When Lynn walked out of the main keep's great hall, the sky had completely darkened.
The cold wind, carrying fine snowflakes, blew on his face.
A petite figure was leaning against the pillar of the porch, holding a slender rapier in her arms.
She wore grey leathers, her hair tied casually behind her head, a few unruly strands messed up by the wind.
It was Arya.
She stood there quietly, merging with the resolute grey stone of Winterfell.
Seeing Lynn come out, those grey eyes always flashing with wild light brightened instantly.
She didn't scream and rush up, just walked quickly to Lynn, looking up at him without a word.
As if to see clearly all the changes in him during the days he was away.
"I'm back."
Lynn reached out, habitually wanting to ruffle her hair.
But Arya tilted her head abruptly, dodging it.
Then, she raised her fist, punching Lynn's chest neither lightly nor heavily.
"Bastard."
The next second, she couldn't hold back anymore, plunging headfirst into Lynn's arms, her arms tightly encircling his waist, with such force as if trying to knead herself into his body.
"If you dare leave for so long again, I will... I will go to King's Landing and tie you back."
She buried her face in Lynn's chest, voice muffled, carrying a heavy nasal tone.
Lynn smiled.
He could feel the trembling of this petite body in his arms, and also feel her wild and untamed heart beating violently for him at this moment.
Lynn reached out, gently patting her back, like soothing a wolf cub finally finding its way back to the den.
At the end of the corridor not far away, Ned Stark watched this scene silently.
He had just come out of his wife Catelyn's room, preparing to go to the study to deal with some accumulated official business.
But when he saw his youngest daughter, that troublemaker who always jumped up and down giving him endless headaches.
Now actually curled up in another man's arms like a docile kitten, his feet could no longer move an inch.
An indescribable emotion grabbed his heart abruptly.
Making Ned feel somewhat breathless.
It was a complex feeling mixed with sourness, relief, yet immense loss.
He knew Arya loved Lynn.
He also knew Lynn was worth entrusting to.
But he just... just felt blocked in his heart.
As if the treasure he carefully protected for more than ten years was engraved with someone else's name overnight.
Ned thought of his sister, Lyanna.
She was like this too, bright, free, like a wild horse unwilling to be bound.
Then, she met Rhaegar Targaryen.
Ned leaned against the stone wall; the cold wind of the North seemed unable to cool down his old father's heart.
Daughter grown up, can't be kept.
He sighed a long sigh, turned around, and silently walked towards another corridor.
Some scenes were better not seen.
Out of sight, out of mind.
...
Late night, Catelyn Tully's Bedchamber.
The flames in the fireplace crackled, dispelling the chill in the room, but couldn't dispel the sorrow and worry in Catelyn's heart.
She sat by the bed; Ned was gently wiping her red and swollen eyes with a warm towel.
"It has happened, Cat; grieving won't help."
Ned's voice was very gentle.
"I just... I just can't believe it."
Catelyn's voice was still hoarse.
"Lysa she... how could she become like this... Father loved her so much..."
"Power, hatred, can drive people mad."
Ned sighed.
"Aren't you the same? Seeing Hoster in danger, knowing it's a trap but still wanting to rush in?"
"Now is not the time to pursue these; we have to find a way to rescue Edmure and avenge Lord Hoster."
"Lynn already has a plan."
Mentioning Lynn, Catelyn's emotions stabilized slightly.
There seemed to be a power in that young man that could always make people feel at ease.
Catelyn was silent for a moment, then suddenly looked up.
Looking at Ned, a trace of decision flashed in those blue eyes.
"Ned."
"Hmm?"
"Since all Northern bannermen are coming to Winterfell this time, why not..."
Catelyn took a deep breath.
"Why not hold the wedding for Lynn and Arya?"
Ned's wiping movement paused abruptly.
"Now?"
Ned was somewhat astonished.
"At this time?"
"Exactly at this time!"
Catelyn's tone became unusually firm.
"War is coming soon; no one knows what will happen tomorrow."
"That child Arya, she set her heart on Lynn from the start."
"We both know her mind."
"Rather than letting her follow him without a clear status, better give her a legitimate identity."
"This time Lysa's three-party alliance is not to be underestimated; if Lynn dies, Arya will definitely regret it for life."
"As a mother, I don't want to see her like that."
"Moreover,"
A mother's shrewdness flashed in Catelyn's eyes.
"Lynn is now the King beyond the Wall; since he dares to fight with confidence, it means the power he holds is enough to change the entire war situation."
"This wedding is not just giving Arya an explanation, but also declaring to the entire North and the entire Seven Kingdoms that House Stark and Lynn will stand together forever!"
"This is both a family matter and a matter of the entire North!"
"Let those bannermen harboring ulterior motives see, let the Lannisters in King's Landing see, let the Freys in the Riverlands see, Lynn is not someone they can manipulate at will!"
"Whoever acts against Lynn is acting against the North!"
Ned fell silent.
He knew everything Catelyn said was right.
Emotionally and rationally, this was the best choice right now.
He supported it too.
But thinking his wild girl would really become someone else's wife...
His old father's heart, which had just calmed down, began to ache faintly again.
"I know what you're thinking."
Catelyn held her husband's hand.
"I can't bear it either."
"But children have to grow up; we can't protect them all our lives."
"Especially Arya; only by Lynn's side can she truly be herself."
"Do you still want to see your sister's tragedy repeat on her?"
Ned looked at the unquestionable firmness in his wife's eyes.
Finally, he nodded slowly.
"Okay."
He said only one word.
But it seemed to use all his strength.
Consider it cheap for that kid Lynn!
Originally he wanted to keep Arya for a while longer.
