Throne Room.
Robert Baratheon's roar—a mix of betrayal, rage, and disbelief—sounded like the death cry of a wounded stag, making everyone's ears ring.
The air was thick with the scent of blood and spilled vintage wine.
Everyone's gaze was fixed on the beautiful, pale-faced blonde woman in fine clothes.
Cersei Lannister.
Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
Her lovely blue eyes were filled with confusion and a sense of absurdity.
Her mind was a blank slate, utterly unable to comprehend the bizarre scene before her.
Assassinate Robert?
Assassinate my own son, Joffrey?
For the Lannisters?
What a vicious and stupid frame-up!
"CERSEI—!!!"
Robert's bloodshot eyes glared dead at her, his bloated frame shaking violently with extreme rage.
Like a thoroughly enraged bull, he advanced on her step by step, the floor tiles groaning under his weight.
"You venomous woman!"
Robert's spittle nearly sprayed Cersei's face.
"I should have known! I should have listened to Jon!"
"You Lannisters have viper's blood in your veins!"
"To think you would try to kill your own son!"
"Do you have no humanity left?!"
This accusation finally snapped Cersei out of her shock.
Absurdity and shock faded, replaced by the innate pride of House Lannister, and the grievance and fury of being publicly humiliated.
"Me? Kill Joffrey?"
Cersei let out a shrill, mocking laugh.
"Robert, has the wine finally rotted your brain?!"
"You would rather believe a maggot from Flea Bottom than the wife who has shared your bed for over a decade?!"
"Joffrey is my son! My own flesh and blood!"
Her defense sounded like oil on the fire to the enraged Robert.
"Silence!"
Robert raised his massive hand.
Before the slap could land, a golden figure interposed himself between them.
It was Jaime Lannister.
Without even looking back at his sister, he held his blood-dripping sword in one hand and blocked the space between King and Queen with his white Kingsguard armor.
"Your Grace, please calm yourself."
Jaime's voice was steady.
"The matter has not been investigated. An assassin's words cannot be trusted lightly."
Looking at the handsome face that bore a striking resemblance to Cersei, Robert's anger burned even hotter.
"If you hadn't killed the assassin with one stroke, would I have to rely on his unfinished words?"
"If you Lannisters have nothing to hide, why silence him before he finished speaking?"
"Get out of my way! Kingslayer!"
"You Lannisters all deserve to rot in hell!"
"Guards! Seize this poison woman! Throw her in the dungeon!" Robert roared his command.
Hearing Robert call him "Kingslayer," Jaime's expression darkened.
Robert was the one who pardoned him and kept him in the Kingsguard.
Now he threw the name in his face.
If not for the people of this city, would he have borne such infamy?
If he hadn't killed the Mad King, the entire city and everyone in it would have been consumed by wildfire!
The surrounding Gold Cloaks looked at each other, none daring to step forward.
One was the King, the other the Queen.
This was no longer just an assassination; it was the prelude to the royal family tearing itself apart!
Ned Stark stood rooted to the spot, his palms slick with cold sweat.
His heart pounded as he watched the situation spiral out of control.
Too fast!
It all happened too fast!
Lynn!
The name flashed through his mind.
This had all the hallmarks of Lynn's handiwork!
He had just left claiming "excessive consumption of secret arts," and immediately after, an assassin throws himself into the net and precisely frames Cersei!
Ned's mind raced.
If that assassin had succeeded in killing Joffrey today...
Then...
Ned hid the shock on his face.
Joffrey was attacked while out with Sansa... Cersei would definitely target me!
What should have been a fight between Wolf and Lion has now turned into a clash between Stag and Lion, seemingly leaving me on the sidelines?
And since Joffrey and the other two children aren't Robert's, the Stag and Lion are bound to turn on each other sooner or later.
The first step is to kick all unrelated parties out of the arena...
These methods, this layout...
It's like he's invisibly manipulating everyone's fate.
He knew Lynn had the gift of prophecy; perhaps he had other unknown means as well!
I must ask Lynn when I get back if he did this!
"Your Grace!"
Just then, an old, steady voice rang out.
Ser Barristan "The Bold" Selmy.
