Robert chased excitedly from behind, with Renly and Ser Barristan following closely. As he passed through a thicket, the wild boar suddenly charged out of the bushes and lunged straight at him.
Robert was still excited watching the boar charge, gripping his spear and meeting the attack head-on.
Unfortunately, the accident happened too fast.
Robert's usually accurate spear thrust missed, only grazing the boar's scalp.
The boar took advantage of the opening to rush in, its tusks directly piercing his abdomen. Robert didn't give up; he grabbed his spear and stabbed the boar beneath him repeatedly until he finally killed it.
Just then, Ser Barristan and his party, who had been following behind, arrived and saw the scene. But the damage was done; Robert's intestines had spilled out, and blood soaked the earth.
They could only rush the King back to The Red Keep as quickly as possible.
Along the way, Robert was sometimes conscious, sometimes not. When he was awake, he cursed the boar, cursed the wine, and cursed his own luck.
After returning to Kings Landing, Grand Maester Pycelle worked tirelessly for a long time. But in the end, he said the wound was too deep and infection had spread; he could do nothing more but hope for Robert's own vitality.
Eddard stood vigil by the bedside, watching his friend, once strong as an ox, now lying weakly on the bed, filled with grief and self-reproach. If only he had gone with him, or been able to dissuade him.
Three days later, Robert briefly regained consciousness. He immediately summoned Eddard.
Eddard entered the King's bedchamber. Robert lay in bed, his face ashen, his breathing shallow. Seeing Eddard, he managed to force a smile.
"Ned, I never thought you'd be the one by my side at the end."
"Save your strength, Robert, you need rest."
"Ned, I'm done for." Robert's voice was weak.
"You will get better, Your Grace." Eddard held his hand, but it was already cold.
Robert gave a bitter laugh. "Don't lie to me. I know my own body. I never thought I'd be unable to hold a spear steady because I drank too much wine."
He gasped, and continued, "Listen, after I die, the throne must not pass to Joffrey."
Eddard's heart skipped a beat. "Your Grace?"
"I've known all along, ever since Arryn died." Robert closed his eyes, his voice filled with pain. "Those three children were born of incest between Cersei and Jaime."
He coughed violently, and blood seeped from the corner of his mouth. "I want to pass the throne to Renly. Write down the will, Ned. Now."
Eddard found paper and ink and wrote down the will according to Robert's dictation.
Upon the death of Robert Baratheon I, King of the andals, the rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, the iron throne shall be inherited by his younger brother, Duke Renly Baratheon of Storms End.
He signed his name and handed it to the King. Robert affixed the seal with a trembling hand. Eddard did not argue with Robert that Stannis should be the rightful heir, because this was Robert's dying wish, and he did not want to defy him at this moment.
Finally, Robert grabbed Eddard's hand with surprising strength. "Be careful, Ned. Kings Landing is a nest of vipers, and the Lannister will not let this go. And Littlefinger, he cannot be trusted, and Varys—who knows who that eunuch truly serves."
"I will be careful." Eddard promised.
"Take care of my kingdom." Robert's breath grew weaker. "Lyanna... I'm coming..."
Before he finished speaking, the King's hand went limp. Eddard sat by the bedside, motionless for a long time. His best friend, the King he had sworn allegiance to, had died in such an almost ridiculous manner.
Just then, footsteps sounded outside the door.
Eddard quickly folded the will and tucked it into his clothes. The door opened, and Cersei walked in. She glanced at the lifeless King on the bed, her face devoid of expression.
"He is dead." Her tone was as calm as stating the weather.
"Yes." Eddard stood up. "Your Grace the Queen, please accept my condolences."
Cersei sneered. "Condolences? For that drunkard who beat me for over a decade and fathered dozens of bastards outside?"
She walked closer to Eddard, lowering her voice. "Where is the will?"
Eddard took a step back. "What will?"
"Don't play dumb, Stark. Robert surely left a will before he died. What does it say? Who did he pass the throne to?"
"According to law, the throne is inherited by Prince Joffrey."
Cersei stared at him, then smiled. "Very well. Tomorrow we will announce the King's death and hold the coronation ceremony. As hand of the king, you will preside over all of this."
Watching her leave, Eddard's heart was heavy. He knew that every step he took next would be like walking on thin ice.
He first secretly met with Renly. When Renly learned of his brother's will, he was first incredulous, then a flash of uncontrollable ecstasy crossed his face, but he quickly controlled himself and put on a serious expression once more.
"Lord Eddard, I promise you, I will be a good King and will not let down my brother's expectations."
"This will cannot be made public yet." Eddard said gravely. "The House Lannister currently controls most of the power within The Red Keep, and we must be cautious."
Renly nodded. "I understand. I will contact my supporters in Kings Landing."
However, Eddard made another decision that, in hindsight, was perhaps too naive.
After some contemplation, he still couldn't bring himself to adopt a plan of rooting out Cersei and her underage children. In his eyes, the children were innocent, so he decided to give Cersei a chance—a chance to leave gracefully and avoid a bloody conflict.
He arranged to meet Cersei alone that evening in the gardens of The Red Keep. Cersei was wearing a long black gown and looked surprisingly cheerful.
"Cersei." Eddard got straight to the point, telling her about the will Robert had made. "Joffrey is not the King's true son and has no right to inherit the iron throne. For the peace of the realm, and for the safety of you and your children, I advise you to leave Kings Landing immediately and return to Casterly Rock. I guarantee by the honor of House Stark that King Renly will not pursue charges against you, provided you abandon these unrealistic notions."
Cersei listened quietly, her face expressionless. When Eddard finished speaking, she suddenly burst out laughing, a clear sound filled with mockery.
"Lord Stark, you truly are surprising—you are so naive." She looked directly into Eddard's eyes. "Leave Kings Landing? Give up the iron throne? Hand it over to that affected Renly? Based on nothing but your word and this so-called 'Stark honor'?"
She took a step closer, breathing her words onto Eddard's face. "My son is the legal heir; the whole realm knows it. Who would take seriously the ravings of Robert on his deathbed? Who is to say that so-called will in your hand isn't forged? Even if it isn't, what validity does a will have if it skips over the legal older brother?"
"Cersei..."
"Shut up." Cersei cut off whatever Eddard was about to say. "The one who should leave is you, Eddard Stark. Take your outdated sense of honor and go back to The North. Kings Landing, the iron throne, belongs to the Lannister."
The negotiation had completely broken down.
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