Ned's gaze tried to pierce through Lynn's calm exterior, to see the secrets deep within his soul.
"What else did you see?"
This question, amidst the crackling of the fireplace, felt especially heavy.
Lynn didn't answer immediately.
He merely raised his eyes, calmly meeting the Warden of the North's gaze.
In those eyes, there was no fear, no evasion, only a bottomless tranquility.
"My Lord."
Lynn's voice was soft, yet exceptionally clear.
"I know you have many questions for me, but my prophetic ability also comes at a cost."
"Some futures are like forks in the road in the darkness; I can see that one path leads to a cliff."
"But if you were to know the location of the cliff now, you might, in your haste to avoid it, overlook the traps beneath your feet and ultimately fall into another abyss."
These words were more convincing than any profound prophecy.
Ned's tense body finally relaxed a little.
He understood.
Lynn wasn't being mysterious; he was explaining a cruel truth in a way Ned could comprehend.
Knowing too much isn't necessarily a good thing.
Forcibly altering a known tragedy could very likely trigger a series of even more violent repercussions.
Once the gears of fate are forcibly turned, they will only crush all who try to resist in a more tragic manner.
Seeing Ned's silence, Lynn spoke again.
"My Lord, during this journey south, I have seen some things that will happen, and I will tell you the solutions one by one."
"First, do not be hasty in investigating Lord Arryn's death. You only need to be wary of Cersei, Janos, and Baelish."
"Pay particular attention to Baelish."
"Whatever he says to you, My Lord, just humor him, but do not believe a single word he says, not one syllable."
"That man has no credibility whatsoever!"
"Second, if you are too eager for success, the Gold Cloaks will be like reeds in the wind and will surely betray you."
"To thoroughly investigate Lord Arryn's death, you should first weaken the City Watch, and ideally, take control of it."
The Gold Cloaks, named for their golden cloaks, reported directly to the Iron Throne and were an important force in maintaining law and order in the capital.
At least, an important force for "surface order."
After King Robert's death, Ned could have controlled the situation as regent, but Littlefinger betrayed him.
This directly caused the Gold Cloaks to side with Cersei, leading to Ned's arrest and subsequent tragedy.
"Third, and most importantly!"
"His Majesty Robert's situation is far more dangerous than you imagine."
"You only need to remember one thing!"
"As long as he lives, you live!"
"You must keep a close eye on Robert's diet and daily life; do not let him go hunting."
Ned's body trembled, and an anxious expression appeared on his face.
"You mean, someone wants to kill Robert?"
"Who is so bold!"
Lynn shook his head, refusing to answer the question.
"My Lord, I can only see fragments; as for the rest, I am not very clear either."
With the Lannisters entrenched in King's Landing, how could a few people from the North possibly contend with these locals in a direct confrontation?
That was simply an impossible feat.
Lynn wanted Ned to first establish a foothold, play defense, and wait until his own forces developed and stabilized before doing anything else.
Lynn feared that if he told Ned directly, the upright Ned might act rashly, leading to irreversible consequences.
"I understand."
"I will do as you say!"
Ned nodded earnestly.
Lynn then provided Ned with another layer of insurance.
"My Lord, if King Robert truly meets with an accident, you need to support Joffrey's ascension to the throne, and agree to any conditions Cersei proposes, including showing favor, flattering her..."
"While they let their guard down, immediately return to the North!"
"As long as you are in the North, no matter what changes occur in King's Landing, you will remain safe and sound!"
"Just one thing."
Lynn looked directly into Ned's eyes and slowly said.
"I fear you won't be flexible..."
Ned waved his hand.
"Don't worry, I will do as you say!"
He wasn't a fool; hearing Lynn's arrangements one by one, he sensed danger.
Since he chose to trust Lynn, he would follow this path to the end!
Even if Lynn intended to harm him, he had no other choice!
Ned gazed at the young man before him.
This crow who had escaped from the Wall, this variable endowed with mysterious prophetic abilities.
"Lynn, can I trust you?"
Lynn nodded slightly, his tone devoid of any flattery, only the calm of stating facts.
"It was you, My Lord, who pardoned me. Everything I have is tied to Winterfell, and to the entire North."
Having received his answer, Ned no longer pressed for details about the elusive future.
He made a decision.
"After the King leaves, you and Benjen will return to the Wall to explain your breaking of vows to the Lord Commander."
"When you return, I will give you a new identity."
Ned looked at him, enunciating each word.
"Become my personal guard, and accompany me south to King's Landing."
These words carried more weight than any golden dragons or land grants.
It meant that Lynn would be completely cleared of the stigma of being a prisoner and a deserter.
