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Lynn unrolled the parchment and read the arrogant handwriting sprawled across it.
A slow, amused smile crossed his face.
Hand of the King.
Joffrey, that little madman. He really did dare to dream.
"My lord, will you go?"
Miranda's voice carried worry.
King's Landing. In the eyes of every Northerner, it was a cursed place. Everyone knew how Lord Ned Stark had come slinking back north from it. And now that mad king was inviting her master to the same city, for the same position.
"Go?" Lynn tossed the parchment onto the table. "Why wouldn't I go?"
"Joffrey cleared my biggest obstacle for me, and now he's handing over the most important seat in the kingdom. I'd be a fool to refuse."
Miranda's frown deepened. "But it's too dangerous."
"Dangerous?"
Lynn laughed. He walked to the window and looked out at the vast, churning army of the dead moving across the land below.
"Right now, I'm the dangerous one."
Miranda studied his profile. His eyes were dark and still, the kind of still that had no bottom to it. Slowly, the knot of worry in her chest loosened.
Right.
He was the North's undisputed uncrowned king. The death god who commanded hundreds of thousands of the dead. The conqueror who made dragons roar at his will.
The ones who should be afraid were the people inside King's Landing.
...
Winterfell. The great hall of the main keep.
The fire in the hearth burned high and hot, filling the hall with warmth and golden light.
The mood, however, was something else entirely.
Lynn's women were gathered together in the same room for the first time.
Arya wore her hunting clothes, Needle hanging at her hip, looking sharp and capable , but her eyes couldn't quite settle. Ygritte was pressed against Lynn's side, her wild gaze moving from face to face, measuring every woman in the room with barely concealed possessiveness. Miranda stood just behind Lynn as always, a faithful shadow, though the hand on her bow was gripping harder than usual.
Myrcella sat quietly apart from the others. She wore a pale blue gown, her golden hair pinned without a strand out of place, every inch the composed, graceful noblewoman.
Ned and Catelyn sat in the high seats, taking all of it in. Their expressions were complicated, to say the least.
This wasn't a meeting. It felt more like watching the opening moves of a war.
This boy Lynn. His appetite was truly something else.
"I asked you all here to announce something."
Lynn's voice cut through the silence. Every eye in the room moved to him.
"King Joffrey has invited me to King's Landing to serve as his Hand of the King." He paused. "I've decided to accept."
"What?!"
Arya was on her feet before he finished the sentence.
"Do you have any idea what King's Landing is? What's even good about—"
She stopped. Swallowed the rest of it back down. She heard her own voice and realized how worked up she'd gotten.
The hall went heavy.
"I know," Lynn said. His eyes on her were steady and calm. "That's exactly why I'm going."
Arya bit her lip. She wanted to argue, but she had no words. She knew — she'd always known — that when Lynn made a decision, it ran deeper than it looked. And no one was going to change it.
"Then take me with you!" Ygritte grabbed his arm with both hands. "Where you go, I go."
"No."
Lynn shook his head and carefully unwound her hands.
"All of you are staying in Winterfell."
Ygritte's eyes went red in an instant. "Why?! You think I'm an embarrassment? Is that it? Too much of a wildling for you?"
Lynn looked around at the women gathered in the room. When he spoke again, his voice was serious.
"After I leave, Lord Ned will manage the North's affairs." He let that land, then continued. "You'll stay here and learn from him. How to run things. How to govern."
Silence.
Ygritte stared at him. The other women went very still.
Govern a kingdom?
Was he training them to be... queens?
Arya felt heat rise into her face. She stole one quick glance at Lynn, then looked sharply down at the floor.
Miranda's breathing had gone shallow. She was staring at his back, something bright and fierce kindling in her eyes.
"I understand, my lord." Miranda spoke first. "I'll stay in Winterfell. I'll protect everything that belongs to you."
"I..." Arya's voice came out smaller than she meant it to. "I'll stay too."
She was still worried. But something in Lynn's words had given her a strange, bone-deep sense of purpose she hadn't expected.
Ygritte looked at Miranda. Looked at Arya. Looked back at Lynn. Her jaw was set, her expression mutinous , but she gave one tight, unhappy nod.
"Then you had better come back fast."
Lynn smiled. His gaze moved across the room and settled on Myrcella, who had been quiet throughout.
"Myrcella."
Myrcella rose and bowed.
"Your mother Cersei is still in King's Landing." Lynn's voice softened a fraction. "If you want to see her, I can take you with me."
The room shifted. Every eye turned to Myrcella.
Catelyn's most of all. Her gaze went taut with something close to dread.
It had never been simple, having Myrcella in Winterfell. Catelyn had never quite known how to be around her. The girl's position was too tangled , Baratheon by name, Lannister by blood, complicated in every direction.
Myrcella lifted her head. Her sea-green eyes were clear and unwavering.
She didn't hesitate at all.
"Thank you for your kindness." Her voice was quiet. "But I can't go with you."
That surprised everyone in the room.
"Why?" Lynn asked.
"Because of what my mother told me."
Myrcella's voice stayed soft, but it didn't waver.
"She said that since I'd married you, everything I am should center on you. Not on the Baratheons. Not on the Lannisters." A small pause. "I am your woman. I shouldn't involve myself in those affairs. I can't."
She looked at him steadily.
"And you want us to learn how to manage a kingdom." Something crossed her face then , young and hopeful, a girl's quiet longing behind a woman's composed bearing. "I want to stay. I want to become the kind of person you're hoping for." Her voice dropped just slightly. "Someone who can carry your burdens. Not add to them."
She bowed deeply when she finished.
The hall was completely silent.
Ned and Catelyn looked at each other. The shock in both their faces was the same.
They couldn't quite fathom it , that these words had come out of a girl who had always looked so guileless, so simply young. She was smarter than they'd assumed. Far more mature.
Lynn looked at her. At the sincerity written plainly across her face, and the quiet resolve beneath it.
He stepped forward, reached out, and gently smoothed a loose strand of hair away from her forehead.
"You've done well, Myrcella."
The color flooded her face all at once. She raised her eyes to his, and the look in them said everything she didn't put into words.
Lynn said nothing more. He turned to Ned and Catelyn and gave them a slow nod.
"The North is in your hands."
Ned stood. His answer came without hesitation.
"Winterfell will always be your home."
...
The next morning.
A dragon's cry split the sky above Winterfell, high and fierce. An enormous shadow fell across the entire castle.
Lynn sat astride Winter, his black cloak snapping hard in the cold wind.
Down in the courtyard below, four figures stood side by side , Arya, Ygritte, Miranda, Myrcella , all of them with their faces turned upward, watching him go.
Winter roared again. The great wings slammed down once, and the force of them tore the snow from the ground in a spinning white storm.
Then the dragon and its rider climbed south, into the open sky, and were gone.
➤ Next: Greedy Joffrey
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