Chapter 169

"Ser Barristan," Aegor greeted the white-cloaked knight with a familiarity born of late-night conversations. Seeing him arrive, Aegor made the first move, offering a polite nod.

Eddard Stark, too, acknowledged the newcomer with a brief nod. "Barristan, is everything in order?"
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Yesterday, after learning of Cersei's plans for treason, Eddard and Robert had been forced to act against House Lannister ahead of schedule. The stakes were too high to ignore, and with no clear understanding of where the Red Keep’s nobles and officials stood, Eddard chose the most direct and effective way to eliminate potential risks: before dawn, he ordered all residents of the Red Keep, including their servants and retainers, confined to their quarters under strict orders not to leave.

Once the chaos of the day subsided, those found innocent would regain their freedom. But anyone bearing the mark of House Lannister—or showing signs of collusion—would face arrest or dismissal. The Seven Kingdoms could not afford prolonged unrest. This strike against the queen’s family needed to be swift and decisive.

The execution of this plan was entrusted to Barristan Selmy, with manpower drawn from the Stormland soldiers stationed in the Red Keep. This move not only thwarted any loyalists who might aid Cersei in her treason or escape but also preempted any schemes Renly Baratheon might hatch to exploit the chaos and seize the Iron Throne. It was a multifaceted approach that served multiple goals.
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“It’s done,” Barristan said as he approached Eddard. Lowering his voice, he added, “But Robert wouldn’t listen to me. He insisted on confronting the queen himself before taking any action—wanted to give her a chance to confess. By the time I finished carrying out your orders and returned, he’d already left. He’s likely in Prince Joffrey’s chambers right now, raising hell.”

“A chance to confess? I told him everything should wait until the City Watch is in the Red Keep! Robert’s being a fool, and he’s treating everyone else like fools too!” Eddard snapped, his frustration evident as his voice rose. “Did he at least bring the others with him?”

“He did,” Barristan confirmed. “But let’s set that aside for now. What’s going on here? When will the City Watch arrive?”

“They should be here soon,” Eddard replied, barely masking his irritation. He gestured toward the cart carrying the reinforced cage. “Look at that—Mormont sent me something interesting.”

Barristan followed Eddard’s gaze, but as his eyes landed on the cage, Aegor felt a cold sweat break out down his spine. Months ago, Jaqen had been arrested after being caught by Barristan in the royal library. How could he have been so careless, bringing a Faceless Man into the Red Keep and letting the two cross paths again?

“A lunatic?” Barristan frowned as he peered into the cage. The lines on his forehead deepened. “What’s so interesting about this?”

“Take a closer look,” Eddard urged.

Fortunately, Jaqen had just returned the severed hand to Eddard’s guardsman and had altered his appearance and clothing enough to blend in among the black-clad brothers. Barristan’s attention, for now, remained on the cage.

As Barristan inspected the severed hand and then turned back to the caged figure, he finally noticed the anomaly: the “madman” inside was missing an arm, yet there was no blood at the wound. The creature continued to thrash violently against the cage, attacking the onlookers with undiminished ferocity. And the severed hand, still moving with unnatural vigor, gripped and flexed as if alive.

“What in the Seven Hells is this thing?” Barristan instinctively reached for his sword hilt.

“It doesn’t matter what it is,” Eddard said grimly. “What matters is that Mormont claims there are thousands of these things beyond the Wall—everywhere.”

“This…” Shock flickered across Barristan’s face as the implications sank in. He understood immediately that this issue was no less critical to Eddard than dealing with the Lannisters. “But, my lord, the Wall won’t fall if the Night’s Watch waits a little longer. Let’s finish what we’ve started here before addressing this.”

“I understand the priorities,” Eddard replied, his brow furrowed. “But all my guards are stationed at the gates of the Red Keep. If I go to confront Cersei now, alone and unguarded, that woman could have me and the king killed in one fell swoop.” He shook his head, his frustration evident. “Ser Alliser, Aegor—either of you, tell me more about the White Walkers. Beyond their differences in how they’re dealt with, how are they distinct from these wights?”

At last, Aegor found his moment to speak. Stepping forward, he began explaining the differences between the White Walkers—elite servants of the Great Other—and the wights, their expendable cannon fodder.

