Several days had passed.
Winterfell was like a kicked hornet's nest, buzzing with activity.
The King's procession had already reached the White Knife! This news made everyone in the castle quicken their pace. The fires in the smithy burned day and night, the clanging of hammers almost drowning out the sounds of sparring in the courtyard.
In the kitchens, Gage the cook shouted orders, directing helpers to move barrels of ale into the cellar. The scent of charred meat and freshly baked bread mixed in the icy air, drifting far.
Lynn sat on the low wall leading to the Godswood. He was no longer under guard. That bloody battle, along with the fulfilled prophecy, had bought him this limited freedom.
Lynn was a man of the Night's Watch, but Ned saw his usefulness and kept him temporarily at Winterfell. Eventually, however, he would be sent back to the Wall.
Under Maester Luwin's care, Lynn's wound had scabbed over. The new skin itched slightly at the edges, bringing a real sensation of life returning.
Lynn just watched quietly.
He watched Robb and Theon sparring under Ser Rodrik's guidance, training more strictly than ever before. Wooden swords clashed with dull, powerful thuds.
He watched Sansa Stark, accompanied by her mother Catelyn, selecting fabrics for the feast. Sansa's face held a young girl's longing for the splendors of the South.
He watched Jon Snow. Jon was still in that secluded corner, alone, swinging his practice sword again and again. Sweat soaked his black hair, but he didn't care. It was as if he wanted to vent all his energy into those silent chops.
Everyone was busy. Busy welcoming a grand honor. Only Lynn knew they were busy welcoming a storm that would sweep across the Seven Kingdoms.
Light footsteps approached from behind. Lynn didn't need to turn to know who it was. Arya had been pestering him for days.
"They are all so stupid," Arya said with a hint of disdain. She mimicked Lynn and climbed onto the low wall, sitting beside him, swinging her legs back and forth.
"Sansa only thinks about her prince. Theon only wants to show off in front of the King. Mother makes me practice embroidery; she says the ladies from the South will be watching me."
Arya mimicked Lady Catelyn's tone, pitching her voice high and looking a bit comical. But there was no smile on her face.
"I don't want them to watch me sew. I don't want to sew."
Lynn turned to look at her. The little girl's face was full of a stubbornness that didn't match her age.
"Then practice with your sword," Lynn said. He liked this Arya very much.
"Ser Rodrik won't teach me. He says swords are for boys," Arya's voice dropped, full of grievance. "Father said when winter is over, he'll let Bran and Rickon start learning too. Just not me."
Lynn didn't speak. instead, he pulled a thin twig from his chest pocket. Using the twig, he drew a crooked figure on the dusty wall.
"Let me tell you a story," Lynn said softly.
"In the distant East, further than Essos, there was a girl. Her country was invaded by enemies. Her father was old and weak, unable to go to war. So, she cut her long hair, put on her father's armor, and went to the army in his place."
...
Arya's eyes grew brighter as she listened. She stopped swinging her legs, completely absorbed.
When Lynn finished, she asked impatiently, "Did no one discover she was a girl?"
"They did," Lynn smiled. "But by then, she had already achieved great military exploits with her wisdom and bravery. She became a hero admired by all soldiers. In the end, she defeated the enemy and saved her country."
Lynn used the twig to draw a crown on the little figure's head.
"What was her name?" Arya pressed, her eyes shining like stars.
"Mulan." Lynn said the name softly.
"Mulan..." Arya chewed on the strange pronunciation.
This story wasn't like the knightly legends Ser Rodrik told. Nor was it like the boring old myths about the Children of the Forest from Old Nan. There was no magic, no dragons. Only a girl and her sword. Yet it made her heart race more than any other story.
"Do you know many stories like this?" Arya looked up at Lynn, her grey eyes reflecting his calm face.
"I know many. Joan of Arc, Nightingale, Mu Guiying, Fu Hao... they were all great heroes, second to none."
"Then tell them all to me later, okay?"
"Okay," Lynn nodded.
The noise of the courtyard seemed far away. Sunlight pierced through the clouds, falling on the two of them, bringing a touch of warmth.
Arya was silent for a long time. She looked at Lynn. At his always calm eyes, at his faded black cloak.
He was different from everyone in Winterfell.
Her father loved her but wanted her to be a lady. Her mother loved her but wanted her to be elegant like Sansa. Her brothers loved her but treated her like a little sister who needed protection.
Only Lynn. Only he would treat her as a warrior who could wield a sword. Only he would tell her the story of "Mulan."
He understood her.
"Lynn," Arya's voice suddenly became very serious.
Lynn turned to look at her.
"When I grow up, I want to marry you."
The little girl's face held no hint of a joke.
The smile on Lynn's face slowly froze. A single story stole this little girl's heart?
Actually, it wasn't that Arya wasn't reserved; it was just that Mulan's story really spoke to her heart. After all, it was a classic from another civilization; how could she resist it?
Lynn looked at Arya. She was too young. But he could wait for her to grow up. He urgently needed a foothold, and marrying into the Starks would be the optimal choice right now.
Though it would be difficult. After all, Arya was from the Stark family that had ruled the North for thousands of years. The blood of the Lord of Winterfell, the Warden of the North, and the most favored little princess.
He was a nobody who had just arrived, with no background or power, a deserter from the Night's Watch, a prisoner who barely secured his safety through a prophecy.
Marry him? It didn't look like a match at all.
However, Lynn wasn't afraid. For a transmigrator, crossing class boundaries wasn't something hard to do.
"Alright," Lynn reached out and ruffled Arya's messy hair as usual. A smile returned to his face. "But you're still young. Let's talk about it when you grow up."