Soon, Ned spoke hesitatingly again.
"But, Lysa is your sister after all; do you..."
Catelyn interrupted Ned.
"From the moment she killed Father, she was no longer; I don't have such a vicious sister."
"Comparing an outsider with my husband and children, I can still distinguish who is lighter and who is heavier."
...
Myrcella was sitting by the window of her room.
Outside, the snow was falling heavier and heavier; the whole world turned into a vast expanse of white.
She held an embroidery in her hand, depicting Lynn's three-headed dragon.
But she delayed putting down the last stitch.
She heard it.
Heard the news that Lynn and Arya Stark were about to hold a wedding.
She knew this day would come sooner or later.
Back in King's Landing, she knew Arya's weight in Lynn's heart.
That girl, wild as a little leopard, was the first person to break into Lynn's world.
Earlier than herself.
But knowing was one thing; when it really happened, the bitterness in her heart still surged uncontrollably.
She loved Lynn.
Loved him enough to give up her princess status, betray her family, and willingly come to this icy and snowy North.
She thought here, she could possess him completely.
But now, she was going to have another "good sister."
A good sister sharing Lynn with her!
Myrcella's fingertip was pricked by the needle; a drop of bright red blood seeped out, falling on the golden embroidery thread like an ominous red plum blossom.
She put her finger in her mouth; a faint bloody taste spread on the tip of her tongue.
She didn't hate Arya.
She even somewhat envied her.
Envied her being so free, so brave, having parents who loved and supported her so much.
While she was just a canary pushed by fate, lucky enough to receive pity.
Just then, a gentle knock sounded on the door.
"Come in."
Myrcella composed herself and said softly.
The door was pushed open; the person walking in was exactly Arya whom she was just thinking about.
Arya held a tray in her hand with a cup of steaming milk and a few pieces of honey cake.
"Saw you didn't eat much at dinner; I asked the kitchen to make this for you."
Arya put the tray on the table, tone somewhat stiff, as if completing a task.
"Thank you."
Myrcella squeezed out a smile.
The room fell into silence.
Arya didn't leave, just stood there, fiddling somewhat helplessly with "Needle" at her waist.
"Are you... unhappy?"
Finally, Arya broke the silence.
Her question was as direct as the sword in her hand.
Arya had always been like this, saying what she thought, never hiding.
Myrcella's heart trembled.
She looked up at Arya's clear eyes.
She wanted to say "No, I'm happy for you."
But before those eyes, any lie appeared so pale.
Myrcella lowered her eyes, giving a soft "Mmm."
"Sorry."
Arya said.
Myrcella looked up abruptly, eyes full of astonishment.
She didn't expect Arya would apologize to her.
Clearly, she herself was the third party.
"You don't need to apologize; this... this is my own problem."
"No, I need to."
Arya walked to her, looking at her seriously.
"I know this is hard to accept."
"If I were you, I would be sad too."
"Someone popping up out of nowhere to share the person you love most, who would be happy?"
Arya's frankness left Myrcella not knowing what to say for a moment.
"My sister Sansa,"
Arya suddenly mentioned that name she loved and hated.
"She used to always tell me, a woman's world is always full of jealousy and struggle; this is an eternal theme."
"For a man, a beautiful dress, or even a compliment, they can fight to the death, scratching each other's faces."
In Myrcella's mind, the hypocritical smiling faces of those noble ladies in King's Landing emerged instantly.
Arya was right.
"But Sansa also told me,"
A somewhat sly arc curled the corner of Arya's mouth; that was the "wisdom" she learned from her sister but carried her own unique style.
"Truly smart people never create enemies, only unite allies."
Arya reached out, holding Myrcella's hand pricked by the needle.
Her palm was somewhat rough, with thin calluses left from years of sword practice, but very warm.
"Myrcella, you are beautiful, noble, like a golden rose blooming in the sun."
"And I, am just a wild grass growing on the Northern wasteland."
"But Lynn he... he is a bastard; he likes roses and can't bear to part with wild grass."
"We both fell in love with this bastard; this is our fate."
"We have two choices now."
Arya's gaze became sharp.
"First, we act like those stupid women in King's Landing, jealous of each other, hating each other, turning Winterfell into another colosseum."
"That way, we will both suffer, Lynn will also suffer, and in the end, maybe some woman taking advantage of the situation will benefit."
"Second,"
Arya tightened her grip on Myrcella's hand.
"We become allies."
"You are a princess; you know how to handle those complex noble relationships, know how to win hearts in the most elegant way."
"These, I don't understand, nor do I want to understand."
"And I, will use the sword in my hand, for Lynn, and for you, to chop off all claws daring to reach towards us."
"One of us in the light, one in the dark."
"One guarding his honor, one guarding his back."
"Together, we become his most indestructible shield."
Myrcella stared blankly at Arya.
She was thoroughly shocked by Arya's words.
She never thought.
Their relationship could be interpreted like this?
"Lynn has too many enemies."
Arya's voice became low.
"Lannister, Baratheon, and those madmen in the Riverlands... war is coming soon; he will be in danger."
"He needs our support."
"He doesn't need two women jealous of each other behind his back, but two women who can free him from worries."
"Are you willing? Myrcella?"
Arya gazed at her.
In those sincere eyes was not half hypocrisy, only the purest sincerity and invitation.
Myrcella looked at her, looking at her own reflection in her eyes.
That bitterness and unwillingness in her heart seemed to be melted by a stronger force at this moment.
Yes.
War is coming.
Lynn needs them.
Rather than internal friction, better... unite against the outside.
Myrcella slowly held Arya's hand back.
"I am willing."
Her voice was soft, but incredibly firm.