Ned is spending his last night in Winterfell when he's awoken and told that the King is waiting for him... and that it's time to ride off to King's Landing.
Eddard: *grumble*
He heads outside to meet the King, who is already on his horse. His poor, poor horse.
Robert: Haha, Ned! Let us talk of matters!
Eddard: Okay.
Robert: ...
Eddard: ...
Robert: Not here, fool! Privately!
Eddard: Oh. Well just come back here and we can--
Robert: No! There are to many eyes watching and ears listening here. Let us be on our way.
Dead tired, Ned looks back at Winterfell and shrugs. His wife is too busy sitting and staring at Bran's comatose body to even say goodbye. This might as well be his adios. He mounts his horse and gets going.
Robert: Let's go! Last one to King's Landing is a rotten egg!
The King takes off at a blazing fast speed. Well, as fast as the horse can go with King Cake-eater on it. Ned takes the reigns of his horse and speeds it up as well, leaving all of the rest of the party behind.
Robert soon takes his horse off of the main road, the King's Road, and somewhat deep into the countryside. The main party with Cersei's wagon and the Stark daughters is probably an hour behind them now.
Robert: Haha! This is great! You and me, riding together through the lands. Just like the good old days! Let's run off together to be vagabond knights that go around bedding every wench we see.
Eddard: I'm afraid we're not the men we used to be, Robert. My back is all jacked up. And I've got a rolled ankle. Some halitosis. Ingrown fingernails. Erectile dysfunction sometimes, but not always.
Robert: Oh Ned, you were NEVER the man you used to be. Why, I don't remember you ever going out wenching with me once. Try to be cooler. In fact, how about from now on we just say your name is only "Ned" rather than going with that "Eddard" shit. That's a dork name for losers that don't sleep with hot floozies.
Eddard Ned: It would be dishonorable to cheat on my wife.
Robert: Oh, says you! That's not what you were saying when you were with that woman who fathered your bastard! What was her name?
Ned: Uhm. Right. Because she's a person that exists for real and isn't made up. Because she's the mother of Jon Snow. Ahhh... let's go with "Wylla." Yes. Wylla.
Robert: How come you never want to talk about her? Or describe her in specific detail to me? Come on!
Ned: Say, didn't you want to ride out so that we could speak together in private about something?
Robert: Oh yes. Right, of course! Here away from everyone else here by these old hills we can now discuss important, but sensitive, matters.
Ned: Those aren't hills. This is the Barrowlands. These are the ancient graves of the First Men.
Robert: Wow, the north never ceases to be creepy as fuck.
Ned: Come on, spill the beans.
Robert: A message came to me, Ned. A secret message from my spymaster Varys. Here!
Robert pulls out a scroll and hands it to Ned.
Ned: Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit! Please don't be about Lysa Arryn! Please don't be about Lysa Arryn!
Ned reads it, but instead the message is about the marriage of Daenerys Targaryen and Khal Drogo.
Ned: Oh thank the Old Gods! What a relief. But why do I give a shit about this? Those people are a continent away.
Robert: Tell me, are you familiar with the name Jorah Mormont?
Ned: Obviously. The Mormonts are pledged to the House Stark. I caught Jorah kidnapping some poachers and selling them to Tyroshi slavers. Everyone knows that slavery is illegal here in the Seven Kingdoms. And just as I was about to give Jorah Mormont the justice he deserved via my sword Ice, that little shit fled the country to Essos. And everyone knows they don't have an extradition treaty with us.
Robert: Well, it seems like he's trying to get back into good graces over here. He is the source of information about this Targaryen girl and is acting as our spy.
Ned: Whatever, the girl is of no concern to us.
Robert: NO CONCERN?! Bitch, she's a Targaryen. We need to send an assassin over there now to kill that little ho.
Ned: Come on now Robert, surely you're above killing little girls. She's an innocent.
Robert: Little girl? Innocent? How long will she be so? No, we must kill her now! All Targaryens are evil! They must be all killed. What did the Mad King do to your father? What did he do to your brother? How many times did Rhaegar Targaryen rape your sister Lyanna?
Ned: Zero.
Robert: Huh? What was that?
Ned: Oh, nothing. Probably just the spooky wind here around these ancient dead bodies.
