A Game of Thrones Chapter Thirtynine

Ned had referred to their countenances just as he knew his own once, however the years siphon at a man’s recollections, even those he has pledged never to overlook. In the fantasy they were just shadows, dark phantoms on ponies made of fog. They were seven, confronting three. In the fantasy as it had been throughout everyday life. However these were no conventional three. They held up before the round pinnacle, the red piles of Dorne at their backs, their white shrouds blowing in the breeze. What's more, these were no shadows; their countenances consumed clear, even at this point. Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, had a miserable grin all the rage. The grip of the greatsword Dawn jabbed up over his correct shoulder. Ser Oswell Whent was on one knee, honing his sharp edge with a whetstone. Over his white-enameled rudder, the dark bat of his House spread its wings. Between them stood furious old Ser Gerold Hightower, the White Bull, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. â€Å"I searched for you on the Trident,† Ned said to them. â€Å"We were not there,† Ser Gerold replied. â€Å"Woe to the Usurper in the event that we had been,† said Ser Oswell. â€Å"When King’s Landing fell, Ser Jaime slew your lord with a brilliant blade, and I pondered where you were.† â€Å"Far away,† Ser Gerold stated, â€Å"or Aerys would yet sit the Iron Throne, and our bogus sibling would consume in seven hells.† â€Å"I descended on Storm’s End to lift the siege,† Ned let them know, â€Å"and the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne plunged their standards, and every one of their knights bowed the knee to promise us fealty. I was sure you would be among them.† â€Å"Our knees don't twist easily,† said Ser Arthur Dayne. â€Å"Ser Willem Darry is fled to Dragonstone, with your sovereign and Prince Viserys. I figured you may have cruised with him.† â€Å"Ser Willem is a decent man and true,† said Ser Oswell. â€Å"But not of the Kingsguard,† Ser Gerold brought up. â€Å"The Kingsguard doesn't flee.† â€Å"Then or now,† said Ser Arthur. He wore his rudder. â€Å"We swore a vow,† clarified old Ser Gerold. Ned’s phantoms climbed next to him, with shadow blades close by. They were seven against three. â€Å"And now it begins,† said Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He unsheathed Dawn and held it with two hands. The sharp edge was pale as milkglass, bursting at the seams with light. â€Å"No,† Ned said with misery in his voice. â€Å"Now it ends.† As they met up in a surge of steel and shadow, he could hear Lyanna shouting. â€Å"Eddard!† she called. A tempest of flower petals blew over a blood-streaked sky, as blue as the eyes of death. â€Å"Lord Eddard,† Lyanna called once more. â€Å"I promise,† he murmured. â€Å"Lya, I guarantee . . . â€Å" â€Å"Lord Eddard,† a man resounded from the dull. Moaning, Eddard Stark opened his eyes. Twilight spilled through the tall windows of the Tower of the Hand. â€Å"Lord Eddard?† A shadow remained over the bed. â€Å"How . . . how long?† The sheets were tangled, his leg braced and put. A dull pulse of agony shot up his side. â€Å"Six days and seven nights.† The voice was Vayon Poole’s. The steward held a cup to Ned’s lips. â€Å"Drink, my lord.† â€Å"What . . . ?† â€Å"Only water. Maester Pycelle said you would be thirsty.† Ned drank. His lips were dry and broken. The water tasted sweet as nectar. â€Å"The lord left orders,† Vayon Poole disclosed to him when the cup was vacant. â€Å"He would talk with you, my lord.† â€Å"On the morrow,† Ned said. â€Å"When I am stronger.† He was unable to confront Robert now. The fantasy had left him frail as a little cat. â€Å"My lord,† Poole stated, â€Å"he told us to send you to him the second you opened your eyes.† The steward busied himself lighting a bedside flame. Ned reviled delicately. Robert was never known for his understanding. â€Å"Tell him I’m too frail to even consider coming to him. On the off chance that he wishes to talk with me, I ought to be satisfied to get him here. I trust you wake him from a sound rest. Also, call . . . † He was going to state Jory when he recalled. â€Å"Summon the skipper of my guard.† Alyn ventured into the bedchamber a couple of seconds after the steward had disappeared. â€Å"My lord.† â€Å"Poole discloses to me it has been six days,† Ned said. â€Å"I must know how things stand.† â€Å"The Kingslayer is fled the city,† Alyn let him know. â€Å"The talk is he’s ridden back to Casterly Rock to join his dad. The tale of how Lady Catelyn took the Imp is on each lip. I have put on additional watchmen, on the off chance that it please you.† â€Å"It does,† Ned guaranteed him. â€Å"My daughters?† â€Å"They have been with you consistently, my master. Sansa implores discreetly, yet Arya . . . † He wavered. â€Å"She has not let out the slightest peep since they brought you back. She is a savage seemingly insignificant detail, my master. I have never observed such displeasure in a girl.