Beneath their feet, a sea of clouds rolled like a solidified milky ocean.
Occasionally, through gaps in the clouds, one could glimpse the vast expanse of snowy plains below, and the Kingsroad winding like a black vein.
Arya's screams and excited shouts upon leaving still echoed in their ears.
But now, Arya was no longer on the dragon's back.
Myrcella gripped the handhold of the specially made saddle on the dragon's back tightly.
Her luxurious golden dress flapped wildly in the biting cold wind, her golden hair long since blown into a mess.
Her cheeks were flushed red from the cold, her lips a bit purple, but she kept her teeth clenched, not making a sound.
In her green eyes, there was fear, but more of an innate fortitude.
She was like a golden rose forcibly transplanted to the Wall, struggling to maintain her last dignity and pride in the extreme cold.
Beside her, Ygritte presented a completely different picture.
Having shed the lady's dress that made her uncomfortable all over, she had changed back into her familiar leather and furs.
This wildling girl kissed by fire was like a falcon breaking free from all shackles.
She opened her arms, letting the gale blow through her fiery red hair.
She laughed aloud, the sound crisp and wild, filled with the joy of regained freedom, though quickly torn apart by the whistling wind.
She even stuck out her tongue to catch snowflakes swept up by the wind, tasting the chill belonging to the North.
"This is fucking living!"
Ygritte shouted, turning to look at the calm-faced Lynn.
"Ten thousand times better than huddled in that warm, broken house in Winterfell, learning those southern ninnies' broken rules!"
Lynn just smiled and didn't speak.
He untied the thick bearskin cloak Robb had given him and draped it over Myrcella without a word, shielding her from most of the cold wind.
Myrcella trembled, feeling Lynn's body heat from the cloak, and that reassuring scent of pine.
Myrcella looked up, a complex emotion flashing in her green eyes, and whispered softly.
"Thank you."
Lynn's action instantly silenced the little wildcat cheering behind him.
Ygritte's smile vanished.
Her blue eyes, always flashing with wild light, narrowed slightly, like a she-wolf surveying her territory.
She looked at Lynn, then at the southern princess huddled in the cloak, revealing only a pair of green eyes.
An indescribable irritability rose from the bottom of her heart.
"Lynn, why didn't you give me one too!"
"I'm cold too!"
Back in Winterfell, she had heard the maids chattering.
Saying Lord Lynn was not only going to marry the second daughter of House Stark, who was like a little wolf cub, but also a real princess in King's Landing.
She didn't care at the time.
Princess? What is that? Can you eat it? Can you fight with it?
In her view, those southern noble ladies were all like delicate flowers in a greenhouse, falling over with a gust of wind.
Aside from being good-looking, they were useless.
But in the end, she knew that princess was Myrcella.
And now, this princess was sitting right in front of her.
Ygritte admitted Myrcella was indeed good-looking.
Golden hair more dazzling than sunlight, skin whiter than fresh snow.
Even she sometimes couldn't control the urge to steal a kiss.
Moreover, Myrcella wasn't as fragile as she had imagined before.
In this ghostly weather cold enough to freeze off a nose, she had persisted silently for so long; it had been almost two months...
Most crucially... Lynn's attitude toward her.
It was a gentleness carrying a trace of respect Ygritte had never seen.
Different from the brotherly doting on Arya, and different from the teasing intimacy with herself.
This made Ygritte very unhappy.
Not unhappy.
Very unhappy!
Facing Ygritte's question, Lynn simply said.
"It's fine, you're resistant to cold..."
Ygritte rolled her eyes.
Seeming to think of something, she shifted her body, leaned close to Lynn, and nudged him with her elbow.
"Hey."
Ygritte's voice was a bit blurred in the wind, but that impatient tone was incredibly clear.
Lynn turned his head, looking at this wildling girl.
"How many women are you going to marry exactly?"
Ygritte cut straight to the chase.
Her voice was loud enough for Myrcella next to her to hear clearly.
