Inside the Tower of the Hand.
Sansa Stark stood by the window, looking down at the Kingsroad below, which was already covered in flowers.
She hadn't slept all night.
She truly couldn't sleep.
Beneath her beautiful blue eyes, there was a faint bluish tint, cleverly concealed with makeup.
She wore a sky-blue gown, her favorite color, and the color of the Winterfell sky.
The neckline and cuffs of the dress were embroidered with delicate Direwolf patterns in silver thread.
This was her pride as the eldest daughter of House Stark.
She watched the maids lavishly scatter baskets of golden rose petals onto the cold flagstones.
Those petals were supposed to be for her.
The man who was about to be worshipped by thousands and marry a princess was supposed to be her husband!
But now, she was merely an onlooker?
A pitiful onlooker, dressed in finery, forced to offer'sincere' blessings at her rival's wedding...
"Miss Sansa, it's time for you to depart."
The maid's voice sounded behind her.
Sansa didn't turn around, simply giving a soft "Mmm."
She cast one last glance at the golden sea outside the window, then turned and walked out of the suffocating room.
Each step made her fractured heart even more fragile...
The atmosphere within Maegors Holdfast, however, was completely different.
Myrcella Baratheon, the undisputed protagonist of the day, sat quietly before her dressing table.
She allowed a dozen maids to buzz around her like worker bees around a queen, applying the final touches to her appearance.
She was wearing a gown that would drive every woman in the Seven Kingdoms wild.
Fine ivory-white silk from Lys flowed with a soft sheen.
The style of the dress was not overly elaborate, yet its perfect tailoring accentuated the girl's nascent, graceful curves.
The most breathtaking detail was the pattern intricately woven with the finest gold thread on the hem and corset.
The stag of House Baratheon.
It dominated the ivory-white silk with an almost arrogant posture.
Hidden beneath intricate lace and scattered pearls, they were not obvious from a distance.
But once approached, an undeniable majesty and oppressive presence would rush forth.
Cersei had personally chosen this for her.
Myrcella looked at herself in the mirror.
Her beautiful face was filled with shyness and joy.
She touched the magnificent golden stag embroidered on her chest.
She couldn't help but wonder.
She wondered what Lynn's expression would be when he saw her.
Would he like her, looking so beautiful?
Myrcella's lips curved upward uncontrollably.
She greatly anticipated that moment...
At the same time, the Tower of the Hand.
Lynn was already fully dressed.
He had not chosen the ornate and luxurious attire of southern nobles.
He wore a fitted long tunic made of fine black velvet, without any superfluous decoration.
The only splash of color was his unique three-headed dragon emblem, embroidered with mithril thread on the collar and cuffs.
Lynn turned and walked out of the room...
The bells of the Great Sept of Baelor tolled, one after another, echoing solemnly over King's Landing.
Inside the Sept, the powerful and prominent figures of the Seven Kingdoms were gathered.
King Robert sat askew on the lavish chair specially prepared for him in the front row.
He held a massive golden goblet in his hand, guzzling wine, his face flushed.
Queen Cersei sat beside him, a noble and confident smile on her face.
Sansa, meanwhile, was placed in an inconspicuous corner.
She gazed at the colossal seven-pointed star stained-glass window, watching the sunlight cast colorful patterns on the floor through the glass.
She felt like a clumsy actor who had stumbled onto the wrong stage.
Every smiling face, every congratulation here, mercilessly pierced her heart.
She regretted it.
She truly regretted it.
She regretted why she hadn't been a little braver that night.
If... if that night.
She hadn't interrupted herself because of Myrcella.
If she had really, as she imagined, sat on Lynn's armrest and kissed Lynn's lips...
Would the outcome have been different from today?
Would Lynn have rejected this absurd wedding for her?
This thought, once it appeared, could no longer be dispelled.
Just then, the great doors of the Sept slowly opened.
Everyone's gaze turned in unison.
Myrcella appeared.
She was arm in arm with Ned Stark, bathed in sunlight.
Like a walking ivory statue.
She was too beautiful.
Breathtakingly beautiful.
So beautiful that the entire Sept paled in comparison.
Sansa watched her.
Watching the exquisitely beautiful gown Myrcella wore, watching the flawless smile on her face.
She felt her breath utterly stolen by Myrcella at that moment.
Ned Stark, expressionless, walked Myrcella step by step down the seemingly endless red carpet.
Sansa watched her father.
He was personally delivering another girl to the man who should have been hers...
At that moment, she even had a crazy thought.
To rush up.
To rush up, just like in the love stories sung by bards!
To tell everyone, this man is mine!
But she couldn't.
