By the time Lynn walked out of the main castle hall, it was already completely dark.
A cold wind, carrying tiny snowflakes, blew across his face.
A petite figure was leaning against a pillar on the porch, holding a slender needle.
She wore a gray leather outfit, her hair casually tied back, with a few unruly strands blown messy by the wind.
It was Arya.
She stood there quietly, blending seamlessly with the sturdy gray stones of Winterfell.
Seeing Lynn emerge, her gray eyes, which always sparkled with a wild light, instantly brightened.
She didn't shriek and pounce, but instead walked quickly to Lynn, looking up at him in silence.
As if she wanted to clearly see all the changes in Lynn during the days he had been away.
"I'm back."
Lynn reached out, habitually wanting to ruffle her hair.
Arya, however, sharply tilted her head, dodging his hand.
Then, she raised her fist and lightly, but not too gently, punched Lynn in the chest.
"Bastard."
The next second, she could no longer hold back, and plunged into Lynn's embrace, her arms tightly wrapped around his waist, with such force as if to meld herself into his body.
"If you dare to leave for so long again, I'll... I'll go to King's Landing and tie you up and bring you back."
She buried her face in Lynn's chest, her voice muffled and thick with a sniffle.
Lynn smiled.
He could feel the trembling of the small body in his arms, and he could also feel her wild and untamed heart, now beating fiercely for him.
Lynn reached out and gently patted her back, like comforting a young wolf that had finally found its way home.
At the end of the corridor not far away, Ned Stark quietly watched this scene.
He had just left his wife Catelyn's room, preparing to go to his study to deal with some backlog of official duties.
But when he saw his youngest daughter, the mischievous one who always jumped around and gave him headaches,
Now curled up in another man's arms like a docile kitten, his feet could no longer move an inch.
An indescribable emotion suddenly clutched his heart.
This made Ned feel a little breathless.
It was a complex feeling, a mix of sourness, relief, yet immense loss.
He knew Arya loved Lynn.
He also knew Lynn was trustworthy.
But he just... he just felt a lump in his heart.
As if a treasure he had carefully protected for more than a decade had, overnight, been branded with another's name.
Ned thought of his sister, Lyanna.
She too was once like this, bright, free, like a wild horse unwilling to be bound.
Then, she met Rhaegar Targaryen.
Ned leaned against the stone wall; the cold wind of the North seemed unable to cool his old father's heart.
His daughter was grown; she couldn't be kept forever.
He let out a long sigh, turned, and silently walked towards another corridor.
Some sights were better left unseen.
Out of sight, out of mind... Late at night, in Catelyn Tully's bedchamber.
The fire in the fireplace crackled, dispelling the chill in the room, but it could not dispel the sorrow and worry in Catelyn's heart.
She sat on the edge of the bed, and Ned was gently wiping her swollen eyes with a warm towel.
"What's done is done, Catelyn, no amount of sorrow will help."
Ned's voice was very gentle.
"I just... I just can't believe it."
Catelyn's voice was still hoarse.
"Lysa... how could she become like this? Father loved her so much..."
"Power, hatred, they can drive people mad."
Ned sighed.
"Aren't you the same? When Hoster was in danger, you rushed in even though you knew it was a trap?"
"Now is not the time to dwell on this. We must find a way to rescue Edmure and avenge Duke Hoster."
"Lynn already has a plan."
At the mention of Lynn, Catelyn's emotions stabilized somewhat.
That young man always seemed to possess a calming strength.
Catelyn was silent for a moment, then suddenly looked up.
She looked at Ned, and a trace of determination flashed in her blue eyes.
"Ned."
"Hmm?"
"Since all the Northern vassals will be coming to Winterfell this time, why don't we..."
Catelyn took a deep breath.
"Why don't we just hold Lynn and Arya's wedding?"
Ned's wiping motion suddenly paused.
"Now?"
Ned was somewhat taken aback.
"At this time?"
"Precisely at this time!"
Catelyn's tone became exceptionally firm.
"War is coming soon, and no one knows what tomorrow will bring."
"That child, Arya, has been set on Lynn from the very beginning."
"Her feelings, you and I both know clearly."
"Rather than let her follow him without a clear status, it's better to give her a rightful identity."
"This time, Lysa's three-way alliance is not to be underestimated. If Lynn dies, Arya will definitely regret it for the rest of her life."
"As a mother, I don't want to see her like that."
"Moreover,"
A mother's shrewdness sparkled in Catelyn's eyes.
"Lynn is now the king-beyond-the-wall. Since he is confident enough to fight, it means the power he wields is sufficient to change the entire war situation."
"This wedding is not only to give Arya an explanation, but also to declare to the entire North, and to the entire Seven Kingdoms, that House Stark and Lynn will forever stand together!"
"This is both a family matter and a matter for the entire North!"
"Let those vassals with ulterior motives see, let the Lannister of King's Landing see, let the Frey of the The Riverlands see, that Lynn is not someone they can manipulate at will!"
"Whoever dares to lay a hand on Lynn, lays a hand on the North!"
Ned fell silent.
He knew Catelyn was right about everything.
Emotionally and logically, this was the best choice right now.
He also supported it.
But, at the thought of his wild daughter truly becoming someone else's wife... his old father's heart, which had just calmed down, began to ache faintly again.
"I know what you're thinking."
Catelyn held her husband's hand.
"I'm reluctant too."
"But children always grow up, and we can't protect them forever."
"Especially Arya, only by Lynn's side can she truly be herself."
"Do you still want to see your sister's tragedy repeat itself in her?"
Ned looked at the unquestionable determination in his wife's eyes.
Finally, he slowly nodded.
"Good."
He only said one word.
But it was as if he had used all his strength.
Even if that boy Lynn gets off easy!
