Ned's gaze tried to chisel through Lynn's calm facade, to see the secrets deep in his soul.
"What else did you see?"
This question, amidst the crackling of the fireplace, seemed exceptionally heavy.
Lynn didn't answer immediately. He just raised his eyes, calmly meeting the Warden of the North's gaze. In those eyes, there was no fear, no evasion, only a bottomless serenity.
"My Lord," Lynn's voice was soft, but incredibly clear. "I know you have many questions for me, but my ability to prophesy comes with a price."
"Some futures are like forks in the dark. I can see that one path ends in a cliff. But if you know the location of the cliff right now, you might be so eager to avoid it that you overlook the trap at your feet, and end up falling into another abyss."
These words were more persuasive than any profound prophecy.
Ned's tense body finally relaxed a little. He understood. Lynn wasn't trying to be mysterious, but was explaining a cruel truth in a way he could grasp. Knowing too much might not be a good thing. Forcibly reversing a known tragedy would very likely trigger a series of even more violent backlashes. Once the gears of fate were forcibly turned, they would only crush those who tried to resist in a more tragic way.
Seeing Ned's silence, Lynn spoke up.
"My Lord, on this trip south, I have seen some things that will happen, and I will tell you the solutions one by one."
"First, do not be in a hurry to investigate the cause of Lord Arryn's death. You only need to be wary of Cersei, Janos Slynt, and Baelish."
"Pay special attention to Baelish."
"Whatever he says to you, my Lord, just go along with him, but do not believe a single word he says. Not one word."
"The man has no honor to speak of!"
"Second, if you are too eager for success, the Gold Cloaks are fence-sitters and will inevitably betray you."
"If you want to thoroughly investigate Lord Arryn's death, you should first weaken the City Watch, or better yet, take control of it yourself."
The Gold Cloaks, named for their golden cloaks, answered directly to the Iron Throne and were an important force for maintaining law and order in the capital. At least, the "superficial order." After King Robert's death, Ned could have controlled the situation as Regent, but Littlefinger betrayed him. This directly led the Gold Cloaks to side with Cersei, resulting in Ned's arrest and the subsequent tragedy.
"Third, and most importantly!"
"His Grace King Robert's situation is far more dangerous than you think."
"You just need to remember one thing!"
"As long as he lives, you live!"
"You must keep a close eye on Robert's food and daily life, and do not let him go hunting."
Ned's body shook, and anxiety appeared on his face. "You mean, someone wants to kill Robert? Who would be so bold!"
Lynn shook his head, refusing to answer this question. "My Lord, I can only see fragments. As for the rest, I'm not too sure either."
The Lions were entrenched in King's Landing. Wanting to go head-to-head with them... how could a few people from the North fight against these locals? That was simply impossible.
Lynn wanted Ned to gain a firm foothold first, establish a good defense, and wait until his own power developed and stabilized before making any moves. If he told Ned directly, Lynn was afraid the upright Ned would get hot-headed, causing irreversible consequences.
"I understand," Ned nodded seriously. "I will do as you say!"
Lynn added another layer of insurance for Ned.
"My Lord, if an accident really happens to King Robert, you need to support Joffrey's ascension and agree to any conditions Cersei proposes, including showing goodwill, flattery..."
"While their guard is down, return to the North immediately!"
"As long as you sit in the North, no matter what changes occur in King's Landing, you will be safe and sound!"
"Just one thing." Lynn looked straight into Ned's eyes and spoke slowly. "I'm afraid you won't be flexible..."
Ned waved his large hand. "Don't worry, I'll do as you say!"
He wasn't a fool. Hearing Lynn's arrangements one by one, he smelled the scent of danger. Since he chose to believe Lynn, he would follow this path to the end! Even if Lynn wanted to harm him, he had no choice!
Ned gazed at the young man before him. This crow who fled back from the Wall, this... variable, bearing a mysterious prophetic ability.
"Lynn, can I trust you?"
Lynn nodded slightly, his tone holding no flattery, only the calm of stating a fact. "It was you who pardoned me, my Lord. Everything I have is tied to Winterfell, and to the entire North."
Getting the answer, Ned no longer pursued those ethereal futures. He made a decision.
"After the King leaves, you and Benjen will return to the Wall together to explain your breach of vows to the Lord Commander."
"When you return, I will give you a brand new identity."
Ned looked at him, word by word.
"Become my personal guard and accompany me south to King's Landing."
