Winter's massive wings cast a huge shadow over Winterfell, like gathering storm clouds.
The sentries on the wall immediately sounded the alarm.
The urgent bell shattered the tranquility of the Northern morning, carrying a trace of panic.
"It's a dragon!"
"Don't panic, a three-headed dragon! It's Winter!"
Panic was quickly replaced by a clamor mixed with awe.
The people of Winterfell recognized it.
This strange three-headed dragon was raised by Robb Stark himself; anyone living in Winterfell for a long time knew this.
But... when did it grow so big?!
Winter landed in the center of the broad courtyard of Winterfell. The wind raised by the folding wings blew the accumulated snow in the courtyard into the air.
Its massive body occupied almost the entire courtyard.
Scales of interwoven ice-blue and silver-white shimmered dreamily in the morning light.
Before the dragon had even fully stabilized, a petite figure leaped impatiently from its back.
"Robb! Bran!"
Arya's voice was as crisp as an icicle, carrying irrepressible ecstasy.
The door to the courtyard was pushed open violently, and a tall, upright young figure rushed out.
He had thick auburn curly hair, and his blue eyes were written with anxiety and concern.
It was Robb Stark.
"Arya!"
When Robb saw the figure running toward him clearly, he froze.
Brother and sister embraced tightly.
Close behind, Lady Catelyn also walked out quickly.
When she saw her youngest daughter safe and sound in Robb's arms, the eyes of this strong Lady of Winterfell reddened instantly.
"My little Arya..."
Catelyn rushed forward, embracing both children, tears falling silently.
Bran, riding his pony, also arrived in the courtyard with Maester Luwin's help.
He looked at the dragon descended from the sky, at his lively sister, and a long-unseen radiance blossomed in his melancholy eyes.
Even the youngest, Rickon, poked his little head out from behind his mother's skirt, looking curiously at this sister.
Lynn dismounted from the dragon's back, not disturbing this warm reunion scene.
"Lynn!"
Robb released Arya, strode up to Lynn, and gave him a strong hug.
"Thank you, brother."
Robb patted Lynn's shoulder heavily.
He looked at the dragon, several times larger than in his memory, and his blue eyes held undisguised shock.
"We are family; no need for thanks."
Lynn responded with a smile.
Lady Catelyn wiped her tears. She walked up to Lynn and gave him an impeccable curtsy.
"Lord Lynn, House Stark thanks you for taking care of Arya."
Her voice carried sincere gratitude.
She knew this young man before her was definitely not as simple as he appeared.
To emerge unscathed from a dragon's pool and tiger's den like King's Landing, and even stir up the winds and clouds.
This ability was enough to startle anyone.
Lynn left the warm moment to the Stark family, not spoiling their mood, and besides, he had more important things to do.
He needed to see two people first.
Led by an attendant, Lynn walked through the familiar corridors to the guest hall of Winterfell.
Before entering, he heard an old and helpless voice from inside.
"Lady Ygritte, please remember, noble ladies must not make noise when drinking soup."
"You should use the side of the spoon, gently..."
"Yes, like that... no, not stuffing the whole spoon into your mouth!"
A smile curled Lynn's lips.
He pushed the door open.
In the guest hall, Maester Luwin was sweating profusely, teaching a red-haired girl with an impatient face.
Ygritte.
And Maester Luwin was actually trying to teach a wildling noble etiquette; this was crazy.
She wore a blue dress that clearly didn't fit well.
The material was too soft for her, making her uncomfortable all over.
Her fiery red hair was clumsily pinned up, revealing a smooth neck, but it made her feel like she was wearing a yoke.
She was struggling with a bowl of mushroom soup, clumsily imitating Maester Luwin's movements.
The result was either spilling soup on her dress or making the spoon clatter loudly.
When she saw Lynn at the door, her eyes, always flashing with wild light, lit up instantly.
She instinctively wanted to stand up, but then remembered her "lady identity" and forced herself back down.
Ygritte tried hard to imitate the etiquette she learned in Winterfell, attempting to curtsy to Lynn.
As a result, because the movement was too vigorous, the hem of her skirt tripped her feet, and she stumbled, almost falling to the ground, nearly stepping off her skirt in the process.
"Lynn... Lord, you're back."
She squeezed these words through her teeth, cheeks flushing red with embarrassment.
Maester Luwin shook his head beside her, his face written with helplessness.
"Maester Luwin, thank you for your hard work."
Lynn nodded to Maester Luwin.
"Leave this to me."
Maester Luwin felt as if granted amnesty, fleeing this place that gave him a headache.
"The pride of the Free Folk, the fearless spearwife..."
Lynn walked up to Ygritte, circled her, looked her up and down, and clicked his tongue in wonder.
"Now defeated by a dress and a bowl of soup."
"What do you know!"
Ygritte was embarrassed into anger by his words.
She pulled off the ridiculous hairpin on her head, letting her fiery red hair fall loose.
"These southern rules are harder and colder than the ice on the Wall!"
She complained, reaching out to tear the dress that made her itch all over right in front of Lynn.
Lynn quickly grabbed her hand.
"Don't rush."
Lynn's voice carried a comforting smile.
"Soon, you'll have the chance to be yourself again."
"Really?"
Ygritte's eyes lit up.
"When have I ever lied to you?"
A smile finally appeared on Ygritte's face.
She looked at Lynn, her blue eyes filled with undisguised dependence and longing.
Having comforted this little wildcat eager to break free from her cage, Lynn walked toward the glass gardens of Winterfell.
It was warm as spring there, completely out of place with the bleakness of the North.
Myrcella Baratheon was sitting quietly on a bench, holding a book.
She wore a golden dress. Sunlight spilling through the glass onto her golden hair shrouded her in a soft halo, like an exquisite oil painting.