Ned starts internally fuming over the last time they had one of these fights. Tywin Lannister showed up to the Iron throne carrying the dead bodies of Rhaegar's wife Elia and their two children, Aegon and Rhaenys. They were brutally murdered by some dude called The Mountain. I'm sure we'll hear about that cat later. Robert was totally okay with those innocents being murdered. Ned was not. It took forever for them to reconcile over that. Not until his sister, Lyanna was killed.
Eddard: *grumble*
He heads outside to meet the King, who is already on his horse. His poor, poor horse.
Robert: Haha, Ned! Let us talk of matters!
Eddard: Okay.
Robert: ...
Eddard: ...
Robert: Not here, fool! Privately!
Eddard: Oh. Well just come back here and we can--
Robert: No! There are to many eyes watching and ears listening here. Let us be on our way.
Dead tired, Ned looks back at Winterfell and shrugs. His wife is too busy sitting and staring at Bran's comatose body to even say goodbye. This might as well be his adios. He mounts his horse and gets going.
Robert: Let's go! Last one to King's Landing is a rotten egg!
The King takes off at a blazing fast speed. Well, as fast as the horse can go with King Cake-eater on it. Ned takes the reigns of his horse and speeds it up as well, leaving all of the rest of the party behind.
Robert soon takes his horse off of the main road, the King's Road, and somewhat deep into the countryside. The main party with Cersei's wagon and the Stark daughters is probably an hour behind them now.
Robert: Haha! This is great! You and me, riding together through the lands. Just like the good old days! Let's run off together to be vagabond knights that go around bedding every wench we see.
Eddard: I'm afraid we're not the men we used to be, Robert. My back is all jacked up. And I've got a rolled ankle. Some halitosis. Ingrown fingernails. Erectile dysfunction sometimes, but not always.
Robert: Oh Ned, you were NEVER the man you used to be. Why, I don't remember you ever going out wenching with me once. Try to be cooler. In fact, how about from now on we just say your name is only "Ned" rather than going with that "Eddard" shit. That's a dork name for losers that don't sleep with hot floozies.
Robert: Oh, says you! That's not what you were saying when you were with that woman who fathered your bastard! What was her name?
Ned: Uhm. Right. Because she's a person that exists for real and isn't made up. Because she's the mother of Jon Snow. Ahhh... let's go with "Wylla." Yes. Wylla.
Robert: How come you never want to talk about her? Or describe her in specific detail to me? Come on!
Ned: Say, didn't you want to ride out so that we could speak together in private about something?
Robert: Oh yes. Right, of course! Here away from everyone else here by these old hills we can now discuss important, but sensitive, matters.
Ned: Those aren't hills. This is the Barrowlands. These are the ancient graves of the First Men.
Robert: Wow, the north never ceases to be creepy as fuck.
Ned: Come on, spill the beans.
Robert: A message came to me, Ned. A secret message from my spymaster Varys. Here!
Robert pulls out a scroll and hands it to Ned.
Ned: Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit! Please don't be about Lysa Arryn! Please don't be about Lysa Arryn!
Ned reads it, but instead the message is about the marriage of Daenerys Targaryen and Khal Drogo.
Ned: Oh thank the Old Gods! What a relief. But why do I give a shit about this? Those people are a continent away.
Robert: Tell me, are you familiar with the name Jorah Mormont?
Ned: Obviously. The Mormonts are pledged to the House Stark. I caught Jorah kidnapping some poachers and selling them to Tyroshi slavers. Everyone knows that slavery is illegal here in the Seven Kingdoms. And just as I was about to give Jorah Mormont the justice he deserved via my sword Ice, that little shit fled the country to Essos. And everyone knows they don't have an extradition treaty with us.
Robert: Well, it seems like he's trying to get back into good graces over here. He is the source of information about this Targaryen girl and is acting as our spy.
Ned: Whatever, the girl is of no concern to us.
Robert: NO CONCERN?! Bitch, she's a Targaryen. We need to send an assassin over there now to kill that little ho.
Ned: Come on now Robert, surely you're above killing little girls. She's an innocent.
Robert: Little girl? Innocent? How long will she be so? No, we must kill her now! All Targaryens are evil! They must be all killed. What did the Mad King do to your father? What did he do to your brother? How many times did Rhaegar Targaryen rape your sister Lyanna?
Ned: Zero.
