Sansa's hand was cold, but her grip was tight.
"I won't go."
She repeated it.
King's Landing was hell.
But only in hell could claws sharp enough to tear apart everything be forged.
She didn't want to be the lady manipulated by others anymore.
Sansa was a rose of the North forced to bloom early amidst blood and fire.
Lynn could feel the trembling from her palm, and see the fear still lingering deep in her eyes.
But she didn't retreat.
"Alright."
Lynn didn't try to dissuade her further.
He held Sansa's cold hand, using his warmth to dispel the chill bit by bit.
"Since you've decided to stay, remember this feeling."
Lynn's voice was low, like a lover's whisper, but carried the authority of a teacher.
"Remember the fear today, remember the humiliation when your father knelt, remember the King's mad face."
"These things will become your sharpest weapons in the future."
Sansa nodded vigorously, a sourness rising in her nose.
She looked at Lynn, at his deep eyes that seemed to see through everything, feeling the steady and powerful warmth from his palm.
This warmth seemed to isolate her from all the blood and madness outside.
In this moment, she suddenly felt that as long as this man was behind her, she would dare to hold up the sky even if it collapsed!
Sansa's body leaned forward slightly, uncontrollably.
Her tear-stained, beautiful face moved slowly closer to Lynn.
She closed her eyes, long lashes trembling gently like butterfly wings.
She didn't know why she was doing this.
Perhaps gratitude, perhaps dependence, or perhaps... some feeling she couldn't quite name herself.
These thoughts, catalyzed by fear, grew wildly.
Sansa instinctively wanted to get closer to this only warmth that made her feel safe.
The air in the study became thick at this moment.
Lynn could smell the faint scent of soap from her hair.
He could even feel her faint, rapid breathing.
Carrying the unique fragrance of a young girl, it gently brushed against his face.
Just a slight lowering of his head, and he could kiss those two slightly trembling, petal-delicate lips.
But Lynn didn't.
He just quietly watched Sansa, watching her nervous yet expectant look.
Then, Lynn raised his other hand and gently tapped his index finger on Sansa's smooth forehead, stopping her approach.
"It's not time yet, my student."
Lynn's voice was soft, but instantly extinguished all the romantic fantasies in Sansa's mind.
Sansa opened her eyes abruptly, her face flushing red instantly.
The blush burned from her cheeks to her ears.
Seeing the hint of teasing in Lynn's eyes, Sansa was so embarrassed she wished she could find a hole to crawl into.
Oh gods!
What was I doing just now?!
Sansa felt her mind go blank.
"When you can truly control the Master of Coin's seal, when you can look at the King's butcher knife without changing expression..."
Lynn withdrew his hand, ruffling her beautiful auburn hair.
"By then, you will be qualified to ask your teacher for a reward."
Sansa was stunned.
She looked at Lynn, at the matter-of-fact expression on his face, and the shyness and embarrassment in her heart were slowly replaced by a wonderful emotion.
Control the Master of Coin's seal...
Look at the King's butcher knife without changing expression...
These were the things she should be considering now!
"I... I understand."
Sansa lowered her head, her voice as thin as a mosquito's.
But in her blue eyes, the flame of fighting spirit was reignited.
Lynn smiled with satisfaction.
Leaving the emotionally stabilized Sansa, Lynn didn't linger for a moment and headed straight for the Throne Room.
Petyr Baelish was dead, and the position of Master of Coin was vacant.
He had to push Sansa into this position while Robert's madness hadn't passed, while everyone was still immersed in fear and hadn't reacted.
This move had to be fast, accurate, and ruthless!
He hadn't forgotten the deal with Margaery.
---
The Throne Room.
A mess.
The leftovers from last night's banquet hadn't been cleaned up yet. The air was filled with the sour stench of food mixed with vomit; no one knew who had thrown up last night.
Robert Baratheon sat slumped on the cold, uncomfortable Iron Throne like an exhausted boar.
He wasn't wearing royal robes, just a set of casual clothes stained with filth.
Vomit still clung to his messy beard.
Even his crown was tilted to one side; the whole person looked decadent and comical.
Clearly, he was the one who drank until he vomited last night.
Two Kingsguard stood like statues on either side of the throne, blind to the mess around them.
Seeing Lynn walk in, a flash of impatience passed through Robert's cloudy eyes.
"What is it now?"
Hangovers, slaughter, and endless suspicion had thoroughly drained the energy of this King whose days were numbered.
"Your Grace, I am here to report on the situation in the North."
Lynn spoke calmly, automatically ignoring Robert's terrible attitude.
"The North again?"
Robert frowned, a trace of wariness flashing in his eyes.
"What trick is that bastard Ned playing now?"
"On the contrary, Your Grace."
Lynn said unhurriedly.
"Lord Ned is loyal to you. He is already prepared to write a letter asking his wife to come to King's Landing."
"But... a raven arrived from the North. There is a small trouble in the North recently."
"Trouble?"
"A group of wildlings who appeared from nowhere, or bandits, burning, killing, and looting in villages near Winterfell, causing some chaos."
