Winter's massive wings cast a huge shadow over Winterfell, like dark clouds pressing down.
The sentries on the city walls immediately sounded the alarm.
The urgent tolling of the bell broke the morning tranquility of the North, carrying a hint of panic.
"It's a dragon!"
"Don't panic, it's a three-headed dragon! It's Winter!"
Panic was quickly replaced by a clamor mixed with awe.
Everyone in Winterfell recognized it.
This strange three-headed dragon was raised by Robb Stark himself; anyone who had lived in Winterfell for a long time knew this.
But... when did it grow so big?!
Winter landed in the center of Winterfell's wide courtyard, and the strong winds created by its folding wings sent accumulated snowflakes swirling through the air.
Its massive body almost filled the entire courtyard.
Scales interwoven with icy blue and silver white shimmered with a dreamy luster in the morning light.
Before the dragon had even fully settled, a small figure impatiently leaped from its back.
"Robb! Bran!"
Arya's voice was clear as ice, filled with irrepressible joy.
The courtyard gate was flung open, and a tall, upright young figure rushed out.
He had a head of thick reddish-brown curly hair, and his blue eyes were filled with anxiety and concern.
It was Robb Stark.
"Arya!"
When Robb saw the figure running towards him, he froze.
The brother and sister embraced tightly.
Close behind, Lady Catelyn also walked out quickly.
When she saw her little daughter, safe and sound, held tightly in Robb's arms, the strong Lady of Winterfell's eyes instantly reddened.
"My little Arya..."
Catelyn rushed forward, embracing both children, tears silently falling.
Bran, riding his pony, also arrived in the courtyard with the help of Maester Luwin.
He looked at the dragon descending from the sky, and at his lively sister, and a long-unseen sparkle bloomed in his melancholy eyes.
Even little Rickon peeked his small head from behind his mother's skirt, curiously examining his sister.
Lynn dismounted from the dragon's back, not wanting to disturb this tender reunion.
"Lynn!"
Robb released Arya, strode to Lynn, and gave him a strong hug.
"Thank you, my brother."
Robb patted Lynn's shoulder heavily.
He looked at the dragon, which was many times larger than he remembered, and his blue eyes showed undisguised shock.
"We are family, no need for formalities."
Lynn responded with a smile.
Lady Catelyn wiped away her tears and walked to Lynn, performing an impeccable curtsy.
"Lord Lynn, House Stark thanks you for taking care of Arya."
Her voice carried genuine gratitude.
She knew that this young man before her was far from as simple as he appeared.
He could emerge from a den of dragons like King's Landing unharmed, and even stir up trouble.
Such cunning was enough to make anyone feel alarmed.
Lynn left the warm family moment to the Starks, not wanting to spoil their mood, and he had more important things to do.
He needed to see two people first.
Led by a servant, Lynn walked through the familiar corridors and arrived at Winterfell's reception room.
Before entering, he heard an old and helpless voice from inside.
"Miss Ygritte, please remember that noble ladies do not make noise when drinking soup."
"You should use the side of the spoon, gently..."
"Yes, just like that... No, don't put the whole spoon in your mouth!"
A smile played on Lynn's lips.
He pushed the door open.
Inside the reception room, Maester Luwin was sweating profusely, trying to instruct a red-haired girl with an impatient expression.
Ygritte.
And, Maester Luwin was actually trying to teach a Free Folk noble etiquette, which was insane.
She was wearing a blue dress that was clearly ill-fitting.
The fabric was too soft for her, making her uncomfortable.
Her fiery red hair was clumsily coiled up, revealing her smooth neck, but it made her feel as if she were in shackles.
She was wrestling with a bowl of mushroom soup, clumsily imitating Maester Luwin's movements.
The result was either spilling soup on her dress or making the spoon clatter loudly.
When she saw Lynn at the door, her eyes, which always sparkled with wildness, suddenly lit up.
