Nearby, Ser Morton Waynwood sat paralyzed on the ground.
The arrogance on his face had vanished, replaced by a fear that penetrated deep into his bones.
The fog of excitement and fearlessness in his mind was dissipating, and reality, like Robert's war hammer, smashed heavily onto his forehead.
What had he said?
What had he done?!
What the hell had he been doing?!
He had actually used the Vale's army to threaten the King in front of all the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms?
Ser Morton looked up and saw the pile of remains, indistinguishable between meat and charcoal.
Those were the remains of Petyr Baelish.
Just then, two Gold Cloaks stepped forward and roughly threw a heavy, dripping cloth sack into his arms.
"Ser Waynwood," one of the Gold Cloaks said expressionlessly.
"This is His Grace's answer to Lady Lysa Arryn."
"His Grace personally said that he wants you to deliver this generous gift to Lady Lysa with your own hands!"
The weight of the head in the sack, the wet, sticky touch, made Ser Morton let out a short, mournful cry.
He knew this wasn't just Petyr's head.
It was his own death warrant.
He would become the sinner of the entire Vale.
Ser Morton scrambled up on hands and knees.
Clutching the head, he fled this hell on earth like a beaten dog, stumbling as he ran.
As he left, he didn't even dare look back at King's Landing.
With Ser Morton's departure, the last ripples of this farce gradually subsided.
Ned Stark slowly stood up from the ground.
His face, usually written with righteousness and determination, was now nothing but a dead grey.
He didn't look at the bloody mess on the ground, nor did he pay attention to the complex gazes around him.
He simply walked to his two daughters and, with a numbness bordering on calm, picked up the fainted Sansa.
"Arya, let's go back."
Ned's voice was soft.
Arya looked at her father's slightly trembling back, at her pale sister in his arms, and clenched her small fists tightly.
Arya said nothing, just silently followed behind her father.
Lynn watched the Stark family leave.
The once indestructible King in the North now looked like a heavily wounded lone wolf, licking his wounds in disgrace.
---
The Hand's Solar.
The fire in the fireplace burned quietly, casting flickering shadows on the huge map of Westeros on the wall.
Even though King's Landing had a mild climate, Ned still lit it.
Only the fire could make Ned feel he wasn't in the southern King's Landing, but in the familiar North.
This direwolf was homesick.
Ned Stark downed a goblet of amber Dornish strongwine in one gulp.
The spicy liquid burned his throat but couldn't dispel the chill in his heart.
Lynn sat opposite him, not dissuading him.
Just quietly accompanying Ned, drinking cup after cup.
The study was quiet, save for the sound of wine being poured and the occasional crack of wood in the fireplace.
"I was wrong, Lynn."
Finally, Ned spoke.
Ned didn't look up at Lynn, just stared fixedly at the goblet in his hand.
"I was wrong, terribly wrong."
"I thought Robert was just... just drunk, his temper a bit worse."
A smile uglier than crying pulled at the corners of Ned's mouth.
"But today I realized, he isn't Robert anymore."
"The brother who grew up with me in the Eyrie, who would hand me a lance at a tourney, who would entrust his back to me on the battlefield... he is dead."
"Died on that damned Iron Throne."
"Standing there today was just a monster I don't know."
"A madman fed on suspicion and fear."
Ned gulped down another large mouthful of wine.
Wine spilled from the corner of his mouth, dripping down his neatly trimmed beard, but he didn't care.
"He suspects me, Lynn."
"He actually suspects me!"
"Suspects Catelyn!"
"Suspects our House Stark!"
"We... we are brothers as close as hands and feet!"
"How... how did it come to this?"
Ned smashed the goblet in his hand onto the table.
The cup shattered, sharp fragments cutting his palm, blood flowing mixed with wine.
"How dare he?!"
Ned growled.
In those grey eyes, uncontrollable anger and heartache finally ignited.
"He publicly mutilated the corpse of the Master of Coin in front of all his subjects!"
"For a madwoman's threat, he wants to humiliate my wife!"
"Just because they are sisters?!"
"What kind of fucking logic is that!"
Lynn silently took a piece of white cloth for stopping bleeding from a cabinet nearby and handed it to Ned, signaling him to wipe the blood off his hand.
Ned didn't take it; he just let the wound on his hand bleed.
The pain in his hand was nothing compared to the pain in his heart.
"I knelt today."
Ned's voice suddenly dropped low, as if stating something unrelated to himself.
"In front of everyone, I knelt."
"I let him humiliate me, humiliate House Stark, humiliate the entire North."
Lynn looked at him, at the pain mixed with humiliation and struggle on this man's face, and spoke calmly.
"You didn't kneel for him."
Ned's body trembled violently.
He slowly raised his head.
Those red, swollen eyes looked straight at Lynn.
"You're right."
There was anger in Ned's voice.
"I didn't do it for him."
"Nor for the bullshit peace of the realm."
He reached out with his bleeding hand, gripping Lynn's arm tightly.
"I did it for Catelyn, for Sansa, for Arya, for Rickon and Bran!"
"I can't let him hurt them! Never!"
A crazy paranoia flickered in Ned's eyes.
"Honor..."