Hearing footsteps, she looked up.
Seeing it was Lynn, a ripple appeared in her always slightly melancholic green eyes.
"Lord Lynn."
Myrcella stood up and gave him a standard curtsy.
Her movements were elegant and proper, faultless.
"Princess."
Lynn returned the courtesy.
"Is King's Landing... alright?"
Myrcella asked softly, a trace of imperceptible nervousness in her voice.
Although in Winterfell, news from King's Landing always reached her ears through various channels.
She knew Petyr Baelish died, and died miserably.
She also knew her father, King Robert, was becoming more and more... mad.
"Not very good."
Lynn's answer was simple and direct.
"So, we should go back."
Myrcella's body trembled slightly.
Go back?
Back to that suffocating Red Keep, back to that mad father and domineering mother?
She looked at Lynn's calm black eyes.
"Is it for... our wedding?" Myrcella asked.
"Yes."
Lynn nodded.
"This wedding is what King's Landing needs most right now."
A grand royal wedding was enough to temporarily divert everyone's attention, enough to cover up those surging undercurrents.
Most importantly, it could stop Robert from acting recklessly and temporarily stabilize this irritable beast.
Myrcella fell silent.
She knew that from birth, her destiny was not her own.
She was a piece, a piece used for marriage alliances, used to consolidate power.
"I understand."
Myrcella nodded slowly.
Her face returned to the dignity and calm of a princess, even putting on a tranquil smile.
"I am ready to leave anytime."
She was smarter and stronger than Lynn imagined.
Or perhaps, marrying Lynn was much better than marrying anyone else; she could accept it.
Lynn left Ygritte and Myrcella and walked toward the Lord of Winterfell's solar.
Catelyn was waiting for Lynn there.
Seeing Lynn enter, Lady Catelyn poured a cup of wine for Lynn herself.
The flames in the fireplace illuminated her face, always filled with worry, with flickering light.
"Arya told me everything."
Lady Catelyn spoke first.
"Everything that happened in King's Landing."
Her voice was calm, but Lynn could feel the suppressed anger beneath that calm.
"His Grace... did he really... publicly dismember Petyr?"
"Yes."
"And he forced Ned to kneel in that pool of blood?"
"Yes."
"And now, he wants me to go to King's Landing and kneel before him to prove House Stark's innocence?"
"Yes."
Bang!
Catelyn slammed the goblet onto the table, splashing wine.
"He's mad!"
This eldest daughter of House Tully, the mistress of House Stark, could no longer maintain her noble dignity.
Anger capable of devouring people burned in her blue eyes.
"He humiliated my husband! Humiliated my family! He trampled the honor of Stark and Tully underfoot!"
"I will never go to King's Landing! I will never kneel to that madman!"
Lynn looked at Catelyn calmly.
"That is exactly why I came to find you."
Catelyn's breath hitched.
She looked at Lynn, the anger in her eyes gradually replaced by reason.
"Lynn, what plan do you have?"
"The King's command cannot be openly defied, otherwise it is treason."
Lynn's voice was unhurried.
"So, you need a reason why you cannot leave the North."
"A reason that leaves even the King with nothing to say."
Catelyn's eyes narrowed.
"For example?"
"For example, a rebellion, not too big, not too small."
Lynn said directly without keeping her in suspense.
"A group of unruly bandits burning, killing, and looting on your lands."
"As the acting castellan of Winterfell, you must stay in the North to stabilize the situation."
Catelyn's heart skipped a beat.
Rebellion!
Fabricating a rebellion to counter the King's command!
This plan was too bold, too crazy!
It was only a thin line away from treason!
But... looking at the dancing flames in the fireplace, thinking of her isolated husband far away in King's Landing, and thinking of that mad King.
She had no choice now!
"Family, Duty, Honor."
Catelyn whispered the Tully words.
For women of House Tully, Family always came first!
She wasn't Ned, who put Honor first!
This was good, and bad.
That fool Lysa valued Family too much, and ended up treating Honor lighter than anything...
As for Lord Arryn, Lysa never treated him as family...
Catelyn looked up.
In those blue eyes, all hesitation and struggle had faded.
"Who will play these rebels?"
Catelyn asked.
"I have some friends who would be happy to help."
Lynn smiled.
"Of course, some gold dragons might be needed to pay for their 'performance' and some necessary property damage."
Catelyn instantly understood Lynn's meaning.
Those wildlings from beyond the Wall.
"I understand."
Catelyn stood up.
"Winterfell's treasury will be open to you."
Catelyn had made her choice.
For family, for her husband, she didn't mind getting her hands stained with the colors of conspiracy.
The next morning.
Winter's dragon roar resonated over Winterfell again.
Lynn took Myrcella and Ygritte, who had changed into capable riding gear.
He planned to go to the Gift first to give instructions on the "rebellion," and then take Myrcella back to King's Landing.
As for Ygritte.
She was now best friends with Myrcella and insisted Lynn take her along too.
Lynn didn't know how a gentle character and a wild character became friends.
But that didn't matter.
Before Lynn went to Essos, he promised Ygritte he would come back for her, so he readily agreed to her request.
Arya rushed over and gave Lynn a big hug.
"You'll come back, right?"
She looked up, her small face filled with reluctance.
"Of course."
Lynn ruffled her hair.
"Wait for me."
"Trust me, it won't be long."
Arya's eyes lit up instantly.
The dragon soared into the sky, carrying Lynn and the two girls flying further North.
On the walls of Winterfell.
Lady Catelyn Stark stood against the wind.
Watching the black dot disappear into the horizon, her face, usually filled with worry, now held only determination.
Family was more important than anything!
She was no longer the mother who only knew how to pray!