Chapter 67 64

Another day, another stack of documents, another stream of idiotic requests. Routine. A couple of years ago I despised it with every part of my soul, but I have long since made my peace with it and come to see it as a necessary daily exercise, not unlike training. Robert had ridden out for the hunt, and unfortunately my affairs would not allow me to follow. Ser Garlan Tyrell was expected any day now. He would represent the lords of the Reach and take up the post of Captain of the King's Gate. We were also to discuss our joint actions against the Lannisters before they had time to reorganize. Cersei had burned holes through me with her gaze when Kevan finally stripped away her illusions and told her the bitter truth.

"My lord, there is a messenger for you," said my guardsman Eyris, stepping into the chambers. "He says it is urgent."

"Send him in." A boy of about fifteen rushed in, breathless, and dropped to his knees at once, gasping for air.

"Hah... my lord Hand... the king... hah... a horse threw the king and struck him badly... the king is unconscious... the situation is critical... hah... I rode as fast as I could." On instinct I pressed a cup of water into his hands.

"Eyris! Fetch Desmond, Morgan, and Robar at once! Wake Pycelle and have him ready to receive the king! Detain the stable hands and draw up a list of everyone who was with the king at the hunt! And bring me that horse."

...

Six hours later.

"My... my lord, I have done everything within my power," Pycelle rasped. "From here, it is in the hands of the gods."

"Your life will also be in the hands of the gods," I said. The old man needed some encouragement. "Grand Maester, I have a feeling you wish to help the gods reach the right decision." That made him tremble from head to foot.

"At once, my lord, I need only send for fresh medicines." It is remarkable what the threat of death does to a man's motivation.

"Do everything necessary to ensure the king survives." And now to go calm the court.

...

The following day.

After a full day of it, I was beginning to remember why I had never been fond of politics. Robert was alive, and in a grave condition, yet these vultures were already burying him and spinning their webs. The queen was gathering soldiers and hiring sellswords. Renly and his bought roses were gathering soldiers of their own. Robar had hinted to me more than once that we ought to mobilize our forces in the city to stamp out all this stirring, but I settled on keeping to my personal guard. I was certain Robert would pull through.

The mood in King's Landing had turned sharp and brittle overnight. The most cowardly lords fled to their own lands. The rest decided to fish in troubled waters, either throwing their lot in fully with one faction or trying to keep a foot in two camps at once. At least there was no open confrontation yet, or the blood would have flowed freely.

Eddard should have been in White Harbor by now and received my letter, yet no reply had come. Stannis sat on Dragonstone and said nothing. In a situation like this I needed to gather every strength available to me, and I could not. Worse still, Renly had taken some notion of himself and stopped heeding me, as had the greater part of the Stormlands lords. I had half expected that from the sword-swallower, but Sansa surprised me unpleasantly. As the only Stark of any age in the capital, her voice was the voice of the North entire, and Ned's daughter had publicly declared her support for "her beloved Joffrey." The clever ones understood this for the lovesick ramblings of a young girl, but for everyone else...

And so for a full day the city sat like a man perched atop a barrel of wildfire. One spark would have been enough to set it all ablaze. And so it might have gone, had Robert not woken.

...

The king's chambers smelled heavily of sweat, blood, and medicines. Several people hovered constantly around him, watching over his health. It was strange to see a man who had been my friend looking so weak, so exposed. One quiet word, and all the unnecessary faces cleared out, leaving us alone. I did not know where to begin, and so I began with the obvious.

"How are you?"

"argh... what do you think?" Robert rasped.

"You'll be on your feet soon enough." I tried to put some warmth into it. Though in truth I was helpless here. My abilities were not made for direct healing.

"Stinks in here... smell of death... I know I'm dying... King Robert Baratheon, done in by his own horse... they'll have a fine laugh over that... ha-ha, urgh, hrrk..." He had made his peace with what was coming and was trying to get one last joke in.

"Did you notice anything strange before you fell?"

"Leave it alone... let me die in peace... call the leeches..." By leeches he meant the members of the small council.

Fifteen minutes and they were all assembled in the chambers. They expressed their sympathy, but their eyes said something else entirely. None of them cared about Robert. Not even Renly, his youngest brother, cared. What occupied Renly's thoughts was something else. Every man present was worried about what came next, for the death of a king is the death of order.

"Take this... and write..." He found the strength to gesture toward the board and parchment.

"I, Robert Baratheon... you know the rest... I name Eddard... hrrk... Stark... regent... Axel Arryn as Hand, until Joffrey comes of age..." He turned his gaze on those assembled. "You will witness this." He received silent bows in reply.

"Bring the children... I want to speak with them, one last time..."

The others filed quickly out of the chambers. I was the last to stop at the door, and I said:

"I was glad to call you my friend."

...

I walked back toward my chambers with dark thoughts for company, unable to shake the feeling that something about all of this was wrong. Perhaps it was my paranoia, but everything was too... too much. My mood finished its descent when the bell rang out to announce Robert's death. My thoughts were cut short by Renly, whom my tense guardsmen had stopped in the corridor.

"My lord Arryn, might we speak?" I gave a nod, the guards stepped aside, and Renly fell into step beside me.

The unexpected company changed my route. We both understood that a conversation could not happen here, where anyone might be listening. Without a word between us we turned toward the garden. Maegor the Cruel had wanted to know every secret of those close to him, and so the Red Keep had been built with many a passage for eavesdropping, yet he had just as little wish for others to hear his own secrets. There were a handful of places where listening in was near impossible. The open garden with its central fountain was one of them.

"Axel, give me a couple of hours and I can have two hundred swords for you. Together with your men we can crush any Lannister uprising before it begins," Renly said, going straight to the point.

"There will be no uprising. You are being dramatic," I replied. The Lannisters were not so far gone as to start a war the moment Robert drew his last breath.

"The Lannisters will never tolerate rivals and they will move against us. We can prevent it! We take control of the Red Keep, place the queen under house arrest, separate her from the princes and the princess. Axel, you know as well as I do that none of Robert's children are fit to be king, and Stannis is no different, no one will stomach him. I am the only one who can preserve peace and prosperity. If you stand with me, the combined strength of the Vale, the Reach, and the Stormlands cannot be stopped." It was plain enough that someone had put these words in his head.

"You are proposing treason against the children of my friend while his body is not yet cold?"

"Yes! Because if Joffrey takes the throne, then every hard year of your work counts for nothing. You will be stripped of your post and sent back to the Vale in disgrace."

"I will have no part in this." This conversation had nowhere left to go.

Without waiting to hear more from the rose's puppet, I walked on to my chambers. There, alone with my thoughts, I raised a cup of wine in Robert's memory.

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