Ned was struck dumb by Lynn's final words.
Make the Lannisters stand alone in King's Landing, betrayed by all?
It was easy to say, but the Lannisters had been entrenched in the capital for years. Their power ran deep.
Cersei was Queen, Jaime was a Kingsguard, and their father, Tywin Lannister, was the wealthiest and most feared Lord Paramount in Westeros.
To shake this golden lion... it seemed impossible.
"This is madness..."
Ned muttered to himself, losing count of how many times he had said this to Lynn.
"How do you plan to enter the tourney? The joust is a stage for knights, and you..."
Ned paused, remembering Lynn's status.
A man of the Night's Watch.
Forget a knighthood; in the eyes of southern nobles, they were no different from criminals.
"I cannot knight you."
Ned's voice was strained.
"House Stark keeps the Old Gods. Knighthood is a rite of the Faith of the Seven. I cannot hold a vigil in a sept, nor accept the blessing of the Seven."
It was a knot that couldn't be untied.
Without a knighthood, he wasn't even qualified to sign up for the joust.
Lynn's plan had hit a wall at the very first step.
Lynn looked at Ned's troubled face and spoke calmly.
"Then let someone who is qualified grant me permission."
Ned blinked. "Who?"
"The King."
The King certainly had the authority, but the word made Ned's eyelid twitch violently.
"Robert?"
He refuted almost instinctively.
"Impossible! He... he is full of prejudice against me right now."
"He thinks I'm a bumpkin who only knows the North and ignores his duties."
"If I ask him to make an exception now, he will only think I'm making a fool of myself!"
Clearly, Ned's deliberate incompetence over the past month had genuinely shocked Robert.
"He will agree."
Lynn's tone was certain.
He walked up to Ned, staring directly into his grey eyes.
"Because I can give him the thing he wants most."
---
After much hesitation in the Tower of the Hand, Eddard Stark finally steeled himself and led Lynn into the throne room of the Red Keep.
He had made Lynn leave the two overly conspicuous Valyrian steel swords behind.
In King's Landing, especially in front of Robert Baratheon, anything related to House Targaryen was taboo.
King Robert was slumped in a wide chair.
The massive frame that had once crushed Rhaegar's breastplate with a warhammer was now a mound of blubber, corrupted by wine and easy living.
He held a goblet in one hand, listening impatiently as the Master of Coin, Petyr "Littlefinger" Baelish, reported the budget for the Hand's Tourney.
"Just get it done! Why so much babble!"
Robert looked toward the door where Ned stood awkwardly, his tone shifting immediately to mockery.
"Fifty thousand gold dragons? Just to watch a bunch of iron cans bang into each other on horseback?"
Robert's roar echoed in the hall.
"Are you trying to empty my treasury?"
"Your Grace, this is not merely a tourney, but a display of royal glory, and a welcome for the new Hand..."
Littlefinger wore his signature smile, explaining unhurriedly.
"Can you eat glory?"
Robert waved his hand, smashing his goblet onto the floor.
"All I see is my coin flowing away like water!"
His gaze swept over the ministers present, finally resting on Ned at the door. His dissatisfaction was palpable.
Originally, he had wanted to hold a grand tourney for Ned.
But Ned's behavior had infuriated him!
This guy was even more useless than himself!
This damn tourney... cancel it!
"Ned! You finally dragged yourself out of those brothels?"
Robert's tone was unkind.
"How did you find the time to grace me with your presence?"
Ned's face flushed red, his fists clenching inside his sleeves.
Robert waved a hand, dismissing the ministers.
Now, only Robert, Ned, and Lynn remained.
Lynn stepped forward from behind Ned.
"Your Grace."
Robert narrowed his bleary, wine-soaked eyes, sizing up the unfamiliar young man.
Tall, upright, carrying the unique chill of the Northern wastes.
"Who are you?" Robert frowned.
"Lynn. A brother of the Night's Watch, sent south to King's Landing on the orders of Lord Commander Jeor Mormont."
"Night's Watch?"
Robert scoffed, leaning back into his chair, interest waning.
