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Ned's gaze tried to pierce Lynn's calm exterior. See the secrets deep in his soul.
"What else did you see?"
This question amid the hearth's crackling felt especially heavy.
Lynn didn't answer immediately. Just raised his eyes. Calmly met the Warden of the North's gaze.
Those eyes held no fear, no evasion. Only bottomless tranquility.
"My lord." Lynn's voice was soft but exceptionally clear.
"I know you have many questions for me." "But prophecy is mysterious. Sometimes it appears uncontrollably in my mind."
"Sometimes actively prophesying requires unimaginable cost."
"The future is like crossroads in darkness. I can see one path's end is a cliff."
"But if you know the cliff's location now, you might rush to avoid it—ignore traps underfoot. Fall into another abyss instead."
These words—more persuasive than any speech.
Prophecy without cost? Obviously impossible.
Ned's tense body finally relaxed slightly. He understood.
Lynn was explaining a cruel truth in a way he could grasp.
Knowing too much not necessarily good.
Forcibly altering known tragedy might trigger fiercer backlash.
Once fate's gears are forced to turn, they'll crush all who resist—more brutally.
Seeing Ned's silence, Lynn spoke.
"My lord, going south I've seen things that will happen. I'll tell you solutions one by one."
"First, don't rush investigating Lord Arryn's death. Just guard against Cersei, Janos, and Baelish."
"Especially focus on Baelish." "Whatever he tells you—agree with him. But don't believe a single word. Not one."
"This man has no credibility whatsoever!"
"Second, if you act hastily, the gold cloaks will betray you like grass bending in wind."
"To investigate Lord Arryn's death properly, first weaken the City Watch. Best to control them yourself."
The gold cloaks named for their golden cloaks—answered directly to the Iron Throne. An important force maintaining the capital's law and order.
At least "surface order."
After King Robert's death, Ned could've controlled the situation as regent. But Littlefinger betrayed him.
Directly caused the gold cloaks to side with Cersei. Led to Ned's arrest and subsequent tragedy.
"Third—most important!" "King Robert's situation is far more dangerous than you think."
"Just remember one thing!" "As long as he lives, you live!"
"Watch his food and lodging closely. Don't let him hunt."
Ned's body shook. Face showed urgent alarm.
"You're saying someone wants to kill Robert?" "Who dares!"
Lynn shook his head. Refused to answer.
"My lord, I can only see fragments. As for the rest, I'm unclear."
House Lannister entrenched in King's Landing. Fighting them with just a few Northerners? Impossible.
Lynn wanted Ned to stabilize first. Play defense. Wait until Lynn's own forces developed. Stood firm. Then act.
Tell Ned directly? Lynn feared rigidly honorable Ned would lose his head. Cause irreversible consequences.
"I understand." "I'll do as you say!"
Ned nodded seriously.
Lynn added another layer of insurance.
"My lord, if King Robert truly has an accident—support Joffrey's coronation. Agree to any conditions Cersei proposes. Including flattery, fawning..."
"When they lower their guard return to the North immediately!"
"As long as you hold the North, whatever happens in King's Landing—you'll be safe!"
"Just one thing." Lynn looked directly into Ned's eyes. Spoke slowly.
"I fear you won't be flexible..."
Ned waved his large hand. "Don't worry. I'll do as you say!"
He wasn't a fool. Hearing Lynn's arrangements—he smelled danger.
Since he chose to trust Lynn, he'd see it through! Even if Lynn wanted to harm him—he had no choice!
Ned gazed at the young man before him.
This crow who escaped from the Wall. This... variable bearing mysterious prophetic ability.
"Lynn, can I trust you?"
Lynn nodded slightly. Tone without flattery. Only calm statement of fact.
"You pardoned me, my lord. Everything I have depends on Winterfell. On the entire North."
Getting his answer, Ned stopped asking about that ethereal future.
He made a decision.
"After the King leaves, go back to the Wall with Benjen. Explain your oath-breaking to the Lord Commander."
"When you return, I'll give you a new identity."
Ned looked at him. Word by word. "Become my personal guard. Come south to King's Landing with me."
These words more weight than any gold dragons or lands.
