"I'll arrange everything."
Tyrion stared at the dawn.
"Once I've settled some affairs in King's Landing, I'll find you in Essos."
"I'll wait for you in Pentos."
Lynn didn't elaborate.
With someone this clever, words were wasted.
Tyrion drained his cup. Turned to leave.
His short figure cast a long shadow in the morning light.
No longer hunched.
But peace never lasted.
While King's Landing's smallfolk gossiped about the Black Knight's legend—
—another current festered in the city's dark corners.
"Did you hear? They know who killed Lord Jon Arryn!"
"It was the queen!"
"Seven hells! Really?"
"Absolutely! My cousin's wife's brother works in the Red Keep. He heard it himself!"
Rumor was King's Landing's deadliest poison.
It needed no evidence. No logic.
Just a scandalous headline.
True or false—it would spread across the Seven Kingdoms in a day.
Through his greensight, Lynn knew.
Petyr Baelish was behind this.
The former Master of Coin had lost his wealth.
But his sharpest weapon remained.
Like a rat in the sewers, he dragged the city toward chaos.
The ladder can take you up—or down.
But he was past caring.
The Throne Room
The air was suffocating.
Robert Baratheon sat on the jagged Iron Throne.
His face was iron. His massive body trembled with rage.
Below him—nobles and ministers on their knees.
Cersei Lannister stood in the center.
She wore a golden gown. Her face pale. Her spine straight.
Like a proud swan.
The woman who'd collapsed in Maegor's Holdfast yesterday was gone.
She stared coldly at the furious man on the throne.
Her husband in name only.
"I'll say it again. I did not poison Jon Arryn."
Her voice burned with righteous fury.
She'd feared Jon discovering her secrets.
But she hadn't killed him.
"You didn't?"
Robert's roar was thunder.
He stood. Pointed at her nose.
"All of King's Landing is saying it! You dare deny it?"
"It's slander!"
Cersei met his gaze.
"Someone's trying to turn Baratheon and Lannister against each other!"
"ENOUGH!"
Robert cut her off.
"I don't want your excuses!"
"Confess now, and I'll let you die with dignity."
Cersei stared at him in disbelief.
Then she laughed.
"Since you won't believe me—let the law decide!"
Her blue eyes burned with madness.
"I demand trial by combat!"
The hall erupted.
Trial by combat—leaving your fate to the gods.
Proving innocence with blood.
But she had no other choice.
Her back was to the wall.
"FINE!"
Robert laughed bitterly.
"Trial by combat! Granted!"
"So. Who's your champion?"
"Your brother Jaime?"
His voice dripped with mockery.
Cersei's face went ugly.
Jaime...
His arm was injured at the tourney. He can barely hold a sword.
Grand Maester Pycelle shuffled forward.
"Your Grace... Ser Jaime is... unwell. He cannot fight."
"What about the Mountain?"
Robert scanned the room.
"Isn't he your family's dog?"
A Lannister knight answered reluctantly.
"Your Grace... Ser Gregor returned to Casterly Rock after the tourney. On Duke Tywin's orders."
Silence.
Cersei's two strongest warriors—one injured, one gone.
She was a lioness with no teeth or claws.
Only rage. And helplessness.
Robert looked at her pitiful state.
His fury faded. Replaced by sick satisfaction.
"Seems the gods have abandoned you."
He sat back on the throne. Looked down at her.
"I'll give you one day, Cersei."
"If you can't find a champion—I'll declare you guilty."
"And your head will hang on Maegor's walls with the other traitors."
He waved dismissively.
"GET OUT!"
The Aftermath
Everyone fled like they were escaping plague.
Soon, only three remained.
King Robert. Hand of the King Ned. And Lynn—permitted to stay.
Robert grabbed a wineskin. Drank deeply. His chest still heaving.
"Ned. You saw that?"
"That viper finally showed her fangs!"
Ned Stark's brow furrowed.
He glanced at Lynn. Hesitated.
"What? You want to defend her?"
Robert caught his look.
"Your Grace."
Ned's voice was heavy.
"This matter... may not be so simple."
"Not simple? The evidence is clear!"
"Your Grace. We have no proof the queen is guilty."
Lynn spoke calmly.
"But one thing is certain."
"If you declare her guilty and execute her..."
Ned continued the thought.
"House Baratheon and House Lannister will be at war."
"You'll lose the gold that funds the realm."
"And Duke Tywin won't sit idle while his daughter dies."
"The lions of the Westerlands will raise their banners."
"War will be inevitable."
Ned's words echoed in the hall.
"War?"
Robert froze. Then laughed.
"War? Let it come! I've never been afraid!"
"Tywin's a coward who only joined after the war was won!"
"You think I fear him?"
"Your Grace."
Lynn's gaze was steady.
"Back then, you had Storm's End. The Vale's knights. The Northern wolves. The Riverlands' trout."
"And now?"
Lynn's voice was ice water on Robert's drunken rage.
"You rule the Seven Kingdoms. But your foundation is hollow."
"The treasury's empty. Your lords are divided."
"If the Lannisters rise, what will the Tyrells do? Will the Martells stand aside?"
"And what about Lysa Arryn in the Eyrie?"
Robert wasn't a good king.
But he was a born warrior.
He knew what a realm-wide war meant.
Mountains of corpses. Rivers of blood.
All because of an unproven rumor.
Robert's fury faded.
He stared at where Cersei had stood.
His clouded eyes held something complicated.
He hated Cersei.
Hated her for killing Jon Arryn—the man he'd seen as a father.
But when it came to sending her to the block—and starting a war—
He hesitated.
What if she was innocent?
But Robert was king.
He'd spoken before the entire court.
Taking it back would be worse than death.
"DAMN IT!"
He hurled his wineskin to the floor.
"This cursed throne! This cursed city!"
He paced like a caged boar.
Ned watched the king's dilemma. Unsure what to say.
Lynn just watched.
Littlefinger's move was clumsy. And vicious.
He thought it would make the lion and stag tear each other apart.
But instead, he'd given Lynn the perfect chance to control Cersei—and the Lannisters.
If Cersei wasn't stupid, her only way out was to beg him.
Lynn looked at the dark sky beyond the throne room.
He was eager.
Tonight, the proud golden lioness would kneel at his feet.
He wondered how she'd look.
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