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Arya's wrist was slender.
Holding it, Lynn could clearly feel the rapid pulse beneath her thin skin.
She struggled symbolically a couple of times but didn't break free. The force she used felt less like resistance and more like a flushed, petulant coquetry.
"Let go!"
Arya lowered her voice. The blush on her cheeks hadn't faded, and her grey eyes didn't dare meet Lynn's, instead staring fixedly at where their hands were joined.
"No."
Lynn's answer was crisp and decisive. Ignoring the curious gazes of the people around them, he pulled her straight toward the Tower of the Hand.
"You... how are you still so strong?"
Arya gave up struggling, muttering under her breath, though her feet followed him involuntarily.
"It's you who's gotten weaker, Arya," Lynn teased without looking back.
"Wearing dresses all day, playing with lace and frills. Where is your Needle? Did you throw it into Blackwater Bay to feed the fish?"
"I did not!"
Arya bristled instantly, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
"I practice every day!"
She was eager to prove herself.
"Is that so?"
Lynn's tone was full of skepticism.
"Then I'll have to check properly later. I hope you haven't turned the Water Dance Syrio taught you into a maiden's circle dance."
At the mention of Syrio Forel, Arya's eyes lit up, and her tone became solemn.
"I will never forget what he taught me. Not for my whole life."
Bickering all the way, they passed through the noisy streets and soon arrived at the foot of the Tower of the Hand.
The towering structure stood like a crane among chickens amidst the low buildings of King's Landing, overlooking the filthy, desire-filled city.
The Stark household guards at the entrance bowed immediately upon seeing Arya.
When their eyes landed on Lynn beside her, they froze for a moment, then their faces showed a mix of awe and excitement.
"Lord Lynn!"
They recognized him—the legend who had walked out of the North, the King Beyond the Wall who now shook the Seven Kingdoms.
Lynn nodded to them, asked a few simple questions, and then pulled Arya straight inside.
Along the way, every servant and guard who saw him stopped in their tracks, casting looks of curiosity or reverence.
Lynn's story had long spread throughout King's Landing. In the exaggerated versions, the mainstream rumor was that Lynn intended to lead the wildlings to conquer the Seven Kingdoms.
Top floor of the Tower of the Hand, the Hand's solar.
The door was open.
Ned Stark stood before a large map of Westeros, his brow furrowed deep.
It had been little more than a month, yet he looked as if his spirit had been drained. He was thinner, and older.
The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were deeper, and a touch of frosty grey had appeared at his temples.
Life in King's Landing was like a giant millstone, ruthlessly grinding down the will of the Warden of the North.
"Father."
Arya called out softly.
Ned turned slowly.
The moment he saw Lynn, a violent wave of emotion surged in his grey eyes.
He opened his mouth as if to speak, but in the end, he simply strode forward and gave Lynn a solid embrace.
The hug was strong, carrying the straightforwardness characteristic of the Northmen.
"Good lad... you finally came back."
Ned's voice was heavy with fatigue.
He released Lynn, held him by the shoulders, and looked him up and down carefully.
"You look sturdier."
Ned breathed a sigh of relief, but the expression on his face remained grave.
He glanced at Arya, then at the two silent Unsullied standing behind Lynn.
One of them was holding a square wooden box wrapped in black cloth.
"Arya, wait outside," Ned's tone brooked no argument.
"No!"
Arya retorted immediately.
She instinctively stood by Lynn's side, like a little wolf guarding its food, looking warily at her father.
"Whatever you have to say, I want to hear it too!"
Ned frowned, about to scold her.
"Let her stay, my Lord," Lynn spoke up.
"There are things she will have to know sooner or later."
"She is not a little girl anymore."
Ned was silent for a moment, then finally sighed and nodded.
He dismissed the attendants in the solar and closed the heavy oak door.
"Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused me?"
Ned's first sentence was full of gunpowder.
He pointed to the vast land north of the Wall on the map.
"King Beyond the Wall!"
"You let hundreds of thousands of wildlings into the Gift!"
"Just the fighting men capable of bearing arms number over eighty thousand!"
"Do you know what that means?"
"Lannister, Tyrell, Baratheon..."
"In the Small Council, those high lords wanted nothing more than to immediately form a coalition army and hang your head on the walls of King's Landing!"
"It was me!"
Ned's voice rose sharply, his grey eyes full of bloodshot veins and helplessness.
