Riverrun, the Lord's Solar.
This room had once belonged to Hoster Tully.
Now, its temporary master was Lynn.
A warm fire crackled in the hearth, chasing away the damp chill of the Riverlands night.
Tapestries depicting scenes of Riverrun hung on the walls. The silver trout woven into the fabric seemed to swim in the flickering firelight.
Everything looked peaceful, luxurious.
But this peace was broken by the faint sounds of suppressed weeping and the rough shouts of soldiers drifting in from outside.
Every regime change meant a thorough cleansing.
Frey loyalists and secret agents were being rooted out. House Tully's voice in the Riverlands was suddenly louder than it had been in years.
They seemed to be reclaiming the glory of their ancestors.
Roslin Frey was curled up in a cushioned chair in the corner of the room.
She hugged her knees, burying her head deep in her arms.
Like a cat thrown into a strange house, she was terrified of everything around her.
After the massacre in the Great Hall ended, she had been carried here like a sack of grain by that statue-like black-robed guard and tossed into this room.
Since then, no one had paid her any attention.
No chains, no cage. There was even a warm fire and a soft bed.
But Roslin felt like she was sitting in an ice cellar, the cold seeping out from her bones.
She didn't know what Lynn wanted.
That man had slaughtered her father and brothers with the most brutal methods imaginable.
Yet, he had wiped the dirt from her face with an almost eerie gentleness.
He said she was his trophy.
Trophy...
Roslin wasn't unfamiliar with the word.
At the Twins, from the moment she and her sisters were born, they were Walder Frey's trophies, his goods, his bargaining chips.
Their value lay in being traded to other houses for alliances and profit.
She thought marrying Edmure Tully was the end of her fate.
She had accepted it.
But she never dreamed this wedding would become the funeral for all of House Frey.
Did she hate them?
Roslin didn't know.
She felt numb.
She couldn't say she loved the father who treated her like livestock; she only feared him.
As for the brothers who mocked and bullied her, she felt no affection.
They died like slaughtered cattle in front of her, their blood splashing onto her dress.
Yet, she felt no sorrow.
She was just scared.
Scared she would be the next corpse.
She was just a normal person who wanted to live.
Time ticked by agonizingly slowly.
The noise outside faded, and Riverrun seemed to fall asleep.
Roslin knew she couldn't wait any longer.
She didn't want to die.
She was just a pitiful girl without the backbone or courage to avenge her family.
She just wanted to survive.
And in this castle, only one person held the power of life and death over her.
Lynn.
A thought grew wildly in her mind.
She remembered Edmure announcing their marriage was void in front of everyone.
She remembered Lynn's playful gaze and his question: "What is the greatest value of a beautiful woman?"
She understood what Lynn wanted.
This was her only, and last, chance.
Roslin took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of her strength.
She stood up from the chair.
The wedding dress was gone. She now wore a simple servant's gown given to her by the castle staff.
She walked to a polished bronze mirror and looked at herself.
Her face was pale and haggard from fear and tears.
But her blue eyes were still clear.
Clumsily, she tidied her messy hair and rubbed her cheeks hard to bring some color back to them.
She didn't know what to do.
At the Twins, her older sisters would huddle together, whispering about how to please men.
She always ran away, blushing.
But now, she had to do it proactively.
To live.
How pathetic.
Roslin walked to the bedroom door, her hand hovering over the cold handle, hesitating for a long time.
Finally, the instinct to survive overcame her shame and fear.
She opened the door.
Outside, the black-robed guard still stood like a statue.
Seeing her come out, those eerie blue eyes merely swept over her coldly without stopping her.
A threat level like Roslin was like an ant facing a mammoth; she posed zero danger to Lynn.
They didn't care.
Roslin's heart was in her throat.
She crossed the hallway and arrived at the door to the main bedchamber.
The door was ajar.
Through the crack, she could see Lynn sitting at a table, toying with something.
Roslin's palms were sweating.
Gathering her courage again, she gently pushed the door open.
Creak—
The sound seemed deafening in the silent night.
Lynn stopped what he was doing.
He didn't turn around.
"Something the matter?"
Roslin began to tremble uncontrollably.
She walked up behind him, looking at his broad back, smelling the faint, cool scent of leather and some unknown herb on him.
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
She seemed to be struggling with how to start.
Lynn seemed to lose patience. He turned around.
In his hand, he held a dagger made entirely of ice.
It looked exactly like the one that had slit her father's throat not long ago!
Seeing the dagger, Roslin's legs turned to jelly, and she almost collapsed.
"I... I..."
She finally squeezed out a sound.
Lynn looked at her, his deep eyes shining brightly in the candlelight.
He didn't rush her, just waited quietly.
Roslin knew if she didn't speak now, she might never get another chance.
She closed her eyes, as if marching to the gallows, and spoke in a voice as quiet as a mosquito.