Robert: Huh? What was that?
Ned: Oh, nothing. Probably just the spooky wind here around these ancient dead bodies.
Ned starts internally fuming over the last time they had one of these fights. Tywin Lannister showed up to the Iron throne carrying the dead bodies of Rhaegar's wife Elia and their two children, Aegon and Rhaenys. They were brutally murdered by some dude called The Mountain. I'm sure we'll hear about that cat later. Robert was totally okay with those innocents being murdered. Ned was not. It took forever for them to reconcile over that. Not until his sister, Lyanna was killed.
Lyanna: Promise me, Ned! Promise me!
Robert: Are you flash backing again?
Ned: Huh? What? Oh yeah. Maybe a little. The point is that you and I are no Tywin Lannister. We do not kill innocents.
Robert: Watch me. That Drogo has 100,000 men in his horde. I must not allow them to invade.
Ned: Dothraki don't cross the sea. Everybody knows that. They don't even have ships. Besides, even if they did come I'm sure we could fight them back. Especially if you have appointed a Warden of the East. Hahaha! See how I gracefully changed the conversation there to a new topic?
Robert: Oh, not this insolence about the Warden of the East again! I will not give it to that Arryn boy. He's too young. We need a true leader to be ready for any Dothraki invasion.
Ned: Okay then... what about your brother Stannis?
Robert groans at the thought of his brother.
Ned: Seriously? You two are bros. Literally.
Robert: The matter is closed. The title is already offered to another.
Ned: Whatever, fine. So long as it's not Jamie Lan--
Robert: --I'm offering it to Jaime Lannister.
Ned: WHAT THE LITERAL FUCK, MAN? The KINGSLAYER?! He is already heir to the title of Warden of the West. You can't let those untrustworthy Lannisters control both the East and the West!
Robert: Why not? What reason have I to not trust the Lannisters? Jaime killed the Mad King. The Lannister army supported me. I married Cersei.
Ned: Seriously though dude, are you really that gullible? Look, I've got to come clean with you, man. I've been holding this in for a lot of years... but now I need to tell you... it's absolute proof that you can't trust the Lannisters at all. Especially Jaime. You're sitting down, right? Because I want to make sure you're ready for this flashback. Because it's going to be a doozy. This is some heavy stuff I'm about to drop here. Some real sick, evil shit.
Robert: Okay, tell me.
Several Years Ago...
Jamie Lannister is a 17-year old member of the King's Guard. His sole job... protecting Mad King Aerys, who (as the name implies) has gone totally mad. He's ordering the city be burned down and everyone be executed. The Lannister army marches into town.
Mad King: Oh yeah, the Lannisters are here to protect me from all these rebels! Sweet.
Jaime: Uhhh... about that...
Jaime takes his sword out and kills the Mad King.
Ned then shows up to the city. Across the town the Targaryen banners and flags have been taken down, and replaced with Lannister flags.
Ned: Dafuq?
Ned walks into the throne room and finds Jaime sitting on the Iron Throne... a super uncomfortable chair made up of hundreds and hundreds of pointy ass swords. He's also wearing a kickass crown with lions on it and stuff. Custom made. Great detailing.
Ned: Dude! Get off that throne!
Jaime: Oh, my bad. I'm a teenager and am pretty irresponsible. I was just keeping it warm for when the King shows up. Not that King, obviously.
He points at King Aerys on the floor, who is dead. He laughs a little.
Jaime then gets off the throne.
Ned: Well, there you go! All the backstory you'll ever need to know about Lannister villainy!
Robert: So your argument that the Lannisters can't be trusted is based solely on the fact that the Lannisters put their flags up around the city and that a teenage Jaime Lannister sat on the throne for a few minutes?
Ned: Clearly they were plotting to claim the throne for themselves! Who even makes a custom crown like that?
Robert bursts into laughter about how weak sauce Ned's story was. He begins to wipe tears from his eyes.
Robert: Oh man, Ned. I miss having you and your tight-ass around. You're such a fucking nerd! I can't believe that's the type of shit that offends your honor. A dude sits on a chair?
Ned: He had no right to sit on that chair!
Robert: You really need to live a little, man. Stop being tied up by all this crap like honor and duty. I swear, it will be the death of you.
Ned grumbles under his breath as the two begin to ride back to the King's Road.
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