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Myrcella's bridal chamber.
Her vow to Cersei about making Robert pay, those weren't just rash words spoken in a moment of anger. They were a promise.
In a world without Lynn, what did it matter if the Seven Kingdoms were thrown into chaos?
Anyone who wanted Lynn dead would die first.
Robert Baratheon, her nominal father, was no exception.
Myrcella rose abruptly. She knew hatred alone wouldn't be enough.
Revenge required strength. It needed money. It demanded careful planning.
She recalled her mother Cersei's words.
"War is not only fought with lives, but with Golden Dragons."
Golden Dragons...
Who held the most coins in all the Seven Kingdoms?
Her grandfather Tywin Lannister was wealthy, but he was away from King's Landing. Distant water cannot quench a nearby fire.
Besides him, there was only one other person, that woman.
Sansa Stark.
The Master of Coin for the Seven Kingdoms.
Myrcella's nails nearly bit into her palms.
She knew asking that woman for help would be humiliation.
She'd face Sansa's smug, mocking smile. She'd hear the cruelest sarcasm.
But what did it matter?
For Lynn's sake, humiliation was nothing. Even kneeling to lick Sansa's shoe, she'd do it willingly!
Myrcella opened the door. Her beautiful face was hard, void of hesitation.
...
The Hand's Tower. The Master of Coin's office.
Though Sansa lived here, there was no trace of womanhood. Only towering stacks of parchments, the sharp scent of ink and old paper hanging heavy in the air.
Sansa Stark sat behind a massive oak desk, absorbed in a tax report from the Reach.
She wore a plain gray gown, red hair coiled simply at the back.
Her blue eyes held no youthful dreams, only the cold, sharp focus of power.
When a maid announced "Lady Lynn" had arrived, Sansa didn't even glance up.
Myrcella waited at the door for a full quarter-hour.
Only after verifying the last figure and signing the report with a quill did Sansa lift her gaze slowly.
She looked toward the moon-white gown standing in the doorway.
"Lady Lynn."
Her voice was like Winterfell's biting snow, cold enough to freeze blood.
"Newlywed, shouldn't you be in your bridal chamber? What brings you to this stinking den of coin?"
"Come to brag about how vigorous your husband was last night?"
"Or perhaps, you want to tell me how much Lynn adores you in bed?"
Myrcella's body stiffened almost imperceptibly.
She ignored the taunts, walking directly to the desk.
"I need money."
She spoke calmly, the steadiness in her voice chilling.
"A lot of money."
Sansa laughed lightly, leaning back in her chair.
Her laughter brimmed with undisguised mockery.
"Money?"
"Noble princess—oh no, Lady Lynn."
"Now you ask a country girl from the North for coin?"
Sansa rose, walking slowly around the desk until she stood just before Myrcella.
She was taller, looking down at her.
"How much?"
"Ten Golden Dragons? A hundred?"
"No matter. For Lynn's sake, I could spare some pocket change."
Her finger lifted Myrcella's chin, forcing her eyes to meet.
"Or maybe your noble mother never taught you the right way to beg?"
Myrcella's cheeks flared crimson.
She clenched her teeth to hold back a furious outburst.
"I want you to use the treasury's money."
She said each word carefully, deliberately.
"To buy weapons, armor, grain. Everything Lynn needs!"
Sansa's smile vanished instantly.
She withdrew her hand, eyes cold enough to freeze steel.
"Why?"
"Why should I help you?"
"Because you're his wife?"
"Because of that shameless kiss in the sept?"
Sansa leaned in close, voice hushed to a deadly whisper.
"Don't be naïve, my princess."
"Do you think a kiss will bind him forever?"
"A man wants more than what happens in bed."
"He needs power to hold his realm, Golden Dragons to fill his war chest."
"And those..."
She straightened, eyes piercing.
"You cannot give."
"I can."
Myrcella's body trembled violently.
Sansa's words struck right where she was most vulnerable.
Yes, she had nothing to give Lynn.
Nothing but a princess's title and a body still called pretty.
Sansa held the kingdom's purse strings. She could give Lynn what truly mattered.
Seeing Myrcella's face instantly go pale, Sansa felt no satisfaction.
Only irritation.
She thought Myrcella would scream, cry, rage, maybe slap her.
But she did nothing.