She instinctively wanted to stand up, but then remembered her "Lady status" and forcibly held herself back.
Ygritte tried hard to mimic the etiquette she had learned in Winterfell, attempting to curtsy to Lynn.
But because her movement was too sudden, her skirt tripped her, and she stumbled, almost falling to the ground, and her dress nearly came off.
"Lord Ly... Lynn, you're back."
She squeezed out these words through gritted teeth, her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.
Maester Luwin watched from the side, shaking his head, his face full of helplessness.
"Maester Luwin, you've worked hard."
Lynn nodded towards Maester Luwin.
"Leave this to me."
Maester Luwin, as if granted a great pardon, fled the place that had given him such a headache.
"The pride of the Free Folk, a fearless spearwife..."
Lynn walked to Ygritte, circled her once, and after looking her up and down, clicked his tongue in wonder.
"Now defeated by a dress and a bowl of soup."
"What do you know!"
Ygritte was angered and embarrassed by his words.
She yanked off the ridiculous hairpin from her head, letting her fiery red hair fall loose.
"These southern rules are colder and harder than the ice on the Wall!"
She complained, reaching out to tear off the itchy dress in front of Lynn.
Lynn quickly grabbed her hand.
"Don't rush."
Lynn's voice carried a hint of soothing amusement.
"Soon, you'll have a chance to be yourself again."
"Really?"
Ygritte's eyes lit up.
"When have I ever lied to you?"
A smile finally appeared on Ygritte's face.
She looked at Lynn, her blue eyes showing undisguised reliance and longing.
Having appeased this little wildcat eager to break free from her cage, Lynn walked towards Winterfell's glass greenhouse.
It was warm like spring there, incongruous with the desolation of the North.
Myrcella Baratheon was sitting quietly on a long bench, holding a book.
She was wearing a golden dress, and sunlight streaming through the glass fell on her golden hair, enveloping her in a soft halo, like a beautiful oil painting.
Hearing footsteps, she looked up.
When she saw it was Lynn, a ripple appeared in her green eyes, which always carried a hint of melancholy.
"Lord Lynn."
Myrcella stood up and performed a standard curtsy to him.
Her movements were elegant and proper, without a single flaw.
"Your Royal Highness."
Lynn returned the bow.
"Is King's Landing... doing well?" Myrcella asked softly, with a hint of imperceptible nervousness in her voice.
Although she was in Winterfell, news of any disturbance in King's Landing always reached her through various channels.
She knew Petyr Baelish was dead, a gruesome death.
She also knew that her father, His Majesty the King Robert, was becoming increasingly... mad.
"Not very well."
Lynn's answer was simple and direct.
"So, it's time for us to go back."
Myrcella's body trembled slightly.
Go back?
Go back to that suffocating The Red Keep, back to her mad father and domineering mother?
She looked into Lynn's calm, unruffled black eyes.
"Is it for... our wedding?" Myrcella asked.
"Yes."
Lynn nodded.
"This wedding is what King's Landing needs most right now."
A grand royal wedding would be enough to temporarily divert everyone's attention, enough to cover up the surging undercurrents.
Most importantly, it could prevent Robert from causing trouble and temporarily stabilize this volatile beast.
Myrcella fell silent.
She knew that from the moment she was born, her fate was no longer her own.
She was a pawn, a pawn used for marriage alliances, to consolidate power.
"I understand."
Myrcella slowly nodded.
The princess's composure and serenity returned to her face, and she even managed a tranquil smile.
"I can depart at any time."
She was smarter and stronger than Lynn had imagined.
Or perhaps, marrying Lynn was much better than marrying anyone else; she could accept it.
Lynn left Ygritte and Myrcella and then walked towards the Duke of Winterfell's study.
Catelyn was waiting for Lynn there.
Seeing Lynn enter, Lady Catelyn personally poured him a glass of wine.
The flames in the fireplace illuminated her always-worried face, flickering brightly and dimly.