"Here to beg for men and coin again? The Wall hasn't fallen down yet, has it?"
"No, Your Grace." Lynn was neither humble nor arrogant.
"I have come to King's Landing to participate in the tourney."
Silence fell over the hall for a moment.
Robert looked as if he had heard the greatest joke in the world. He froze for a moment, then burst into deafening laughter.
"Bwahahaha! A crow wants to joust?"
"Ned, is this a fool you brought from the North to amuse me?"
"Your Grace, I require your permission." Lynn ignored the mockery.
"I wish to enter the joust as a man of the Night's Watch."
"And, if I win the champion's purse, I wish to be knighted by your own hand."
The King was not only a knight but held the supreme authority to knight others, unbound by convention and carrying the highest honor.
The laughter cut off abruptly.
The fat on Robert's face quivered.
He sat up straight, re-examining Lynn with a scrutinizing gaze.
"A crow wants to be a knight?"
His voice dropped low.
In Westeros, any knight could make a knight, provided the rites of the Seven were followed.
There were knights in the Night's Watch already.
Samwell Tarly, for instance, was anointed before taking the black.
And the vows of the Night's Watch did not explicitly forbid knighthood.
The core vows were: take no wife, hold no lands, father no children.
Being a knight did not violate these three directly.
Knighthood was an honor and a duty, not a fiefdom or a marriage.
I shall wear no crowns and win no glory.
This was perhaps the only conflict. Knighthood carried "glory," but that was subjective.
I shall live and die at my post.
A knight's duty was to protect the weak and serve his lord; this aligned broadly with the Watch's duty to "guard the realms of men."
So Lynn was qualified to be knighted!
"Why should I? Just because you killed a few Wildlings?"
Robert grasped the logic—Lynn was qualified—but was curious why he should grant the favor.
"No." Lynn shook his head.
"Because I can remove the final threat to your kingdom for you."
"A threat across the Narrow Sea."
Across the Narrow Sea?
Robert's breathing instantly grew heavy.
In his cloudy eyes, the flame of hatred slowly ignited.
"Targaryen?"
He squeezed the word through his teeth.
"Correct." Lynn nodded.
"Viserys Targaryen. The so-called 'Beggar King'."
"I will go across the Narrow Sea and bring you his head."
Lynn's voice was calm, but it was like a boulder thrown into a still lake, raising a massive wave.
Ned Stark stared at Lynn's back in disbelief.
He never imagined Lynn would propose such a trade!
He had always considered Daenerys and Viserys irrelevant threats.
He had constantly advised Robert in private against hunting them down.
Does it really have to come to this?
This was no longer a request, but a transaction.
A transaction paid for with the life of a Targaryen remnant.
And this transaction... was for Lynn himself!
Ned's mind was in turmoil.
"You?"
Robert stared dead at Lynn, as if trying to see through him.
"You alone?"
"I alone!"
"Good!"
Robert slammed his hand on the armrest and stood up!
It was as if the soul of the warrior who had hammered Rhaegar on the Trident had suddenly returned to his bloated body!
The drunkenness and lethargy vanished from his face, replaced by a cruel excitement.
"Good! Well said!"
Robert strode up to Lynn, slapping a hand the size of a hamhock heavily onto his shoulder.
"Boy, I don't care who you are or where you came from!"
"If you bring me that dragonspawn's head, forget a knighthood!"
Robert's voice boomed in the hall, making Ned's ears ring.
"I'll make you a Lord! I'll give you a castle! I'll give you whatever you want!"
"Night's Watch vows say no wives?"
"I'll let you take ten!"
"Father as many bastards as you like!!"
"I grant you entry! You will fight in the tourney! All events!"
"I want to see what a man with the stones to kill a Targaryen is made of!"
A look of pure, warrior's satisfaction, unseen for years, appeared on Robert's face.
He looked at Lynn with extreme approval.
Lynn's words had struck straight to Robert's heart.
He dreamed of killing the Targaryens across the sea!
Ned Stark stood rooted to the spot, thunderstruck.
---