"As the acting castellan of Winterfell, Lady Catelyn fears she needs some time to deal with this 'rebellion' before she can set off for King's Landing."
Lynn repeated the excuse Ned taught him word for word.
Hearing this, Robert let out a disdainful snort.
"Rebellion?"
"Just those poor ghosts in the North who haven't even seen iron?"
"What is House Stark doing?"
"Can't even handle this little thing?"
He obviously didn't believe it.
But in his chaotic brain, this reason seemed logical.
"Just a bunch of flies, nothing to worry about."
Robert waved his hand impatiently.
"Then let Catelyn come to King's Landing after dealing with it. Do you need to bother me with such a small matter?"
"Of course not, Your Grace."
Lynn finally threw out his real purpose.
"I came for another, more important matter."
"Petyr Baelish is dead, but the realm cannot go a day without a Master of Coin."
"The treasury of King's Landing is like a wine skin poked with countless holes. If not plugged, the gold dragons inside will flow out completely."
Hearing the words "gold dragons," Robert's expression finally changed a bit.
He knew better than anyone how poor the realm was now.
"Do you have a candidate?"
Robert narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Lynn.
"Your Grace, I believe the new Master of Coin must meet three conditions."
Lynn held up three fingers.
"First, they must be absolutely loyal, never stealing from the treasury like Baelish."
"Second, they must be 'stupid' enough, without their own petty calculations. All their actions must be under your control."
"Third, and most importantly, they must be obedient. Only then can they become a trump card in your hand to awe those with ill intentions."
Lynn's three conditions seemed to consider everything for the King.
Robert's interest was piqued.
Loyal, stupid, and a trump card?
Where in the world was such a perfect candidate?
"Speak."
"Lady Sansa Stark."
Lynn calmly spat out the name.
The air solidified instantly at this moment.
The bit of interest on Robert's face vanished instantly.
Replaced by the gloom before a volcanic eruption.
He sat up straight on the throne abruptly, bloodshot eyes staring fixedly at Lynn, as if to swallow him alive.
"What the fuck did you say?"
Robert's voice squeezed through his teeth, every word carrying cold killing intent.
"You want me to hand the realm's purse to a Stark?"
"Are you crazy too?!"
He felt Lynn was humiliating him!
"Your Grace, please calm your anger."
Lynn showed no fear on his face; instead, he revealed a profound smile.
"The reason I recommend Lady Sansa is precisely because she is a Stark."
Robert was stunned.
"Think about it, Your Grace."
Lynn's voice carried a strange magic, guiding Robert's chaotic thoughts, secretly using his warging ability to constantly guide Robert's sensitive and fragile nerves.
"Lady Sansa is just a little girl. Does she understand finance? Does she understand balance of payments?"
"She knows nothing."
"Sitting in that position, she will just be like a helpless little girl, completely relying on you, relying on the wisdom and guidance of His Grace the King."
"Doesn't her seal essentially rest in your hand?"
"Isn't she your most loyal, and most 'stupid' puppet?"
The anger in Robert's eyes receded a bit.
Replaced by contemplation.
"That's not the most important thing, Your Grace."
Lynn continued to raise the stakes.
"Think about it, what does Ned Stark cherish most?"
"His honor, and his two precious children!"
"By placing Lady Sansa in the position of Master of Coin, you are firmly grasping the softest lifeline of House Stark in your palm!"
"She is right here in King's Landing, right under your nose!"
"As long as she is in your hands, does Ned Stark dare to move?"
"If they dare make any strange moves, you can take Sansa's head at any time!"
"She is not the Master of Coin, Your Grace."
"She is a hostage you use to clamp down on the North!"
Lynn's words reminded Robert.
Hostage!
Right!
Why didn't he think of that!
Robert's breathing became heavy instantly, and the excitement reignited in his cloudy eyes.
This idea... was fucking genius!
"Moreover, Your Grace."
The corner of Lynn's mouth curved up slightly, delivering the final blow.
"What could demonstrate your majesty and wash away the offense Ned brought you more than having the proudest daughter of the Warden of the North manage the purse for you, bowing and scraping before you every day?"
"You don't even need to make her kneel; she has to report the whereabouts of every gold dragon to you every day!"
"What glory! What power!"
"Besides, you promised to give Sansa compensation before. Isn't this killing multiple birds with one stone?"
Robert was thoroughly convinced.
He looked at Lynn as if looking at a monster.
He imagined Ned Stark's ashen face upon hearing this news, imagined that little girl Sansa wearing the robes of the Master of Coin, kneeling before him in fear and unease...
An indescribable pleasure rushed from the bottom of his heart straight to the top of his head!
"Haha... Hahahahahaha!"
Robert burst into a manic laugh.
The laughter echoed in the empty Throne Room, hair-raising.
He walked down from the throne, step by step to Lynn, his fan-sized hand slapping heavily on his shoulder.
"Lynn! You guy!"
In Robert's eyes, a madness bordering on appreciation flickered.
"You... are more Lannister than a Lannister!"
"You are my most loyal subject!"