"Arya told me everything."
Lady Catelyn spoke first.
"Everything that happened in King's Landing."
Her voice was calm, but Lynn could feel the suppressed fury beneath that calmness.
"His Majesty the King... did he really... dismember Petyr in public?"
"Yes."
"And he forced Ned to kneel in that pool of blood?"
"Yes."
"Now, he also wants me to go to King's Landing and kneel before him, to prove the innocence of House Stark?"
"Yes."
"Bang!"
Catelyn slammed the wine glass on the table, spilling wine everywhere.
"He's mad!"
The eldest daughter of House Tully, the Lady of House Stark, could no longer maintain her noble composure.
Her blue eyes burned with a fury capable of consuming anyone.
"He humiliated my husband! Humiliated my family! He trampled the honor of Stark and Tully underfoot!"
"I will never go to King's Landing! I will never kneel before that madman!"
Lynn calmly looked at Catelyn.
"That is precisely why I came to see you."
Catelyn's breath hitched.
She looked at Lynn, the anger in her eyes gradually replaced by reason.
"Lynn, what is your plan?"
"The King's command cannot be openly defied, otherwise it is treason."
Lynn's voice was unhurried.
"So, you need a reason that prevents you from leaving the North."
"A reason that even the King cannot dispute."
Catelyn's eyes narrowed.
"Such as?"
"Such as, a minor rebellion."
Lynn did not keep her in suspense, stating.
"A group of unruly bandits, pillaging and burning in your territory."
"As the acting Lord of Winterfell, you must remain in the North to stabilize the situation."
Catelyn's heart skipped a beat.
A rebellion!
Faking a rebellion to resist the King's command!
This plan was too daring, too crazy!
It was only a thin line away from treason!
But... she looked at the flickering flames in the fireplace, thinking of her isolated husband far away in King's Landing, and then of the mad King.
She had no other choice now!
"Family, Duty, Honor."
Catelyn murmured the Tully motto.
For women of House Tully, family always came first!
She was not like Ned, who prioritized honor above all else!
This was both good and bad.
Lysa, that fool, cared too much about family, and as a result, valued honor less than anything else... As for Lord Arryn, Lysa never considered him family... Catelyn looked up.
In her blue eyes, all hesitation and struggle had faded away.
"Who will play these rebels?"
Catelyn asked.
"I have some friends who would be happy to help."
Lynn smiled.
"Of course, it might require some gold dragons to pay them for their 'performance' and for some necessary property damage."
Catelyn instantly understood Lynn's meaning.
Those Free Folk from beyond the Wall.
"I understand."
Catelyn stood up.
"Winterfell's treasury will be open to you."
Catelyn had made her choice.
For her family, for her husband, she didn't mind her hands being stained with a bit of conspiracy.
The next morning, Winter's dragon roar once again echoed over Winterfell.
Lynn brought Myrcella and Ygritte, who had changed into practical riding attire.
He planned to first go to the Gift to give instructions regarding the "rebellion," and then return to King's Landing with Myrcella.
As for Ygritte.
She and Myrcella were the best of friends now, and she insisted that Lynn take her along too.
Lynn didn't know how a gentle person and a wild person became friends.
But it didn't matter.
Lynn had promised Ygritte when he left for Essos that he would return for her, so he readily agreed to her request.
Arya rushed over and gave Lynn a big hug.
"You'll come back, right?"
She looked up, her small face.
Her grey eyes were filled with reluctance.
"Of course."
Lynn ruffled her hair.
"Wait for me to come back."
"Believe me, it won't be long."
Arya's eyes instantly lit up.
The dragon soared into the sky, carrying Lynn and the two women northwards.
On the walls of Winterfell.
Lady Catelyn Stark stood facing the wind.
She watched the black speck disappear into the horizon, her usually worried face now showing only resolute determination.
Family, more important than anything!
She was no longer just a mother who would only pray!Dear Reader,
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