Ned chewed on the word he had believed in all his life, his tone full of self-mockery.
"I once thought honor was everything to me."
"The foundation of House Stark."
"But King's Landing taught me that here, honor is a joke."
"It can't protect my family, can't save my daughters from fright, can't even exchange for a shred of the King's trust."
"It's just a gorgeous shackle, a shackle that makes me watch helplessly as my friend turns into a monster because of power, watch my family in danger, yet remain powerless!"
Ned released Lynn's arm.
He stood up slowly, walked to the window, and looked at the city of King's Landing shrouded in night.
This city in darkness seemed ready to devour people at any time.
"Bringing them to this hell was the stupidest decision I've ever made in my life."
Ned's voice was full of regret.
"I won't make the same mistake again."
He turned around, looking at Lynn.
In those grey eyes, all weakness and pain had faded, leaving only resolve.
Lynn was very familiar with that look.
It was the light that ignited in Sandor Clegane's eyes before stepping into the sea of fire.
It was the look of a beast cornered, ready to fight to the death!
"Lynn."
Ned spoke with unprecedented solemnity.
"You're right. In this man-eating game, rules are for the dead."
"I don't want to die."
"I don't want my family to be hurt in any way."
He walked up to Lynn, picked up the white cloth for stopping bleeding from the table, and silently wrapped the wound on his hand circle by circle.
"Robert wants my wife to come to King's Landing and kneel."
Ned's voice was terribly calm.
"He has crossed that line."
"King and Hand, friend and brother... from today on, these don't exist."
"I, Ned Stark, am first a husband, a father, and then the Hand!"
Ned looked up, gazing at Lynn burningly.
"I need your help."
Lynn looked at Ned Stark before him.
He knew this sleeping direwolf had finally been thoroughly awakened.
He was no longer the Lord of Winterfell bound by honor.
He was a fierce beast willing to tear everything apart to protect his loved ones.
And this was exactly what Lynn wanted.
"It is my honor, my Lord."
Lynn answered calmly.
Hearing Lynn's answer, Ned's body paused slightly.
He looked at Lynn, this young man who was about to become his daughter's husband, and a hint of warmth finally appeared in his painful eyes.
His future son-in-law was always trustworthy.
"I have to send Sansa and Arya back to Winterfell."
Ned said in a deep voice.
"It's too dangerous here; they can't stay any longer."
"Alright."
Lynn nodded.
"After Myrcella arrives, I will arrange the most reliable men to escort them out of King's Landing together."
Lynn didn't mention Sansa's matter to Ned.
Ned's mental state was poor right now; telling him would only make him worry more.
Better to discuss it later.
"No."
Ned shook his head.
"They can't go by land. Too slow, and too easy to be discovered by Robert's men."
"I want them to go by sea."
Ned walked to the map, his finger landing heavily on the harbor east of King's Landing.
"I will commandeer the fastest ship in the name of the Hand."
"Your men will be responsible for getting them safely onto the ship."
"Acceptable."
Lynn had no objection.
Of course, sending Arya away was simple.
Since this little girl hadn't ridden a dragon yet, this would be a perfect opportunity to take her for a flight into the clouds.
"One more thing."
Ned's gaze moved from the map back to Lynn.
"Catelyn... she cannot come to King's Landing."
"Robert wants to humiliate her, humiliate House Stark, or even trick her into coming to King's Landing to kill her. I will never allow such a thing to happen."
"But the King's command cannot be openly defied."
A struggle flashed in Ned's eyes, but was quickly replaced by resolve.
"So, I need a reason."
"A reason that leaves Robert, and everyone else, with nothing to say."
He looked at Lynn, saying word by word:
"I need... a 'rebellion', not too big, not too small, to appear in the North."
Lynn nodded slightly, looking at the cold madness on Ned's face.
He actually wanted to use a fabricated rebellion to hold Catelyn back, thereby countering the King's command.
This plan was bold, crazy, and full of risk.
Once leaked, it was high treason.
But it was also the only way at present.
"Rebellion?"
Lynn repeated.
"Exactly."
Ned's gaze deepened.
"For example... some unruly bandits burning, killing, and looting in Northern villages."
"As the acting castellan of Winterfell, Catelyn must stay in the North to preside over the situation, stabilize the people's hearts, and cannot get away to come to King's Landing."
"My Lord, this reason is sufficient."
Lynn smiled.
He appreciated Ned's transformation.
This wolf had finally learned to use claws and teeth, instead of the so-called Wolf spirit.
"My Lord, I think I can help with this."
Lynn stood up and walked to Ned's side.
"Among my people, there happen to be some... rather restless fellows."
"I think they would be very happy to take a tour of the Northern countryside and help you put on this show."
Looking at the all-knowing smile on Lynn's face, Ned's tight nerves finally loosened a bit.
This young man had given him too many surprises; finding him was the right choice.
"Thank you, Lynn."
"You're welcome. Once I marry Arya, we will be family."
Lynn responded with a smile.
"There is an old saying in the North: The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives."
"Now, it is time for us to fight side by side."
Ned nodded heavily.
Looking at the sky about to break dawn outside the window, there was no longer any confusion in his grey eyes.
Robert, my brother.
You forced me to do this.
I had no choice.