"What's going on today? One after another, people who normally wouldn't show their faces are showing up at my door." Watching Jaime hurry toward him, Lynd already had a good idea of the reason for his visit, but still teased, "So what brings you here this time? Don't tell me you've got another letter containing Jon Arryn's last wishes for me?"
"Jon Arryn's last wishes?" Jaime paused, confused. "What wishes?"
Lynd pulled the letter from the table and briefly recounted Eddard Stark's earlier visit and the circumstances surrounding it.
Then he turned to Jaime and asked with mock puzzlement, "And you? What brings you here? If I remember right, you're scheduled to compete in the joust tomorrow afternoon. Shouldn't you be resting up at home instead of paying me a visit?"
Jaime glanced at the letter and exhaled in relief. Now he understood why Eddard had gone to those places to meet those people. And inwardly, he couldn't help but curse Jon Arryn—not even death could keep him quiet.
Setting the letter down, Jaime repeated the excuse he'd come up with beforehand. "I came to talk to you about Myrcella staying in Summerhall for a while."
"You came to talk to me about it?" Lynd chuckled. "You're her uncle, sure, but you're still just a Kingsguard. Discussing a princess's travel plans with me seems a bit out of your lane, don't you think?"
Jaime quickly realized how flimsy his excuse sounded, but still tried to recover. "I'm just delivering the intention. The actual arrangements—you'll have to speak with Cersei."
"Queen Cersei agreed to let Myrcella stay in Summerhall?" Lynd gave Jaime a long look. "Last I recall, she was firmly against it. So was King Robert. As much as the two of them disagree on everything else, they've always seen eye to eye on this."
Jaime didn't know how to respond.
"You're not like Tyrion. If he were here, he'd already have ten clever excuses lined up," Lynd said, eyes fixed on him. "You're better with a sword than a silver tongue. I won't press you on why you've really come. But I'll remind you: I don't involve myself in the power struggles of ancient noble houses. Once the tourney ends, I'll be leaving. So there's no point trying to win me over."
Jaime froze, suspecting Lynd had misunderstood and believed House Lannister was trying to recruit him. So he followed that line of thought and said, "I thought we were friends. And that friends stood by each other."
"Friends don't exist to take sides," Lynd said with a smile. "Besides, I consider Lord Eddard a friend as well."
Disappointed, Jaime sighed. "Then I suppose I came to the wrong place today." With that, he turned and left without another word.
Lynd watched him go, then fell silent in thought. After a moment, he summoned an attendant and handed him Jon Arryn's letter. He ordered that everyone listed be taken immediately to the docks and put on a ship bound for Miracle Harbor via the river.
Right now, both Jaime and Cersei were at their most impulsive and irrational. Lynd couldn't predict what they might do once they found out Robert's bastards were under his protection. It was best to get them out of the city before anything happened.
...
After leaving Lynd's residence, Jaime returned directly to the Red Keep and told Cersei everything he had learned.
Cersei's face darkened. "No. We cannot let Robert's bastards get away. If Lynd shelters them and uses them against Joffrey's claim to the throne... No. Absolutely not. I will not allow another bastard-born war. Jaime, help me! Help our children!"
Jaime frowned at her growing hysteria. "What do you want to do?"
"Take some men and deal with them. Now."
"Are you insane?" Jaime recoiled in disgust. "Some of them are barely newborns! You want me to kill defenseless children?"
"I don't care! Every one of them is a future threat to Joffrey's throne. They shouldn't exist." Cersei glared furiously, then, as if switching masks, softened suddenly. She leaned into Jaime's chest, her voice gentle and coaxing. "Don't forget—Joffrey is your child too. Do you want to see him one day lose his rightful throne to some bastard? Can you imagine what it would do to him?"
Jaime hesitated, conflict flashing across his face. "Lynd said he wouldn't interfere in the power struggles of King's Landing. He won't—"
"But what about his people?" Cersei interrupted. "And I'm not going to gamble Joffrey's future on someone else's promise. Maybe you trust Lynd Tarran. I don't."
Jaime went quiet, thinking long and hard. At last, he said, "Eddard Stark knows about those children too. If we move now, he'll find out—and if he tells Robert..."
Cersei paused, realizing the risk. Then she bit her lip and said with finality, "Then let's put Joffrey on the Iron Throne now."
"What do you mean?" Jaime asked, startled.
Cersei didn't answer. Instead, she began unfastening his clothes. She'd already come up with a permanent solution—and the thought of it thrilled her, lighting a fire inside her that demanded release.
...
The next day, the tournament proceeded as scheduled. Though the crowds outside the city still surged, it was obvious this year's event was a shadow of its former self.
Back in its heyday, nearly every great noble house would send knights—or arrive in person—to compete. All were renowned warriors, lords of fame and power. Now, most of the competitors were younger sons, hedge knights, and mercenaries. Only a handful had any real reputation or skill.
Even the size of the event had shrunk. What once took several days to complete could now be wrapped up in just one.
Still, for the common folk of King's Landing, it was a grand affair—the rare kind of festivity they could share with the nobility. As in past years, the stands were packed with spectators long before the first horn sounded.
King Robert, fresh from a brothel, had barely cleaned up before stumbling toward the tournament grounds. The heavy stench of alcohol clung to him, making Cersei, who had been waiting early, frown in irritation.
