Sansa left the room. Left space for the two. She didn't want her impropriety to make Lynn dislike her.
After Sansa left, only then did Lyana raise her head. Those clear blue eyes no longer held the worship and adoration she showed Joffrey. But undisguised ambition.
Lynn's brow slightly raised. Watched her with interest. This rough jade he'd unearthed from the brothel seemed more interesting than expected. Not only beautiful—her mind was sharp too.
Made sense. These small people often suffered more losses than anyone. Hard not to grow quickly.
"Then what do you want?"
"I want an opportunity." Lyana's voice—steady, clear. Every word resounding. "A chance to control my own fate. Gold dragons can be spent. Can be stolen. Prince Joffrey's favor might vanish anytime. I want to learn something."
She raised her head. Gaze burning as she looked at Lynn. "Learn things that'll keep me from being trampled. Never crawling back into the mud again."
Lynn smiled. He appreciated clever women. Appreciated ambitious clever women more. Lyana clearly understood her situation. She was now Joffrey's most cherished toy. But toys always got boring eventually.
When Joffrey's novelty passed. When he found new "true love." Then this "ex's" fate would be ten thousand times more miserable than in the brothel. Lyana must find herself a real way out. And Lynn before her—was her only way out.
"You're very smart." Lynn nodded. "From today, you're not only Joffrey's woman, but my student. Joffrey's a brainless mad dog. He needs someone to think for him. See the road beneath his feet clearly. And you—will be his eyes. His brain."
Lynn walked before her. Looked down at her. "I'll teach you how to discern hearts. How to read power's flow. How to exchange minimum cost for maximum benefit. I want you to become the most indispensable, irreplaceable person beside Joffrey. I want you to use your wisdom—leash this mad dog firmly to my chariot. Pave the way for my next moves."
After Robert's death, Joffrey would be the hottest figure. He was arrogant, without empathy, a brainless fool. If he could control Joffrey—more substantial than any benefit.
Lyana's body trembled slightly with excitement. She knew—she'd bet right! She leaped from a disposable plaything to a piece beside the chess player. Even had a chance to become a second-rate player herself!
"Yes, my lord!" Lyana knelt on one knee. Voice full of unprecedented determination. "From today, Lyana's life is yours."
Lynn looked at Lyana. Suddenly said something inexplicably: "Lyana, don't blame me for being cruel. Sometimes this world is like this. To gain, you must give. Same unchanging principle as water flowing downward."
Lyana understood Lynn's meaning. She showed a bright smile. "My lord, I'm just a lowly whore. If not for you, I'd probably never have a chance to rise. How could I resent you?"
Lynn nodded. He knew Lyana's gratitude toward him. But this was her path. She'd personally agreed to the plan initially.
"Lyana, rest assured. This matter wronged you. As long as you work earnestly for me, I'll never mistreat you."
Lyana left joyfully.
After seeing off Lyana, Lynn rubbed his temples. Cersei, Margaery, Sansa, Lyana... These King's Landing women all seemed to enjoy visiting his room late at night. Each with their own purpose. Each wanting something from him.
He felt less like an earl, more like a late-night therapist. Specializing in solving noblewomen's problems.
Just as Lynn prepared to close the window, end this busy night—
Knock, knock. Hesitant knocking sounded again.
Lynn sighed. More visitors?
"Come in."
The door opened. Entering was Sansa Stark. She'd changed from that gorgeous banquet gown. Only wore simple elegant blue casual clothes. That beautiful auburn hair simply tied back. Face without makeup—yet more refreshingly beautiful. Only her eyes slightly red—obviously just cried.
"Lord Lynn." Sansa curtsied to Lynn. Voice still carrying nasal tone.
"Still not resting this late? Sit first." Lynn pointed to a nearby chair.
Sansa didn't sit. Just stood there. Head lowered. Hands nervously wringing her hem. "I... I came to thank you." Sansa finally gathered courage. Raised her head. Those blue eyes brimming with sincere gratitude. "If not for you, I..."
"I only gave you a script, Sansa." Lynn interrupted her. "You completed this performance yourself."
Lynn looked at her. Eyes flashing approval. Tonight at the banquet hall, Sansa's performance was perfect. From initial confusion, to shock and heartbreak when publicly humiliated, to that final tearful, stumbling departure.
Every expression, every movement—just right. Flawless. She used a perfect performance to transform herself from an awkward victim into a weakling who gained everyone's sympathy. Successfully made King Robert—in fury—personally dissolve that betrothal causing her such pain.
This saved him much trouble. Also proved Sansa truly grew.
"I used to... always think if I was ladylike enough, obedient enough, I'd get the happiness I wanted." Sansa's voice somewhat low. Like talking to herself. "But King's Landing taught me—here, tears and obedience buy nothing. Only strength... only power..."
She raised her head. Looked at Lynn. Those once clear, naive eyes now held something Lynn knew very well. Desire for power.
"Thank you, Lord Lynn." Sansa bowed to Lynn again. "Thank you for pushing open another door for me."
Lynn watched her. Watched this Northern rose forced to bloom early by cold winds in ice and snow. A subtle feeling arose in his heart.
