Arya's wrists were very slender.
Lynn held her hand, clearly feeling the rapid pulse beneath the thin skin.
She struggled symbolically a couple of times but couldn't break free.
The resistance felt less like defiance and more like a petulant, embarrassed plea.
"Let go!"
Arya whispered, her cheeks still flushed, her gray eyes not daring to meet Lynn's, but fixed intently on where their hands met.
"No."
Lynn's reply was crisp and decisive. He pulled her along, ignoring the curious stares of those around them, and walked directly towards the Tower of the Hand.
"You… why are you still so strong?"
Arya gave up struggling, muttering under her breath, but her feet followed him involuntarily.
"You've gotten weaker, Arya."
Lynn teased without turning his head.
"Always wearing dresses, fussing with lace and frills. Where's your sewing needle? Did you throw it into Blackwater Bay to feed the fish?"
"No, I didn't!"
Arya bristled like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
"I practice every day!"
She was eager to prove herself.
"Really?"
Lynn's tone was full of doubt.
"Then I'll have to check carefully, lest Syrio's Water Dance turn into a little girl's circle dance."
At the mention of Syrio Forel, Arya's eyes lit up, and her tone became serious.
"What he taught me, I'll never forget."
The two bickered all the way, passing through the bustling streets, and soon arrived at the foot of the Tower of the Hand.
The towering edifice stood out among the low-lying buildings of King's Landing, overlooking the dirty and desire-filled city.
The House Stark Guards at the entrance saw Arya and immediately bowed.
When their gaze fell upon Lynn beside Arya, they first froze, then their faces showed a mix of awe and excitement.
"Lord Lynn!"
They recognized him, the legend who had emerged from the North, now the King-Beyond-the-Wall, renowned throughout the Seven Kingdoms.
Lynn nodded to them, asked a couple of brief questions, then pulled Arya directly inside.
Along the way, all the servants and Guards who saw him stopped and cast curious or reverent glances his way.
Lynn's story had already spread throughout King's Landing, and in the embellished versions, Lynn leading the wildlings to attack the Seven Kingdoms had become the prevailing narrative.
The study on the top floor of the Tower of the Hand.
The door was open.
Ned Stark stood before a large map of Westeros, his brow deeply furrowed.
After only a little over a month apart, he seemed to have been drained of his spirit, thinner and older.
The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were deeper, and streaks of weathered gray had appeared at his temples at some point.
Life in King's Landing was like a giant millstone, relentlessly grinding away at the will of the Warden of the North.
"Father."
Arya called softly.
Ned slowly turned around.
The moment he saw Lynn, a violent ripple instantly stirred in his gray eyes.
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end, he just strode forward and gave Lynn a solid hug.
The embrace was strong, carrying the straightforwardness characteristic of Northerners.
"Good lad… you're finally back."
Ned's voice carried a heavy weariness.
He released Lynn, placed his hands on his shoulders, and scrutinized him from head to toe.
"You look stronger."
Ned breathed a sigh of relief, but the expression on his face remained grim.
He glanced at Arya, then at the two silent Unsullied behind Lynn.
One of them held a square wooden box wrapped in black cloth.
"Arya, you go out first." Ned's tone was unyielding.
"I won't!"
Arya immediately retorted.
She instinctively stood beside Lynn, like a protective wolf pup, watching her father warily.
"Whatever you're going to say, I want to hear it too!"
Ned frowned, about to erupt.
"Let her stay, Lord." Lynn spoke.
"Some things, she'll have to know sooner or later."
"She's no longer a little girl."
Ned was silent for a moment, then finally sighed and nodded.
He dismissed the attendants from the study and closed the heavy oak door.
"Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused me?"
Ned's first words were filled with hostility.
He pointed at the vast land north of the Wall on the map.
"King-Beyond-the-Wall!"
"You've let hundreds of thousands of wildlings into the Gifted Lands!"
"Over eighty thousand young men alone are capable of bearing arms and fighting!"
"Do you know what this means?"