Originally, he had wanted to keep Arya for a while longer.
Soon, Ned hesitated again and spoke.
"But, Lysa is your sister after all, don't you..."
Catelyn interrupted Ned.
"She stopped being my sister after she murdered father. I don't have such a wicked sister."
"Compared to a stranger and my husband and children, I still know who is more important."
...Myrcella was sitting by the window in her room.
Outside the window, the snow was falling heavier, and the whole world had turned into a vast expanse of white.
She held an embroidery in her hand, depicting Lynn's three-headed dragon.
But she had not yet made the final stitch.
She had heard.
She had heard the news that Lynn and Arya Stark were about to be married.
She knew this day would come sooner or later.
Back in King's Landing, she already knew Arya's importance in Lynn's heart.
That wild girl, like a little leopard, was the first to enter Lynn's world.
She was earlier than Myrcella.
But knowing was one thing; when it actually happened, the bitterness in her heart still uncontrollably welled up.
She loved Lynn.
Loved him enough to give up her princess status for him, betray her own family, and willingly come to this icy, snowy North.
She thought that here, she could have him completely.
But now, she would have another 'good sister'.
A good sister to share Lynn with!
Myrcella's fingertip was pricked by the needle, and a drop of bright red blood seeped out, falling onto the golden embroidery thread, like an ominous red plum blossom.
She put her finger in her mouth, and a faint taste of blood spread on her tongue.
She didn't hate Arya.
She even envied her a little.
Envied her for being so free, so brave, and having parents who loved and supported her so much.
And she herself was just a canary pushed along by fate, fortunate enough to receive pity.
Just then, there was a gentle knock on the door.
"Come in."
Myrcella composed herself and said softly.
The door opened, and the person who entered was none other than Arya, whom she had just been thinking about.
Arya was carrying a tray with a steaming cup of milk and a few honey cakes on it.
"Seeing you didn't eat much dinner, I asked the kitchen to make these for you."
Arya placed the tray on the table, her tone a little stiff, as if completing a task.
"Thank you."
Myrcella forced a smile.
Silence fell in the room.
Arya didn't leave; she just stood there, somewhat fidgeting with her 'needle' at her waist.
"You... are you unhappy?"
Finally, Arya broke the silence.
Her question was as direct as the sword in her hand.
Arya was always like this, saying what she felt, never hiding anything.
Myrcella's heart trembled.
She looked up at Arya's clear eyes.
She wanted to say, "No, I'm happy for you."
But in front of those eyes, any lie seemed so pale.
Myrcella lowered her gaze and softly hummed, "Hmm."
"I'm sorry."
Arya said.
Myrcella suddenly looked up, her eyes full of surprise.
She hadn't expected Arya to apologize to her.
She was clearly the third party.
"You don't need to apologize, this... this is my own problem."
"No, I do."
Arya walked up to her, looking at her very seriously.
"I know this is hard to accept."
"If I were you, I would be sad too."
"Who would be happy to suddenly have another person to share the one they love most?"
Arya's honesty left Myrcella speechless for a moment.
"My sister Sansa,"
Arya suddenly brought up the name she both loved and hated.
"She used to tell me that a woman's world is always full of jealousy and struggle; it's an eternal theme."
"For a man, a beautiful dress, or even a compliment, they can fight to the death, scratching each other's faces."
In Myrcella's mind, the hypocritical smiles of the noblewomen in King's Landing instantly appeared.
Arya was right.
"But Sansa also told me,"
A somewhat cunning curve appeared at the corner of Arya's mouth; it was 'wisdom' she had learned from her sister, yet with her own unique style.
"Truly clever people never create enemies; they only unite allies."
Arya reached out and took Myrcella's hand, which had been pricked by the needle.
Her palm was a little rough, with thin calluses from years of sword practice, but it was very warm.
"Myrcella, you are beautiful, very noble, like a golden rose blooming in the sun."
"And I am just a wild grass growing on the Northern wasteland."
"But Lynn... he's a bastard; he likes roses, and he can't bear to abandon wild grass either."
"We both fell in love with this bastard; this is our fate."
"We now have two choices."
Arya's gaze sharpened.
"First, we can be like those foolish women in King's Landing, jealous and hateful of each other, turning Winterfell into another fighting pit."
"That way, we will both suffer, Lynn will also suffer, and in the end, some woman who takes advantage of the situation might benefit."
"Second,"
Arya tightened her grip on Myrcella's hand.
"We become allies."
"You are a princess; you know how to handle complex noble relations, how to win hearts in the most elegant way."
"These things, I don't understand, and I don't want to understand."
"And I will use the sword in my hand, for Lynn, and for you, to cut off all claws that dare to reach for us."
"One of us will be in the open, one in the shadows."
"One guarding his honor, one guarding his back."
"Together, we will become his most impregnable shield."
Myrcella stared blankly at Arya.
She was completely shaken by Arya's words.
She had never thought.
Their relationship could be interpreted this way?
"Lynn has too many enemies."
Arya's voice became low.
"The Lannister, the Baratheon, and those madmen in the The Riverlands... war is coming soon, and he will be in great danger."
"He needs us to support him."
"He doesn't need two women squabbling over him behind his back, but two women who can make him worry-free."
"Do you agree, Myrcella?"
Arya gazed at her.
There was no hint of falsehood in her sincere eyes, only the purest sincerity and invitation.
Myrcella looked at her, at her own reflection in Arya's eyes.
The bitterness and reluctance in her heart, at this moment, seemed to be melted by a stronger force.
Yes.
War was coming.
Lynn needed them.
Instead of internal strife, why not... unite against the outside?
Myrcella slowly, in turn, clasped Arya's hand.
"I agree."
Her voice was very soft, yet incredibly firm.
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