This sentence carried more weight than any gold dragons or fiefdoms. It meant Lynn would completely wash away the stigma of being a prisoner and deserter, finding a fulcrum where he could stand firm. Even if this fulcrum was the precarious House Stark. But for Lynn, who urgently needed a springboard, it was enough!
Lynn lowered his eyes, hiding the surge of emotion in that instant.
"As you command, my Lord."
---
At the other end of the banquet hall, the atmosphere was far less heavy than in the study.
Sitting high in the seat of honor, Cersei Lannister was boringly running her slender fingertips along the rim of a tall silver goblet. Beside her, Catelyn wore a perfectly measured smile, responding to the Queen's small talk. But in those blue eyes of House Tully, there hid a lingering cloud.
"This is your first time in the North, isn't it, Your Grace?" Catelyn spoke up, trying to break the awkward silence.
Cersei's gaze passed over her, landing on Sansa not far away. The girl was gazing infatuatedly at her son, Joffrey.
A smile that was almost imperceptible spilled from the corner of Cersei's mouth. "Yes, it is indeed... different here."
Catelyn's smile was a bit stiff. "I dare say, compared to King's Landing, it must be very harsh here. When I first arrived, I also felt fear."
"Harsh?" Cersei's voice was like the finest silk in King's Landing—smooth, but without a trace of warmth. "More than harsh. The wind here can turn a woman's skin into sandpaper."
Catelyn's hand tightened around her wine cup.
Just then, a figure walked up to the table with a mix of urgency and longing. It was Sansa. She had changed into a brand new sky-blue dress, her hair was meticulously combed, and her face flushed with a moving red from excitement.
"Your Grace." Sansa lifted her skirt and performed an impeccable curtsy. "Mother."
Cersei's gaze slowly swept over Sansa. That look didn't seem like she was looking at a future daughter-in-law, but more like appraising a valuable filly about to enter the market.
"Hello, my beautiful little dove," Cersei spoke, her tone rarely carrying praise. "You are truly beautiful."
Sansa's heart leaped for joy at this compliment.
Cersei put down her wine cup and leaned forward slightly, getting closer to Sansa. Those emerald eyes twinkled with a shrewdness that saw through everything.
"How old are you, child?"
"Thirteen, Your Grace," Sansa answered obediently.
"Thirteen..." Cersei looked at her figure, which was already taking shape. "Still growing?"
Sansa didn't understand but nodded with a smile. "I think so, Your Grace."
Cersei lightly ran her fingertip along the wall of the goblet, making a soft ringing sound. Then, she asked that question.
"Have you bled yet?"
The air seemed to freeze in this instant. The flush on Sansa's face instantly turned from the rosy hue of excitement to the crimson of shame. She opened her mouth but couldn't say a word, only looking to her mother for help.
Catelyn's face darkened instantly. A surge of anger at being blatantly offended rose from the bottom of her heart. For the first time, those blue eyes held undisguised hostility. In the North, on her home ground, right in front of her face, to humiliate her daughter like this!
Cersei, however, seemed not to see the anger in Catelyn's eyes. She just picked up her wine cup, gently swirling the crimson liquid inside, a playful smile on her lips.
"Not... not yet, Your Grace," Sansa's voice was as thin as a mosquito's.
"Oh." Cersei seemed a bit disappointed, then smiled and changed the subject. "The direwolf embroidered on your dress is very well done. Did you make it yourself?"
Sansa nodded hurriedly, like grasping at a straw. "Yes, Your Grace."
"What a clever and deft girl," Cersei smiled kindly. "Make something for me in the future too."
Sansa agreed, flattered. After curtsying, she almost fled back to her seat.
Cersei turned her nonchalant gaze back to Catelyn. The smile on her face remained unchanged, but her words were incredibly cold.
"The whole Seven Kingdoms are waiting for our two families to have grandchildren."
Catelyn suppressed her anger and squeezed out a stiff smile. "I've heard some rumors as well."
Cersei's gaze turned to Sansa again. "Your daughter will be the apple of the court's eye," the Queen said in a tone like a proclamation. "Such a delicate flower shouldn't be buried in the ice and snow of the North."
Catelyn's expression became as cold as the winter snow outside the window.
On the other side, Sansa, having returned to her seat, soon had her embarrassment replaced by another emotion.
Prince Joffrey was looking at her, a charming smile on his handsome face, raising his wine cup to her from afar.
Boom.
Sansa felt her cheeks were about to burn up. She lowered her head in a panic, pulling the female companion beside her and incoherently saying something, trying to hide the sweetness and secret delight that was almost spilling out of her chest.
That humiliating question from the Queen had long been thrown to the back of her mind.