Chapter 126: The King's Choice
Robert Baratheon could not sleep.
The hour was still deep in the night, yet the king paced the dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep like a caged beast. Torches flickered in their sconces, casting long shadows that danced across ancient stone walls. Servants who crossed his path quickly bowed and vanished into side passages, sensing their king's foul mood.
He walked without purpose at first — through the portrait gallery, past the empty throne room, down corridors he had not wandered in years. Eventually, his feet carried him toward a familiar door.
Jon Arryn's old office.
The heavy oak door was locked. A simple black ribbon had been tied across the handle in mourning. Robert stopped before it, staring at the dark wood as if it might speak.
For a long moment he stood there, broad shoulders slumped, the weight of the crown suddenly heavier than usual.
"Still waiting for me to make a decision, old man?" he muttered quietly, voice rough with grief and wine.
No answer came. Only silence.
Robert exhaled a long, weary breath, placed one massive hand against the door, and closed his eyes.
When morning finally arrived, the Small Council chamber felt unnaturally large.
The empty chair at the table dominated the room like a ghost. Everyone noticed it. No one dared speak of it.
Robert entered last, moving with heavy steps. He dropped into his seat at the head of the table and stared at the vacant place where Jon Arryn had sat for so many years.
The silence stretched.
Grand Maester Pycelle cleared his throat first, his voice trembling slightly with age and unease.
"Your Grace… the realm mourns. We must move forward. The position of Hand is too vital to remain empty for long. I would suggest Lord Tywin Lannister, a man of proven wisdom and—"
Renly interrupted smoothly, flashing his charming smile. "My brother needs someone closer to his own mind. Perhaps Lord Tarly, or even myself. I know the stormlands well and—"
Littlefinger leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. "With respect, the realm needs stability above all. A man skilled in coin and administration. Someone who understands the game as it is truly played."
Cersei watched from her seat beside Robert, her expression carefully neutral, green eyes calculating every word.
Robert listened, jaw tightening with each suggestion. His fingers drummed slowly on the table. Frustration built gradually, like a storm gathering on the horizon.
"Enough."
The single word cut through the chamber like a warhammer.
All eyes turned to him.
Robert leaned forward, his massive frame casting a long shadow across the table.
"You all speak as if this is some damned tourney, picking favorites for glory." His voice grew louder. "Jon Arryn is barely cold and you're already fighting over his chair like vultures."
He looked around the table, eyes hard.
"There's only one man stubborn enough to tell me I'm wrong to my face. Only one man I trust to put the realm before his own ambition. Only one man who ever called me a fool to my face and lived to say it again."
A faint, fond smile touched Robert's lips.
"Eddard Stark."
The name fell into the room like a stone into still water.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Renly blinked. "Ned? Your Grace… he's in the North. Content with Winterfell."
"He'll come," Robert said firmly. "For me. For the realm. Ned will come."
Littlefinger's smile remained perfectly polite, but his eyes sharpened. Varys simply watched, fingers laced together. Pycelle looked faintly alarmed. Cersei's expression stayed carefully composed, but inside her mind was already racing.
If Ned comes south… he will finish what Jon Arryn started. He will dig. He will question. We must be ready.
Preparations for the royal journey north began immediately and with surprising speed.
The Red Keep became a whirlwind of activity. Servants rushed through corridors carrying supplies, armor, and chests. Royal wagons were pulled from storage, repaired, reinforced, and loaded with everything needed for a long journey through the Neck and beyond. Horses were selected from the royal stables — strong, steady mounts for the long road ahead.
The Kingsguard prepared their traveling gear with quiet efficiency. Ser Barristan Selmy oversaw every detail, calm and methodical. Jaime Lannister complained loudly about the cold, the mud, and "freezing my balls off in that gods-forsaken North," but he still sharpened his sword with care.
Sandor Clegane stood in the yard, running a whetstone along his greatsword with rhythmic scrapes. The Hound said nothing, but his burnt face was set in its usual scowl.
In the royal apartments, reactions varied.
Joffrey was irritated, pacing and snapping at servants. "Why must we go to that frozen wasteland? I have no interest in savages and snow."
Myrcella was quietly curious, asking questions about the North and the Starks. Tommen, on the other hand, was genuinely excited, bouncing on his heels at the thought of seeing real snow and perhaps even direwolves.
Robert watched the preparations from a balcony, arms crossed over his broad chest. For the first time in years, there was a spark of purpose in his eyes.
Several days later, as the first light of dawn painted the sky, the great gates of King's Landing opened wide.
The royal procession began to move.
Wagons creaked forward, loaded with supplies and guarded by rows of soldiers bearing Baratheon banners. The Kingsguard rode in formation. Robert mounted his great black destrier at the head of the column, his warhammer strapped to the saddle.
He looked north, toward the long road that would take them through the Riverlands, the Neck, and finally to Winterfell.
A slow, genuine smile spread across the king's face.
"Wait for me, Ned," he murmured. "It's been too long."
With a sharp command, the royal party began its journey north.
The game of thrones had entered a new phase.
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Author's Note
Thank you everyone for reading and supporting my stories! ❤️
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🔥 Naruto: The God List Exposed My City
Some older readers may recognize this story. This is an old fanfiction of mine that I had stopped writing, but I have finally restarted it and will be taking it seriously again.
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