The Small Council ended in discord.
Or rather—it ended in a manic one-man show.
As Robert Baratheon's laughter—drenched in blood and brutality—still echoed through the chamber, Cersei Lannister was the first to rise and leave.
Her face—usually maintained in proud beauty—was now iron-gray. Clenched fists betrayed her inner fury.
She didn't even bother bowing to the madman on the throne. Just walked straight out.
Robert's gone mad.
The thought screamed in Cersei's mind.
A Northern girl who knows nothing as Master of Coin? More absurd than letting a fucking boar manage the treasury! Who is he humiliating? Eddard Stark? No! He's humiliating the Lannisters! Slapping MY face!
Robert didn't just suspect the Starks. He was guarding against the Lannisters too.
Renly Baratheon followed close behind. Didn't even glance at his brother on the throne. His usually elegant face held only undisguised disgust and ice.
To cage Ned, Robert won't even give his own Baratheon brother a bone. This king. Ha. No words.
Varys and Grand Maester Pycelle bowed and retreated. Both wore expressions like they'd seen ghosts. Still hadn't recovered from that absurd play.
Soon, the vast chamber held only Lynn and Eddard Stark—still slumped in the Hand's seat.
"Let's go, Lord Eddard."
Lynn spoke calmly.
"The show's over. Time to exit."
Ned slowly raised his head. Gray eyes full of complex emotions. He looked at Lynn. Lips moved. Finally—just a long sigh.
He stood. Followed Lynn silently out of this suffocating center of power.
Lynn's Quarters. Deep Night.
A soft knock. Light as a feather on carpet.
Lynn's brow lifted slightly.
"Come in."
The door opened silently. A graceful figure slipped inside. Quickly closed the door.
The air instantly filled with rich rose fragrance.
"Congratulations, Lord Lynn."
Margaery Tyrell's voice emerged from darkness. Tinged with lazy amusement.
She walked confidently to Lynn. Moonlight outlined her enchanting curves.
"Or should I call you... Westeros's Chief Regent?"
Margaery moved beside Lynn. Hands rested gently on his shoulders. Her brown eyes—bright as stars even in darkness—stared at Lynn without blinking.
Filled with undisguised admiration and wonder.
"How did you do it? Make King Robert reach such a... shocking decision? I thought my grandmother was the most formidable person in the Seven Kingdoms. But compared to you, her methods seem... inadequate."
No jealousy in Margaery's tone. Only excitement.
"I simply offered His Grace a logical suggestion."
Lynn answered calmly.
"Logical?"
Margaery couldn't help laughing softly.
"Making Sansa Stark Master of Coin is logical?"
She stepped closer. Her warm, full body nearly pressed against Lynn. The rose scent—mixed with a maiden's unique fragrance—grew stronger.
"Lynn."
Margaery's voice dropped low. Tinged with enchantment.
"You've played everyone. Including that high-and-mighty king. I'm truly curious how you did it."
Lynn looked at her. At this beautiful face so close. At the naked ambition and curiosity in her eyes.
"Process doesn't matter. Results do. I succeeded, didn't I?"
Lynn countered.
Margaery paused. Then laughed, shoulders shaking.
"Exactly."
She rose on tiptoes. Warm breath brushed Lynn's ear.
"We're natural allies. My lord, please remember that always."
With that, Margaery made no other moves. Just stepped back. Curtsied flawlessly.
"I came only to offer congratulations. And Highgarden's respect. After tonight, all of King's Landing will go mad for you."
"Congratulations again, Lord Lynn."
Margaery's figure vanished behind the door. But the rose scent lingered long after.
Lynn didn't stay in the Red Keep long. He packed his things. Went straight to Arya's room—where she slept soundly.
Arya woke to gentle shaking. She opened her eyes.
"Lynn?"
Rubbed her eyes. Still groggy.
"Awake? Then gear up. We're moving."
"Where... are we going?"
Arya snapped awake instantly. Adventure excitement surged.
"Home."
Lynn's answer was simple.
"Pack your things, Arya."
Lynn ruffled her messy hair.
"Home?"
Arya froze. Then understood.
"Now? Back to Winterfell?"
"Yes. Now."
Arya's face exploded with uncontrollable joy!
She'd had enough of this shithole King's Landing! Everyone here was fake. No fun at all!
Winterfell was better. Robb was there. Snow. And...
Arya snuck a glance at Lynn. Cheeks warmed slightly.
Wherever Lynn goes, I want to go. Destination doesn't matter. Being with Lynn matters.
"How do we travel? Horseback? Did Father agree?"
"Lord Eddard agreed, of course. I don't want to kidnap his precious daughter. He'd kill me."
Lynn took her small hand.
"But we're not riding horses. We're taking something faster."
Before Arya could ask more, Lynn pulled her out of the Tower of the Hand.
A Remote Corner of the Red Keep.
Lynn led Arya to a deserted courtyard. Arya peeked from behind Lynn's back. Looked around curiously.
Two fine horses waited. They mounted. Rode.
Arya followed Lynn. Lost track of time. Until—an open clearing appeared ahead.
In the clearing's center: a massive shadow. The shadow reflected ghostly blue in moonlight.
As they approached, Arya finally saw what it was.
Her breath stopped.
A dragon. A real, living dragon!
Its body was larger than three war elephants combined. Covered in ice-blue and silver scales that shimmered dreamlike in moonlight.
Three heads lifted slightly. Jagged horns like obsidian crowns. Red, blue, yellow vertical pupils—like burning magic orbs in darkness.
Just lying there, it radiated pressure that could make all things submit.
Arya's mouth fell open. Her usually lively gray eyes filled with shock and wild joy.
"It's Winter! When I left, it was tiny! How long has it been? It's HUGE now!"
No wonder Arya recognized it instantly. Winter's three heads were unmistakable.
"Winter."
Lynn dismounted. Called softly.
The dragon rumbled low. Its massive head lowered. Nuzzled Lynn affectionately. Golden pupils filled with kitten-like docility and dependence.
"Want to touch it?"
Lynn turned. Asked Arya with a smile.
Arya's eyes blazed. She practically tumbled off her horse. But the closer she got, the slower her steps.
Finally, she approached Winter carefully. Arya extended a trembling hand. Placed it gently on Winter's cold scales.
Hard texture. Yet carrying strange warmth.
"Wow..."
Arya breathed in wonder.
"Hold tight. We're taking off."
Lynn lifted Arya easily. Leapt onto Winter's broad back.
Arya clutched Lynn's waist. Heart pounding with nerves and excitement.
"ROOOAAARRR—!!!"
Winter unleashed an earth-shattering dragon cry! It spread those sky-blocking wings. Beat downward violently!
BOOM!
Powerful wind kicked up leaves and dust.
Arya felt her body shoot upward! Instant weightlessness! She screamed. Eyes squeezed shut.
When she opened them again—stunned.
The ground fell away rapidly. King's Landing's lights became tiny specks. They pierced through clouds.
Brilliant moonlight bathed them. Like silver veils. They saw sunrise. Watching dawn from the heavens—Arya was enchanted.
Bitter wind roared past her ears. Nearly forced her eyes shut.
But she didn't care.
She spread her arms. Faced the gale. Let out a wild, exhilarated shout.
She felt like she'd broken all chains. Become a free bird!
This feeling—better than hitting a bullseye with Needle a thousand times!
Winter flew impossibly fast.
When dawn broke again, a continuous gray wall appeared on the horizon.
Winterfell.
Arya looked down at the familiar castle. Felt like lifetimes had passed.
When she left, she'd been a girl who only knew swordplay.
Now she returned—riding a dragon.
[END CHAPTER 202]
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