At that moment, disbelief still clouded his mind.
That letter…
How could it be so detailed?
Who had unearthed those long-buried secrets and chosen to reveal them now, before everyone?
His silence only stoked Robert's fury further.
"Have you gone mute, Ned?! Answer me!"
Renly raised his voice. "Your Grace, sometimes silence itself is an answer. I believe the lords gathered here already know the truth in their hearts."
There was a faint trace of pity on his face, but deep in his eyes shone smug satisfaction and quiet malice.
Eddard Stark, your day has finally come.
Robert, like a lion whose tail had been stepped on, whipped around to face Renly, his eyes blazing. "Shut your filthy mouth, Renly! Or I'll have you thrown back to Storm's End right now!"
Renly immediately fell silent, though the faint smile curling at his lips only deepened. He cast a subtle glance toward Littlefinger, his gaze meaningful.
At the far end of the table, Littlefinger froze. That look…
Did Renly think he was behind this?
Since receiving the news that morning, Littlefinger had been utterly bewildered. This revelation was like a thunderbolt, shaking the foundations of the realm.
In truth, part of him enjoyed the chaos it had caused.
But—he wasn't the one who spread it.
All morning, he had been racking his brain, trying to guess which powerful hand had managed to uncover such a secret.
At that moment, he felt Varys's probing gaze upon him.
Littlefinger turned his head, and their eyes met briefly.
For a fleeting second, their gazes locked—then both looked away, each understanding the other's thoughts without a word.
In that instant, both men reached the same conclusion. Each believed the other had orchestrated this explosion of scandal.
Varys seethed inside. That wretched man had disrupted his careful plans.
Littlefinger, in turn, sneered inwardly. That damned eunuch hid his moves well.
Cersei broke the silence, her voice sharp as a blade. "Lord Eddard, I suggest you do not lie. This letter names Howland Reed as a witness. If your testimonies differ when questioned, His Grace will not be so forgiving."
Maester Pycelle spoke up, his voice trembling. "Greywater Watch... those swamp-dwellers swear loyalty only to House Stark. I fear our ravens may never reach them..."
Cersei's lips curled into a triumphant smirk. "Then let Lord Eddard write to Howland Reed himself, commanding him to come to King's Landing and swear fealty to his liege lord. If he refuses, that alone will prove his guilt."
Eddard's face turned ashen, despair swallowing him whole.
Cersei had cut off every path of retreat. Whether he confessed or denied it, Jon's secret could no longer be hidden.
Robert watched him intently, eyes fixed on the torment twisting Ned's face. As his brother-in-arms since childhood, he knew Ned Stark too well.
That look—he had seen it only when Ned's deepest convictions and secrets were laid bare.
The fire of Robert's rage turned to ice, a cold sense of betrayal freezing his heart.
"Enough!"
Robert rose suddenly from the Iron Throne, pointing toward the door as he bellowed to the Kingsguard.
"Guards! Take a hundred Gold Cloaks—ride to the Wall, to Castle Black! Bring me that bastard!"
At the council table, Cersei's expression twisted with venom.
Her mind flashed to Rhaegar—then to every night Robert had cried out Lyanna's name beside her.
Once, she had dreamed she would marry Rhaegar, become his queen.
But fate had mocked her. She had become the wife of a drunken king.
And now, her long-lost prince had lain with that man's beloved—and fathered a child.
Burning hatred surged up as she cried, "A bastard? Your Grace, open your eyes! This letter clearly states that Rhaegar and Lyanna were lawfully wed under the witness of clergy sent by the High Septon. The proof lies in Septon Maynard's private journal, preserved in the Citadel!
He is no bastard! We must kill that child at once—before ambitious fools rally under his name, raise rebellion, and overthrow us! And as for the Starks—who hid him, raised him, perhaps even plotted to crown him—what should be done with them?!"
Her words struck at Eddard like a knife.
Varys's thin, airy voice broke the tension. "But My King, Your Grace... Prince Rhaegar already had a lawful wife, Princess Elia. Would the High Septon truly have sanctioned such a marriage? It defies reason..."
