The Eyrie.
Silence reigned.
The nobles of the Vale had dispersed, busy executing Lynn's orders.
In the Moon Garden, only Lynn and his ten shadow-like, black-robed White Walkers remained.
Winter's massive body was coiled atop the ruins of the garden. His three heads rested on his front claws, seemingly napping.
But the occasional flare of his nostrils and the low, rumbling purr from deep within his throat were clear warnings that he could become an agent of destruction at a moment's notice.
Lynn walked to the castle's edge, looking down at the rolling sea of clouds beneath his feet.
Conquering the Vale had been smoother than he imagined.
Military deterrence combined with psychological warfare.
A two-pronged attack that barely required him to lift a finger.
Now, the entire North and the Vale were united. His power base was more solid than ever.
However, just as he was pondering his next move—how to deal with that madwoman Lysa—an intense feeling of being watched hit him from behind without warning!
Lynn turned slowly, his gaze sharp as lightning, sweeping the area behind him.
Empty.
Only the ten black-robed White Walkers stood quietly in the shadows, merging with the darkness.
No!
Lynn's eyes finally locked onto the battlements of a high tower.
There, perched silently, was a raven.
A very different kind of raven.
It was larger than any common raven, its feathers black as ink without a single streak of color.
The most eerie part was its eyes. It had three.
Besides the two normal eyes on the sides, a third, blood-red eye sat right in the center of its forehead.
That eye had no pupil, only a chaotic swirl of crimson, like a vortex leading into an endless abyss.
The intense feeling of surveillance came from that.
The Three-Eyed Raven!
Wearing the skin of Brynden Rivers, the former "Bloodraven," an old monster who had lived for gods know how long.
One of the masterminds hiding in a weirwood cave beyond the Wall, trying to manipulate the fate of all Westeros.
The fact that he found Lynn here meant only one thing.
He was desperate.
Just as the thought crossed Lynn's mind, the Three-Eyed Raven spread its wings and flew silently towards him.
It didn't land. instead, it hovered in mid-air, staring fixedly at Lynn with all three eyes.
In the next second, it lunged forward!
Not for Lynn's eyes, nor his throat.
But for his ear!
Its sharp beak gently pecked Lynn's earlobe.
There was no pain.
Only a thought, surging directly into Lynn's mind.
An ancient voice echoed.
"Bring him..."
"Bring him to Castle Black..."
"The time... has come..."
Lynn understood.
He wanted Robert Arryn.
This was the agreement they had made.
The sickly, simple-minded, still-breastfeeding little Lord of the Vale that Lynn had just secured!
The Three-Eyed Raven believed Robert Arryn's frail body and weak spirit made him the perfect vessel for the next Greenseer!
He wanted to skinchange into Robert Arryn!
A flash of murderous intent flickered in Lynn's eyes.
He had promised the Vale he would treat Robert kindly and raise him to be a capable lord.
That promise was the cornerstone of his control over the Vale, the guarantee of his honor.
How could he hand a living human being over to an ancient monster to be used as a "spare part"?
Old fool, trying to play a shell game right under my nose?
You haven't been beaten by reality enough yet!
Lynn's expression didn't change.
But his thoughts, clear and sharp, traveled back through the link.
"Done."
"Don't forget my nature magic and the song magic."
Simple, direct, full of "sincerity" and "quid pro quo."
The Three-Eyed Raven seemed satisfied with Lynn's "cooperation."
The chaotic vortex in its third red eye slowly calmed. It pecked Lynn's ear gently again, as if in approval.
Then, it spread its wings, turned into a black shadow, and vanished into the sea of clouds.
The disgusting sensation of being watched disappeared with it.
Lynn stood there, silent for a moment.
He raised a hand to touch his earlobe, the corner of his mouth curling into a cold, cruel smile.
You want to body-snatch?
Fine.
If you want to play, I'll play until the end.
I just wonder if your powerful soul can handle the "gift" I've prepared for you.
The Three-Eyed Raven never noticed anything special about Lynn's "guards"—that they were White Walkers.
This proved two things.
First, the Three-Eyed Raven, like Lynn, couldn't use Greensight without cost. Especially over such a distance, the mental toll was immense.
But Lynn could do it easily.
His Transmigrator spirit, combined with the Night King's gifts, meant his mental power already crushed the Three-Eyed Raven's.
This meant Lynn had the strength to challenge him.
