The Little Rose of Highgarden disappeared down the corridor, taking her belly full of doubts and a faint, sweet scent with her.
Lynn returned to the window. The night breeze brushed his cheeks, the touch warm and fleeting, like an unreal dream.
He had to admit, Margaery Tyrell was a woman of immense charm.
She was smart, knew how to read the situation, and knew even better when to show her fangs and when to sheath her claws.
Working with her would undoubtedly be a pleasant experience.
It was just that he seemed to have seen a few too many women tonight.
Lynn rubbed his temples, preparing to close the window, when a hesitant knock sounded.
Knock, knock.
The sound paused, as if the person hesitated whether to continue.
Knock.
Lynn's movement stopped.
He knew this sound well.
"Come in, Sansa."
The door was pushed open a crack, and a head of auburn hair peeked in.
Seeing Lynn looking at her, Sansa Stark was visibly nervous.
Her fingers gripped the doorframe tightly, but she summoned her courage, walked in, and carefully closed the door.
She had changed.
That was Lynn's first impression upon seeing her again.
The girl before him still wore an exquisitely made dress, her beautiful auburn hair arranged neatly, like the ripples of the Trident shimmering in the sun.
But the childish innocence and unrealistic fantasies that once defined her seemed largely ground away by the cruel reality of King's Landing.
Her posture no longer carried that timid eagerness to please; instead, there was a new stillness.
Her blue eyes, too, looked like polished gems—still clear, but no longer holding that unworldly naivety. Instead, something unreadable had settled in their depths.
"Lord Lynn."
Sansa executed a flawless curtsy.
Her voice was soft, but lacked the deliberate ingratiation of the past.
"Still awake so late?"
Lynn's tone was gentle.
"I couldn't sleep."
Sansa shook her head. Her gaze rested on Lynn, carrying a trace of cautious probing.
"I heard... about what happened in the throne room today."
"Father is very worried about you."
She didn't say she was worried, but pushed Ned forward.
It seemed King's Landing, that great dyeing vat, was indeed the best teacher.
It had used the cruelest methods to teach this little bird, who once only knew how to sing in her cage, how to protect herself.
"I've worried your father."
Lynn walked to the table and poured her a cup of water.
"But, it's all over now."
"Mm."
Sansa took the cup, her suspended heart settling significantly.
She didn't drink immediately, just held the cup in silence for a moment.
The atmosphere in the room was quiet.
Sansa's gaze inadvertently swept the room. She could smell a faint floral scent lingering in the air, one that didn't belong here.
Very sweet, like some southern flower.
Her heart was lightly pricked for no reason.
It seemed another woman had been here...
"I... I came to congratulate you, Lord Lynn."
Sansa finally mustered the courage to look up and meet Lynn's gaze.
"Congratulations on your upcoming marriage to Princess Myrcella."
Her voice was light, every word spoken clearly and standardly, as if reciting a prepared script.
"It's hardly a joyous occasion."
Lynn shook his head.
"Just a transaction."
"But... she is a Princess."
Sansa's lips moved.
"And you will become her husband."
Lynn looked at her, at the blue eyes struggling to maintain calm but leaking a trace of grievance, and understood.
"Sansa."
Lynn's voice softened a few degrees.
"The King's decree cannot be refused."
"I know."
Sansa looked down at the rippling water in her cup.
"I was just... just thinking..."
Her voice grew smaller, as if talking to herself.
"Back then, Father also proposed to the King to break my engagement to Prince Joffrey..."
"But His Grace... he wouldn't agree."
"He said the union of Baratheon and Stark is the bedrock of peace in Westeros, unchangeable."
"But now..."
Sansa looked up sharply. A flame of hope ignited in her blue eyes, so bright it made her face come alive.
"Now you are to marry Princess Myrcella. This is also a union between Baratheon and the North."
"Then... then is my engagement to Prince Joffrey... is it... no longer so important?"
Sansa finally spoke the true purpose of her visit tonight.
She came seeking an answer.
An answer that could free her from her nightmare.
Lynn looked at her, at her face slightly flushed with excitement and full of expectation, and couldn't help but feel a trace of approval.
She was no longer the little girl who only knew to cry for help from her father and septa.
She had learned to think, learned to find that sliver of life for herself within complex political alliances.
"You are right, Sansa."
Lynn gave her the answer she most wanted to hear.
"One marriage alliance is to consolidate an alliance."
"But two alliances serving the same function seem redundant, even counterproductive."