"Lannister, Tyrell, Baratheon…"
"In the Small Council, those lords would love to immediately form a combined army and hang your head on the walls of King's Landing!"
"It was I!"
Ned's voice suddenly rose, his gray eyes bloodshot and filled with helplessness.
"It was I who, against all opposition, vouched for you with the honor of House Stark! Only then was this matter temporarily suppressed!"
Lynn listened quietly, offering no rebuttal.
He could imagine the immense pressure this upright Northern lord had endured in King's Landing's cutthroat political arena to protect him.
This favor was not small.
"And Robert."
Ned's tone grew heavier, even tinged with apprehension.
"You must be careful of him, Lynn."
"He's no longer the Robert I knew."
"The Iron Throne and wine have completely corrupted his mind."
"He's now temperamental, suspicious, and sometimes, he won't even listen to me."
"He fears you, Lynn."
"He fears your army, fears your title as King-Beyond-the-Wall."
"He doesn't say it, but I know he dreams of getting rid of you every night."
Hearing her father say this, Arya's small face turned pale.
She clutched Lynn's sleeve tightly, her palms clammy with cold sweat.
Only then did she realize that Lynn's return was not a triumphant homecoming, but an entry into a carefully prepared slaughterhouse.
"I understand, Lord."
Lynn's expression remained calm.
As if King Robert, who Ned spoke of as capable of destroying him, was merely 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 probably already reached Robert's ears, and now, escaping was absolutely impossible.
Ned took a deep breath and spoke of the last matter.
He hadn't wanted to mention this, but as a father, he had to.
"And your marriage to Arya."
Ned's gaze fell upon his stubborn little daughter, his eyes becoming complex and pained.
"I once promised Arya, right there in the Hand's Tourney grounds."
"Lynn, I know you're a good boy."
"You're a few years older than Robb, but still a boy. I treated you as I treated Robb."
"One could say that, despite having no blood relation, I always considered you my adopted son."
"But, I am, first and foremost, a father."
"Arya's father."
Ned's voice carried an unshakeable resolve.
"If you cannot safely pass His Majesty the King this time…"
"I will not give Arya to you."
"I cannot let her follow you into a future that is surely doomed to ruin."
Boom—!
Ned's words exploded in Arya's mind.
"Father!"
Arya shrieked, 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.
What was this if not abandonment?
Lynn didn't speak; he simply patted Arya's back gently, signaling her to calm down.
He knew Ned was not wrong.
This was a father protecting his daughter in his own way.
It was human nature, and he couldn't fault him.
If Lynn himself had a daughter in the future, he wouldn't want her to marry such a person either.
But sometimes, actions speak louder than words.
"Lord."
Lynn finally spoke, his voice calm and confident.
"Don't worry, I haven't returned this time to fight King Robert."
Lynn gestured for the Unsullied behind him to bring forward the wooden box.
"I've come to present a gift."
Lynn personally removed the black cloth.
A head, treated with lime and spices, yet still clearly recognizable, appeared before Ned and Arya.
The handsome yet distorted face was filled with the fear and unwillingness of its final moments.
Viserys Targaryen.
"This is…"
Ned stared intently at the head.
"The Targaryen remnant, I have already taken care of him for His Majesty the King."
Lynn's tone was as casual as if he were discussing a trivial matter.
"I believe King Robert will like this gift."
Ned looked at the head, then at Lynn, and a storm raged in his heart.
He hadn't expected Lynn to actually kill Viserys!
He had truly done it.
This gift was indeed substantial enough.
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'm still a merchant, Lord."
"I've brought something, something that will drive the entire Seven Kingdoms mad."
"When His Majesty the King and all the nobles can't do without my business, do you think they'll still care who I am?"
Ned was stunned.
He completely didn't understand what Lynn was saying.
Just as he was about to press for answers, the study door was heavily knocked from outside.
"Lord Hand!"
The anxious voice of Ser Jaremy Rykker, the captain of the Guards, came from outside the door.
"His Majesty the King's messenger has arrived!"
"His Majesty the King… wishes to see Lord Lynn immediately in the Iron Throne hall!"