With that thought in mind, Jon's movements became more practiced, and soon, he had thoroughly "conquered" his enemy between the sheets.
However, Jon was oblivious to the truth. His assumptions about Cersei's calculations were giving her too much credit. In reality, Cersei Lannister wasn't playing some four-dimensional chess game; she was simply reacting to the failure of her Moon Tea.
She had drunk the bitter brew repeatedly to flush out her womb, but it had failed to take hold. Convinced now by the prophecy she feared so much, Cersei interpreted this failure as a sign from the Seven. She decided that the gods intended for this child to live, and with that divine justification, she resolved to execute her final plan.
As for the consequences? She would let the Seven guide her through the fallout.
---
Leaving Cersei's chambers, Jon discreetly rubbed his aching lower back. As he walked, his mind raced through the current state of play.
King Robert hadn't died in the Kingswood yet, but the end was approaching fast. Jon was running out of time. Unless he could find a way to stall, the timeline would fast-forward straight into the War of the Five Kings. Once that dam broke, the peace would be shattered, and the chaos would be irreversible.
Jon felt cornered. The conflict between the Direwolf and the Lion wasn't just a feud anymore; it was a war for the Iron Throne itself.
If Robert had been a more tempered man, perhaps Cersei or Tywin might have let him live. But the tragedy was in Robert's nature. If the Storm Stag ever found out he had been wearing a pair of cuckold's horns for over a decade—that he had been raising another man's cubs while his own seed was wasted—his fury would burn the Seven Kingdoms to ash. Putting heads on spikes atop the Red Keep wouldn't be enough to sate him.
It was this terrifying inevitability that forced Cersei's hand. To protect herself and her children, she had decided to feed Robert to the boar and seize power in the vacuum.
Fortunately, due to Jon's interference, the honorable (and somewhat dense) Ned Stark hadn't yet stumbled upon the secret of the incest. This gave Jon a narrow window to change the future.
But then, a chilling thought struck him.
Cersei had tolerated Jon thus far because she feared he had a contingency plan—a "dead man's switch"—back in Winterfell. Furthermore, Jon's behavior in King's Landing hadn't been like a Stark; he had acted more like Littlefinger, clinging to the Queen's skirts for profit. This lack of honor had made him useful, or at least, tolerable.
But now, the game had changed. If Cersei was keeping this new child, she was committed to killing Robert. Once the Usurper was dead, she wouldn't need to fear the secret of Joffrey's parentage anymore. With Robert gone, Ned Stark—isolated and outnumbered in the capital—would lose his only shield.
Even if the North rebelled, it wouldn't threaten Joffrey's immediate claim to the throne. Cersei would crown her son, and no amount of proof regarding his lineage would stop her.
---
The conclusion was grim: Robert Baratheon could not die yet.
If Robert died, Jon and Ned were dead men walking.
But if Robert lived and found out the truth... they were also dead men walking.
Jon felt like a solution was dancing on the edge of his mind, a way to balance these two fatal outcomes, but he couldn't quite grasp it.
Suddenly, the jarring, irritated voice of the System screamed in his ear.
> [IDIOT! Is your brain made of pork? Or did you pump all your intelligence into that woman along with your seed?]
> [Use your head! Think! What kind of Robert Baratheon is the best King for your needs?]
> [Here's a hint: If the Usurper sees the truth, will he necessarily kill everyone? Or, given how fat and drunk he is, would the sheer rage trigger a stroke? He likely wouldn't survive the shock to his system, right?]
The System's voice was venomous, like a demon whispering on his shoulder, but it fused perfectly with Jon's own sparking idea.
That was it.
Jon was just a minor Baron, relying entirely on Ned Stark's favor. He needed both Ned and Robert to stay in the picture to maintain his own safety. The key was to keep Robert alive, but incapacitated.
He needed a King who held the title but wielded no power. A vegetable on the Iron Throne.
Jon let out a cold, low laugh, mocking his own previous naivety. As the laughter faded, the blood of the First Men ran cold in his veins. He made his decision.
---
The Shadow Hand moved quickly. He sat at his desk and drafted several urgent letters.
The first was not sent to Renly Baratheon, but to Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers.
Jon had saved Loras from the Mountain's blade during the tourney, but they hadn't interacted much since. By the time Loras had recovered enough to offer thanks, Jon had already left for Tampa to inspect his new lands.
Now, Loras was reportedly at Storm's End with his lover, Renly, clearing bandits from the Kingswood to ensure a safe hunt for the King.
Jon handed the letter to a guard, though his expectations were low. They weren't close enough friends for a letter to guarantee action.
To ensure success, the Baron wrote a second letter, containing a nearly identical warning. This one was addressed to Ser Barristan the Bold.
If anyone could ensure Robert didn't die on the tusks of a boar, it was the greatest knight in Westeros.
With the letters sent, Jon didn't stop. He dipped his quill again, looking past the immediate crisis, and began to lay the groundwork for a future much further down the road.