The door was pushed open gently.
A faint creak sounded exceptionally clear in the silent room.
Lynn didn't turn around.
He sat shirtless on a low stool in front of the hearth, letting the warm firelight lick at his skin, which was crisscrossed with wounds.
The air was thick with the mixed scent of herbs and blood.
Arya slipped in soundlessly and quickly closed the door behind her.
She stood there, her small hand gripping the hem of her tunic tightly. In the dim light, her grey eyes stared unblinkingly at Lynn's back.
Across his broad back lay more than a dozen purple bruises and cuts.
The worst wound stretched from his left shoulder to his hip.
It had been crudely stitched, looking like an ugly centipede crawling across his solid muscle.
That was left by a Watchman wielding a warhammer in the final bout of the afternoon.
Arya's nose stung, and her eyes instantly reddened.
She walked quickly to Lynn's side, watching him clumsily try to apply the black, foul-smelling ointment Maester Aemon had given him to a wound under his ribs with a piece of linen.
"You're an idiot!"
Arya's voice was thick with tears, a mix of anger and anxiety.
Lynn's hand paused.
He turned his head to see Arya biting her lip, stubbornly refusing to let her tears fall.
She looked like a little wolf pup that had been provoked but didn't know what to do.
Arya snatched the ointment from Lynn and began applying it to his sword wounds.
"Why do you have to fight so hard?"
"You already beat them!"
"You've already proved yourself!"
Arya's voice grew louder, trembling in a way she didn't even notice.
In her heart, Lynn was already the greatest hero in Westeros.
And he was smart, too.
Lynn didn't need to prove anything to anyone.
Especially not to those "crows" with foul mouths and cloudy eyes.
"Lynn, I am a daughter of House Stark."
"If I say the word, Lord Commander Mormont will let you go!"
"He swore an oath to my father, to House Stark!"
Lynn didn't speak. He just looked at Arya quietly.
The firelight danced in the depths of his eyes, reflecting the little girl's face full of heartache and grievance.
Lynn reached out, wanting to ruffle her hair.
But seeing his hand covered in ointment and blood, he pulled it back.
"Arya."
Lynn's voice was very soft.
"I'm not doing this to prove anything."
He sat Arya down on a stool beside him, and the two of them turned to face the warm hearth.
Lynn's gaze seemed to pierce through the dancing flames to somewhere far away.
"If I can't even walk out of this tiny Castle Black..."
Lynn paused.
"How can I ever walk back into Winterfell with my head held high?"
"And marry you?"
The room fell into a dead silence.
Only the slight crackle of burning pine in the hearth remained.
Arya froze completely.
She stared blankly at Lynn's profile.
That face, outlined sharply by the firelight, looked incredibly serious at this moment.
To... marry... me?
Those words exploded in Arya's small head like thunderclaps.
She had thought of many possibilities.
She thought Lynn was doing it for honor, for freedom, even to prove his ability to Ned Stark.
But she never thought...
That every drop of blood Lynn shed in the courtyard, every wound on his body, was for her.
For a promise so distant, yet so solemn.
"Waaaah!"
Arya couldn't hold it back anymore and burst into loud sobs.
Tears rolled down her cheeks like a broken dam.
But this time, it wasn't from heartache.
Nor was it from grievance.
It was an emotion that made her heart tremble violently, something words couldn't describe.
She lunged forward, hugging Lynn tightly from behind.
Her small arms used all their strength.
As if she wanted to merge herself into Lynn's body.
She buried her face deep in Lynn's back.
Scalding tears soaked the bandages wrapped around him.
Lynn's body stiffened slightly.
His wounds stung sharply from the girl's embrace.
But he didn't move.
He just let the girl hug him, feeling her body tremble, listening to her suppressed cries.
Lynn's goal wasn't just this, of course.
But this was the only explanation suitable for Arya's ears.
In Westeros, where toxic masculinity ran rampant, when had Arya ever heard something like this?
She was moved to death.
After a long time.
Arya's crying gradually stopped.
She let go and walked around to face him.
Her eyes, red and swollen from crying, shone startlingly bright in the firelight.
She stood on tiptoes, reached out a small hand, and messily wiped the tear tracks from her face with her sleeve.
Then, in an incredibly solemn tone, she said to Lynn:
"I'll wait for you."
After saying that, Arya suddenly noticed there were others in Lynn's room!
Two guards were standing in the shadows, watching them with indescribable grins on their faces.
Arya felt her face burn hot.
She quickly covered her face, turned, and ran out of the room.
Leaving Lynn alone, sitting quietly in the firelight.
He looked down at his hands, calloused from repeatedly gripping a sword.
The corner of his mouth slowly hooked up into an arc.
The night grew deeper.
The castle fell completely silent.
Only the wind howled like ghosts outside.
Lynn lay on the bed, breathing evenly, seemingly fast asleep.
The door to the room was pushed open a crack by a shadow, soundlessly.
A man dressed in black slipped in like a cat, without a sound.
In his hand, he gripped a dagger.
Under the faint moonlight filtering through the window, the dagger glinted with a ghostly white light.
The shadow approached the bed step by step.
He looked at the sleeping figure, a look of savage killing intent flashing in his eyes.
He raised the dagger high.
Just as he was about to stab down.
From the shadows in the corner of the room, two figures suddenly erupted.
Stark guards.
They didn't even make a sound.
A steel blade sliced cleanly across the assassin's throat from behind.
Another longsword pierced his heart from the side.
Squelch.
Warm blood sprayed out.
The assassin's body froze.
He looked down in disbelief at the sword tip protruding from his chest.
A gurgling sound came from his throat.
Then, he collapsed limply.
The whole process was lightning fast.
The assassin was given no chance to react.
On the bed.
Lynn slowly opened his eyes.
He sat up and looked at the corpse still twitching on the floor.
"Someone actually dared to assassinate me?"
Lynn found it somewhat incredible.
And just then.
A voice only Lynn could hear rang in his mind.
[Your soldiers killed 1 enemy. Experience +2]
[Current Experience: 2]
Lynn's body shook violently.
His pupils contracted to pinpoints in an instant.
He didn't kill the man.
Torren and the other guard killed him.
And yet... it increased his experience points?
Thunder seemed to explode in Lynn's brain.
He snapped his head up to look at the two guards retreating back into the shadows.
Looking at the unwavering loyalty in their eyes.
He remembered what Ned Stark had told him at Winterfell.
"This squad of a hundred men is yours to command."
"They answer only to you."
So that was it.
As long as they were people who belonged completely to him.
The enemies they killed... the experience would count for him too!
An indescribable ecstasy instantly swept through Lynn's entire body.
The biggest limitation he had faced was shattered.
He no longer needed to do everything personally.
He could absolutely build an army loyal to himself.
An army... that could farm infinite experience points for him!
The world, from this moment on, truly became interesting.