Chapter 145: The Neurotic Cuckold King
"You're the Hand! You ask me everything—what do I even need you for?" Robert's face had turned a bruised shade of purple. Had anyone other than Eddard Stark—his best friend and Lord of the North—been sitting across from him, he likely would have hurled whatever was in his hand at their face. "Investigate! Ask questions! Just find out when and where that woman and her brother were together. Check if the frequency and duration of their time together are normal. Wouldn't that bring us closer to the truth?"
"We're thinking along the same lines, but the problem I just mentioned hasn't been solved—the Lannisters have more than just soldiers in King's Landing. Right now, a third of the servants and attendants in the Red Keep were placed there by House Lannister, and the Queen is surrounded entirely by her own people. How am I supposed to investigate—arrest the Queen's men and interrogate them on whether they've seen the two of them trysting?" Ned countered bluntly. "The trouble doesn't stop there. The third I mentioned is just those openly named Lannister or sworn to them. If you count those who don't appear to belong to them but are secretly taking Lannister gold to act as agents or spies... it's likely far more."
Robert's fist clenched on the desk. He wanted to roar, to vent his rage, but his mind—unclouded by alcohol for most of the day—soberly realized one thing: this embarrassing predicament had nothing to do with Ned. It was entirely the result of his own laziness and negligence.
The royal treasury had always been tight, maintained just enough to pay the Iron Bank's loans on time. Under those circumstances, when the Queen complained she had too few servants and demanded more, what else could he do? He had tacitly allowed her to continuously bring people from her home to King's Landing and stuff them into the Red Keep. In this small royal residence, half the servants didn't even require a royal salary; he had once felt smug about it, only to realize now that he had dug his own grave.
...
"Under these circumstances, not only can I not conduct a smooth investigation, but I fear my every move is being monitored by the Queen. The fact that you returned today and headed straight for the Tower of the Hand without even seeing her—she likely knows of it this very moment!" Ned said with deep concern. "I cannot provoke a direct conflict with Cersei over a rumor spread by a defected noble. I can only conduct peripheral inquiries with minor players. After a period of interviews and questioning, I have reached one conclusion: the Queen and her brother are indeed very close and frequently together. Beyond that, there is no further evidence to prove them innocent or guilty."
"Heh..." Robert's face had shifted from purple to a dark, eclipsed black. "Yes, Cersei and Jaime have been 'close since they were children.' Countless people have whispered that in my ear, and I always believed it. Now I see it was nothing but a shield. Being close as children is understandable, but they are adults in their thirties now—what endless secrets could they possibly have to whisper to each other every single day? Do you know, old Tywin offered more than once to wipe out the crown's debt to House Lannister in exchange for me making an exception to dismiss Jaime from the Kingsguard and send him back to Casterly Rock. I agreed, but the Kingslayer boy wouldn't have it—said once he put on the white cloak, he was bound to guard the King for life! Hahaha... what a devoted knight of the Kingsguard. I was actually moved at the time!"
"Legally speaking, he is correct. You cannot suspect the rumor is true based solely on that. In your own words from a moment ago, there is no causality there—"
"Then what about this: when I went to the Vale to suppress the rebellion, that woman Cersei came to me and said I could do whatever I liked there, so long as I left Jaime in King's Landing to keep her company. How do you explain that?"
"Does it need explaining? A battlefield is dangerous. The Queen wished to protect her brother—what is the crime in that?" Ned was beginning to get a headache. He was burdened with the duties of the Hand and had no time to act as a sounding board for grievances, even from the King. "Robert, you came to ask me for the facts; why has this turned into me defending the Queen? By your tone, have you already decided the rumors are true? If so, I won't bother telling you the rest of the findings. Just tell me directly how you intend to handle this, and I will execute it."
...
"Argh—Ned! You bloody Northerner, can't you see? I don't care about that woman, I care about my children! My heirs!" Robert finally roared. Despite his efforts to keep his voice down, the sound easily carried past the door. "If she likes being with her brother, they can go back to Casterly Rock and be as 'close' as they like, but if Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen are not mine, then I will have all their heads chopped off, dipped in tar, and stuck on spears! Do you understand?"
A chill ran down Ned's spine. "Lower your voice, Robert! You have no evidence yet! To speak such madness—do you wish to be a second Mad King?"
