Lynn watched Myrcella's frantic retreat until her white figure completely vanished around the corridor's corner.
He withdrew his gaze, looked down at his tear-soaked clothes, then at the basin of blood on the table used to clean the wound.
Alright, now he needed some tools to completely shatter the fragile defense Myrcella had just built up with Cersei.
If he was too late, that little girl would be completely ruined by Cersei!
No time to lose!
Lynn walked to the desk, spread out a piece of parchment, dipped a quill in ink, and quickly wrote a few lines.
He was going to launch a precise strike against Myrcella.
He didn't use Varys's intelligence network, which was spread throughout King's Landing, but instead directly called the captain of his own guard.
"Find a pure white, curly-haired puppy, the most docile and clingy kind."
"It must be curly-haired!"
"Then go to the The Red Keep's kitchen and have them bake a lemon cake with the best ingredients, sprinkled with double the white sugar."
"Finally, go to the best musician in the city and find me a lute, I want the best one."
Although the captain of the guard was puzzled, he still accepted the order without hesitation and left.
After doing all this, Lynn sat in the chair and closed his eyes.
In his mind, the ancient song from the Summer Isles, "the last kiss," its melody echoed again and again.
He had no musical magic, but he had Greensight... The day before the wedding.
In Myrcella's room, the atmosphere was as oppressive as the sea before a storm.
The handmaidens were silent as cicadas.
They walked on tiptoes.
Fearing to make even the slightest sound that might disturb the princess who sat by the window in a daze.
Myrcella had been sitting like this all day.
She didn't speak, nor did she eat, just stared blankly out the window.
She was thinking about that secret, about that man, about her own pathetic and ridiculous fate.
Alas.
She was about to marry Lynn...
Just then, there was a soft knock on the door.
"Your Royal Highness."
A timid voice of a handmaiden came from outside the door.
"Lord Lynn... has come to see you."
Myrcella's body stiffened almost imperceptibly.
What was he doing here?
"Let him in."
Myrcella steadied herself, and as soon as she spoke, the door was pushed open.
Lynn walked in.
Today he wasn't wearing the black leather armor symbolizing power, but had changed into a simple white linen shirt.
He looked less sharp and more gentle.
In his hand, he carried a silver tray covered with a velvet cloth.
"I heard you haven't eaten all day."
"Here, I specially prepared this for you, see if you have an appetite."
Lynn walked up to Myrcella, placed the tray on the table beside her, and lifted the cover.
A rich, sweet caramel scent instantly filled the entire room.
It was a freshly baked lemon cake.
The golden cake body was sprinkled with a thick layer of white sugar.
It looked extremely tempting.
Myrcella's heart felt as if something had pricked it, neither lightly nor heavily.
Lemon cake?
Her favorite dessert!
Was this a coincidence?
"Try it?"
Lynn cut a small piece and personally fed it to her with a silver fork.
Myrcella looked at Lynn.
A ripple finally appeared in her empty green eyes.
She didn't refuse.
She opened her mouth and meekly took the cake.
The warm cake melted on her tongue.
The sweet taste she yearned for instantly exploded on her taste buds.
Sweet.
Delicious.
So delicious it made her want to cry.
"I..."
Myrcella was about to say something.
Outside the door, however, came a somewhat urgent scratching sound of paws, mixed with a few whimpers of a small animal.
"What's that sound?"
Myrcella asked subconsciously.
Lynn didn't answer, but simply turned and opened the door.
A snow-white ball of fur, like a flash of lightning, rushed in.
It directly pounced at Myrcella's feet, rubbing its fluffy little head affectionately against her skirt.
Its tail wagged like a rapidly spinning windmill.
This was a pure white, curly-haired puppy with not a single stray hair.
Its wet, obsidian-like eyes looked at her expectantly.
Boom—!
In Myrcella's head, it was as if something had exploded.
She stared blankly at the enthusiastic little creature at her feet, and the floodgates of memory instantly burst open.
She remembered her days in Casterly Rock.
