Lynn's gaze fell on Myrcella's hand, still oozing blood.
His brows instantly knit into a deep frown.
The wound wasn't deep, but because it had been clenched tightly, it looked somewhat hideous.
The bright red blood formed a stark contrast with the girl's skin, which was so fair it was almost translucent.
Myrcella's green eyes, usually like a clear pool, were now misty, as if big tears would roll down the next second.
Lynn didn't speak.
He just grabbed Myrcella's wrist, pulled her into the room, and slammed the door shut with a bang.
This sudden movement made Myrcella's body stiffen almost imperceptibly.
But she quickly relaxed, obediently letting Lynn pull her to the table.
Lynn ignored her pitiful appearance, just finding clean linen and wound medicine from a cabinet nearby.
He brought a basin of clean water and pressed Myrcella's hand into it.
The cold water washed the wound, bringing a slight stinging pain, making Myrcella's body tremble slightly again.
She looked up, her watery green eyes staring unblinkingly at Lynn's hateful face.
Her lips moved slightly, seeming to want to say something, but daring not to speak.
This appearance would make anyone feel pity.
But a sense of incongruity rose in Lynn's heart.
The change was too fast.
Just a while ago, this girl was like an enraged lioness, declaring war on him with the sharpest words and coldest attitude.
And now, she had become a docile, harmless little white rabbit?
When things go wrong, there must be a demon.
This was obviously not right!
Lynn finished cleaning Myrcella's wound.
Then he carefully dried it with linen, applying the grass-green ointment evenly on the wound.
Finally, he wrapped it with clean cloth, circle by circle.
Throughout the process, he didn't say a word.
The atmosphere in the room was so oppressive it was suffocating.
Myrcella seemed about to collapse from this torture of silence.
"Lord Lynn..."
She finally couldn't hold back, speaking with a sob.
"I... I really know I was wrong."
"I saw you and Lady Sansa..."
"I was... my mind went blank at that moment, I was jealous of her, I was afraid... afraid you wouldn't want me anymore..."
Her voice grew smaller and smaller, finally turning into suppressed whimpers.
"I went back to my room, and the more I thought, the more scared I became."
"I didn't mean to smash things, I just... I just didn't know what to do..."
"If you like Lady Sansa, I can accept it..."
"Just begging you not to abandon me..."
As Myrcella spoke, she gripped Lynn's sleeve tightly with her uninjured hand, shaking it gently.
"Don't be angry with me anymore, okay?"
"I won't do it again, I'll listen to everything you say..."
Tears finally rolled down her pale cheeks, dripping onto the back of Lynn's hand.
Lynn lowered his eyes, looking at her pear blossom bathed in rain appearance.
Not bad acting.
Much better than the lead actresses in those bard troupes in King's Landing.
Only, that trace of calculation identical to Cersei's deep in her eyes couldn't escape Lynn.
This harmless little princess seemed to have learned some things she shouldn't have after experiencing some storms.
Lynn sighed lightly in his heart.
He closed his eyes, his consciousness instantly sinking into boundless darkness.
Greensight.
Activated.
Countless fragmented images flooded into his mind like a tide; time flowed backward rapidly.
The scene finally froze on last night.
In Myrcella's bedroom.
---
Lynn's consciousness hovered by Myrcella's bed.
He saw it.
He saw how the usually elegant and proper princess, amidst the blush-inducing commotion next door, went from initial fear and disgust, step by step toward confusion and indulgence.
He saw her curled up in the cold velvet quilt.
That smooth silk nightgown soaked with sweat, clinging tightly to her unripe yet beautiful body curves, outlining a thrilling arc.
Her cheeks showed a sickly flush.
Those green eyes completely lost focus, covered with a layer of blurred mist.
A whimper as thin as a mosquito's.
Spilled from Myrcella's dry lips.
Myrcella's eyes widened instantly.
Her hand gripped the sheet beneath her tightly, crumpling the gorgeous fabric out of shape.