"This is just the beginning, Sansa. Escaping Joffrey only made you jump from one mud pit to another." Lynn walked before her. Voice very low. "Remember what we must do. The Master of Coin position—that's your true freedom. When you hold the entire kingdom's purse, you'll never need to read anyone's face. Never need tears to gain sympathy."
Sansa's breathing slightly halted. She nodded vigorously. "I understand."
Watching the girl's face full of determination and resolve, Lynn smiled satisfiedly.
Sansa looked at Lynn's face so close. Instinctively squinted, about to lean forward.
Lynn was about to say more when the study door was suddenly pushed open with a BANG from outside. A small figure—like an angry little wolf—burst in.
Arya Stark. She gripped "Needle." Sword tip pointing directly at Sansa in the room. Her gaze swept between Lynn and Sansa. Those gray eyes full of vigilance and suspicion.
Sansa quickly separated some distance from Lynn.
"What are you doing?"
The study door hadn't closed tightly. Just ajar. Arya never felt at ease about her sister. She knew how much Sansa liked that golden-haired bastard Joffrey. Knew tonight's banquet hall events hit Sansa hard. She feared Sansa would do something foolish. So secretly followed.
Then she heard her sister's conversation with Lord Lynn. She didn't hear very clearly. Only caught scattered words. "Script," "performance," "thank you," "another door," "true freedom"...
These words combined made Arya's little brain instantly conjure a year's emotional drama. Sister heartbroken over Joffrey's abandonment. Then gentle, powerful Lord Lynn appeared. Lynn comforted her, encouraged her, opened new world doors for her. Finally the hateful sister transferred affection—fell for Lord Lynn!
Must be this! Minstrels' songs all sang it this way!
"Arya! You're too rude!" Sansa—seeing Arya like this—angry and anxious. Instinctively wanted to use elder sister authority to scold her.
"I'm rude?" Arya sneered. Gripped Needle tighter. "You don't sleep late at night. Run to Lord Lynn's room. You two alone—man and woman—what exactly do you want to do?"
Her words like a sharp knife. Pierced that ambiguous window paper in the room.
Sansa's face flushed red instantly. From cheeks to ear roots. "You... what nonsense are you talking!" Sansa—ashamed and angry—pointed at Arya. Trembling with rage. "We... we're just discussing business!"
"Discussing business?" Arya's gaze fell on Sansa's flushed face. Eyes growing more suspicious. "What business needs blushing like this? What can't be discussed during the day?"
"You!" Sansa was speechless. She did blush. But not because of those filthy things Arya mentioned. But because she suddenly realized—when standing with Lord Lynn, her heartbeat uncontrollably accelerated. She'd instinctively want to show her best side. She'd feel secretly pleased by Lynn's praise. Feel inexplicably dizzy from Lynn's unique masculine scent when he approached.
Could it be... Sansa's heart was in chaos.
"Arya." Lynn's calm voice interrupted the sisters' standoff. He walked before Arya. Looked at this little girl covered in thorns. Shook his head somewhat amusedly. "Put away your Needle. I don't want to hear tomorrow that a blood case occurred in the Hand's Tower—the murderer being the Hand's own daughter."
Arya looked at Lynn. Hesitated. Still reluctantly sheathed her sword. But those gray eyes still stared hard at Sansa.
"Speak! Do you like Lord Lynn?" Arya cut straight to the point. Asked that most explosive question.
Too direct. The room's air instantly froze.
Hit the mark—Sansa only felt her brain BUZZ. Completely blank. She was like a cat whose tail was stepped on. Instantly bristled.
"Arya Stark! Are you crazy!" Sansa's voice suddenly rose. Shrill, somewhat distorted. "What nonsense are you talking! I don't!"
"I'm not talking nonsense!" Arya stuck out her neck. Wouldn't yield an inch. "I just heard! You thanked him! Said he opened new world doors for you! You look at him—exactly like when you looked at that bastard Joffrey! No! Even brighter! Bright like... like owl eyes! And you two were way too close! That's not the normal distance a lady should keep from a man!"
Sansa completely collapsed. She felt all her inner thoughts nakedly torn open by her unrestrained sister. Exposed in broad daylight.
Sansa—ashamed and angry—tears welling up uncontrollably. "I didn't! I didn't!" Sansa covered her face. Incoherently refuted. "What do you know! You're just a little brat who knows nothing!"
Finished speaking, she couldn't stay anymore. Roughly pushed Arya aside. Ran crying from the study.
In the study—only Lynn and stubborn-faced Arya remained.
"Satisfied now?" Lynn looked at Arya. Tone carrying helplessness.
Arya pursed her lips. Muttered quietly: "Who told her not to admit it... She clearly is. I'm not that little girl anymore. I understand everything..."
Though saying this, Arya's eyes flashed barely perceptible panic. She seemed to... really make her sister cry.
"Lord Lynn..." Arya raised her head. Looked at Lynn somewhat uncertainly. "My sister... does she really like you?"
Lynn looked at her face full of curiosity and gossip. Suddenly felt somewhat headache-inducing. One Sansa was troublesome enough. Now added a mischievous, combat-explosive Arya. Why were Stark daughters—each more troublesome than the last?
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