Lord Eddard, the man the tourney was held to honor, didn't appear until just before the archery contest began, arriving with his two daughters.
Lynd followed not long after. The moment he stepped onto the viewing platform, the crowd erupted in cheers—proof enough of how high his standing had become in King's Landing.
Faced with the cheers echoing through the arena, King Robert couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy. Before Lynd had even taken his seat, Robert had someone call him over.
"Bear Hunter," Robert said with a grin, "just watching the tournament like this is too dull. Why don't we place a bet?"
"What would Your Grace like to bet on?" Lynd asked with a smile.
Robert's voice dropped into a serious tone. "Let's bet on the winners of the archery competition, the melee, and the joust."
Renly, sitting nearby, chimed in, "If there's gambling involved, count me in."
"Good," Robert agreed readily. It wouldn't be much fun with just two people betting. He welcomed Renly's participation and called for others too—Littlefinger, Varys, even Eddard, who was reluctantly dragged in by Robert's enthusiasm.
Robert took the role of banker, while the others submitted their predictions. Most of the names were well-known knights and warriors.
Lynd handed over his own list. When Robert looked at it, his brow furrowed.
"Anguy? Thoros of Myr? Sandor Clegane? Bear Hunter, what kind of names are these?"
"The Hound?" Renly echoed, just as surprised. "Prince Lynd, you're betting on the Hound to win the joust?"
The Hound himself turned to look at Lynd, puzzled. The two had never exchanged a word, so he had no idea why Lynd would choose him.
But Lynd offered no explanation. He simply copied the names from the list he remembered in his past life. Whether the outcome would match, he wasn't sure—after all, his presence had already changed many things. The results of the tournament might very well be different too.
As the day progressed, the archery and team melee winners were announced. Just as Lynd had predicted, Anguy and Thoros of Myr took the titles.
The accuracy of Lynd's predictions drew some surprise, especially since both events weren't widely followed or familiar to most present.
Attention soon shifted to the final event: the joust.
Among the competitors were some well-known names, including Bronze Yohn Royce, Ser Loras Tyrell the Knight of Flowers, and even Renly Baratheon and Jaime Lannister himself. While a few lesser-known hedge knights rounded out the roster, the list was impressive.
But one dark horse stood out—Lyn Corbray from House Corbray of Heart's Home in the Vale. He carved his way through the brackets, defeating Jory Cassel, Jaime Lannister, Barristan Selmy, and even Renly Baratheon to reach the semifinals.
As Corbray's surprise victories shifted the tournament's expected outcome, so too did the draw for the semifinals. Instead of Loras facing the Mountain, it was Sandor Clegane who drew that match. Corbray, on the other hand, faced the Mountain.
Using a mare in heat—just as Loras had done in the past—Corbray also managed to unseat the Mountain. But unlike Loras, Corbray was shrewd. Anticipating the Mountain's fury, he dismounted early and disappeared into the ranks of the Gold Cloaks. He only reemerged after the Hound intervened and stopped his brother's rampage.
In the next match, the Hound faced Loras but was ultimately defeated by the more skillful knight. Lynd, with that, lost his bet.
Robert burst into loud laughter at Lynd's loss—clearly more delighted by Lynd's defeat than by his own gain.
But Robert's joy only grew when, in the final bout, Loras unexpectedly lost to Lyn Corbray. With Corbray crowned as the joust champion, not a single person had guessed the winner correctly. As the banker, Robert claimed the pot as the sole victor.
After the tournament, Lyn Corbray presented the title of Queen of Love and Beauty to Sansa Stark, daughter of Lord Eddard.
...
At the banquet following the tournament, Lynd avoided the nobles and slipped away with a plate of food and a jug of water. He headed for the Red Keep's courtyard, where he sat quietly, gazing out over the dark waters of Blackwater Bay as he ate.
Not long after, footsteps approached from behind. Lynd turned to glance at the visitor, then calmly returned his gaze to the horizon.
"Prince Lynd, don't you feel lonely sitting here all by yourself?" Cersei asked with a smile, taking a seat beside him.
Lynd didn't bother with pleasantries. "Your Grace, why don't you just say what you came for?"
Cersei frowned slightly, hesitated, and said, "I want the people you took away last night."
Lynd turned to her. "The witch's prophecy is already coming true, and you're still worried about those bastards? Aren't you afraid?"
Cersei froze. Something about his words struck a nerve. Her face paled as she asked, "What are you talking about? What prophecy?"
"You will reign as queen," Lynd recited, eyes fixed on her, "until another, younger and more beautiful, comes to cast you down and take all you hold dear. Your children will be crowned in gold—and shrouded in gold. And you will die, strangled by the hands of your younger brother."
He leaned closer. "The prophecy has already begun to unfold. Some of it is complete. The rest is on its way. And the end... will come soon. Are you not afraid, Your Grace?"
Cersei staggered to her feet in horror, backing away from him as if he were a monster.
"How do you know that prophecy?" she gasped. "No one else knows about it—everyone who did is dead!"
Lynd's gaze remained steady, his voice cold.
"Be careful of your brother, Your Grace. Watch him closely."
Cersei turned and fled in panic, vanishing into the shadowed trees of the courtyard.