She felt like a fish thrown onto a scorching beach, desperately thirsting for cool seawater.
"Lynn..."
A dreamlike murmur leaked from her lips.
"Lord... Lynn..."
Her consciousness was completely blurred.
She didn't know what she was doing, nor what she wanted.
She only knew she needed him.
Needed the man who brought her from the glass gardens of Winterfell into this filthy world.
Needed the man who made her jealous, angry, yet hopelessly addicted.
"Lynn..."
"I want..."
Myrcella's voice carried a sob.
"My Lord..."
"Mmm?"
When the sky turned pale.
Myrcella's eyes were wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling, covered in sweat as if just fished out of water.
---
Lynn's consciousness withdrew from that旖旎 (yi ni - charming/romantic/erotic) and crazy memory.
He opened his eyes slowly.
So, that night was all seen by this little girl.
No wonder she was so angry with him.
Looking at Myrcella before him, still sobbing softly, playing the innocent victim, Lynn's eyes became incredibly complex.
So, so many things had happened to her.
No wonder her temperament changed drastically today.
The Greensight scene switched again.
This time, it was Cersei.
Lynn saw it.
He saw how Cersei walked into that messy room.
Saw how Cersei used her own twisted and cruel survival rules to "enlighten" her daughter who was on the verge of collapse.
He heard the shocking secret enough to shake all of Westeros.
He saw Myrcella's face turn pale as paper, her worldview collapsing completely upon hearing the truth.
And saw how Cersei spoke of her own humiliation and baseness, and that great sacrifice seemingly made for her daughter, carrying selfishness.
What a Cersei Lannister.
Truly good means.
She actually wanted to use this way to tie Myrcella completely to her war chariot.
Turning Myrcella into a madwoman who would stop at nothing for power, just like herself!
Lynn certainly wouldn't discard his woman casually.
Just not in this way.
This would make Lynn feel he was being manipulated by Cersei's petty cleverness.
Moreover, Cersei miscalculated one thing.
She didn't know that all her calculations, all her performances, were just a transparent joke before Lynn's eyes capable of seeing the past!
Lynn withdrew all his thoughts.
Looking at Myrcella before him, who was still performing hard, the anger risen from being deceived had long vanished.
Replaced by a complex emotion mixed with pity, amusement, and a trace of appreciation.
This girl, after experiencing the collapse of her worldview and her mother's venomous "teaching," didn't collapse.
Instead, she learned to disguise herself at an astonishing speed.
Learned to use her tears and fragility as weapons.
Myrcella thought she was deceiving him.
She thought she was acting out a tragedy to win sympathy according to Cersei's script.
She didn't know her prey had long seen through all her disguises.
Even glimpsed the most unbearable and truest desires deep in her soul.
What should he do?
Expose her?
Tell her, your little tricks aren't worth mentioning in front of me?
Tell her, I know you aren't here to apologize, you are here to act?
Tell her, I know what you did to yourself in bed last night while thinking of me?
No.
That would only push this already teetering girl completely into the abyss.
She would go mad.
She would definitely go mad.
For Cersei, Lynn could stand up and kick.
But Myrcella was different.
Lynn slowly tied the last knot of the bandage for Myrcella.
He looked up at her.
Myrcella was somewhat angry, but she still maintained a delicate and pitiful appearance, showing not half of the complaint in her heart.
The script... didn't go like this.
According to her mother, she should cry longer, sadder.
Until Lynn completely softened, promising her he would never be ambiguous with other women again.
But now...
No promise at all?
Could Lynn really be such a person?
But suddenly.
"I'm sorry."
This time, the person apologizing turned out to be Lynn.
Myrcella froze abruptly.
Those tear-filled green eyes were full of astonishment and incomprehension.
"It's my fault."
Lynn stood up, sitting beside her, his voice carrying a trace of guilt and self-blame.
"I shouldn't have... let you see those things."
He didn't say explicitly what, but Myrcella instantly understood his meaning.
