What if Ned DIDN’T Tell Cersei He Knew The Truth

What if Ned DIDN’T Tell Cersei He Knew The Truth

Part 2:    • What if Ned DIDN'T Tell Cersei He Knew The...  

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What if Ned Stark Didn’t Tell Cersei He Knew The Truth? Let’s explore the depths of it in the video.

If this video gets 3,000 likes, we’ll release part 2.
The Tower of the Hand stands quiet in the late afternoon sun, but inside Ned Stark's solar, the air is thick with tension. Ned sits at his desk, the leather-bound book before him still open to the page that changed everything. The genealogy of House Baratheon, line after line of black-haired heirs, generation after generation of dark-haired children. And then the royal line: Joffrey, golden-haired. Myrcella, golden-haired. Tommen, golden-haired.
The seed is strong Jon Arryn had said. The words echo in Ned's mind as he stares at the evidence before him. Not one of Robert's children bears his coloring. Not one.
He closes the book slowly, his hands trembling. The truth is undeniable now. Joffrey is not Robert's son. None of them are. Cersei's children are born of incest, products of her unnatural union with her twin brother Jaime. The golden-haired Lannister twins have cuckolded the King and placed their bastards in line for the Iron Throne.
Ned rises from his chair and moves to the window, looking out over King's Landing. The city sprawls before him, hundreds of thousands of souls living under the rule of a king who doesn't know his own heirs are frauds. His first instinct screams at him—confront Cersei. Give her the chance to flee with her children. Show mercy to the innocent babes who had no say in their parents' sins.
But then another thought intrudes, cold and practical. If he warns Cersei, he gives the Lannisters time to act. Time to prepare. Time to strike first.
His hand moves to his side, where the wound from the Lannister sword still aches. Jaime Lannister had already attacked him in the streets of King's Landing and killed his men, even Jory. The Lannisters have shown what they're capable of. They've demonstrated their ruthlessness.
And his daughters are here. Sansa and Arya are in the Red Keep, within reach of Lannister claws.
Ned's jaw tightens. No. He cannot give Cersei warning. He cannot give the Lannisters the advantage of surprise. If they are as dangerous as they appear—dangerous enough to kill Jon Arryn, dangerous enough to push Bran Stark from a tower window—then mercy could cost him everything. Could cost his children everything.
He must tell Robert. He must wait for the King to return from his hunt and present him with the truth. Let Robert decide the fate of Cersei's children. But there will be no warning, no chance for the lioness to bare her claws first.
The decision settles over Ned like a heavy cloak. It feels wrong, feels like a betrayal of the honor that has guided him his entire life. But he thinks of Sansa, thinks of Arya, thinks of Robb and Bran and Rickon back in Winterfell. He thinks of the realm, of the chaos that could erupt if the Lannisters move first.
Sometimes honor must take a different shape.
Ned returns to his desk and begins to write. A letter to Stannis Baratheon at Dragonstone, telling him what he's discovered. Insurance, should something happen before Robert returns. He doesn't seal it yet—he'll wait to see Robert's reaction first. But the words are ready, just in case.
Three more days pass. Three days where Ned walks the halls of the Red Keep with a secret burning in his chest. He watches Cersei during court sessions, watches her stand beside the throne with her golden-haired children. She suspects nothing. Good.
He doubles the guard around his daughters. Sansa doesn't understand why her father suddenly seems so protective, so insistent she stay close to the Tower of the Hand. Arya chafes at the restrictions, arguing she wants to practice her water dancing with Syrio Forel. Ned allows it, but sends four guards with her instead of the usual two.
On the fourth day, a rider arrives from the south. The King's hunting party has been spotted an hour's ride from the city. They'll arrive by nightfall.
Ned's heart pounds. Finally. Finally he can tell Robert the truth and let the King render justice. Let Robert decide what happens to the children. At least then the decision won't rest solely on Ned's shoulders.
But when the royal party finally enters through the city gates, something is immediately wrong.
The formation is too tight, too urgent. The hunters aren't laughing or boasting about their kills.



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