Among the noble houses of Westeros, there was a unique tradition known as the "foster system."
Lords would exchange their sons to be raised in each other's households, a practice ant to foster deep bonds and strengthen alliances.
Of course, there was also an elent of hostage-taking behind it.
But for Robert and Eddard, it was clearly the forr. One was from the North, the other from the Stormlands, yet both were raised in the Vale.
They were as close as brothers.
Their foster father was Lord Jon Arryn of the Vale.
One of the sparks that ignited their rebellion against the Targaryens was King Aerys' demand that Lord Arryn surrender his two foster sons to be executed. Lord Arryn refused.
Although Eddard had just thrown a bucket of cold water on Robert's enthusiasm, it did nothing to strain their bond.
However, outsiders did not view it so lightly.
Take for example Lord Hoster Tully, master of Riverrun.
Their "dragon-slaying endeavor" had yet to be fully completed.
Though Rhaegar's death had decided the major outco, King's Landing had not yet fallen, Storm's End remained under siege, and the southern Reach and Dorne still stood with the Targaryens.
In such delicate tis, internal strife among their own ranks was unacceptable.
Thus, wine cup in hand, Hoster Tully stepped forward and said,
"Eddard, we have just fought a great battle. Our warriors need rest, our supplies need replenishnt. The Targaryens are but a crumbling castle—one last push and they will collapse."
Lord Hoster was giving Robert a way to save face.
The Tullys also stood to gain handsoly from this rebellion.
Hoster's eldest daughter would marry the Warden of the North, Eddard Stark, while his second daughter would wed the Lord of the Vale, Jon Arryn.
Eddard and Robert were like brothers.
Both were foster sons of Lord Arryn. No alliance could be more ideal or more profitable.
Moreover, Lord Arryn was aging and childless. In a few decades—or perhaps only a few years—the Vale would be under his second daughter's control.
"Solid" was hardly a strong enough word for the Tully family's future position.
Of course, all this depended on the complete overthrow of the Targaryens. After Lord Hoster spoke, Eddard nodded slightly. Perhaps he had indeed been too hasty.
"I'll go relieve Storm's End," Eddard said. "Since Rhaegar ca up from the south, it's possible that Lyanna—"
"Storm's End is my ho," Robert interrupted, slamming his cup down. "It should be who relieves it! And my good-for-nothing brother needs rescuing too! And Lyanna—she's my betrothed!"
He had evidently just rembered that detail, and for once, he put down his wine.
Seeing the tension between the two n ease, Lord Hoster glanced around at the noisy hall and lowered his voice:
"Listen to , Robert. You must take the army and march on King's Landing. Once we overthrow the Targaryens, we will need a new king—and that king must be you."
"?" Robert stared at Hoster, looking like he had just been struck in the head.
"No, no! I can't be king! Let..." Robert turned his gaze to his brother-in-arms. "Eddard! You be king!"
Eddard said nothing. He only looked back at Robert, expressionless.
Hoster spoke again:
"Only you, Robert. Your grandmother was Rhaelle Targaryen. You are also the leader of this rebellion. No one is more suitable than you."
Robert swallowed nervously, still wanting to refuse instinctively.
Just then, the herald's voice rang out from the hall entrance:
"Lord Kevan Lannister of Casterly Rock!"
The hall imdiately fell silent.
A hundred heads turned toward the door, where a tall, broad-shouldered man with golden hair entered.
He wore a proud expression and was clad in ornate, ticulously crafted armor. On his chest glead the sigil of a golden lion.
Kevan Lannister was the brother of Tywin Lannister.
He was also Tywin's most trusted right hand.
"A Lannister," soone murmured. "It looks like the Targaryens' rule is truly at its end."
The speaker was a young noblewoman with auburn hair. She was Catelyn Tully, Lord Hoster's eldest daughter—and Eddard's betrothed.
Seated beside her was her sister, Lysa.
Both sisters shared the Tully hallmark: red hair and green eyes.
At this mont, anyone allowed into the hall was at least a viscount. Earls were plentiful, and there were even three dukes present.
Kevan strode forward, seemingly oblivious to the murmuring nobles.
He focused only on the three n seated at the dais.
"Honored Lord Robert Baratheon, Lord Hoster Tully, Lord Eddard Stark," Kevan said, his voice strong and clear. "I bring greetings from Casterly Rock."
Lannister.
Robert's eyes narrowed. He stepped forward and said, "So the Lannisters have sharp ears, eh? Heard I killed Rhaegar and ca running straightaway!"
His voice was thick with mockery, and the gathered nobles erupted in coarse laughter.
Though noble in na, most of them were rough n, and their laughter was as harsh as sandpaper, stripping away any pretense of civility.
Kevan Lannister, however, was clearly no ordinary man. He remained composed, unaffected by the mockery.
Without glancing at the jeering crowd, he declared:
"The Lannisters possess not only sharp ears, but sharp claws. Casterly Rock's forty thousand strong are on the march and ready to take King's Landing!"
Forty thousand.
The hall fell into stunned silence. Such a force was a decisive weight on the scales.
If the Lannisters joined their side, the rebellion's victory was almost assured. But if they sided with the Targaryens, the outco could again plunge into uncertainty.
And the western lands held critical strategic positions. Castles like the Golden Tooth were nearly impregnable.
If the Lannisters chose the Targaryens, the rebels would face attack from both front and rear.
"What are your terms?" Lord Hoster asked, stepping forward.
Kevan's lips curled into a slight smile.
He took a box from a squire's hands.
The box was exquisitely crafted, covered with intricate patterns. Even the box alone was worth a small fortune. So of the rougher lords could not help but stare at it, eyes gleaming.
If the box was so precious, what treasures must lie within?
But when Kevan opened it, it contained only a letter. The seal was of golden wax, mixed with real powdered gold.
Robert motioned to his attendant, who took the letter and handed it to him.
He broke the seal and pulled out the letter.
Hoster, standing beside him, itched to peek but restrained himself—reading over Robert's shoulder would have been unseemly.
Still, he could guess the contents.
Most likely, the letter proposed that Robert marry Tywin's daughter.
The thought left Hoster bitter.
His second daughter, Lysa, was no less beautiful than any girl in the Seven Kingdoms.
Unfortunately, she had been deflowered by his foster son years ago. Otherwise, he might have had a chance to compete for the queen's crown.
As Robert was still reading, the herald's voice rang out again:
"Lord Walder Frey of the Twins!"
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