Well, this story exploded lol. I have some stuff to say beforehand:
Firstly, this is another small chapter. But worry not, when the story catches up they will be longer!
Secondly, rumours of Tyrion's Kidnapping spread slower in this divergence. I've always questioned some of George's event timespans, from the Tyrells ammassing an army of nearly 100k soldiers in no time at all to the Lannisters making Germany proud with their Blitzkrieg tactics without radio communication. The effects are only that Eddard is not injured and Gregor isn't already sacking the Riverlands, delaying the story a bit for the sake of the first arc, which will be very interesting, I assure you.
Well, with the premise out of the way, enjoy!
Eddard
It was a mess.
Truly a disaster.
Eddard was with Ser Barristan and Renly in the Hand's tower. And the hunt, the King...
Robert... no one found his corpse still.
Ned blamed himself for what happened. He should've told Robert the truth outright, that could've saved him. Cersei Lannister be damned, the Lord of the North had revealed all his cards to the wicked woman. If only he had been less foolish, Robert could've been here with them, in this very room. The twins would've been imprisoned in a dark cell, awaiting their fate: death.
Instead, he's rotting somewhere deep in those woods. His friend, who needed his help to aid the realm...
Now, the cinders of war are going to be ignited again, one more conflict where the innocent suffer for the mistakes of the strong.
...Gods, he was a failure.
Ned didn't recognise Robert when he came to Winterfell. Gone was the hale, fearless warrior that spearheaded a rebellion against a tyrant, replaced by a man who always reeked of wine. He believed the old Robert was dead, buried under rolls of fat and perfume.
But he was wrong. There were small glimpses, small moments where his lost friend resurfaced. After Ned's experience as Hand, he understood how it all came to that. Robert was not born for this.
They all put a crown on his head, which he did not want. Robert was a soldier and commander, forged with steel and made to kill, not an accountant or lawgiver. The Kingship broke him, and the miserable marriage he was forced into dragged him deeper into the mud. Ned was lucky to have wed a loving wife, because Robert bedded a venomous viper.
A bedding that did not produce any trueborn heirs. The lioness spread her legs for her brother as if they were Targaryens. They weren't subtle enough, however, and produced three spawns of incest. Ser Barristan had been shocked to hear it, but Renly suspected it for some time, especially after Jon and Stannis went to check on Gendry, Robert's baseborn boy. He looked just like his father: blue eyes, jet-black hair, and a pair of strong arms. Mott had said he was a good lad, always caring for the sick during the Smith's day—the complete opposite of Joffrey.
And now, even a halfwit would believe him with the proof in hand.
Proofs that Jon Arryn found...
Proofs that Jon Arryn died for...
All useless, as Robert is now probably rotting under a tree. Targaryens his arse, this whole debacle stank of Cersei Lannister. The woman cared not for subtlety, she was pompous like her father. She would be ready to destroy her image to have him executed.
Gods help him.
"Don't be so sullen, Lord Stark."
It was Renly, a charming smile on his lips, "Robert's death is what the Lannisters want everyone to believe... but Ser Barristan and I managed to... interrogate one of the culprits."
Robert's youngest brother and the Bold managed to escape the doomed party in some way or another. Eddard thanked the Gods that at least he was safe. House Baratheon is at a precipice, with only three male members and a sickly girl remaining. He always asked himself why Renly hadn't found himself a spouse, it made no sense for a Lord Paramount to be unmarried for so long.
Barristan stepped forward, "He told us one small, important detail. My brother may be alive. He threw himself into a river before they could deliver the killing blow. The man was the chief's right hand, but was disposed of."
A flicker of hope lightened in Ned's chest. It wasn't likely for a man to have endured that, but he knew his friend was strong. If there was a slight chance that the King was still breathing, then it was the Hand's duty to rescue him. Honour demands so.
"Is he in the Black Cells?" Ned asked.