She remembered that carefree afternoon, where she, too, chased a similarly snow-white, curly-haired puppy in the garden.
That was one of the few truly happy moments of her entire childhood.
But that puppy had unexpectedly died the day before she left Casterly Rock for King's Landing.
She had cried bitterly for it.
Since then, she had never kept any pets.
"You... how could you..."
Myrcella's voice trembled uncontrollably.
She slowly knelt down, reached out her hand, and gently stroked the puppy's soft fur.
The puppy comfortably narrowed its eyes, stuck out its pink tongue, and licked her fingertips.
Warm, wet.
Myrcella's eyes instantly reddened.
"I guessed you would like it."
Lynn's voice, like a feather, gently tickled her softest heartstrings.
Myrcella looked up.
Her green eyes, now misty with tears, stared intently at Lynn.
"How did you know?"
"How could you know all this?!"
Her voice was filled with incomprehensible confusion and shock.
The lemon cake, perhaps a coincidence.
But this dog... this could not possibly be a coincidence!
It was as if Lynn had broken into her long-sealed memories.
Then he dug out her most cherished and secret treasure, and even presented it to her!
"Because I was listening."
Lynn walked to Myrcella's side, knelt down, and looked at her eye to eye.
"Listening?"
"Yes."
Lynn's gaze was so gentle it could melt ice.
"I was listening to your heartbeat, listening to your breathing, listening to every murmur in your dreams."
"They told me what you liked, what you feared, and what you longed for."
Myrcella was completely stunned.
She looked into Lynn's deep eyes, as if about to be completely swallowed by that gentle ocean.
He said he was listening.
He had always been listening.
It turned out he wasn't indifferent.
He was just... watching her silently in his own way?
This realization, like a hot current, instantly broke through all the defenses she had built up with indifference and pretense.
Lynn knew this wasn't enough.
Lynn took out an antique-looking lute from behind him.
He didn't say another word, but simply sat cross-legged on the floor, holding the lute in his arms, and his slender fingers gently plucked the strings.
Ding—
A crisp note sounded in the silent room.
Immediately after, a somewhat unpolished yet incredibly familiar melody slowly flowed out.
The melody carried the dampness of the island, the warmth of the setting sun, and a hint of unspeakable sorrow.
"the last kiss."
It was that ancient song she only dared to clumsily play over and over again on her small lute in the deep, solitary night.
It was her deepest secret, hidden in her heart, never mentioned to anyone!
The song, just like her original yearning for love, was sweet and moving.
Myrcella's breathing completely stopped at this moment.
She looked at the man sitting on the floor, playing this secret song for her.
Listening to the melody that had clearly been practiced with care.
Tears, finally like broken pearls, rolled down uncontrollably.
A deception.
It was all a deception!
Mother said love was a lie, and power was the truth.
Mother said men were worthless, to be manipulated and controlled with tactics.
But now... if this was also a play Lynn was acting.
Then this play was too realistic, too moving, too... irresistible for her.
How did he know?
How on earth did he know all this?!
In this world, besides herself, no one else knew this secret!
Unless... unless he really was as he said!
He really could hear the voice in her heart!
He really... cared about her!
He was definitely not acting!
This thought, like a wildly growing vine, instantly entwined itself around Myrcella's entire heart.
She looked at Lynn, at his side profile that appeared incredibly gentle in the candlelight.
She suddenly felt.
Her background, her mother's madness, the kingdom's conspiracies, Lynn's philandering... at this moment, none of it mattered anymore.
She only knew.
This man in front of her belonged to her.
And could only belong to her.
Anyone who wanted to snatch him away from her.
Whether it was Ygritte from the North, or those two vixen from House Stark... they all had to die!
...On the wedding day.
The morning light, like a thin golden veil, lazily covered every tile in King's Landing.
The usual cries of fishmongers and bakers were today drowned out by a grander, more fervent clamor.
The entire city was awake!
Just to witness a wedding worthy of being recorded in history.
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