Renly cut in, smiling with malicious amusement. "Varys, have you forgotten Aegon the Conqueror? Did he not wed two queens at once? Perhaps our 'noble' Prince Rhaegar fancied himself Aegon reborn."
"Enough! All of you—shut up!!!"
Robert's roar shook the vaulted ceiling.
"I don't care if he's legitimate or not! If he's Rhaegar's blood, he dies! He must die!"
He stormed down from the Iron Throne, heavy footsteps echoing through the hall.
Cersei's voice cut through the tension, cold and sharp. "And what of this Stark, who harbored a prince of the old dynasty and plotted rebellion? The letter clearly accuses him of scheming to use Targaryen blood to restore his House's rule over the Seven Kingdoms. Should he not—"
Renly interrupted with a mocking tone. "Your Grace, Lord Eddard was personally summoned from Winterfell by His Grace to serve as Hand of the King—his most trusted brother and friend. Are you truly so eager to see him die here in King's Landing?"
Cersei was driven past reason, shrieking, "Why not?! His father and brother died in this very hall—"
She stopped short.
The words hung in the air like poison.
Then, silence—absolute and suffocating—fell over the Great Hall.
Countless eyes filled with shock, disgust, and disbelief shot toward Cersei like arrows.
Eddard Stark's head snapped up. In his gray-blue eyes, seventeen years of buried hatred erupted like a volcano, blazing straight at her. His entire body tensed, as if he might strike at any moment.
"You madwoman—shut your mouth!!!"
Robert's roar thundered through the hall.
He stormed toward Cersei and, without hesitation, his massive hand cracked across her flawless cheek.
Smack!
The sharp sound echoed through the chamber.
Cersei cried out in pain, staggering backward and collapsing into her chair. Clutching her face, she stared at Robert in disbelief, her emerald eyes flooding with humiliation, venom, and a wild, burning hatred.
"Ser Jaime!"
Ser Barristan Selmy's voice cut through the silence, firm and commanding. Jaime Lannister, who had instinctively moved to defend his sister, froze in place. The old knight's gaze was hard as stone—a silent warning.
Robert didn't spare Cersei another glance. He turned and strode toward Eddard, still restrained by the Gold Cloaks.
His towering shadow fell over Ned. His expression was a storm of betrayal, brotherhood, and fury—conflicted emotions hardened by anger into cold resolve.
He looked directly into Eddard's eyes, his voice low and heavy.
"Until that bastard of Rhaegar's is brought to King's Landing, you'll stay in the dungeons of the Red Keep."
Renly abruptly rose to his feet.
"Your Grace, is it not clear enough? Eddard Stark has committed treason and must stand trial! His lady wife has also taken Lord Tywin's second son hostage in the Riverlands, provoking the Great Lord to unleash his wrath upon the countryside. Eddard Stark must answer for this!"
Renly's relentless accusations lit the fire in Eddard's chest.
He lifted his head sharply, his gray-blue eyes stripped of sorrow and pleading—now they burned with grim resolve.
He glared at Renly's smug face, his voice booming through the hall.
"Lord Renly, you speak of judgment—then tell me, who will judge you?!"
The triumph froze on Renly's face, replaced by shock and anger.
"Stark! What nonsense is this? Trying to cover your guilt with slander?"
Eddard stood firm, his voice cutting and unwavering.
"Slander? At House Darry, you came to me in the dead of night, showed me a portrait of Lady Margaery Tyrell, and asked if she resembled Lyanna. Do you deny it?"
His words rang clear and sharp in the deathly still hall.
Renly's face went pale, panic flickering in his eyes before he forced himself to regain composure.
"So... what of it? Is admiring a lady's portrait a crime now?"
Eddard let out a cold, humorless laugh.
"Admiration? Lord Renly, your intentions were all too obvious. You sought a woman who looked like Lyanna, to place before His Grace—hoping to sway him into casting aside the Queen and setting Margaery Tyrell in her place. And when you feared Jon Arryn would stand in your way, you poisoned him. You are the one who should be judged!"