"It was me who argued against the majority, using the honor of House Stark to vouch for you! That is the only reason this matter has been temporarily suppressed!"
Lynn listened quietly, not refuting.
He could imagine the immense pressure this honorable Duke of the North had withstood to protect him in the power arena of King's Landing, surrounded by jackals and wolves.
This was no small debt of gratitude.
"And Robert."
Ned's tone became heavier, even tinged with apprehension.
"You must be careful of him, Lynn."
"He is not the Robert I knew back then."
"The throne and the wine have thoroughly corroded his mind."
"He is moody and suspicious now. Sometimes, he won't even listen to me."
"He fears you, Lynn."
"He fears your army, and he fears your title of King Beyond the Wall."
"He doesn't say it, but I know he dreams of getting rid of you at night."
Hearing her father speak like this, Arya's small face turned pale.
She gripped Lynn's sleeve tightly, her palms slick with cold sweat.
She realized only now that Lynn's return was not a glorious homecoming, but a step into a slaughterhouse meticulously prepared for him.
"I understand, my Lord."
Lynn's expression remained calm.
It was as if the King Robert that Ned described—the one capable of dooming him eternally—was just an insignificant character.
Ned looked at his nonchalant demeanor, feeling both anxious and angry.
But since Lynn had already entered the city, the news had likely reached Robert's ears long ago. Running was no longer an option.
Ned took a deep breath and spoke of the last matter.
He hadn't wanted to say this, but as a father, he had to.
"There is also the matter of your marriage to Arya."
Ned's gaze fell on his stubborn little daughter, his eyes becoming complex and painful.
"I promised Arya to you, right there in the Hand's tourney grounds."
"Lynn, I know you are a good lad."
"You are a few years older than Robb, but you are still a child in the end. I treat you as I treat Robb."
"One could say that although we share no blood, I have always looked upon you as my own foster son."
"But, first and foremost, I am a father."
"Arya's father."
Ned's voice carried an unshakeable resolve.
"If you cannot pass the King's test safely this time..."
"I will not give Arya to you."
"I cannot let her follow you to face a future where you are destined to be crushed to pieces."
Boom——!
Ned's words exploded in Arya's mind.
"Father!"
Arya screamed, looking at Ned in disbelief.
"How can you say that! How can you..."
She didn't know how to continue, and tears instantly welled up.
She couldn't believe that the father who loved her most would say such heartless words when Lynn needed support the most.
If this wasn't abandonment, what was it?
Lynn didn't speak. He simply patted Arya gently on the back, signaling her to calm down.
He knew Ned wasn't wrong.
This was a father protecting his daughter in his own way.
It was human nature; he couldn't be blamed.
Even if Lynn had a daughter in the future, he wouldn't want her to marry a man in such a position either.
But sometimes, actions were far more persuasive than words.
"My Lord."
Lynn finally spoke, his voice calm and confident.
"Rest assured, I didn't come back this time to fight a war with King Robert."
Lynn signaled the Unsullied behind him to bring up the wooden box.
"I came to present a gift."
Lynn personally lifted the black cloth.
A head, treated with lime and spices but with features still clearly recognizable, appeared before Ned and Arya.
The handsome yet twisted face was written with the fear and unwillingness of his final moments.
Viserys Targaryen.
"This is..."
Ned stared straight at the head.
"The remnant of House Targaryen. I have cleaned him up for His Grace."
Lynn's tone was as indifferent as if he were discussing a trivial matter.
"I believe King Robert will like this gift."
Ned looked at the head, then at Lynn, a storm rising in his heart.
He hadn't expected that Lynn could actually kill Viserys!
He had really done it.
This gift indeed carried enough weight.
It was enough to dispel most of Robert's suspicions.
But, it wasn't enough.
As long as Lynn remained the King Beyond the Wall, he would forever be a sword hanging over Robert's head.
"As for the rest..."
Lynn smiled, a hint of mystery in his expression.
"I am still a merchant, my Lord."
"I brought something with me. Something that will make the entire Seven Kingdoms go mad."
"When the King and all the nobles cannot live without my business, do you think they will care who I really am?"
Ned was stunned.
He didn't understand what Lynn was talking about at all.
Just as he wanted to ask more, the door to the solar was knocked heavily from the outside.
"Lord Hand!"
The anxious voice of Jacelyn Bywater, captain of the Hand's guard, came from outside.
"The King's herald is here!"
"The King... summons Lord Lynn to the Iron Throne immediately!"