The Red Keep stood beneath the night sky.
The torches in the Throne Room crackled, illuminating Robert Baratheon's shifting expression.
His massive body sank into the cold Iron Throne. He held a wine cup, but his eyes had lost their usual focus.
He had been sitting there thinking all day.
Yet he still had no idea what to do.
After all, political maneuvering was rather too much to ask of a rough man like him.
"War..."
Robert murmured to himself.
The word seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, pressing down on him until he could barely breathe.
He hated the Lannisters. He hated Cersei.
But he feared even more that the hard-won peace would vanish because of a moment of anger.
He had started the War of the Usurper. No one understood the cruelty of war better than he did.
"Fuck!"
Robert hurled his wine cup to the floor. The golden cup rolled far across the hard stone.
"Ned, tell me, what should I do?"
He looked at the only friend he trusted, his voice almost pleading.
Ned Stark's brow was deeply furrowed. The same question troubled him.
Execute Cersei, and civil war would erupt, engulfing Westeros in flames.
Spare Cersei, and what would become of the king's authority?
What would become of the rules of trial by combat?
"Your Grace."
Lynn, who had remained silent all this time, suddenly spoke.
"Since the Queen has requested trial by combat, let us give her trial by combat."
Robert jerked his head up and glared at Lynn.
"She doesn't even have a champion! How are we supposed to hold a trial?"
"Am I supposed to fight myself and help that venomous bitch win?"
"Of course not."
Lynn's expression remained perfectly calm.
"You are the king. You cannot serve as a champion. That