Second, the Three-Eyed Raven mainly used vision to spot anomalies.
Once he found something illogical, he would investigate deeply. But if he didn't spot anything wrong, he wouldn't waste mental energy.
Since Lynn's White Walkers were right there and the Raven didn't investigate, it meant the old bird was stingy with his power.
He only extracted the most critical information to save energy.
Far less extravagant than Lynn.
If Lynn wanted to investigate someone, he'd dig up their entire family tree. He'd check what they ate for breakfast and who they slept with last night in excruciating detail.
"Come."
Lynn spoke to the shadows.
A black-robed White Walker walked out with stiff steps.
It was the smallest of the ten.
Greensight, activate!
This time, Lynn's target wasn't the North, nor the distant Riverlands.
It was the Eyrie itself.
His consciousness, like an invisible spiderweb, instantly covered every corner of the castle.
He "saw" Robert Arryn packing his things, preparing to leave for Winterfell.
The boy was clutching a toy, his face full of fear and anxiety, sobbing quietly.
Lynn didn't disturb him.
Like the most precise scanner, he imprinted everything about the boy into his mind.
His height, his weight, his gait, the tone of his voice, the way he subconsciously bit his finger when scared...
Every detail was perfectly copied by Lynn.
Then, he poured all this "data" into a blank Faceless Man mask!
Lynn slowly placed the mask over the White Walker's face.
The Walker's body began to tremble violently.
Its blue flame eyes flickered wildly, fluctuating between bright and dim.
Its body underwent a visible transformation!
Its stiff bones cracked and shifted, its height shrinking inch by inch.
The loose black robe soon hung off it completely.
As Lynn poured in his spirit power, the blank mask seemed to come alive, writhing and changing!
Features, contours, skin texture...
A face identical to Robert Arryn's—down to the faint freckles—appeared before Lynn!
"Ooh... Mommy... I'm scared..."
"Robert" spoke.
The voice, the tone, even the bone-deep cowardice were indistinguishable from the real Robert Arryn!
He subconsciously raised a hand to bite his finger, but Lynn caught his wrist.
"Excellent."
Lynn nodded with satisfaction.
The actor was in place.
Now, he just had to wait for the high-and-mighty Greenseer to receive this "surprise."
He really wanted to see the look on that powerful soul's face when it eagerly dived into a body made of pure death and ice.
Did I just create a new 'Night King'?
Lynn looked forward to finding out.
Having dealt with the matters of gods, it was time to deal with the matters of mortals.
His gaze turned South.
To the Riverlands. To Riverrun.
...
Riverrun. The ancestral seat of House Tully.
Today, it was decked out in lanterns and banners, bustling with excitement.
Flags bearing the silver trout of House Tully hung side-by-side with the twin towers of House Frey on the battlements.
Edmure Tully, the Lord of Riverrun and heir to the house, was getting married today.
The bride was Roslin Frey, the prettiest daughter of that old weasel Walder Frey.
Inside the Great Hall, the long tables were laden with a feast.
Bards played cheerful tunes, and nobles toasted each other, laughing and drinking.
Everything looked so festive, so peaceful.
Edmure Tully sat at the high table, his bride beside him.
Roslin Frey's eyes were full of timidity and submission. She knew her fate. She had accepted it.
Edmure, dressed in a brand-new doublet, wore a stiff smile, mechanically responding to every guest who came to toast him.
His gaze occasionally drifted to Walder Frey, sitting not far below.
The old man, face full of wrinkles and teeth mostly gone, looked smug.
His cloudy eyes leered at Roslin Frey.
Edmure's heart filled with humiliation and disgust.
He knew he was just a puppet.
After that madwoman Lysa fled to the Twins and traded control of the Vale—and her own body—for House Frey's "protection," he had completely lost control of Riverrun.
This wedding was nothing more than a transaction.
A deal trading his dignity and that of House Tully for Frey soldiers to fight the North.
The irony was, just before the wedding began, news from the Eyrie had turned this deal into a massive joke.
The Vale had surrendered.
Lynn had taken the Eyrie without shedding a drop of blood.
And yet here he was, Edmure Tully, acting in a play with these rats.
He felt like a clown.
The wedding music sounded harsh and grating to his ears.
This wasn't a wedding.
It was clearly a funeral—for him, and for House Tully!
And today was just the opening ceremony.