The highly respected Lord Commander of the Kingsguard stepped forward and knelt on one knee.
"The accusations against Her Grace the Queen are grave. The words of an assassin alone are not enough to condemn a Queen."
"I implore Your Grace to confine the Queen to Maegor's Holdfast for now, under the joint guard of the City Watch and the Kingsguard. It will not be too late to decide her fate after a thorough interrogation."
The old knight's words doused Robert's anger slightly.
He looked at the kneeling Barristan, then at Cersei shielded behind Jaime, his chest heaving violently.
After a long time, he squeezed out a single word through his teeth.
"Fine!"
With that, Robert seemed drained of all strength, collapsing back onto the Iron Throne and waving his hand wearily.
"Get out! Everyone get out!"
---
Inside the tower bedroom.
Lynn sat quietly by the window.
The chaos in the Red Keep and the roars from the Throne Room reached his ears clearly.
He knew the stone he threw had caused a big enough ripple.
Littlefinger's carefully planned "Wolf vs. Lion" conflict had been forcefully twisted into "Stag vs. Lion."
Though only temporary, it was enough to drag House Lannister's reputation in King's Landing to the bottom, buying precious time for Ned.
More importantly, Joffrey owed him a massive favor.
Joffrey was a spoiled child, typically petty.
Offend him, and he would torment you relentlessly.
But save him, and he might actually admire you.
Kids were like that.
Perhaps Joffrey would be useful in the future.
For example, accidentally stumbling upon his mother and Jaime...
Knock, knock, knock.
Just then, a soft knock came at the door.
Lynn gathered his thoughts, adjusted his breathing to sound slightly weak, and called out.
"Who is it?"
From outside came a gentle voice laced with concern.
"Ser Lynn, it is Sansa Stark."
"Father asked me to bring you some supper and medicine."
Sansa?
Lynn raised an eyebrow imperceptibly.
Perfect timing.
He walked over and opened the door.
Outside, Sansa Stark stood holding a silver tray, her small face full of worry.
Looking at Lynn's slightly pale face, her blue eyes filled with guilt and gratitude.
"Ser Lynn... thank you for saving Prince Joffrey today."
"I..."
"Come in, Lady Sansa." Lynn stepped aside to let her pass.
Sansa entered and placed the tray on the table.
The room was quiet, save for the crackling of the fire.
She stole glances at Lynn.
This man from the North was unlike any knight she had ever met.
He lacked the romance of the Knight of Flowers, or the flamboyance of the Kingslayer.
There was only a stillness and strength like the frozen wastes of the North.
"I heard... the Queen has been confined."
Sansa whispered, her tone uneasy.
"The game of thrones in King's Landing is far dirtier than you imagine, Lady Sansa."
Lynn poured himself a cup of water.
"Sometimes, what your eyes see is not the truth."
Sansa's heart skipped a beat.
She remembered Joffrey brutally stomping on the drunkard's corpse, and the Queen's madness when accused.
None of this matched the stories of heroes and princesses she had grown up hearing.
Lynn saw the confusion in her eyes and knew his words had landed.
Silly girl. Better give her a heads-up now.
Save her from siding with the enemy later.
Just then.
Knock, knock, knock.
The knock sounded again.
This time, the sound was neither light nor heavy, carrying a unique rhythm.
Lynn's gaze sharpened.
"Lady Sansa."
"Oh, yes..." Sansa stood up quickly, curtsied, and left quickly with the empty tray.
Lynn walked to the door.
Outside stood a stout man in a plain robe, hands tucked into his sleeves.
He was bald, wearing a gentle yet mysterious smile, and smelled faintly of powder.
Varys.
The Spider.
"Ser Lynn." Varys's voice was as soft as silk.
"An uninvited visit. I hope I haven't disturbed your rest."
His eyes, which always seemed to be smiling, now looked like two bottomless wells, seeming capable of piercing through a man's heart.
"Some little birds just sang me a very interesting song."
"A song about a Direwolf, a Golden Lion, and... an invisible spider stirring up the wind and clouds."
Varys smiled, walking slowly into the room.
"I think perhaps we should talk."
---