In the Hand's Solar, Ned Stark sat alone before the hearth.
The flames licked at the logs, making soft crackling sounds, illuminating his determined face with flickering light and shadow.
He let the firelight swallow him.
On the table sat a glass of untouched Dornish strongwine, the amber liquid glinting temptingly in the firelight.
But he had no desire to drink now.
In his mind, the bloody scene at the tourney ground played over and over: Robert's mad, twisted face, the scene of his own humiliating kneeling.
Shame.
Shame penetrating deep into his bones!
He, Ned Stark, Warden of the North!
Actually knelt like a criminal before that madman, begging for his laughable mercy?
And all this was to protect his family.
He had to send Sansa and Arya away.
Immediately, right now!
King's Landing was a giant meat grinder that would devour all beautiful things.
He had already lost a friend; he couldn't lose his daughters.
Just then, the study door was pushed open gently.
Ned didn't turn around; he thought it was Arya.
This youngest daughter always worried about him.
"Arya, go to sleep. I'm fine."
Ned's voice was weary.
However, the person who walked in wasn't the energetic little wolf figure.
"Father."
A soft voice sounded.
Sansa?
Ned's body stiffened.
He knew least how to face this eldest daughter.
How should he tell her?
That King's Landing she once longed for, that fairytale world she thought was full of princes and knights...
Was actually a hell a hundred times crueler than the Northern winter?
How should he tell her they had to flee back to Winterfell like beaten dogs?
"Sansa."
Ned turned around.
By the dim firelight, he saw Sansa standing quietly there in a simple blue dress.
Her eyes were still red, but on her pretty face, there wasn't the panic and fragility he expected.
Instead, there was a surprising calm.
"Come, sit."
Ned pointed to the chair opposite.
Sansa didn't move.
She just looked at her father, her beautiful blue eyes like two washed stars in the darkness.
"Father, are you... preparing to send Arya and me back to Winterfell?"
Sansa asked directly.
Ned's heart sank.
"Yes."
Ned nodded with difficulty.
"It's no longer safe here. You must leave."
"I won't go."
Sansa's answer was simple, direct.
Ned looked up abruptly, thinking he misheard.
"What did you say?"
"I said, I won't go."
Sansa repeated.
"Sansa! Do you know what you are saying!"
Ned's anger flared up instantly.
He thought Sansa was still obsessed with that golden bastard, still dreaming of being Queen.
"Haven't you seen clearly yet?!"
"What kind of thing is Joffrey? What kind of thing is Robert?"
"There are no knights, no fairytales in this city!"
"Only conspiracies and butcher knives!"
"If you stay here, sooner or later..."
"Father!" Sansa interrupted him.
She walked up to Ned.
In those blue eyes, a light Ned had never seen before emerged.
It wasn't a maiden's innocence, but a clarity that saw through everything.
"Do you think I'm still that silly girl who only knows lemon cakes and love songs?"
Sansa's voice trembled slightly, but every word was incredibly clear.
"King's Landing taught me many things."
"It taught me that tears can't buy sympathy, and obedience can't buy happiness."
"It also taught me that in this world, only value lets you survive."
Ned was stunned.
He looked at the daughter before him, feeling incredibly unfamiliar.
These words shouldn't come from a noble lady raised in a boudoir, protected tightly.
"Lord Lynn taught me."
Sansa seemed to see through her father's confusion.
"He told me, if you don't want to be treated as a toy discarded at will, you must make yourself irreplaceable."
"He gave me a script that let me get rid of Joffrey."
"He gave me a promise, giving me a chance to control the kingdom's purse."
"He let me see another path, a path... where I can control my own destiny."
Sansa took a deep breath.
In those blue eyes, a trace of shyness and panic belonging to her age finally surfaced.
"Father, I don't want to leave."
"I don't want to leave King's Landing, and I don't want... to leave Lynn."
Boom——!
Ned's mind went blank instantly.
He remembered that night, a guard saying Arya rushed into the study with "Needle," questioning Sansa.
He thought it was just children playing around.
But now...
He looked at Sansa's face flushed red with shyness, at her eyes both determined and flustered.
That look was exactly the same as Arya's when she looked at Lynn!
No!
Even brighter than that time!
Ned felt a splitting headache.
He held his forehead, his body swaying, and slumped back into the chair heavily.
One Arya was enough of a headache.
Now, even Sansa...
What magic did that kid named Lynn have?
What bewitching potion did he feed his daughters?!
Making two sisters with completely opposite personalities, one like fire, one like ice, both devoted to him?
"Father."
