Night submerged King's Landing in a deceptive silence.
Maegor's Holdfast, the sturdy fortress, felt more like Cersei Lannister's tomb at this moment.
When Lynn pushed open the heavy oak door, