When Summerhall's banners were raised in the camps outside the city, Lynd had already arrived at the gates of the Red Keep.
Although flying on a dragon would have allowed him to reach King's Landing faster, it would have appeared overly arrogant—like showing off to King Robert. Therefore, Lynd had left his lava dragon, Neltharion, at Summerhall Castle, and instead led a squad of Rangers from the God's Chosen Legion to the capital. He even exchanged his usual Banished Knight armor for a striking set of Golden Lion armor.
"Prince Lynd, dressed like that, you look more like one of us Lannisters," Jaime Lannister remarked with amusement as Lynd dismounted at the gates.
Although the gap between their statuses had widened considerably, Jaime's manner towards Lynd hadn't changed much.
Lynd removed his helmet and handed it to a nearby attendant, smiling in return. "If you like, I can have a set made for you as well."
Jaime shook his head, chuckling. "No, thank you. If I wore your armor, I'm afraid I'd barely manage to walk."
Lynd laughed and turned to Eddard Stark, standing a clear distance away. Judging from how far apart the two men stood, Jaime and Eddard clearly didn't get along—almost as if they expected Lynd to choose sides.
"It's been a long time, Lord Stark," Lynd said, stepping forward to greet him politely.
Eddard Stark bowed slightly in return. "Indeed it has, Prince Lynd."
Other members of the Small Council standing behind Eddard stepped forward to greet Lynd respectfully.
Even Renly, who despised Lynd intensely, wore a pleasant smile and said courteously, "I thought we'd get to see your dragon today, Prince Lynd. I even had the square outside the Red Keep cleared for you, but you arrived by horse instead. What a shame!"
Lynd glanced at Renly. "I doubt His Grace would appreciate someone riding a dragon over his palace."
"Let's not linger here," Eddard intervened, concerned about a potential conflict between Lynd and Renly. "We shouldn't keep His Grace waiting."
He promptly led Lynd into the Red Keep, followed by the others, until they arrived at the council chamber within the Tower of the Hand.
Robert Baratheon was already seated at the head of the table. Perhaps due to Lynd's presence, the king was unusually sober; ordinarily, he'd already be drunk by this hour.
Though they'd been apart only a few years, Robert had visibly aged—and grown significantly heavier since Lynd had last seen him at Highgarden. His chair seemed dangerously close to collapsing beneath him, and the heroic air Robert once possessed had entirely vanished.
Seeing Lynd enter, Robert smiled briefly, before his expression turned irritated. "Bear Hunter, why did you reject the offer to be Master of Ships?"
Lynd stepped forward calmly. "Your Grace, I believe Lord Stannis is perfectly capable in that role. There's no need to replace him. Besides, I have many responsibilities—"
"Responsibilities?" Robert interrupted gruffly. "Such as taking leisurely trips to that place—what was it called? Ny Sar?"
Lynd merely smiled without responding.
Robert sighed bitterly. "I envy you, Lynd. You can travel freely, while I can't even go hunting in the Kingswood without someone complaining." He cast a frustrated glare at Eddard.
Eddard replied firmly, "Your Grace, after Jon's passing, countless affairs await your attention. This isn't the time to hunt or relax."
"I know, I know!" Robert snapped impatiently. "I summoned you here not to lecture me, but to help with something." He gestured impatiently for the others. "Sit down, all of you! Now that Prince Lynd is here, let's discuss this together."
The ministers took their usual seats around the table, leaving only the Master of Ships position empty. Lynd glanced briefly at the vacant chair before taking another seat next to Barristan.
Robert frowned slightly but said nothing. Instead, he unrolled a scroll on the table. "Read this."
All except Varys reviewed the contents, each reacting differently. Petyr Baelish was the last to finish reading; he silently passed the scroll to Lynd.
Lynd quickly skimmed the report. It detailed Jon Connington's recent meeting with Khal Drogo near Qarth, revealing that Khal Drogo had agreed to marry Daenerys Targaryen. This raised concerns that the Khal might soon lead his Dothraki army westward to help House Targaryen reclaim the Iron Throne.
After reading, Lynd remained impassive, casually setting the scroll aside.
"What are your thoughts?" Robert glanced around the room, eventually settling his eyes on Lynd. "Let's hear them."
Renly spoke first, his tone dismissive. "There's no need to worry about this. Everyone knows the sea is poison to the Dothraki. They won't cross to Westeros."
Eddard agreed. "Lord Renly is right. The Dothraki have never ventured far from their grasslands. They've never come here before, so there's no reason to fear them now."
Varys offered his cautious perspective. "Our immediate concern should be the cities around the Dothraki Sea. For the Targaryens to invade Westeros, they'd require a coastal base. Those eastern cities have more reason to worry than we do."
Petyr Baelish interjected thoughtfully, glancing at Lynd. "Even if the Dothraki plan to invade, they'd need many ships. The only city capable of providing enough vessels is Braavos. But we owe millions to Braavos's Iron Bank. If they support the Targaryen remnants, they'd risk losing everything. The Sealord is too smart for that."
"So, none of you believe these savages pose a threat?" Robert scoffed irritably, turning toward Lynd. "Bear Hunter, what do you think? I want your opinion."
Lynd spoke evenly. "If the Dothraki seriously wish to invade Westeros, their best option would be to board ships at Pentos and land directly in the Crownlands. Even if the Sealord of Braavos lost his senses and provided ships, reaching Pentos from the Dothraki Sea is no simple matter. My wife's Lorath blocks their eastern routes, and my holdings in the Disputed Lands guard the southern paths. They're unlikely to reach Pentos at all. If instead they choose to sail from Slaver's Bay, they'd endure a grueling sea voyage. The Dothraki are completely unsuited for life at sea; most would die before ever reaching land, and the survivors would be easily crushed upon arrival."
Eddard nodded approvingly. "Exactly. After such a voyage, both the warriors and their horses would be weakened, making them easy targets."
"And if they land in Dorne?" Robert questioned sharply. "I've heard three Targaryen bastards are there—one claiming to be Aegon, supposedly the real son who survived. Prince Doran might believe this. What if Dorne allies with them?"
Silence fell over the room, and Robert turned again to Lynd. "Speak, Bear Hunter. How would you respond?"
"Still no major issue," Lynd replied calmly. "The Dothraki are fearsome riders, but aboard ships, they'd be helpless. From Slaver's Bay to Dorne is an extremely long journey. We control all major naval forces: my Miracle Fleet, Lord Stannis's Royal Fleet, Lord Manderly's White Harbor fleet, Lord Redwyne's Arbor fleet, Lannisport's fleet, and the Iron Islands' Three Krakens fleet. With such dominance at sea, we could easily intercept and sink every Dothraki ship before they reach our shores."
"Precisely!" Renly shouted excitedly. "We have nothing to fear. Let them come—we'll drown them all!"
The council nodded in agreement, dismissing the threat.
Robert, however, appeared dissatisfied. After a long pause, he muttered grimly, "True, we needn't fear Dothraki horsemen, but what if the Targaryens don't return here and instead found a kingdom in the east?"
"Wouldn't that be even better?" Eddard remarked.
"No, it wouldn't!" Robert snapped harshly. "I refuse to give those bastards any chance to rise again."
Eddard's expression darkened. "Robert, what have you done?"
Robert smirked bitterly. "Nothing much. Just paid some assassins. We'll soon hear good news."
Eddard rose angrily. "You've lost your mind! You're the king—how can you order the murder of children?"
Robert stood as well, matching Eddard's glare. "Children? They're dangerous traitors, and the youngest is already old enough to marry and father more rebels. I won't spare them."
With a disappointed expression, Eddard turned silently and left the chamber.
Robert watched Eddard go, then shouted furiously, "Get out, all of you!"
The ministers rose quietly—clearly accustomed to such scenes—and departed.
As Lynd prepared to leave, Robert called out, "Bear Hunter, before you go, visit Myrcella in the gardens. After all, she's your daughter-in-law. In a few years, have her marry your son."
"As you wish, Your Grace," Lynd said respectfully, bowing before exiting, following an attendant to the gardens.
In the lush courtyard, Myrcella and her attendants sat alongside Queen Cersei, Joffrey, Tommen, and numerous noblewomen. They chatted happily, laughter drifting through the air.
When Lynd entered, the attendant announced his arrival loudly. The noblewomen immediately rose and curtsied, while Cersei and Joffrey remained seated, the latter's hand wrapped in bandages.
Cersei eyed Lynd with complicated emotions. Deep down, she considered him an upstart lacking noble lineage, deeming Myrcella's betrothal to Augustus an insult akin to her aunt's marriage into House Frey.
Yet she understood Lynd's power far exceeded House Frey—and perhaps even rivaled the Lannisters. Earlier, when she confronted Robert and even her father, Tywin, about this marriage, Tywin had praised the arrangement as Robert's wisest decision.
Now, her carefully planned sabotage dissolved the moment Lynd stepped forward, her courage evaporating instantly.
"Your Grace, Prince Joffrey, Prince Tommen," Lynd greeted politely, then turned to the noblewomen. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."
"Of course not," Cersei answered quickly. "We were just discussing Myrcella's betrothal—"
Joffrey suddenly stood up arrogantly, interrupting her. "Prince Lynd, as a loyal subject, you ought to present treasures like your Dragon Horn to your king."
Everyone went silent, staring at the audacious prince, while Cersei inwardly cursed her son's foolishness.