Sansa walked to Ned's side, slowly squatting down, placing her small hand gently on Ned's large hand wrapped in the bandage.
"You taught me that House Stark's honor is above all else."
"But in King's Landing, I saw the King chop the Master of Coin's corpse into meat paste with my own eyes."
"I saw you forced to kneel before that madman to protect us."
Sansa's tears finally fell.
Falling on the back of Ned's hand, scalding hot.
"In that moment, I understood."
"Honor cannot protect us."
"Only power."
"Father, only power held in our own hands can make those people afraid to bully us again, afraid to humiliate us again!"
"Lord Lynn is teaching me how to acquire power."
"I don't want to be the daughter you need to kneel to protect."
"I want to be your armor, not your weakness."
Ned's body trembled violently.
He looked at his daughter squatting before him, crying pear blossoms bathed in rain, yet with incredibly determined eyes.
His heart, already riddled with holes by the filth of King's Landing and Robert's madness, seemed to be stabbed fiercely by something at this moment.
Yes.
He always thought of protecting them in his own way.
But he forgot.
Chicks eventually leave the nest, and wolf cubs eventually bare their claws and teeth!
He looked at Sansa.
In her blue eyes, he saw the same stubbornness as Arya, the same resolve as Lyanna, and even... the shadow of his younger self.
Stark blood never yields.
"Sigh..."
Ned let out a long sigh.
In that sigh, there was helplessness, heartache, anger.
But more than that, a powerless compromise.
Ned reached out, wiping the tears from his eldest daughter's face.
"You and Arya... really... will be the death of me."
Ned shook his head with a bitter smile.
"I agree."
"You don't have to return to Winterfell."
Sansa's eyes lit up instantly.
That radiance almost illuminated the entire dim study.
"But!"
Ned's tone became incredibly serious.
"You must remember what you said today."
"King's Landing is a chessboard, and a battlefield."
"One wrong step, eternal damnation!"
"I won't treat you like a little girl anymore, Sansa."
"From today on, you must be responsible for your every choice."
"I understand!"
Sansa nodded vigorously, a brilliant smile blooming on her face like never before.
Seeing his daughter off, Ned sat alone in the darkness.
He picked up the cup of strongwine on the table and drank it in one gulp.
The spicy liquid burned down his throat like fire, but cleared his confused brain a bit.
Lynn.
The figure of this young man surfaced in his mind.
Calm, powerful, unfathomable.
Like a brilliant chess player, he stirred the winds and clouds of King's Landing without batting an eye.
He toppled Petyr, and awakened Ned himself.
Now, he had firmly tied Ned's two daughters to his war chariot.
This young man's ambition was definitely not just becoming a powerful upstart holding heavy troops!
Looking at the dancing flames in the fireplace, a terrible yet vaguely exciting thought uncontrollably popped up in Ned's mind.
Could what he wants be that damned Iron Throne!?
A day ago, Ned would have been horrified by this thought.
He would have snuffed it out without hesitation!
But now, his heart loyal to Robert, to House Baratheon for twenty years, was dead.
Completely dead!
Died in that pool of blood!
He was a father first now.
His daughters chose Lynn.
Then for his daughters' happiness, he could only place all his bets on this young man!
Without leaving a single margin!
The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.
Determination filled Ned's eyes.
He strode to the desk, spreading out a new sheet of parchment.
The letter prepared to summon Catelyn to King's Landing was crumpled into a ball and thrown into the fireplace.
Flames swallowed it instantly, turning it to ash.
Just like his friendship with Robert that no longer existed.
Just then, a rapid and forceful knock sounded.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Ned frowned.
"Come in."
The door opened, and a Kingsguard wearing a white cloak and gilded armor walked in.
It was Jaime Lannister.
His handsome face lacked its usual frivolity and arrogance, carrying a rare gravity instead.
"Lord Stark."
Jaime's tone was flat, emotionless.
Ned looked at him, alarm bells ringing in his heart.
A Lannister visiting him in the middle of the night was never good news.
"His Grace the King calls a Small Council meeting."
Jaime took a scroll sealed with the King's wax from his tunic and placed it on Ned's desk.
"Immediately."
With that, Jaime gave Ned a deep look, didn't linger, and turned to leave.
The white cloak disappeared out the door, merging into the darkness.
Ned picked up the parchment still warm from Jaime's body.
The King's seal stared at him like a blood-red eye.
Small Council meeting?
Now?
What did that madman Robert want to do again?
He dismembered the Master of Coin, forced the Hand to kneel, and now he wants a meeting?
Ned's heart sank inch by inch.
He had a strong premonition.
Tonight would be a sleepless night.