Blood, charred flesh, and fear.
Robert Baratheon stood in the center of this gore.
His luxurious golden doublet was long soaked in blood, turning dark red and sticky.
His face, his beard, even his eyelashes were hung with bits of Petyr Baelish's flesh.
But he didn't care.
He even licked a spot of blood from his lip.
In his eyes, clouded by alcohol and slaughter, burned a terrifying excitement.
He liked this feeling.
This power over life and death, this feeling of everyone looking at him with fear.
This was a King!
He looked around the high platform, at the silent, pale-faced nobles.
His gaze swept over Cersei's disgust-filled face, over Jaime's complex look.
Finally, his eyes landed on Ned Stark.
His best brother, Ned.
The man who always tried to bind him with righteousness and honor.
He had actually dared to try stopping him from killing Petyr just now?
And before that, he seemed to have also stopped him from hunting down those two Targaryen remnants?
At this moment, Ned was supporting his two daughters, his face incredibly grim.
The string in Robert's mind, under the combined effect of alcohol, poison, and blood, snapped completely.
The Eyrie... Lysa Arryn...
Lysa was Catelyn's sister.
Catelyn was Ned's wife.
A terrible thought crawled out from the depths of his chaotic brain, quickly wrapping around his heart.
"Ned."
Robert spoke.
Ned looked up, gazing blankly at Robert.
"Your wife's sister, that madwoman in the Eyrie."
Robert walked down the platform steps one by one.
His blood-stained boots left bloody footprints on the stone stairs.
"She dares to threaten me."
"Threaten me with the thirty-five thousand men of the Vale!"
Robert walked up to Ned. His massive figure cast a shadow, completely enveloping Ned and his two daughters.
"Where did she get the nerve?"
Robert leaned his face close, the strong smell of alcohol and blood making Arya feel nauseous.
"Speak, Ned."
Robert's voice rose sharply, filled with unquestionable suspicion and violence.
"Your wife, Catelyn Tully!"
"Is she involved in this too?!"
"Does she already know her mad sister is planning a rebellion?!"
What?
Ned's mind went blank instantly.
What did this have to do with Catelyn?
He stared blankly at Robert, at the friend he grew up with, at the King he had sworn to serve until death.
He couldn't believe his ears.
Robert... what was he saying?
He was suspecting Catelyn?
Suspecting House Stark?
Others could distrust him, but Robert couldn't!
This was a deep friendship built from childhood.
Robert's suspicion, to Ned, was tantamount to betrayal!
"Robert! You're mad!"
Ned retorted instinctively.
"How could Catelyn possibly..."
"How could she not?!"
Robert interrupted him roughly, spittle spraying Ned's face.
"They are sisters!"
"The same insidious, cunning Tully blood flows in their veins!"
"Jon Arryn just died, and his wife ran back to the Eyrie!"
"Now, she dares threaten the King for a brothel owner!"
"Is this fucking normal?!"
"If there isn't a conspiracy behind this, I'll twist my own head off for you to kick like a ball!"
Ned's heart sank inch by inch.
He looked at Robert's bloodshot eyes filled with madness and paranoia.
He knew that no matter what he said now, Robert wouldn't believe him.
Robert was no longer the Robert who drank and hunted with him, who patted his shoulder and called him "brother."
He was a beast driven mad by fear and suspicion.
He was a mad dog that would bite anyone he perceived as a threat!!
On the high platform, Lynn watched this scene calmly.
He raised his goblet and took a small sip.
Truly a good show.
Robert's self-destruction came even faster and more violently than he expected.
He didn't even need to do anything now, just watch quietly.
Watch how this pair of life-and-death brothers walked step by step toward a complete break.
Tywin's poison was more effective than imagined.
It wasn't just corroding Robert's body; it was burning his reason.
Robert was losing his most loyal ally step by step.
"Prove it to me, Ned!"
Robert's roar sounded again.
He pointed at Ned's nose, looking like he was judging a heinous criminal.
"Prove that you and your House Stark are still loyal to me!"
Ned's lips moved, but he couldn't say a word.
How should he prove it?
Cut open his chest and show him his loyal heart?
"I don't care what method you use!"
"I want your wife, Catelyn Stark, immediately! Right now! Get the hell out of your icy Winterfell!"
"I want her to come to King's Landing! To come before me!"
"Kneel!"
"Show me, show the Iron Throne, the loyalty of House Tully and House Stark!"
The entire tourney ground was silent.
Everyone was stunned by the King's mad and humiliating words.
Making the Lady of Winterfell leave her castle, travel thousands of miles to King's Landing, just to kneel before the King to prove her innocence?
This was an unbearable humiliation to House Stark, to the entire North!
Ned's body swayed violently.
He felt blood rush to his head.
The pride and dignity of the King in the North were trampled underfoot by Robert at this moment.
He wanted to draw his sword.
He wanted to punch this face, once so familiar but now so strange, with all his might.
He wanted to shout and question him.
Was their friendship of twenty years so cheap?!
But he couldn't.
He was the Hand of the King.
He was the Prime Minister of the Seven Kingdoms.
He couldn't plunge the realm into war because of his impulse.
Ned slowly closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, all the anger, humiliation, and heartache in his grey eyes had turned into dead silence.
Ned gently pushed Arya, who was still holding Sansa, away.
Then, under everyone's shocked gaze.
In Robert's eyes filled with madness and scrutiny.
Ned Stark, Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell, slowly bent his knees.
Thud.
Knees hit the blood-stained flagstones with a dull sound.
The sound wasn't loud, but it struck heavily on everyone's heart.
"Your Grace."
Ned lowered his head, his voice so calm no ripple could be heard.
"House Stark's loyalty is beyond doubt."
"The North will forever be your strongest shield."
"I will write to Catelyn immediately, asking her to come to King's Landing to prove House Stark's innocence to you."
He knelt.
This Northman, who would rather die than lower his proud head, actually submitted for the greater good.
Robert looked at Ned kneeling before him, at the brother he once trusted most.
He felt no satisfaction, no gratification.
He only felt an inexplicable irritability and disappointment.
So Ned was no different from those spineless cowards on the platform.
The last trace of warmth in Robert's eyes extinguished completely.
"Very good."
Robert squeezed two words through his teeth.
He didn't even reach out to help Ned up.
He just turned around, presenting his back stained with blood and minced meat to this "brother" kneeling on the ground.
"Watch your people."
"Don't cause me any more trouble."
With that, Robert strode toward the Red Keep without looking back.
The figure was resolute and strange.
People left the tourney ground without a word.
Ned Stark remained kneeling.
He lowered his head; no one could see the expression on his face.
Arya looked at her father's trembling back, at the King's indifferent departing figure.
Her small hands clenched into fists tightly.
She didn't understand politics, didn't understand the "greater good."
She only knew her father was in pain.