Sansa Stark?
He thought she was like this because of him and Sansa.
Myrcella's heart felt bumped by something neither light nor heavy.
A more complex grievance welled up.
Yes, I am indeed very angry.
But you don't know at all, I'm angry about far more than these!
"I..."
Myrcella just wanted to say something, but tears really fell uncontrollably.
This time, it wasn't acting.
Lynn spoke no more, just reaching out and gently pulling this trembling girl into his arms.
His embrace was warm and solid.
Carrying a reassuring, faint scent of leather and pine.
Myrcella's body stiffened, instinctively wanting to struggle.
But when her cheek touched that warm and powerful chest, hearing that steady heartbeat, all struggles turned futile.
Her nerve, tight all night, finally snapped completely at this moment.
"Woo... Wah——!"
Myrcella could hold back no longer, crying aloud in Lynn's arms like a child who had suffered a huge grievance.
She cried for her background, cried for her mother, cried for her filthy blood.
And cried for herself, sinking alone in the darkness, confused and helpless.
Lynn just held her quietly, gently patting her back, letting her tears soak his tunic.
He knew everything.
But he chose to say nothing.
He wanted to play his role well.
A somewhat dull, somewhat guilty, but gentle enough, patient enough fiancé.
A harbor where she could let down all guards and rely on with peace of mind.
He wanted to piece this broken princess back together bit by bit in his own way.
To achieve this goal, he needed more information.
Lynn held the crying girl in his arms, Greensight activating quietly again.
This time, he filtered out those heavy and dark memories.
Like a scholar flipping through books quickly in a library, he searched for the purest, simplest things in her mind.
What did she like?
[Image flash: She chasing a fluffy white puppy in the gardens of Casterly Rock, laughing like a little sun.]
[Image flash: She stealing a lemon cake fresh from the oven, covered in icing sugar, in the kitchens of the Red Keep, huffing from the heat, yet her face radiating a satisfied smile.]
[Image flash: She clumsily playing an ancient song from the Summer Isles, "The Last Kiss," with a harp in her room, over and over, tireless.]
Puppy.
Cake.
"The Last Kiss."
Lynn memorized this information firmly.
The crying in his arms gradually subsided.
Myrcella was tired from crying, sobbing softly in Lynn's arms like a cat that had exhausted all strength.
She felt much better.
Those boulders pressing on her heart seemed to have been washed away mostly by tears.
She lifted her head from Lynn's arms somewhat embarrassedly, that tear-stained little face looking particularly pitiable.
"S... sorry, I got your clothes dirty."
"It doesn't matter."
Lynn wiped the tear from the corner of her eye with his thumb, the movement gentle enough to drip water.
"As long as you're not angry with me anymore, what does dirtying a few clothes matter?"
His eyes were filled with tolerance and doting.
Myrcella looked at this Lynn, her heart missing a beat uncontrollably.
She suddenly couldn't tell.
Was everything before her his acting, or... did he really care about her?
Perhaps, mother was right.
Men are all cheap bones.
As long as she appeared weak enough, needy enough, he would be willingly manipulated by her.
Thinking of this, Myrcella's heart became firm again.
"I'm not angry with you anymore."
She lowered her head, voice thin as a mosquito's, face carrying appropriate shyness.
"As long... as long as you treat me a bit better in the future."
"I promise."
Lynn held her bandaged hand, placed it to his lips, and kissed it gently.
"I will."
This kiss, like an electric current, hit Myrcella instantly.
This gave Myrcella a sudden illusion.
Did Lynn still care about her?
This thought made her cheeks flush red with a "whoosh," red enough to bleed.
Like a startled rabbit, she yanked her hand back abruptly, breaking free from Lynn's embrace.
"I... I should go back."
Dropping this sentence, Myrcella ran away without looking back.
Lynn watched her fleeing back, an imperceptible arc curling the corner of his mouth.
The little hedgehog finally was willing to expose a crack of her softest belly to him.