to eat it. Run. Get the will where it needs to go. Promise me."
"I promise," Eddard said.
"That girl," the king said, "Daenerys. They say she is breathtakingly beautiful. Looks like the lad has good taste in women. If you have a way, if... if it is not too late... order them... Varys... do not let them kill her. She counts as my daughter in law. Let stag and dragon make peace. And help my son. He has had no one to rely on since childhood, and I fear he may be too hard and ruthless. Eddard, if he needs you. Make him into... a better man than I was." He frowned in pain. "Gods have mercy on me."
"They will, my friend," Ned said. "They will."
"It is my duty." The old knight looked at the king. The Red Comet had brought death, and it would also bring chaos the like of which had never been seen before.
The king closed his eyes, seeming slightly more at ease. "To die by a boar in the end," he muttered. "If it did not hurt so much, I ought to laugh. Will that boy think this is... retribution? Still, we are father and son after all. He... he ought to avenge me."
"Keep it safe. Keep my will safe."
"Shall I let the others in?"
Robert nodded weakly. "Fine. Gods, why is it so cold in here?"
So the servants came in and fed the fire. Great Lord Renly also entered the tent in visible distress.
"Renly, the queen... the queen is a liar. Remember that I am your brother. Remember to go with Lord Eddard, and obey Lord Eddard's orders... orders."
"Yes..." Great Lord Renly lowered his head, not understanding what his brother meant. The chamber was stiflingly hot, yet his brow was covered in shining beads of sweat. He looked almost like Robert reborn, young, dark, and handsome.
"Damn it, Eddard. That blood red comet is no good omen, and that boar was far too fierce... but... but I won. Still... still, I ought to sleep. Will I dream?"
Eddard gave him his answer. "Your Grace, you will."
"Good," the king said with a smile. "Eddard, I will give Lyanna your regards. Take good care of my children for me."
The words twisted in Eddard's belly like a knife. Then he thought of those bastards, of Barra still in her mother's arms, of Mya in the Vale of Arryn, of Gendry fighting across the Narrow Sea... "I will... care for your children as if they were my own," he said slowly.
"I will look after those children as well, brother," Great Lord Renly promised the king. Renly shot Eddard a doubtful glance. Most likely, his brother had entrusted other words to him as well.
The king nodded and closed his eyes. His cheeks twitched with pain, and it seemed he would never wake again.
The old knight looked at the king, keeping all the storm and turmoil buried in his heart.