They meant Lynn would completely wash away prisoner and deserter stains. Found a foothold.
Even if that foothold was the storm-tossed House Stark.
For Lynn who desperately needed a springboard—enough!
Lynn lowered his eyes. Hid the surging waves in them.
"As you command, my lord."
The other end of the feast hall—atmosphere far less grave.
Cersei Lannister sat high at the head table. Elegant fingertips idly traced her silver goblet's rim.
Beside her, Catelyn wore a perfectly measured smile. Responded to the Queen's small talk.
But those blue Tully eyes hid lingering shadows.
"This is your first time in the North, Your Grace?" Catelyn initiated. Tried breaking awkward silence.
Cersei's gaze passed her. Landed on Sansa in the distance.
The girl stared dreamily at her son, Joffrey.
Cersei's mouth curved in a barely perceptible smile.
"Yes, this place is certainly... distinctive."
Catelyn's smile stiffened slightly. "I'm sure compared to King's Landing, it's quite harsh."
"When I first arrived, I was frightened too."
"Harsh?" Cersei's voice like King's Landing's finest silk. Smooth. But without warmth.
"More than harsh. The wind here turns women's skin to sandpaper."
Catelyn's hand on her cup tightened.
Just then—a figure approached with eagerness and longing.
Sansa.
She wore a new sky-blue gown. Hair impeccably arranged. Face flushed with excitement.
"Your Grace." Sansa lifted her skirt. Performed a flawless curtsy. "Mother."
Cersei's gaze slowly swept over Sansa.
That look—not viewing a future daughter-in-law. More like appraising a prized filly entering market.
"Hello, beautiful little dove." Cersei spoke. Tone rarely carrying praise.
"You're quite lovely."
Sansa's heart leapt at the compliment.
Cersei set down her cup. Leaned forward slightly. Drew close to Sansa.
Those emerald eyes glinted with all-seeing shrewness.
"How old are you, child?"
"Thirteen, Your Grace." Sansa answered obediently.
"Thirteen..." Cersei assessed her developing figure.
"Still growing?"
Sansa nodded, not understanding. "I think so, Your Grace."
Cersei's fingertip traced her goblet's wall. Made a soft ring. Then she asked that question.
"Have you flowered yet?"
The air seemed to freeze in that instant.
Sansa's flush instantly changed from excited pink to shameful crimson.
She opened her mouth. Couldn't speak. Could only look helplessly at her mother.
Catelyn's expression darkened immediately.
Brazenly violated anger rose from her heart.
Those blue eyes—for the first time showed undisguised hostility.
In the North. On her home ground. Before her face. Humiliating her daughter like this!
Cersei seemed not to see Catelyn's fury.
Just lifted her cup. Gently swirled the crimson wine. Mouth holding a playful smile.
"Not... not yet, Your Grace." Sansa's voice barely audible.
"Oh." Cersei seemed disappointed. Then smiled and changed topics.
"The direwolf embroidery on your dress is lovely. Did you make it yourself?"
Sansa grabbed the lifeline. Nodded quickly. "Yes, Your Grace."
"Such a clever girl." Cersei smiled kindly.
"Embroider something for me sometime."
Sansa agreed, flattered. Curtsied. Then fled back to her seat.
Cersei returned her casual gaze to Catelyn. Smile unchanged. Words ice-cold.
"All Seven Kingdoms are waiting for our houses to give them grandchildren."
Catelyn suppressed fury. Forced a stiff smile. "I've heard whispers."
Cersei's gaze returned to Sansa.
"Your daughter will become the court's jewel." The Queen spoke in proclamation tone.
"Such a delicate flower shouldn't be buried in the North's ice and snow."
Catelyn's expression cold as winter snow outside.
Meanwhile, back at her seat Sansa's embarrassment quickly replaced by another emotion.
Prince Joffrey was looking at her. Handsome face wearing a charming smile. Raised his cup to her from afar.
BOOM.
Sansa felt her cheeks burning.
She ducked her head in panic. Pulled her companion close. Babbled incoherently.
Tried hiding that sweetness and secret joy nearly overflowing from her chest.
That question from the Queen laced with humiliation already cast to the winds.
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