The smile on Lynn’s face slowly cooled after Arya’s figure disappeared down the end of the corridor, until it vanished entirely.
He returned to his room, closed the door, and sat alone in the quiet space with his longsword laid across his knees.
*”When I grow up, I want to marry you.”* Marry him?
If he merely survived like this, it would be far from enough.
Living on Ned Stark’s mercy and suspicion…
Living under Maester Luwin’s ointments and watchful eyes…
Having his fate held in the hands of others made Lynn deeply uncomfortable.
He did not want charity.
What he wanted was the right to speak as an equal with the name Stark.
What he wanted was supreme power.
As a traverser, Lynn understood every piece of dark intrigue in the game of thrones.
Aside from the Three-Eyed Raven, this was his unique advantage.
Lynn’s gaze fell upon the blue panel visible only to him.
What’s more, he had his system!
That was his most crucial asset.
Survival was merely the first step.
Now, he wanted more.
Such as…
Arya.
Ned was arguably the most honorable and friendly lord among the major figures, and he was currently the easiest for Lynn to access.
If he could secure Arya, his path forward would be vastly smoother—especially in Westeros, a land where status meant everything.
*** The king’s horn finally echoed across Winterfell.
The sound was bright and long, carrying the ornate flair and grandeur of the South, shattering the quiet of the Northern morning.
The entire castle came to life.
Looking down from the highest point of the Great Keep, a massive procession stretched along the Kingsroad like a golden dragon, slowly making its way forward.
The crowned stag banner of House Baratheon and the roaring lion banner of House Lannister snapped proudly in the Northern wind.
The knights’ armor gleamed under the sunlight, and the noble ladies’ wheelhouses were decorated with luxurious drapery.
In the courtyard, the Stark family had long been waiting in their finest attire.
Ned Stark wore a grey fur cloak, his expression solemn.
Lady Catelyn stood at his side with an irreproachable smile.
Robb wore a newly tailored set of leather armor, standing as straight as a young pine tree.
Sansa was dressed in a sky-blue gown, her cheeks flushed with excitement as her eyes kept darting toward the golden-haired prince at the front of the procession.
Arya wore an ill-fitting iron helmet, looking entirely out of place with impatience written all over her face.
The youngest, Rickon, hid behind his mother, peeking out curiously.
Bran, the ever-energetic boy, was also among them.
Lynn stood behind an obscure pillar, far from the center of the crowd like an outsider, quietly observing this grand meeting.
The heavy sound of horses’ hooves and wheels crushing the ground drew closer and closer.
Robert Baratheon, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, swung himself down from his horse.
Standing six feet five inches tall, he towered over the crowd like a colossal monument; it was impossible not to notice him.
He was bloated and thick-faced, long stripped of his youthful vigor as the “Stag of the Stormlands.” Back then, clad in full plate with his dual-antlered helm, he had been a true giant.
His warhammer was so heavy that even Ned struggled to lift it.
Now, he had transformed completely.
Yet the aura of royal majesty surrounding him still compelled everyone to bow their heads.
Only after a squire positioned the mounting block did Robert dismount.
Ned led his family in dropping to one knee.
Robert walked briskly to Ned with a cold expression, gently hooking his finger upward to signal for Ned to stand and speak.
Only after Ned stood did Catelyn and the rest of the family slowly rise.
“Ned!” “Not a word from you in all these years!” Robert’s booming voice echoed in the courtyard, tinged with displeasure.
Ned bowed respectfully before answering, “Serving you in the North, Your Grace.
Winterfell is at your command.” Robert carefully examined Ned, whom he hadn’t seen in years.
After a long pause, he finally spoke.
“Ned, you’ve gotten fat.” Ned shrugged slightly, then gestured with his eyes toward Robert’s equally out-of-shape figure.
Robert was the first to break, bursting into laughter, and Ned followed suit.
Then Robert opened his arms and gave Ned a tight, firm embrace, followed by an embrace for Catelyn.
Afterward, he inspected Ned’s children, showering praise upon each of them without hesitation.
Following closely behind were Queen Cersei Lannister and her twin brother, Jaime Lannister.
They were striking figures.
Cersei was just as beautiful as rumors suggested, with deep green eyes and golden curls that exuded noble elegance.
Jaime was no different—a natural lion with a handsome face, dazzling blond hair, and an innate air of superiority radiating from him.
They wore polite smiles, though the warmth never reached their eyes.
Ned’s expression darkened slightly upon seeing the Lannisters.
House Lannister of Casterly Rock had been the last major noble house to join Robert’s cause during the rebellion, waiting until victory was practically assured before declaring their stance.
Ned despised such opportunists above all else.
Furthermore, Jaime was the “Kingslayer,” a man Ned held in utter contempt despite Jaime’s formidable martial prowess.
Lynn’s gaze rested briefly on them.
He knew that beneath those gorgeous exteriors lay secrets capable of overthrowing the entire realm!
Cersei walked gracefully up to Ned, a insincere smile playing on her lips as she extended the back of her hand.
Ned kissed the back of her hand and said respectfully, “Your Grace.” Catelyn bowed respectfully as well.
“Your Grace.” Cersei gave a slight nod and a faint smile.
Seeing that the pleasantries were mostly done, Robert got straight to the point.
“Ned, take me to the crypts.” Ned knew Robert wanted to see the statue of Lyanna Stark.
Whenever a Stark passed away and was buried, stonemasons carved a statue to be placed in the crypts.
Ned’s deceased father, elder brother, and sister were all laid to rest there.
Ned did not agree immediately.
Instead, he looked at Cersei first.
Sure enough, Cersei’s face looked terrible.
Lyanna had been the love of Robert’s life.
Even though she had been taken and possessed by Rhaegar, and was now long dead, she remained far more important to him than his legitimate queen.
Cersei had once loved Robert as well.
Regrettably, Robert merely viewed her as a tool to seal the alliance between House Baratheon and House Lannister.
Cersei would never forget their wedding night.
Robert had drunk too much, and while bedding her that night, he had repeatedly whispered Lyanna’s name!
It was the ultimate humiliation of her life.
At the thought, Cersei’s expression turned cold.
“My love, we’ve been on the road for a month.
There’s no need to rush to see a dead person.” Robert glared at his queen, ignoring her comment entirely.
“Ned.” He jerked his chin at Ned, signaling him to lead the way.
Ned glanced at Cersei before falling into step behind Robert.
The atmosphere grew heavy with tension.
Arya asked Bran in a quiet whisper, “Where’s the Imp?” The Imp was the younger brother of Cersei and Jaime, a born dwarf.
“The Imp” was his moniker.
Cersei overheard Arya’s whispered question.
Her expression darkened as she walked over to Jaime.
“Where is our brother fooling around?
Go find that little beast.”