Just stood there, silently enduring the venom.
"As long as it helps Lynn."
Myrcella's voice broke the silence.
"I will do whatever you ask."
"Even kneel to you."
Sansa was taken aback.
She stared at this girl she once saw as spoiled and foolish.
In that moment, she suddenly saw how alike they were.
For that man, they'd both sacrifice everything.
Dignity, pride, even life.
"Do you think I don't want to help him?"
Sansa's voice trembled with emotion she fought to hide.
"Do you think I enjoy sitting here, day after day, buried in these dreary ledgers?"
"Watching that fool Robert push him to the brink—do you think I can stand by?"
She spun around, back to Myrcella, hiding the weakness in her eyes.
"All I do is for him."
"I control the finances. I count the treasury daily, hunting embezzlers to save every coin for him."
"It's not that I won't help you."
"For Lynn, I will."
"I just... I can't stand it."
"I can't stand that you got him so easily."
"I can't stand that you became his wife in front of everyone."
"And I—I had to stand there like a stranger, counting your wedding's cost."
"Why?"
"I liked Lynn first!"
The room was swallowed by silence.
Only the two women's quickened breaths.
After some time, Myrcella quietly moved behind Sansa.
"I apologize for my words and actions."
Sansa stiffened sharply.
"But now, none of that matters."
Myrcella's voice regained icy calm.
"Robert must die."
The words struck like thunder. Enough to shake all Westeros.
Sansa slowly turned.
She stared at Myrcella's green eyes burning with fierce hatred, searching for any hint of falsehood.
None. It was genuine.
She nodded heavily.
"He deserves to die."
Two women long seen as enemies now forged the most dangerous, strongest alliance, for the same man.
"If Robert dies, who claims the throne?"
Sansa considered the most practical question.
"Joffrey."
Myrcella answered without hesitation.
"He is the rightful heir to all Seven Kingdoms."
A mysterious smile touched Sansa's lips.
"Joffrey?"
"Good."
"His mind is full of a girl named Lyanna, but that girl belongs to Lord Lynn."
"Joffrey is far easier to control than anyone else."
"Having him succeed serves Lynn best."
Surprise flickered across Myrcella's face.
She hadn't realized Lynn had already set this piece in motion.
"Then the real threats are Stannis and Renly."
"Of course, a fool can't hold that seat securely."
"Renly is popular, but he only has the shaky Tyrells behind him, his foundation is weak."
Sansa's voice was coolly analytical.
"The true danger is Stannis Baratheon."
"Robert's second brother, Lord of Dragonstone."
"A man cold and hard as iron."
"Rigid, stubborn, devoted to law and duty, but utterly inflexible."
"He believes the Iron Throne is rightfully his by birth."
"I think we can use that."
Myrcella's concern crept in.
"He has a Red Priestess named Melisandre who worships a Lord of Light. They say she can see things others cannot."
"Could she discover our plan?"
Sansa smiled.
"You don't know everything."
"In the North, Lord Lynn can also foresee things. I have seen his miracles with my own eyes."
"Since he hasn't come to stop us after we planned Robert's death, it means no danger lies there."
"If there was, he would have intervened."
"You and I just need to act boldly."
Myrcella wasn't sure what abilities Lynn truly possessed.
But seeing Sansa's unusual certainty at such a moment, she believed her. Sansa wouldn't joke about Lynn.
"To strike a rigid man like Stannis, we must be lethal."
A flicker of Lannister ruthlessness flashed in Myrcella's eyes.
"We cannot let him ascend."
"You mean..." Sansa narrowed her eyes.
"Frame him."
Myrcella's smile was like Cersei's.
"If Robert must die, why not make his death count?"
"We have to make everyone believe Stannis killed him to seize the throne."
The plan felt possible.
Success means Robert dies, their goal achieved.
Failure also works, it sparks civil war within House Baratheon.
Either way, they gain.
Sansa's heart began pounding wildly.
She looked at Myrcella as never before.
For the first time, she saw that this Baratheon girl might be far from harmless.
After all, half lion's blood ran in her veins.
Sansa had to respect Myrcella.
In her eyes, Myrcella was a Baratheon, Robert's true daughter.
Ruthless enough for Sansa to trust.
"How do we do it?" Sansa lowered her voice.
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