"Lord Lynn... Lord Edmure... he... he didn't touch me."
"I... I am still clean."
"I will serve you well tonight, My Lord."
After saying it, her face burned so hot she wished she could die right there.
An expression finally appeared on Lynn's face.
It was a look of... amused interest.
He didn't speak, just looked at her as if enjoying an interesting play.
His silence made Roslin feel even more ashamed.
She knew words weren't enough.
Trembling, she reached out to undo the ties of her dress.
The complicated knots seemed to fight against her; no matter how hard she tried, her fumbling fingers couldn't undo them.
Tears streamed down her face unbidden.
Humiliation, shame, fear...
The emotions intertwined, bringing her to the brink of collapse.
Just then.
A hand caught her fumbling hands.
The hand was warm and steady.
"You misunderstand."
Lynn's voice rang out.
Roslin looked up sharply, staring at him through tear-filled eyes.
"The reason I said those things," Lynn released her hands, stood up, and walked to the window, looking down at the river shimmering in the moonlight.
"Was for the benefit of the lords in that hall."
"House Frey committed an unforgivable crime."
"In such a moment, any form of mercy would be seen as weakness."
"Even if they don't say it, the thought would take root in their minds."
"The brothers of the North are my own people; the more benevolent I am, the more they love me."
"But the Riverlands and the Vale are different."
"If you are too kind and show no steel, you will be seen as soft and easily bullied."
"I don't want that to happen."
"I need them to know."
"I am a man who rewards and punishes clearly, and who tolerates no betrayal."
"I need them to fear me."
Roslin was stunned.
She stared blankly at Lynn's back, not quite grasping his meaning.
"Killing you pitiable creatures who are also victims is meaningless."
Lynn turned back to look at her.
"But letting you go would make them think I wasn't ruthless enough toward House Frey."
"So, a compromise: making you my 'trophy' was the best choice."
"It demonstrates my authority while allowing you to live."
Roslin's mind went blank.
She thought she was facing a transaction of life and death.
But it turned out...
She was just a pawn this man casually placed on the board.
From start to finish, she was just a tool he used to intimidate the Riverlords.
Lynn never had any untoward intentions toward her?
"I... I..."
Roslin didn't know what to say.
"From today on, you are my personal handmaiden," Lynn said calmly.
"Responsible for my meals and daily needs."
Handmaiden?
Not a trophy?
Not a plaything?
Just... a handmaiden?
This result was far beyond Roslin's expectations.
"As for your so-called family..."
Lynn seemed to see through her thoughts and continued.
"Those poor women. Publicly, I will not pardon them."
"After the Twins fall, they will be sent North as prisoners."
"However, I will find them work in my Dragonstone Castle so they can survive."
"Whether they help in the kitchens or do laundry is up to them."
"At least they can live by their own hands."
"Instead of being treated like cargo, ending up in brothels or sold as slaves to Essos."
"Though under my surveillance, at least they can live like human beings."
Lynn's words made Roslin doubt her ears.
She thought the Frey women faced a fate worse than death.
But Lynn... the man who personally butchered House Frey... had actually planned a way out for them long ago?
"W-why?"
Roslin asked, trembling.
"Because keeping them alive is more useful than killing them."
Lynn's answer was as pragmatic as ever.
He didn't try to paint himself as a benevolent savior.
That would be hypocritical, and Lynn disdained doing so.
Better to just tell the truth.
"The North lacks people, especially women."
"Once they reach Dragonstone, maybe in a few years, they can marry Northern smallfolk or Free Folk."
"They will bear new children."
"And those children will be sons of the North, who will fight for me."
"That is far more valuable than letting them rot in some dirty corner."
Roslin was utterly speechless.
She looked at the man before her.
He was cruel, cold, and treated human life like grass.
Yet he possessed a logic and foresight that ordinary people couldn't comprehend.
Everything he did had a clear purpose.
She suddenly felt her own petty thoughts were laughable in front of him.
"I... I understand."
Roslin took a deep breath and curtsied to Lynn.
This time, her eyes were firm.
"Thank you for your mercy, Lord Lynn."
"And thank you for saving me from Edmure today."
"By the Seven, please rest assured. My father openly rebelled; his death was deserved. I harbor no thoughts of revenge."
Her gratitude was genuine.
Not just for herself, but for all the pitiable Frey women.
"Smart girl."
Lynn nodded with satisfaction.
"Now, as my handmaiden, you should fulfill your duties."
"Of course, I will pay you two Gold Dragons a month as wages."
Lynn sat back at the table and pointed to the empty goblet.
"Alright, pour me some wine."
"Yes, My Lord."
Roslin walked to the sideboard, picked up a bottle of golden Arbor wine, and filled a cup for Lynn.
She held the goblet with both hands and respectfully offered it to him.
Lynn took the cup but didn't drink.
He just stared into the golden liquid, lost in thought.