Myrcella's body stiffened visibly.
"Women?"
Lynn raised an eyebrow.
"Don't play dumb with me!"
Ygritte glared at Lynn, extended a finger, and pointed unceremoniously at Myrcella.
"One little she-wolf from Stark isn't enough, now another golden-haired one?"
"I heard that little old man Luwin nag about your southern rules: a man can only have one wife!"
"Damn it, that's two already!"
"Don't your Seven Gods care about you?"
Ygritte's voice was full of righteous questioning.
In her view, if you like someone, go snatch them, and treat only her well for a lifetime.
Who does it like this?
Eating from the bowl, looking at the pot, and bringing another basin from outside?
Listening to Ygritte's words, Myrcella buried her face deeper, an unnatural blush rising to the roots of her ears.
Truly... crude language.
"They are not women."
Lynn corrected, his expression somewhat amused.
"What are they then?"
Ygritte was relentless.
"They are allies."
"Allies?"
Ygritte frowned, clearly unable to understand this word.
In her black-and-white worldview, there were only two relationships between people.
One's own people and enemies.
Allies should fall under the category of one's own people, right?
"Putting personal factors aside, Myrcella is a princess; she represents Baratheon and Lannister."
"Marrying her gains me the support of the royal family and the Westerlands."
Lynn explained patiently.
"Arya is a Stark; marrying her gains me the friendship of the entire North."
"In the South, marriage isn't just about two people; it's more like a contract, a contract that binds two families firmly together."
Lynn tried to explain this complex political marriage in a way she could understand.
"So, you don't like them?"
"And you don't want to poke them?"
Ygritte's focus was always so peculiar.
"You just... use their names?"
This left Lynn somewhat speechless for a moment.
Not poke?
Impossible.
Ygritte's words made Myrcella's body tense again beside them.
She appeared somewhat nervous.
But she didn't voice any opinion, just listened quietly.
"In the tribes of the Free Folk, if a man fancies a woman, he steals her from her family's tent!"
"Then takes her to his own tent and pokes her, end of story."
"Of course, you can't poke wildling women who already have husbands; you'll get beaten up."
A pride belonging to her people appeared on Ygritte's face.
"Then, he has to prove to everyone he has enough strength to protect her, feed her!"
"You are the strongest man I've ever seen, Lynn."
Ygritte looked at him with burning eyes.
"Whoever you want to marry, just go snatch her, isn't that enough?"
"Why go through so many twists and turns?"
"By your logic, as long as you poke a big shot's daughter, you get support. My method must be more effective than yours!"
Myrcella quietly raised her eyes, peeking through the gap in the cloak at this wildling girl full of talk about "snatching."
Her green eyes were filled with confusion and novelty.
Snatch?
This word was strange to her.
Her upbringing told her.
Marriage was responsibility, duty, an exchange of family interests.
She never thought marriage could be something so... primal, direct, full of power.
Even... freedom.
Being with whoever you want, she yearned for this.
However, she didn't dislike marrying Lynn.
This could be considered a blessing in misfortune.
"Ygritte, this isn't beyond the Wall."
Lynn sighed.
"In the South, there are southern rules."
"Sometimes, using your brain is more effective than using your fists."
"Bullshit rules!"
Ygritte pouted disdainfully.
"Rules are meant to be broken!"
"Don't you never follow those southern rules either?"
"That's different."
"What's different?"
Seeing this debate on Northern and Southern marriage concepts about to fall into an endless loop, the silent Myrcella suddenly spoke.
"Lady Ygritte."
Her voice was soft, but exceptionally clear in the howling wind.
Ygritte paused, turning to look at her.
"What is it, my dear noble lady?"
Myrcella slowly lifted her head from the cloak, revealing her face, red from the cold but still beautiful and dignified.
"Becoming Lord Lynn's wife is my honor, and my duty."
She looked into Ygritte's wild blue eyes, saying word by word.