"Your engagement is indeed no longer as unbreakable as before."
Sansa's eyes lit up instantly!
Huge joy washed over her, almost making her jump.
Was she really going to be free?
She could finally be rid of that Prince who was gold on the outside but rot on the inside, who used lies and cruelty to mask his cowardice!
She didn't have to marry Joffrey anymore!
"That's wonderful..."
Sansa murmured, her eyes hot, tears nearly falling.
But she forced them back.
She bit her lip hard, suppressing the surging emotions.
She couldn't cry.
In front of Lynn, she didn't want to show her weak side anymore.
She looked at Lynn, at this man who always created miracles when everyone else was helpless.
From that earth-shattering lance strike at the tourney, to teaching her business hand-in-hand, to his impassioned speech before the Iron Throne today that turned the tide.
He was like the perfect hero in the bard's songs.
Strong, wise, and... gentle.
Sansa's heart beat fast, her cheeks growing hotter.
She knew she shouldn't have such thoughts.
She was the eldest daughter of the Lord of Winterfell; she should be reserved, dignified.
But she couldn't control it.
Especially when Lynn walked closer, his tall figure completely enveloping her.
When the scent of night wind mixed with his unique aura drilled into her nose, Sansa felt a little dizzy.
"To break the engagement, a reason isn't enough."
Lynn's voice pulled her back from her wandering thoughts.
"You also need a suitable timing, and an excuse that cannot be refused."
"Timing? Excuse?"
Sansa was a bit lost.
"Yes."
Lynn nodded.
"Wait until seven days from now, after the duel ends and Petyr's guilt is firmly established. The King's mood will reach a peak."
"That will be when he is happiest and most generous."
"At that time, go to your father. Have him, in his capacity as Hand, use the argument I just taught you to petition the King."
"Tell him, since the North is already firmly tied to the Royal Family through my marriage to Myrcella..."
"Then, to show respect to House Baratheon, House Stark is willing to voluntarily give up the engagement with the Prince, to allow House Baratheon to form deeper ties with other houses."
"The King will not miss this opportunity."
Sansa listened, dumbfounded.
She had never thought that something so complex and difficult in her eyes could become so simple and logical in Lynn's mouth.
She could even imagine how pleased King Robert would be when her father said those words.
Using Myrcella to win over the North.
This way, Joffrey could be used to win over other houses.
It was simply a perfect plan no one could refuse!
"I... I understand."
Sansa nodded vigorously.
She felt she had learned more tonight than in the past ten years combined.
"Thank you, Lord Lynn."
Sansa said sincerely.
She looked into Lynn's eyes, her blue orbs filled with undisguised gratitude and adoration.
"This is just the beginning, Sansa."
Lynn looked at her face, glowing with excitement, and spoke suddenly.
"What?" Sansa paused.
"Getting rid of Joffrey is just the first step you take."
Lynn's gaze deepened.
"I have prepared a bigger stage for you."
"A stage enough to make all of King's Landing look at you sideways."
A bigger stage?
Sansa's heart skipped a beat.
She thought of the Queens in songs, of the noble ladies who were the center of attention at grand banquets.
Could it be...
"Sansa, do you want to become the person with the most power in King's Landing, second only to the King?"
Lynn's voice was like a magical hook, tapping on her heart word by word.
The most powerful person?
Sansa's mind went blank.
She had never thought about this question.
In her past understanding, wasn't the most powerful woman Queen Cersei?
But even as Queen, Cersei was just a figurehead.
Even her bannerman, the Mountain, only obeyed Tywin's orders and didn't respect Cersei.
She had heard about the events in the throne room.
Could a woman really become the most powerful person?
"No, not Queen."
Lynn shook his head as if reading Sansa's mind.
"A Queen needs to rely on the King's favor, on the support of the Lannisters behind her."
"Her power is hollow, liable to be taken back at any time."
Lynn's gaze burned as he stared at Sansa and spoke slowly.
"The one who truly holds power is the one who decides the flow of every gold dragon in the realm."
"The one who ensures the King's armies have money to fight, and the lords' castles have wine to drink."
"The Master of Coin."
Sansa stopped breathing.
She felt like her heart was about to jump out of her chest.
Lynn...
What on earth was Lynn saying?
"Petyr Baelish's position will soon be vacant."
Lynn's voice, like a devil's whisper, rang in Sansa's ear, making her blood boil in an instant.
"Sansa."
"I want you to sit in that chair."