Dawn had just broken.
The courtyards of Winterfell were already filled with the whinnying of horses and the excited barking of hounds. Servants, breath puffing white in the cold air, led restless stallions. Knights laughed loudly, checking their saddles and bows. The air was thick with the scent of leather, horse sweat, and morning frost.
King Robert Baratheon still had the traces of a hangover on his puffy eyelids. But he was in high spirits. For him, nothing could dispel the boredom of Winterfell better than a good hunt.
"Ned!" Robert's booming voice drowned out the noise of the courtyard. "Stop dawdling! The boars of the North won't wait for us!"
Robert threw an arm around Ned's shoulder, using so much force that Ned stumbled.
Ned Stark had changed into leather armor suitable for riding, a look of helplessness on his face. He wasn't keen on this. But he couldn't refuse the King's enthusiasm.
His gaze swept through the crowd and soon found the figure standing in the shadow of the colonnade.
Lynn.
Wearing a black cloak that fluttered in the wind and a longsword at his waist, he was as quiet as a stone.
Ned walked over. After last night's secret talk, his view of this young man had completely changed. It was no longer just protector and prisoner. Instead, there was a subtle trust, tinged with reliance.
"Lynn," Ned's voice was steady. "Come with us. Spending a day on horseback is better than being cooped up in the castle. And with you there, I'd feel more at ease."
That last sentence was his true intention.
Lynn looked up. He saw the sincere grey eyes of Ned, and also the curious gaze cast by King Robert not far away.
Lynn shook his head. "Thank you for your kindness, my Lord. But the old wounds from fighting the bandits are still aching." He pointed to his ribs and arm. "I'm afraid a long ride would be too much. I want to stay in the castle and do some recovery exercises."
This reason was both reasonable and showed the discipline of a warrior.
The invitation in Ned's eyes turned into understanding. He nodded. "Alright. Take care of yourself."
Ned patted Lynn heavily on the shoulder, then turned to join the King's party.
The horn sounded again. The massive hunting party poured out of Winterfell's gates. The sound of hooves and barking dogs gradually faded.
The courtyard quieted down instantly. After the clamor receded, an empty silence enveloped the entire castle.
The calm on Lynn's face slowly faded as the last rider disappeared from view.
He didn't go back to his room. Instead, sword in hand, he crossed the empty courtyard and walked toward the forgotten tower.
The First Keep.
Wind whistled through the broken crenellations, sounding like sobbing.
Lynn chose a spot out of the wind. The view here was open, yet secluded enough not to attract attention.
Lynn drew his longsword. The blade traced cold arcs in the pale daylight.
Thrust. Block. Dodge.
He seemed focused, as if he were truly just a diligent warrior practicing his swordplay. But his ears were catching every sound around him, and his eyes were subtly locked on that ancient tower.
He was waiting.
Waiting for a boy, and a pair of siblings. Waiting for a chance to change the fate of the entire North, perhaps even the Seven Kingdoms.
Time ticked by in the monotonous sound of sword swings.
Until a small figure in a grey tunic broke into his vision.
Lynn sheathed his sword.
Bran Stark. The boy ran around the empty castle like an energetic little wolf. With his father and brothers out hunting, he had been left behind. Bored, climbing became his only joy.
Bran's gaze was soon attracted to the oldest building in Winterfell. The First Keep. He had climbed it countless times. But the boy's face still showed an eagerness to try.
Lynn had taken Bran's every move into account.
Bran began to prepare for the climb, while his direwolf, Summer, sat on the ground, tilting his head to watch Bran, whimpering uneasily.
Here they come.
Almost at the same time. Another tall, golden figure slipped silently out from the direction of the main keep.
Jaime Lannister. He wasn't wearing his dazzling golden armor, just understated hunting gear. His steps were light and alert, his eyes constantly scanning the surroundings. After confirming no one was around, he slipped into the shadows of the First Keep.
Immediately after. Queen Cersei also appeared. She covered her glorious golden hair with a hood and quickly followed Jaime's steps.
The two figures, one after the other, disappeared into the dark doorway of the tower.
Lynn smiled. Everything was exactly as he remembered.
Bran had already started climbing. Like a nimble monkey, using both hands and feet, he found leverage in the cracks of the mottled stone wall, constantly moving upward.
Lynn's breathing became extremely light. The sword in his hand stopped moving. He began to shift his steps, seemingly unintentionally moving closer to the base of the tower.
Every step was calculated precisely. He had to appear in a spot where he would "just happen" to pass by. He had to make the most "instinctive" reaction the moment the boy fell.
Not too early. Not too late.
The wind carried a sound—a suppressed panting that didn't belong to a child—leaking from a high window of the tower.
Lynn looked up. He saw the small figure had already climbed to the upper levels of the tower.
The top floor of the First Keep had been sealed in dust for a long time. A high window was broken. Cold wind poured in, kicking up dust from the floor. Sunlight stabbed through the narrow arrow slits, carving clear beams of light in the air, illuminating the dancing dust motes.
Here was the most secret corner of Winterfell.
Cersei Lannister leaned against the cold stone wall. Her gorgeous silk dress had been casually pushed down. Her waterfall-like golden hair was spread messily against the dusty wall.
Jaime Lannister had also taken off his cumbersome cloak, wearing only a white shirt. Same golden hair, same emerald eyes.
"We shouldn't be here," Cersei's voice held a trace of breathlessness, and a hint of excitement. "It's too dangerous."
"Dangerous?" Jaime looked up, his face wearing his usual smile of indifference to everything in the world. "Robert and his Northern fools are probably chasing a doe's backside right now. Who would care about us?"
Jaime reached out, his fingertips gently tracing Cersei's slightly trembling skin. The movement was full of possession and love.
"I waited a month. Traveling gave me no chance," Jaime's voice became husky. He pulled Cersei close, leaning down to smell the scent of her hair. "A whole month. I'm going crazy."
Cersei let out a suppressed cry. The cold stone wall and the hot bodies formed a stark contrast. Dust danced wildly in the beams of light. Subtle, suppressed sounds rang intermittently in this forgotten tower.
And just outside the tower. A small figure was using hands and feet to climb up along the ancient wall.
It was Bran Stark.
He loved climbing. He loved the feeling of having all of Winterfell beneath his feet. Today, the King and Father were out, and Ser Rodrik wouldn't be around to scold him. This was the best chance. He wanted to climb the First Keep that no one dared to climb.
The wind blew past his cheeks, bringing a biting chill, but it made him even more excited. Familiar rocks, solid handholds. He moved quickly up the vertical wall like a nimble monkey.
Higher and higher. The people in the courtyard became tiny black dots.
Then, Bran heard a sound. Coming from the window at the top of the tower. Not the wind. The sound was strange, like someone crying.
Curiosity drove him to speed up.
He climbed onto the window sill.
And then, Bran saw it.