Barristan lingered for a moment, realizing that Eddard’s decision to wait for the City Watch was prudent. However, as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, his place was with the king. It was his duty. Resolving this in his mind, Barristan turned and strode toward Maegor’s Holdfast.

At that moment, the sound of soldiers marching in unison echoed from the direction of the Red Keep’s gates. Moments later, Jory Cassel came into view, wearing a golden cloak to help his newly assigned men recognize him. He led a contingent of City Watch soldiers, their dark gold armor glinting in the sunlight as they came to a halt before Eddard.

“Lord Stark, as ordered, I’ve brought the bulk of the guards from the Iron Gate, Aegon’s High Hill, and the River Gate—346 men in total, including myself.”

The captains of the three garrisons stepped forward. “Lord Stark, the City Watch awaits your command.”

“Well done,” Eddard said. Though their arrival was later than he’d hoped, he knew it wasn’t the fault of these men. The delay lay with Janos Slynt, whose incompetence had thrown the Watch into disarray the night before. Eddard had planned to deal with the Lannisters before addressing Slynt, but in hindsight, that had been a mistake. Slynt’s missteps had cost him valuable time, but that debt could be settled later. “Brothers of the Night’s Watch, please remain here for a while. I have other matters to attend to.”

Unaware of the full context, the wight escort team assumed Eddard was staging a coup against the throne. None dared object, nodding instead as they watched the Hand of the King lead his retinue toward Maegor’s Holdfast with the City Watch in tow.
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Jaime, his sword shattered, leaned back against the wall, seated on the ground with nowhere left to retreat.

In a tourney ground, he might have been able to roll or sidestep to evade further attacks, searching for another weapon to continue the fight. But here, in this cramped room, facing an armored Robert Baratheon wielding a massive warhammer, the outcome was clear.

(Defeated. Not by Robert’s strength or skill, but by my own divided focus. Defeated because I dared to imagine capturing Robert alive instead of fighting him as an equal.) Jaime thought bitterly. (Perhaps, deep down, I was defeated by my own misguided sense of honor. How can I fight at full strength against the man I swore to protect?)

“Hah… Kingslayer,” Robert growled, his chest heaving with exertion. “It seems your sword has more honor than you do. At least it understood who you were fighting.”

Sweat-drenched and out of breath, Robert took a step closer, his lips curling into a cruel grin. “You didn’t fight with everything you had, but a trial is a trial—there are no second chances. Now, I, Robert Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, sentence you to death!”

Robert’s voice was laced with venom as he slowly raised his warhammer, preparing to deliver the final blow.

Jaime, with no weapon but half a broken sword, had nowhere to run. He didn’t even try. Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes, resigned to his fate.

“No—!”

“Your Grace, watch out!”

The cries of Cersei and the Kingsguard, followed by the crash of a shattered object, broke the moment. The killing blow never came. Instead, Robert let out a pained grunt.

Jaime opened his eyes to find Robert turned away, water dripping down his back and pooling on the floor. Broken shards of a water pitcher littered the ground. At the last moment, Cersei had thrown the pitcher at him, drenching him and halting his attack.

A droplet splashed onto Jaime’s face, snapping him out of his stupor. (What am I doing? Waiting for death? Since when has Jaime Lannister ever done that?)

Awareness flooded back into Jaime’s mind. He realized that throughout the battle, he had been distracted, as if something had clouded his judgment and dulled his instincts. It wasn’t the first time he had felt this way. Months earlier, at Winterfell, when he and Cersei had been caught off guard by Bran Stark, he had experienced a similar moment of confusion.

There was no time to dwell on it now. Robert had turned, furious, and seized Cersei by the throat, lifting her off the ground with one hand. “You insolent woman! By the king’s decree, I strip you of your title as queen and sentence you to death!”

(You fool, Robert. Couldn’t you have killed me first?) Jaime thought, his earlier resignation replaced by a fierce resolve. He could not—would not—let Robert harm Cersei.

Discarding the broken sword, he drew a dagger from his belt. Ignoring the pain coursing through his body, he pushed himself off the ground and lunged at Robert.