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The blacksmith's shop rang with the music of creation.
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
The furnace roared, painting Mikken's sweaty face in shades of angry red.
Jon Snow stood nearby, watching the master at work.
"Thinner," Jon instructed. "Lighter than Bran's practice sword."
Mikken paused, his hammer hovering in the air. He used tongs to lift the glowing steel bar. In the gloom of the smithy, it looked like a captured sunbeam.
He frowned at Jon.
"Lord Snow, a blade that thin will snap if it hits a shield. Not fit for a boy."
Jon's face softened into a rare, faint smile.
"It's not for a boy. It's for Arya."
Mikken's eyes widened in understanding. He pictured the Lord's youngest daughterâalways running, always fighting, more wolf than lady.
"Ah." Mikken grinned, thrusting the steel back into the coals. He pumped the bellows. Sparks flew like fireflies. "I understand."
Jon looked past the flames, out into the courtyard.
He was leaving for the Wall. For the end of the world. To guard a frozen hell.
This swordâNeedleâwas the only thing he could leave behind. A piece of himself for the sister who understood him best.
In his room, Lynn was packing.
He sat on the edge of the bed, turning the Valyrian steel dagger over in his hands. The dragonbone hilt was warm, the ripples in the steel hypnotic.
The door creaked open.
Lynn sheathed the dagger and looked up.
Arya's head popped in. Her grey eyes were wide, a mix of nerves and excitement.
"They say you're leaving tomorrow," she said, slipping inside and closing the door.
Lynn nodded, tucking the dagger into his belt at the small of his back.
"To the Wall. With Jon."
"Can I come?"
She didn't wait for an answer. She rushed forward, grabbing his arm, looking up at him with fierce desperation.
"Take me with you!"
Lynn paused. "Are you crazy?"
"I'm not!" Arya's voice rose. "I don't want to stay here! I don't want to sew! I don't want to be a lady!"
"I want to fight! I want to see the world!"
Her eyes drifted to the sword at his hip. The hunger in her gaze was undeniable.
Lynn looked at her.
He knew the timeline. If Arya went South with Ned, she would lose Nymeria. Sansa would lose Lady. The hatred between Stark and Lannister would ignite on the Kingsroad.
But if she went North...
It changed everything.
Lynn stood up. "Come with me."
He marched out of the room. Arya blinked, then scrambled to follow.
Ned's solar was heavy with the weight of departure.
The Lord of Winterfell was buried in parchment, securing the North before he left for the snake pit of King's Landing.
"Father," Arya said.
Ned looked up, his brow furrowing. "Arya. You should be with Septa Mordane. You're skipping lessons again."
"Father, I want to go to the Wall with Lynn!"
Arya blurted it out.
Ned's face darkened. "Nonsense."
"It's not nonsense!" Arya stood her ground, chin high. "I hate it here! It's boring! I want an adventure!"
Ned sighed. He looked at his wild daughter. He couldn't scold her. She was too much like Lyanna.
"Arya," he said gently. "Come South with me. The South is warm. I'll hire a dancing master for you in King's Landing. The best swordsman in the city."
Arya's eyes lit up for a second, but then she looked at Lynn. She shook her head violently.
"No! I want to go to the Wall!"
Lynn stepped forward.
"My Lord," he said smoothly. "Perhaps a compromise."
"Let Lady Arya accompany Jon and me to the Wall. It's a safe journey. Once you're settled in King's Landing, I'll bring her South to join you myself."
Ned went silent.
He knew his daughter. Winterfell was a cage to her. King's Landing would be a prison.
"Let her come with me," Lynn pressed. "The Wall is harsh, but it's honest. And it's safe."
Ned looked at Lynn. The man who saved Bran. The man who saved Catelyn. The man who exposed the assassin.
Trust had roots now.
Ned exhaled slowly.
"Lynn."
He looked at the young man with deadly seriousness.
"I entrust her to you. Guard her with your life. Bring her back to me safely."
"I heard you refused Catelyn's reward," Ned continued. "So I'm giving you a command."
"I'm assigning a hundred men to your command."
What?
Lynn kept his face neutral, but his mind raced. A hundred men?
That was an army by Westerosi standards. Bear Island only had sixty fighting men.
"These are elite guards," Ned said. "Including cooks and supplies. I'll fund them. I only ask that you treat them well."
It was for Arya, of course. Ned wasn't sending his daughter into the wilderness with just a Crow and a bastard. He was sending a royal escort.
But for Lynn, it was power. Hard power.
Arya squealed with delight, practically vibrating.
"Thank you, Father!"
Lynn knelt on one knee. "I accept, My Lord. I won't fail you."
Ned walked around the desk and placed a hand on Lynn's shoulder.
"I see you're a man of honor, Lynn. I asked you to break your vows to the Watch, and you didn't complain."
"Serving House Stark is my honor," Lynn replied perfectly.
"When you return," Ned said, his voice lowering, "I want you to help me investigate the death of Jon Arryn."
"Do this, and I'll petition Robert for a lordship. You'll be my bannerman. You'll have land. You'll have a people."
Lordship.
The word hung in the air like a promise of gold.
Ned was investing in him. Heavily.
Lynn realized the game had shifted. He wasn't just a useful tool anymore. He was a rising star in the Stark constellation.
And if he played his cards right... if he kept Arya close...
Marriage was a ladder, too.
"Thank you, My Lord," Lynn said, bowing his head. "By the Old Gods, I won't disappoint you."
At the mention of the Old Gods, Ned's face softened completely.
"Good. Go now. Pack. Rest."
Lynn rose and left, Arya skipping beside him.
He had a Valyrian dagger. He had a hundred soldiers. He had the Lord's daughter.
The game wasn't just beginning.
He was already winning.
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