Barristan shook his head, "Nay, my Lord. The man was grievously injured, and he was fated to die. He seemed repentant. At some point, he began mumbling various prayers and passed away."
Only the wicked bemoan in death, Eddard thought. The man wouldn't have lived long down there anyways, not with the Lannisters controlling the entire household.
There's much to do. Without Robert's command, Ned is forced to get his hands dirty. The queen will try to crown Joffrey as soon as possible to extinguish any question of the King's survival. The keep must be secured, and every Lannister affiliate captured or killed. Most outside his small circle will believe this to be a coup, but Eddard knows it's for the greater good. He will not let a bastard born of incest sit on the throne he and Robert conquered, only his true progeny is worthy of that right.
Ned would need to send a raven to his Good-father. His "plot" would likely trigger a retaliation from the Lannisters, and the Riverlands were their prime target. The Tullys would need to rally their armies, so that they could meet the lion in an even fight.
Robb would need to know of the occurrences too. War will surely break out if Robert is truly dead, and the North must be prepared for that outcome. Calling the banners at Moat Cailin will do, marching south then will be easy.
King's Landing will probably fall into disorder for some time, but that cannot be avoided. The best Eddard can hope for is for the casualties to be low. In the worst case, he would need to wait for reinforcements to arrive. Stannis would rally the Lords of the Narrow Sea and sail for the capital, while Penrose took care of the Stormlords.
Gods, he looked like his father, plotting like a Southerner... he would've known what to do. Eddard wasn't born for this...
Ned rose from his chair, "My Lords, I believe we have to choose a course of action. Ser Barristan, your loyalty to the King is uncontested, and he needs our aid now more than ever. Assemble a party, and search him in the woods of Rosby, whether alive or dead."
The Kingsguard kneeled, "As you order, my Lord Hand."
"Lord Renly," Ned resumed, "I humbly ask for an alliance. The Lannisters have spread their rot for long enough, we are the last loyalists in this city. We must gather the men, and oppose the queen's madness."
Renly bowed, "You have my word, Lord Hand. My household will fight alongside you." He raised his chalice, "For Robert!"
"For Robert!" The other two cheered.
Lancel
Kingslayer...
Kingslayer...
Kingslayer...
Voices in his head, immersed in the deepest darkness he had ever seen... Lancel Lannister couldn't flee this time.
Weak!
Coward!
Murderer!
Shouts and insults pierced his soul. He was like needle and patchwork, entirely at the mercy of a weaver.
Is this the deepest pit of the Seven Hells?
Am I to rot here for all eternity?
Lancel drifted in the darkness, all hope abandoning him.
But then, a blinding light appeared. A figure of incomprehensible shape. Its benignity was grand and comforting, the Lannister felt alive again.
After that...
A harmonious song. The tune filled the deep void, forging it anew. Trumpets and harps, rippling and sweets notes of instruments unknown...
It was a music of great sorrow, its tremendous beauty graced the now white horizon. Joy and sadness, success and defeat... the opposing themes wove the symphony into a new, virtuous pattern.
Then, with one chord, deeper than the Hells and higher than the Heavens, it ended.
Lancel's eyes snapped open. He saw four faces, as confused and fearful as his'.
He coughed, nearly choking on his saliva.
"Calm down, lad! Calm down!" It was a deep voice, filled with concern.
Remember Lancel. Deep breaths, deep...
Lancel emptied his bowels.
"Gods almighty! Are you well?"
It was a woman, around his age—a comely thing, with red hair and faint freckles. The rest were men, fishermen by their rough looks. They might've found him while doing their work.
"Yes... I thank you." Lancel answered. But then he remembered: King Robert!
The King was lying near him. Lancel sprang up instantly, and went to his side. The Lannister thanked the Gods as he saw his rising chest, but...
"He's injured!" Lancel exclaimed, "Please, help us! He's going to die if the cut is not cared for!"