† â€Å"Whatever happens,† Ned stated, â€Å"I need my little girls remained careful. I dread this is just the beginning.† â€Å"No mischief will come to them, Lord Eddard,† Alyn said. â€Å"I stake my life on that.† â€Å"Jory and the others . . . â€Å" â€Å"I gave them over to the quiet sisters, to be sent north to Winterfell. Jory would need to lie alongside his grandfather.† It would need to be his granddad, for Jory’s father was covered far toward the south. Martyn Cassel had died with the rest. Ned had pulled the pinnacle down a short time later, and utilized its wicked stones to manufacture eight cairns upon the edge. It was said that Rhaegar had named that place the pinnacle of happiness, yet for Ned it was a harsh memory. They had been seven against three, yet just two had lived to ride away; Eddard Stark himself and the little crannogman, Howland Reed. He didn't think it omened well that he should dream that fantasy again after such a significant number of years. â€Å"You’ve progressed nicely, Alyn,† Ned was stating when Vayon Poole returned. The steward bowed low. â€Å"His Grace is without, my master, and the sovereign with him.† Ned propelled himself up higher, flinching as his leg trembled with torment. He had not expected Cersei to come. It didn't look good that she had. â€Å"Send them in, and leave us. What we need to state ought not go past these walls.† Poole pulled back discreetly. Robert had set aside some effort to dress. He wore a dark velvet doublet with the delegated stag of Baratheon worked upon the bosom in brilliant string, and a brilliant mantle with a shroud of dark and gold squares. A cup of wine was in his grasp, his face previously flushed from drink. Cersei Lannister entered behind him, a jeweled headdress in her hair. â€Å"Your Grace,† Ned said. â€Å"Your pardons. I can't rise.† â€Å"No matter,† the lord said abruptly. â€Å"Some wine? From the Arbor. A decent vintage.† â€Å"A little cup,† Ned said. â€Å"My head is still overwhelming from the milk of the poppy.† â€Å"A man in your place should check himself blessed that his head is still on his shoulders,† the sovereign pronounced. â€Å"Quiet, woman,† Robert snapped. He presented to Ned a cup of wine. â€Å"Does the leg despite everything torment you?† â€Å"Some,† Ned said. His head was swimming, yet it would not do to admit to shortcoming before the sovereign. â€Å"Pycelle swears it will mend clean.† Robert scowled. â€Å"I take it you comprehend what Catelyn has done?† â€Å"I do.† Ned took a little swallow of wine. â€Å"My woman spouse is chaste, Your Grace. Everything she did she did at my command.† â€Å"I am not satisfied, Ned,† Robert protested. â€Å"By what right do you dare lay hands on my blood?† Cersei requested. â€Å"Who do you think you are?† â€Å"The Hand of the King,† Ned advised her with frigid kindness. â€Å"Charged by your own master spouse to keep the king’s harmony and authorize the king’s justice.† â€Å"You were the Hand,† Cersei started, â€Å"but nowâ€â€  â€Å"Silence!† the lord thundered. â€Å"You asked him an inquiry and he addressed it.† Cersei died down, cold with outrage, and Robert turned around to Ned. â€Å"Keep the king’s harmony, you state. Is this how you keep my tranquility, Ned? Seven men are dead . . . â€Å" â€Å"Eight,† the sovereign revised. â€Å"Tregar kicked the bucket at the beginning of today, of the blow Lord Stark gave him.† â€Å"Abductions on the kingsroad and tanked butcher in my streets,† the ruler said. â€Å"I won't have it, Ned.† â€Å"Catelyn had valid justification for taking the Impâ€â€  â€Å"I stated, I won't have it! To hellfire with her reasons. You will order her to discharge the diminutive person on the double, and you will come to terms with Jaime.† â€Å"Three of my men were butchered before my eyes, in light of the fact that Jaime Lannister wished to rebuke me. Am I to overlook that?† â€Å"My sibling was not the reason for this quarrel,† Cersei told the ruler. â€Å"Lord Stark was returning tanked from a massage parlor. His men assaulted Jaime and his gatekeepers, even as his significant other assaulted Tyrion on the kingsroad.† â€Å"You realize me superior to that, Robert,† Ned said. â€Å"Ask Lord Baelish in the event that you question me. He was there.† â€Å"I’ve conversed with Littlefinger,† Robert said. â€Å"He claims he headed out to bring the gold shrouds before the battling started, however he concedes you were coming back from some whorehouse.† â€Å"Some whorehouse? Damn your eyes, Robert, I went there to examine your girl! Her mom has named her Barra. She appears as though that first young lady you fathered, when we were young men together in the Vale.† He watched the sovereign as he talked; her face was a veil, still and pale, selling out nothing. Robert flushed. â€Å"Barra,† he protested. �