He had finally found a foothold on this continent where he could stand firm.
Even if this fulcrum was the tempest-tossed House Stark.
But for Lynn, it was enough!
Lynn lowered his gaze, concealing the surging emotions within him.
"As you command, My Lord."
...At the other end of the banquet hall, the atmosphere was far less solemn than in the study.
Cersei Lannister, seated regally at the head of the table, idly traced the rim of a tall silver goblet with her slender fingertips.
Beside her, Catelyn wore a perfectly composed smile, engaging in the Queen's small talk.
But in those blue eyes, characteristic of House Tully, there lurked a persistent shadow.
"This is your first time in the North, isn't it, Your Majesty?"
Catelyn initiated the conversation, attempting to break the awkward silence.
Cersei's gaze passed over her and landed on Sansa, who was not far away.
The girl was gazing dreamily at her son, Joffrey.
A nearly imperceptible smile played on Cersei's lips.
"Yes, it is... quite different here."
Catelyn's smile stiffened slightly:
"I assure you, compared to King's Landing, it must be very harsh here."
"I too felt afraid when I first arrived."
"Harsh?"
Cersei's voice was like the most exquisite silk in King's Landing, smooth, yet devoid of any warmth.
"More than harsh, the wind here can turn a woman's skin into sandpaper."
Catelyn's hand, holding the wine glass, tightened.
Just then, a figure, with a mix of eagerness and yearning, approached the table.
It was Sansa.
She had changed into a brand new sky-blue gown, her hair meticulously styled, and her face was flushed with an attractive blush from excitement.
"Your Majesty."
Sansa curtsied impeccably, lifting her skirt.
"Mother."
Cersei's gaze slowly swept over Sansa.
Her eyes didn't seem to be looking at a future daughter-in-law, but rather inspecting a valuable young mare about to enter the market.
"Hello, beautiful little dove."
Cersei spoke, her tone uncharacteristically carrying a hint of praise.
"You are truly beautiful."
Sansa's heart fluttered with joy at the compliment.
Cersei put down her wine glass, leaned forward slightly, and moved closer to Sansa.
In her emerald eyes, there was a shrewdness that seemed to see through everything.
"How old are you, child?"
"Thirteen, Your Majesty," Sansa answered obediently.
"Thirteen..."
Cersei scrutinized her already developing figure.
"Are you still growing?"
Sansa, not understanding, simply smiled and nodded:
"I suppose so, Your Majesty."
Cersei lightly traced the rim of the goblet with her fingertip, producing a soft chime, and then she asked the question.
"Have you had your moon blood yet?"
The air seemed to freeze at that instant.
The blush on Sansa's face instantly changed from excited crimson to a flush of shame.
She opened her mouth, but not a single word came out; she could only look pleadingly at her mother.
Catelyn's face instantly darkened.
A surge of profound offense rose from the depths of her heart.
In those blue eyes, for the first time, there was undisguised hostility.
In the North, in her own domain, right in front of her, to humiliate her daughter like this!
Cersei, however, seemed not to notice the anger in Catelyn's eyes.
She simply picked up her wine glass, gently swirling the crimson liquid within, a playful smile on her lips.
"Not... not yet, Your Majesty."
Sansa's voice was as faint as a mosquito's buzz.
"Oh."
Cersei seemed a little disappointed, then smiled and changed the subject.
"The Direwolf embroidered on your dress is lovely; did you do it yourself?"
Sansa, as if grasping at a lifeline, quickly nodded: "Yes, Your Majesty."
"What a clever girl."
Cersei smiled kindly.
"Perhaps you could embroider something for me someday."
Sansa, flattered, readily agreed.
After curtsying, she almost fled back to her seat.
Cersei's indifferent gaze returned to Catelyn, her smile unchanged, but her words were utterly cold.
"The Seven Kingdoms are waiting for our two houses to have grandchildren."
Catelyn suppressed her anger, forcing out a stiff smile: "I've heard some rumors myself."
Cersei's gaze once again fell on Sansa.
"Your daughter will become the darling of the court."
The Queen said in a declarative tone.
"Such a delicate flower should not be buried in the ice and snow of the North."
Catelyn's expression became as cold as the winter snow outside the window.
Meanwhile, back in her seat, Sansa's embarrassment was quickly replaced by another emotion.
Prince Joffrey was looking at her, a charming smile on his handsome face, and he raised his goblet to her from afar.
Boom.
Sansa felt her cheeks burning.
She frantically lowered her head, tugging at her female companion beside her, babbling incoherently.
She tried to conceal the sweetness and secret delight that almost overflowed from her chest.
That humiliating question from the Queen had long been cast to the winds.
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