"Seven Hells, the lad's right!" The gruff man said, "Bring him to Mother's house, she knows how to treat him!"
Thankfully, the peasants had a cart with two mules. They loaded the King in it alongside the fish, and the group departed in haste. The journey was short. They reached the village after one hour of travel. It was a small thing, mayhaps around nine huts huddled together. The roads were covered in mud, probably due to a recent storm. There were some peasants minding their own business and a few merchant stalls with some essential goods, from clean water to bread. It was wealthy, considering its small population. These people certainly lived far better than the subjects of Flea Bottom.
They stopped in front of the largest shack, which was probably half the size of the armoury of the Red Keep. The fishermen unloaded the King, and by the Gods, they nearly fell over due to his weight.
The gruff man knocked, nearly demolished the front door, "MA'! WE GOT AN INJURED BLOKE, WE NEED YOUR HELP!"
An elderly woman opened it. She wore clothes and a veil over her head, carrying herself with a walking stick. It wasn't used only for walking, it seemed, as she hit the man's head with it.
"Caster! How often do I need to tell you not to shout?" The old woman scolded him, "I still got me' ears, you dim-witted fool!"
That got the big man apologising. It was a somewhat surreal scene, Lancel had to admit. The woman shot a look at both the guests. She appeared to be rather suspicious.
"Bring them inside," she gestured, "Lay the injured in the bed, I'll take care of him."
Lancel had to admit the woman was talented. Despite her age, her hands were still as an experienced maester's, efficiently cleaning and sewing the injure. The procedure was lengthy, but her legs didn't falter once.
"There, the wound is taken care of." The elderly woman said, "I am sorry if I intrude myself, but are you a Lannister, by any chance?"
Lancel gulped. She was too perceptive for her own good. "Aye, my name is Lancel Lannister, son of Kevan. How did you know?"
She scoffed, "How could I forget the proud visage of Tywin Lannister after the sack? I was there, you see. I saw countless innocents being butchered, maidens being raped... many died that day, young Lannister. All because the Old Lion bore a grudge."
Lancel felt his cheeks flush with shame. Tywin always had his... methods, Father told him countless times. Not ones he would use, but his uncle is the head of House Lannister, and they had to do as he wished. They were just pawns at his service, ready to be sacrificed for the family legacy.
"My name is Sherra, by the way." She looked at the King. "And who is this man? Can't say I recognise him."
Lancel fidgeted with his fingers, "He's... his Grace, King Robert."
Lancel felt a sense of victory as Sherra's eyes widened like saucers, shocked by the revelation. "The King?! What happened to his Grace?"
The Lannister explained what happened, start to finish.
Omitting his treason.
His great sin...
Seven forgive me.
"Gods be merciful!" Sherra exclaimed, "I wonder how he's still alive. An ordinary man would've perished even before being found!"
She checked Robert's head, "He took a blow to the side. That's why His Grace isn't responsive. I can mend any injury of the flesh, but the mind... that's another question. I've seen countless men be fine after being hit in the head, only to die shortly after, blood pouring from their ears."
Lancel became pale. The King couldn't die, not now! Not because of his cowardice!
The healer went for the door, "All we can do now is wait. You can use the house as you like, worry not. I will do anything to keep his Grace alive. It's our duty, after all..."
Lancel was alone, near the King. It was his fault Robert was nearly dead. Cersei manipulated him like a fiddle while he was completely blind to her charms. Father would've been ashamed of his actions, they were not befitting to one bearing his family's name. Hells, Lancel's existence itself isn't.
He was indeed a dim-witted Lannister, as the King always said.
Lancel knelt near the sickbed and prayed.
Well, we're in for a wild ride.
This story will have many little ripple effects, and Ned's chapter already shows one. Without Robert's will, he will need to resort to... harsher methods. Not that it helped him in canon, but the outcome shall be... interesting.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter! If you're interested in betaing, I'm open to suggestions!