"Killing the man who bedded my wife and the bastards they produced—what does that have to do with the Mad King?"
Ned stared at Robert for a moment, realizing he had oversimplified things.
Though Robert hadn't been drinking today, as the party involved, he was incapable of true calm. Ned had tried to only state facts and let His Grace judge, but faced with the double blow of being cuckolded and raising someone else's children, Robert was incapable of making a rational judgment.
In his heart, Ned was also beginning to suspect the rumors might be true, but looking at Robert in this state, how could he dare voice his true thoughts?
He remembered Rhaegar's children. On the day the Dragon Dynasty fell, Lord Tywin had wrapped their bodies in the red cloaks of his guards and laid them beneath the Iron Throne. It was a clever move; against the red cloth, the blood was less obvious. Princess Rhaenys was only three when she died; she was barefoot and in her bedgown, dragged from beneath a bed and stabbed dozens of times. And Prince Aegon was a mere infant when the Mountain grabbed him and smashed his head against a wall until it was a pulp, nearly unrecognizable as human...
He could not let such a thing happen again. The realm could not handle another irrational, murderous king, nor could it endure another bloodbath fueled by hatred. Ned closed his small notebook. Though there were more findings, he could say no more. Today, he would have to go against his conscience and play the devil's advocate to prevent the situation from spiraling out of control.
"Whether the three children are yours—shouldn't you be the one who knows best?" Ned crossed his fingers, resting his chin on his knuckles. "Don't tell me that all these years you've been so dead drunk every day that you don't even remember if you bedded your Queen before her various pregnancies!"
Robert fell silent under the Hand's questioning. He sat there trembling, the murderous glint in his eyes slowly fading.
Ned watched his expression, his own face twitching. He had only asked the question out of worry to change the subject; could he have actually hit the mark? Was his brother truly so muddled?
"Joffrey looks very much like Jaime."
"If a child being the image of his uncle were grounds for execution, no girl with brothers would ever dare give birth." It was true, they looked alike, but Ned didn't dare agree with Robert. "Even if the rumor is true, you cannot reach a conclusion based solely on thought! Answer my question: do you remember the circumstances before Cersei's pregnancies?"
Relievingly, the Hand's words managed to steady the King. "I don't remember much. But I am certain I shared her bed before she conceived all three. But... this damned wine. I'm often in a haze. I wake up remembering I had a good time the night before, but as for who I was with, how it happened, or where I finished... I don't remember at all!"
Black of hair, black of hair, black of hair. Ned recited the mantra in his mind. The most crucial clue and evidence sat right before him, but looking at his brother's neurotic state, he didn't dare speak it. Every one of Robert's bastards had hair as black as ink. To be more specific: whether a Baratheon man wed a Lannister woman, or a Baratheon woman married into Casterly Rock, the resulting children were always black-haired. Tracing back through the yellowed pages of history, over a dozen children had proven with their hair: when Gold meets Coal, it always yields.
"Since you cannot remember, then calm yourself. Stop thinking about chopping off heads and dipping them in tar." Ned sighed; the taste of a lie was bitter. "It is only a rumor. Until the investigation is complete, it cannot serve as the basis for any action. Littlefinger wants revenge and civil war; we cannot let him have his way! If you don't know what to do right now, how about you listen to my suggestion?"
"Speak."
"I cannot prove if the three children are yours, but at the very least, we can ensure your child sits on the throne." Ned thought of Joffrey—he was not a good boy. But his younger siblings were innocent; he truly could not imagine Myrcella with dozens of stab wounds or Tommen's head smashed to bits. "Look to yourself first. Replace the cooks, workers, and attendants around you with men who are absolutely trustworthy. Take Barristan and the other Kingsguard with you everywhere. Secure control over the City Watch... Once the situation is stable, take Cersei and Jaime into custody and ask them directly."
"Will they admit it?"
"If they admit it, then the truth is out. If they don't, we have other ways." Ned furrowed his brow. "While keeping Cersei under house arrest, father another child with her. If the child is golden-haired, it suggests the rumor is fiction. If the child is black-haired... it doesn't prove the first three aren't yours, but at least this one definitely is. You can declare this child the heir. If you truly don't want Lannister descendants ruling Westeros, you can even find your bastards among the common folk and legitimize them as heirs."
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