Her name was Sansa Stark.
Behind her was the honor of the entire North.
She couldn't disgrace her father, couldn't let House Stark become the laughingstock of the entire Seven Kingdoms.
She could only stand there, watching helplessly, like an incompetent coward.
Ned finally reached Lynn.
He placed Myrcella's hand into Lynn's.
At that moment of handover, Sansa felt as if she heard the sound of her own heart breaking.
A throbbing pain.
The High Septon stepped forward.
His old and lengthy voice echoed in the silent Sept.
"Under the light of the Seven Gods, we gather here today to witness the union of two souls."
"Lynn, do you take Myrcella of House Baratheon, to shelter her with this cloak?"
Lynn draped the cloak with the three-headed dragon emblem over Myrcella's shoulders.
This also symbolized Myrcella leaving her father's house and joining her husband's.
"I do."
Lynn's voice was calm and clear.
Sansa closed her eyes in agony.
A Septon quickly walked over.
"Father, Mother, Warrior, Maiden, Smith, Crone, Stranger."
"By the Seven Gods, I call them to witness."
"Lynn, you may begin."
Lynn nodded.
He looked at the shy and charming Myrcella before him and slowly began.
"In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just."
"In the name of the Mother, I charge you to be merciful."
"In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave."
"In the name of the Maiden, I charge you to protect all women and children."
Myrcella also repeated these vows to Lynn.
"From this day forward, until the end of life."
After Myrcella finished the shared vows, the Septon nodded.
"Here, before gods and men, I declare Lynn and Myrcella to be husband and wife."
"From now on, they are one, with one heart and one mind, to live out this life together."
"One to begin, ending as one."
..."Alright, stop talking, I do!"
Myrcella's voice was clear, with an eagerness that abruptly interrupted the sacred vows.
The entire Sept instantly fell into an eerie silence.
Everyone was stunned by this sudden turn of events.
Even the High Septon and the Septon were gaping, forgetting what they were supposed to say or do next.
However, what was more shocking was yet to come.
Before anyone could react, Myrcella suddenly stood on tiptoe.
She hooked one arm around Lynn's neck, and with the other hand, firmly pressed the back of Lynn's head.
Then, Myrcella, with an almost savage, possessive, and predatory gesture, fiercely kissed him!
No shyness, no demureness.
Only the most irresistible declaration!
Boom—!
Inside the Sept, pandemonium instantly erupted!
King Robert leaped from his chair.
He slammed the golden goblet in his hand onto the ground, erupting in thunderous laughter and applause!
"Hahahaha! Good! Well done!"
Cersei's smile grew even brighter, her smugness almost overflowing from the corners of her eyes.
Very good.
Her daughter had finally learned how to wear a mask.
She believed.
Her daughter would surely use the most perfect acting to firmly tether Lynn, that wild wolf from the North, beneath her skirt.
She didn't know, however.
Beneath that mask was no longer an act.
But a heart completely ignited, a blazing true heart about to burn everything!
Jaime watched the two with a complex expression, but then a faint smile, one he hadn't even noticed himself, unexpectedly appeared.
And Sansa... she was staring fixedly at the scene on the altar.
She watched how Myrcella domineeringly possessed her Lynn.
She watched how Lynn, after his initial surprise, turned the tables, wrapping an arm around Myrcella's slender waist and deepening the kiss.
The world, at that moment, turned black and white.
Only the two of them were the sole colors.
Those colors were scorching, dazzling, burning Sansa's eyes painfully.
She felt like a drowning person now.
It was amidst this spectacle, and under this gaze filled with jealousy and heartbreak.
Myrcella finally ended the long kiss.
She slightly turned her face, and with the corner of her eye, accurately pierced the sky-blue figure in the corner.
She saw it.
She saw Sansa's pale, ashen face, and the pain in her eyes that she couldn't hide in time.
An unparalleled surge of triumphant joy, tinged with a twisted pleasure, instantly swept through Myrcella.
She wanted Sansa to see clearly!
To make her see who the ultimate winner was!
Myrcella released Lynn, her rosy lips still bearing a glistening trace of moisture, looking utterly alluring.
She stared intently at Lynn.
In a voice only she could hear, yet as wild as a devil's, she whispered, word by word.
"From today onwards, you are mine, Lynn."
"Your eyes, your lips, your body, your heart..."
"All of it is mine."
"Every single strand of your hair can only belong to me."
"If you abandon me..."
Myrcella's smile grew sweeter, and more dangerous.
"I will break your legs and lock you in a room only I know about."
"I will feed you every day, sing to you, and make sure you can't go anywhere."
"Making you, forever and ever, belong only to me."
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