"As a princess of House Baratheon, my marriage belongs to the Seven Kingdoms, belongs to the Iron Throne."
"This is my destiny, and I accept it gladly."
Myrcella's voice was calm and firm, carrying a sense of... fatalism Ygritte couldn't understand?
Ygritte opened her mouth.
She wanted to say something but found herself speechless.
She looked at this golden-haired princess.
Suddenly felt she wasn't that fragile after all.
Inside her slender body, there seemed to be something hard hidden.
Like the rocks at the foot of the Wall.
Seemingly ordinary, yet able to withstand thousands of years of wind and snow.
"You southerners... are fucking weird."
Ygritte finally squeezed out this sentence, then turned her head away resentfully, saying no more.
Silence returned to the dragon's back.
Lynn looked at the two girls beside him, with completely different styles but reaching a subtle balance to some extent, and couldn't help but smile inwardly.
The dragon began to descend.
On the snowy plain below, a cluster of disorderly stone houses appeared.
In the distance, a massive castle was under construction.
The Gift had arrived.
Also Lynn's fief, the home belonging to him and his people.
When Winter's massive figure appeared over the camp, the entire camp boiled over.
Those wildlings who a second ago were drinking, eating meat, and fighting around bonfires threw away everything in their hands the next.
They rushed out of their tents, cheering fanatically at the sky.
They shouted Lynn's name.
The sound waves gathered, almost scattering the clouds in the sky.
This was their King.
The King Beyond the Wall who led them over the Wall, gave them land and food, saved them from the attacks of the dead, and let them live like human beings!
Winter landed steadily on the largest clearing in the center of the camp.
Lynn leaped down, followed closely by Ygritte.
When her feet touched the solid ground, smelling the air mixed with bonfire, roast meat, and sweat, she felt every cell in her body cheering.
A familiar feeling.
She was back!
Lynn helped the still-shaky Myrcella off the dragon's back, and immediately a group of wildling warriors surrounded them.
Tormund's tall figure squeezed out of the crowd.
"Lynn, you're finally fucking back!"
He gave Lynn a big bear hug.
"If you didn't come back, these cubs were going to tear the Gift apart!"
Lynn patted his back, signaling him to let go.
"I came back this time because I have work for you."
Lynn's gaze swept over these energetic wildling warriors with nowhere to vent, a smile curling his lips.
"A battle... requiring acting skills."
Tormund's eyes lit up instantly.
"War? Fight who?!"
"Some villages near Winterfell."
Lynn said unhurriedly.
"Your task is to play a group of bandits burning, killing, and looting."
"Remember, act realistically, but absolutely do not hurt anyone for real."
"After it's done, everyone gets a bounty."
"Of course, you have no use for money."
"I will convert all those gold dragons into more practical things."
"Bandits?"
Tormund paused.
Then he seemed to understand something, a smile appearing on his face.
"I get it, Lynn, you want to... put on a show for some people?"
"Tormund, you're smart for once."
Lynn nodded with a smile.
Tormund scratched his head embarrassedly.
"Of course, I, Tormund, am a genius."
Just then, Ygritte squeezed over.
"What about me? What's my task?"
She asked impatiently.
Lynn looked at her expectant blue eyes and smiled.
"You?"
Lynn reached out, tidying her windblown red hair.
"You will be the leader of these bandits."
Ygritte froze abruptly.
She stared blankly at Lynn, seemingly unable to believe her ears.
Let her... be the leader?
An indescribable ecstasy instantly burned through her limbs!
Those annoying matters about "marrying how many wives" were instantly thrown to the nine heavens.
Fuck southern rules!
Fuck princesses!
I am now a rebel leader!
A brilliant and wild smile blossomed on Ygritte's face.
She jumped up, planting a heavy kiss on Lynn's cheek, leaving a wet mark.
Then, she turned around, hands on hips.
Facing the group of wildlings before her, she announced loudly with unprecedented momentum.
"Did you all hear that?!"
"From now on, I am your boss!"