Chapter 145

"You’re the Hand of the King, aren’t you? Why are you asking me for answers? What’s the point of having you then?" Robert’s face was nearly purple with rage. If not for the fact that the man across from him was Eddard Stark—his dear friend and Warden of the North—Robert might have hurled something at his face by now. "Investigate! Ask questions! As long as you can figure out where and when that woman and her brother were together, how often, and for how long, you’ll be closer to the truth!"

"That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking," Eddard replied coldly, "but the problem remains unresolved—there are too many Lannisters in King’s Landing. And I don’t just mean soldiers. One-third of the servants in the Red Keep are loyal to the Lannisters, and nearly everyone around the Queen is one of her people. How do you propose I investigate? Should I start interrogating the Queen’s attendants, asking if they’ve seen her sneaking around with her brother?" He paused before continuing. "And that one-third figure? That’s just the overtly loyal ones—those who bear the name Lannister or openly pledge allegiance to them. If we include those secretly taking bribes or spying for them, the true number is likely much higher."

Robert’s hand clenched into a fist on the desk. He wanted to roar, to vent his anger, but his unusually sober mind—a rarity without alcohol—forced him to acknowledge a bitter truth: this mess wasn’t Eddard’s fault. It was the result of his own negligence and complacency.

The royal treasury had always been stretched thin, barely managing to keep up with the Iron Bank’s repayments. When Cersei complained that she didn’t have enough loyal servants around her and requested to bring in more, what could he do? Naturally, he allowed her to fill the Red Keep with people from her family. Half the servants didn’t even draw their wages from the royal coffers, a fact he’d once smugly taken pride in. Now, he realized he’d dug his own grave.
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"In this situation, not only am I unable to conduct an investigation properly, but it’s likely that the Queen already knows my every move," Eddard said grimly. "The fact that you came straight to the Tower of the Hand without even seeing her—she probably knows about that already. I can’t confront her directly over the allegations of a treasonous nobleman. All I can do is investigate the periphery, speaking to minor figures who might know something. After some questioning, I’ve come to one conclusion: the Queen and her brother are indeed very close, often seen together. Beyond that, I’ve found no evidence to confirm or disprove their innocence."

"Heh..." Robert’s face turned from purple to black. "Yes, Cersei and Jaime have always been ‘close.’ I’ve heard that excuse whispered around me for years, and I believed it. Now I see it for what it was—a convenient shield. It’s one thing for children to be close, but grown adults in their thirties whispering to each other every day? And you know what’s worse? Tywin, that old bastard, has repeatedly offered to clear the Crown’s debts in exchange for letting Jaime leave the Kingsguard and return to Casterly Rock. I agreed, but the Kingslayer himself refused—said that once he donned the white cloak, he was bound to protect the King for life! Ha! A loyal Kingsguard, truly! I was even touched at the time!"

"From a legal standpoint, he wasn’t wrong," Eddard countered. "You can’t use that as proof of the rumors’ validity. As you said yourself, there’s no causal link here."

"Then how do you explain this? During my campaign in the Vale, Cersei came to me and begged that I take everyone else with me but leave Jaime behind to ‘keep her company.’ What do you make of that?"

"Isn’t it obvious?" Eddard said wearily. "Going to war is dangerous. The Queen wanted her brother to stay behind where it’s safe. What’s wrong with that?" His patience was wearing thin. He was the Hand of the King, not a counselor for Robert’s marital grievances. "Robert, you came to ask for answers. Why has this turned into me defending the Queen? From the way you’re speaking, it sounds like you’ve already decided the rumors are true. If that’s the case, there’s no need for me to present the rest of my findings. Just tell me how you want to handle it, and I’ll carry out your orders."
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"Ah, damn you, Ned! Can’t you see? I don’t care about Cersei! I care about my children—my heirs!" Robert finally exploded, his voice a controlled roar that still echoed outside the room. "Let her and Jaime roll back to Casterly Rock and be as close as they damn well please! But if Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen aren’t my children, I’ll chop their heads off, cover them in tar, and mount them on spikes! Do you understand?"

A shiver ran down Eddard’s spine. "Keep your voice down, Robert! You don’t even have proof yet. Are you trying to become the next Mad King?"

"How is executing my wife’s lover and their bastards the same as what the Mad King did?"
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Eddard stared at Robert for a long moment, realizing he’d underestimated the depths of his friend’s turmoil. Despite his outward calm, Robert was nowhere near rational. Presenting facts and leaving the King to draw his own conclusions was useless. Between the humiliation of being cuckolded and the fear of illegitimate heirs, Robert couldn’t think clearly.

In truth, Eddard himself was beginning to suspect the rumors were true. But looking at Robert’s volatile state, he knew he couldn’t voice those thoughts. He remembered the children of Rhaegar, slaughtered during the Sack of King’s Landing—Rhaenys pulled from under her bed and stabbed dozens of times, her small bare feet and nightclothes soaked in blood; baby Aegon’s skull dashed against the wall by the Mountain. He couldn’t let such atrocities happen again.

Eddard closed his notebook. There was more he could say, but not now. For today, he would have to lie.
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"Shouldn’t you, of all people, know whether or not those children are yours?" Eddard leaned forward, clasping his hands under his chin. "Don’t tell me you’ve spent so many years drunk that you can’t even remember if you’ve shared a bed with your wife before each of her pregnancies?"

Robert fell silent, trembling with rage and humiliation, but the fierce light in his eyes began to dim.

Eddard’s expression twitched. He had only asked the question to deflect Robert’s anger, but had he hit the mark? Could Robert really be that oblivious?

"Joffrey looks a lot like Jaime," Robert muttered.

"If children resembling their uncles were a crime, then no woman with brothers would ever have children," Eddard replied sharply. "Even if the rumors are true, you can’t base your conclusions on appearances alone. Now answer me—do you remember being with Cersei before her pregnancies?"

Robert hesitated before replying. "I don’t remember much, but I know this: before each of her pregnancies, I did share her bed. But... damn this blasted wine! I was drunk half the time. I’d wake up knowing I’d enjoyed myself the night before, but who it was with or how it ended... I couldn’t say."

Black hair, black hair, black hair. Eddard silently repeated the words to himself. He thought of Robert’s bastards, every one of them dark-haired. The Baratheon trait was dominant, always overcoming Lannister gold. But seeing Robert’s frayed nerves, Eddard dared not voice this observation yet.

"Since you can’t remember, calm yourself and stop thinking about tar and spikes." Eddard sighed, hating the taste of the lie. "This is just a rumor. Until we have definitive proof, it cannot guide our actions. Littlefinger wants chaos, a civil war across the Seven Kingdoms. We can’t let him win. If you don’t know what to do, then listen to my advice. Agreed?"

"Speak."

"I can’t prove whether the children are yours, but I can at least ensure the realm remains stable." Eddard hesitated, thinking of Joffrey. He wasn’t a good boy, but Myrcella and Tommen were innocent. He couldn’t bear to imagine their blood spilled. "First, secure yourself. Replace the cooks, servants, and attendants in your household with people you trust completely. Keep Barristan Selmy and your Kingsguard close at all times. Tighten your control over the City Watch. Once the situation is stable, confront Cersei and Jaime directly."

"And if they deny it?"

"If they deny it, there are still other methods." Eddard’s frown deepened. "While Cersei is confined, have another child with her. If the child has black hair, the rumors are false. If the child is golden-haired... it won’t prove the others aren’t yours, but at least you’ll know this one is. You can then declare this child your heir. If you still can’t stomach the idea of a Lannister-descended ruler, you can legitimize one of your bastards and name him your successor."
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