Chapter 222: Bad News About Lord Jon Arryn
King's Landing, Red Keep
POV of Robert Baratheon
Robert swung his hammer at the squire, who barely managed to take the brunt of the force with his shield, even as the wood cracked and groaned under the pressure.
The sweat gathered in Robert's brow fell down in his eyes, and he wiped it away with his hands, his large beer belly jiggling a bit as he backed away from the Lannister squire and put the hammer down on the ground.
His arms ached from the punishment he had put them through. That he had been putting them through for the past month since he received that letter from Ned.
Five minutes, that's how long he was able to go on for before he got too tired to continue.
He looked at his warhammer on the ground and then back at his hands.
He had never felt so weak when he tried to pick up the hammer a month ago and found that he had to exert all his strength from both his hands to pick it up, and even then, his grip was far from steady.
He knew that he had been falling ever since Lyanna's death. That all the wine and whores and his usual debauchery would eventually take their toll.
But to not even have the strength to pick up his own warhammer. 'That' was better than anything, told him how far he had fallen in his life.
He had not fucked a single whore since that revelation. Using all the energy he could muster to get back the muscles that once allowed him to pick up the battle hammer with one hand and swing it with the strength to cave in whole chest pieces and shatter the rib cage.
He closed his eyes and once more saw the dying form of Rhaegar in front of him.
And the last words that left his lips.
Rage burned in his heart once again. Like it always did when he thought about the audacity of the rapist dragonspawn to take the name of his beloved with his last breath.
He wished that Rhaegar were still alive. So that he could kill that son of a bitch once again.
'Except that you can't do that anymore.' The voice, which sounded much like his wife's, rang in his mind. 'You're so weak and pathetic, you can't even pick up the warhammer with a single hand anymore.'
He opened his eyes and picked up the hammer once again.
It was still heavy in his hands, but he was able to manage it far better than he had done a month ago.
He very much doubted that he would ever return to his prime, when he could swing the war hammer with one hand and was called the Demon of the Trident.
He was too old, too tired for that.
He knew it with the same conviction that he knew that his wife was a fucking bitch. And that his son was a cruel little shit who took pleasure in the pain and suffering of others.
A war was coming, and his friend, his best friend, needed him.
And he would not fail his best friend this time.
He would not be late this time. Not when Ned had lost his last brother and needed him the most.
True, he might never return to his prime, but that would not stop him from going to a war one last time or trying to help his brother in all but name.
He would never be as strong as he was before, but he at least wanted to go down in a blaze of glory.
He looked in the eyes of the Lannister squire, who braced with the shield and prepared for another bout, before he heard sudden footsteps from behind him.
"Your Grace! Your Grace. Terrible news, Your Grace."
He turned to look at yet another fucking Lannister. How many of these shits were there in King's Landing?
"What is it, boy?" he asked, not hiding the irritation he was feeling at having been interrupted like this.
"It's the Lord Hand, Your Grace. Lord Jon Arryn has fallen ill. Grand Maester Pycelle has sent for you. Asked you to come to the Tower of the Hand quickly." The Lannister said in a single breath, and his stomach fell.
"Gods be damned. Lead the way, boy!" he shouted and ran after the younger boy, trying to ward away the horrible feeling in his chest.
Life knew how to screw people. Just when you were most comfortable, most relaxed, it would deal you a blow when you least expected it, as if it were belittling you.
And it wouldn't let go with just one blow; it would keep on delivering blow after blow.
Until you collapse, no longer knowing what to do.
That's when you start to get angry and hate yourself.
Why haven't I done anything about this until now? Why have I wasted my time? Why haven't I been working when I should have?
These questions begin to eat at you from the inside, sapping your strength to stand.
Robert's situation was similar. He hadn't fully realized it, but the problems and responsibilities that followed a long period of complacency and indifference were stressing him more than he'd anticipated.
And even though he hadn't fully grasped it yet, that didn't mean he couldn't sense something was wrong.
But there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't change the past, and even if he regretted his mistakes, regret wouldn't do anyone any good.
Robert didn't know it yet, but he was no longer fit to be king. Perhaps this had been a long-held truth, but the relative peace of the kingdom had prevented it from coming to light.
But now, the chaos that the kingdom would be plunged into was waiting to bring it to light.
Life truly knew how to screw people.
Robert couldn't fully grasp any of this, but the voice inside him that told him something was wrong helped him understand what was happening, more or less.
So, he was ready to face whatever challenge came his way.
Not to win. No, only to die with honor and glory.
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Next Chapters' Name:
Ch.223: Elemental Moon Cores
Ch.224: Important News
Ch.225: Small Council Meeting on the Upcoming War