"I…" Ned started, but the lie died on his tongue. He couldn't lie to her. Not here. Not in the blood of her friend. "I know it is hard, Serena. But please. Let me help you now. Let me make this right."
"You cannot make this right," Serena said, looking down at Torra's grey face. "You cannot put the breath back in her lungs."
She gently brushed a strand of hair from Torra's forehead.
"You do not need to ask for forgiveness, My Lord," she continued, her voice hardening, turning to steel. "I have already understood my position here. I was a fool to dream of summer in the middle of winter."
She turned her head to the children. Yoriichi met her gaze instantly.
"I just want to raise them safely," Serena said. "I just want to survive this winter. That is all I have left."
Ned nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. He stood up and signaled to the guards.
"Clean this up," he ordered hoarsely. "Wrap the bodies. Burn the men. No one speaks of this. If word leaves this room, the man who speaks loses his tongue."
"Yes, My Lord," Jory said, gesturing for two guards to step forward.
One of the guards reached down to pick up Torra's body.
"DON'T TOUCH HER!"
The scream tore from Serena's throat, primal and fierce. She snatched Torra's body back, baring her teeth like a wolf protecting its cub.
The guard jumped back, hand going to his sword hilt in surprise.
"Don't you take her!" Serena hissed, her eyes wild. "She is not refuse! She is not garbage to be burned in a ditch! She is of the North! She goes to the earth!"
"Easy, lads," Ned commanded, stepping between them. He looked at the guard. "Back away."
He turned to Serena, seeing the wild desperation in her eyes. He realized that if he tried to take Torra away, Serena would fight them, even if it killed her.
"We will not burn her," Ned promised gently. "She will be buried. Properly."
He sighed, the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders. He had to say it. He had to deliver the final blow.
"Serena… you cannot stay here."
Serena looked at him, her chest heaving. "I know."
"I… I have a place in mind," Ned said, forcing the words out. "Mole's Town. It is near the Wall. My brother Benjen is close by at Castle Black. It is far from here. Far from… anyone who would wish you harm."
Serena froze.
Mole's Town.
The memory of Torra's voice echoed in her mind. Mole's Town is close… You need to carve your own path, girl.
Torra had told her to go there years ago and still. Torra had died telling her to stop waiting and start surviving.
It felt like a cruel joke from the Gods. The very place her friend had died advocating for was now being offered by the man who had failed to save her.
Serena stayed silent for a long time.
"It is for the best," Ned continued, mistaking her silence for refusal. "The children… they need you. Nothing is more important than their safety."
Serena looked at Lyra. She looked at Yoriichi.
Yoriichi was watching Ned Stark. His gaze was unreadable, but his small hand was resting on the hilt of the dirk he had tucked into his belt—the weapon he had used to kill.
Torra was right, Serena thought, the last embers of her girlhood burning out, replaced by something cold and hard.
The sheep get eaten. I must go where the wolves cannot follow.
"I accept," Serena said. Her voice was dead. "I will go to Mole's Town."
"Good," Ned exhaled, relieved. "I will arrange a wagon. Supplies. Gold. You will not want for—"
"Can I bury my friend first?" Serena interrupted. "Before I leave this land forever?"
Ned felt a fresh wave of shame. He looked at the woman he had loved—the woman who had healed his heart years ago when he returned from war with a dead sister and a crying child. He had failed her completely.
"Of course," Ned whispered. "My men will carry her. We will go to the Lichyard now. The sooner… the sooner the better."
He turned to the children. He needed to comfort them. He needed them to know he wasn't a monster.
He reached out and awkwardly patted Yoriichi's shoulder. It felt rigid, like touching a stone statue.
"You are brave children," Ned said. "Be strong for your mother."
Yoriichi nodded once. Slow. Deliberate.
Lyra didn't look at him. She stared at the empty doorway, a faint, sad smile on her lips as if listening to a whisper no one else could hear.
Ned frowned. No tears? No wailing?
Robb would be screaming. Sansa would be hysterical. Even Arya would be crying. But these two… they accepted the horror as if it were natural. As if violence was just another part of the weather.
They are Stark blood, Ned told himself, trying to find comfort in it. They are winter's children.
But deep down, a voice whispered that it was something else. Something older.
"Let us go," Ned said, turning away because he could no longer bear to look at the wreckage of his promise.
The procession to the Lichyard was a somber march.
The storm had broken, leaving behind a silence that was heavy and suffocating. The moon hung low and full, casting long blue shadows across the snow.
Two guards walked ahead, carrying Torra's body wrapped in a linen sheet. Serena walked behind them, her head bowed, carrying Lyra. She refused to let anyone help her. She walked with a limp, her legs numb, but she did not stumble.
Ned walked at the front, his hand resting on his sword hilt, his eyes scanning the darkness for threats that were no longer there.
Beside him walked Yoriichi.
To the naked eye, the boy's gait was smooth, keeping pace with the Lord of Winterfell effortlessly despite his short legs. But underneath the heavy wool tunic, a silent battle was raging.
The intruder's kick had done more than bruise; it had fractured a rib on his left side. Every step sent a sharp, white-hot spike of agony shooting through his small chest.
Yoriichi did not wince. He did not slow down.
Instead, he altered his breathing pattern—a subtle, rhythmic whistle escaping his lips with every exhalation. Total Concentration Breathing. He visualized the cracked bone, directing the flow of oxygenated blood to the injury, forcing his muscles to brace the fracture like a natural splint.
The pain was immense, a constant thrumming fire, but he compartmentalized it, locking it away behind a wall of iron will. He would not show weakness. Not now. Not to this man.
He didn't look at his father. He looked straight ahead at the lichyard gates.
The silence between them was thick enough to choke on.
Ned wanted to speak. He wanted to ask the boy about his eyes. He wanted to ask what he had seen. He wanted to explain why he couldn't acknowledge him in the Great Hall.
But every time he looked down, he saw the dried blood on the boy's hands.
He knows, Ned realized with a sudden jolt. He is six years old, but he knows exactly what happened tonight. He knows who sent them. And he knows I am powerless to stop it.
"Father," Yoriichi said.
The word was soft, carried away by the wind.
Ned stopped. He looked down, surprised. It was the first time the boy had ever called him that.
"Yes, Yoriichi?" Ned asked, hope flaring in his chest.
Yoriichi looked up. His red eyes were luminous in the moonlight, reflecting the tombstones ahead.
"The man with the club," Yoriichi said calmly. "He hesitated before he swung. He was afraid of dying."
Ned blinked, confused. "What?"
"He was afraid," Yoriichi repeated. "But he swung anyway. Because he feared the person who sent him more than he feared death."
Yoriichi turned his gaze back to the path.
"Fear is a strong leash," the boy said, his voice sounding ancient. "I will remember that."
Ned Stark felt a shiver run through him that had nothing to do with the cold. He looked at his son—his bastard son—and for a terrifying moment, he didn't see a child. He saw a stranger. A stranger who understood the brutal truths of the world better than any Lord in the South.
They reached the iron gates of the Lichyard. The rusty hinges groaned as they pushed them open, the sound echoing like a mournful cry into the night.
"Come," Ned said, his voice trembling slightly. "Let us put her to rest."
They walked into the field of graves, the living ghosts escorting the dead, leaving footprints in the snow that would be gone by morning. But the scars of this night… those would remain forever.