Ah, fuck you, Ned, the king said hoarsely. "I killed the bastard, didn't I?" A lock of matted black hair fell across his eyes as he glared up at Ned. "Ought to do the same for you. Can't leave a man to hunt in peace. Sir Robar found me. Gregor's head. Ugly thought. Never told the Hound. Let Cersei surprise him." His laugh turned into a grunt as a spasm of pain hit him. "Gods have mercy," he muttered, swallowing his agony. "The girl. Daenerys. Only a child, you were right...that's why, the girl...the gods sent the boar...sent to punish me..." The king coughed, bringing up blood. "Wrong, it was wrong, I...only a girl...Varys, Littlefinger, even my brother...worthless...no one to tell me no but you, Ned... only you..." He lifted his hand, the gesture pained and feeble. "Paper and ink. There, on the table. Write what I tell you."