When Renly entered the Red Keep's solemn council chamber, he slipped back into his mask of elegant composure.
King Robert Baratheon's massive frame was crammed into his chair, his face unusually sullen. Grand Maester Pycelle was nodding off. Mace Tyrell, Master of Ships, had lowered his head in feigned slumber. Varys, Master of Whisperers, wore a calm expression as he silently studied the intelligence documents spread across the table. Petyr Baelish, Master of Coin, wore his trademark faint smile, his eyes darting imperceptibly across the faces of those present.
And the new Hand of the King, Lord Eddard Stark, sat at Robert's right hand, his back straight, his expression composed, though deep within his gray-blue eyes lingered an inescapable weariness and worry.
...
Seeing everyone present, Robert slammed his fist on the table, sending cups and plates clattering. His drunken voice dripped with savagery:
"Varys brings word that two Targaryen bastards still skitter about in Tyrosh across the Narrow Sea. They must be eliminated.
Send assassins! I want their heads! Now! Immediately!"
Eddard Stark's heart sank. He recalled the terrified silver-haired girl and the arrogant yet equally fragile boy he had seen in Tyrosh. A surge of honor welled up within him.
He lifted his head, his voice clear and firm as he countered, "Your Grace, with all due respect, this will enrage the Easterner. It will bring needless and terrible vengeance upon the Seven Kingdoms. And to hunt down two children to the last is no honor."
"Honor?!"
Robert's rage was fully ignited. His face flushed crimson as he glared at Eddard like a raging stag, bellowing, "Ned! You speak to me of honor? Have you forgotten how Rhaegar treated Lyanna? Have you forgotten what the Targaryens did to our house? They are dragons, the spawn of a madman! As long as a single Targaryen lives, there will be those who raise their banner in rebellion! They must be eradicated! This is for the stability of the realm, do you understand?!"
The atmosphere in the council chamber instantly turned to ice.
At that tense moment, Renly moved. He set his goblet down with elegant calm and fixed his gaze on Eddard.
"Lord Eddard, your fierce opposition to Your Grace's decision—even invoking 'honor' to plead your case—this leads me, and indeed all present here, to draw certain... parallels. It reminds me of your refusal to obey the Small Council's orders during your time in Tyrosh, when you spared those two children. Lord Petyr, am I not correct? Only you and the Lord Hand have ever served as envoys to Tyrosh..."
His eyes turned to Littlefinger.
Littlefinger understood immediately; his face took on that expression of "compelled to speak, though reluctantly." He sighed softly, voice edged with grievance.
"Ah... At that time, the Small Council resolved to eliminate the Targaryen scum once and for all. While the Seven Kingdoms' delegation remained in Tyrosh, we were instructed to hire assassins or poison those two children. But..."
His gaze fixed on Eddard, tinged with regret.
"Lord Eddard vetoed the order. I and several other lords pleaded with him to seize this once-in-a-lifetime chance to eliminate the threat forever. We laid out the stakes, insisting it was for Your Grace, for the peace of the Seven Kingdoms.
Yet... Lord Eddard, your stance was unwavering—even stubbornly adamant. You insisted striking down two children was 'dishonorable,' 'the work of a butcher.' In the end, we squandered our chance."
Littlefinger finished and spread his hands in resignation.
Renly immediately chimed in, "See? This proves our Lord Hand is clearly protecting those two children."
At these words, the gazes of Pycelle, Grand Maester Varys, and Lord Mace all turned to the two men. Hearing this, Eddard sighed heavily. He had already explained this matter to everyone long ago, during his mission to Tyrosh and upon his return to King's Landing. But all he received in return was Robert's furious tirade.
In his fury, he had returned to the North the very next day. Now, Eddard was back in King's Landing as Hand, yet the Small Council was rehashing old grievances. Worse, Renly was accusing him of protecting the Targaryen siblings, clearly seeking to humiliate him. He looked at Renly, who was smiling smugly, and his loathing and hatred for the man deepened.
At that moment, Robert's face darkened.
"Ned, you slipped back to the North before our last debate on this matter was settled. This time you won't escape. You must give me an explanation."
Eddard attempted to explain.
"Your Grace, my lords, the matter is not as Lord Renly describes. At Tyrosh, I opposed the cowardly assassination of defenseless children. This had nothing to do with protecting the Targaryens. It was a matter of basic honor and humanity..."
Robert cut him off in fury.
"Do you know what you're saying?! It was your stubborn refusal last time that cost us our chance. This time, I won't let them escape."
He sprang to his feet, pointing a finger at Eddard.
"Lord Stark, there will be no second chance. You are now my Hand of the King. You will do as I say, or I will find someone else!"
Renly watched Robert brush the matter aside with ease, about to speak up and sow discord once more. But then Eddard unfastened the carved silver hand emblem—symbolizing the Hand of the King—from his cloak and placed it on the table before the king.
"Then I wish him success in his new role."
With that, he bowed to Robert and left the council chamber without another word.
A deathly silence fell over the chamber. All eyes fixed on Eddard's retreating figure, filled with shock.
Robert's face turned purple as he snarled, "You damned fool! I've had enough of you! You'd best pack your bags and return to Winterfell. Don't let me catch you here again, or I swear I'll throw you into the Red Keep dungeons and have your head mounted on a pike!"
Renly and Lord Mace exchanged glances. He hadn't expected Eddard Stark to resign so decisively, leaving his prepared tirade without a target.
Renly immediately chuckled.
"Lord Stark prefers the bitter cold of the North to your royal favor, my dear brother. I think it's time you found a Hand of the King who shows you more respect to govern this realm."
With that, he couldn't help but burst into loud laughter.
Robert turned, his eyes blazing with fury, and fixed them on Renly. He had noticed long ago that today, his younger brother seemed intent on stirring up trouble, desperately egging Eddard on to make him look foolish.
Robert stormed toward Ser Barristan Selmy, who stood behind him with his white hair.
"Ser Barristan, escort my brother out. He might laugh himself to death."
Lannister immediately stopped laughing.
"My dear brother, how thoughtful of you. I can find my own way."
He rose gracefully and strode out of the Small Council chamber.
...
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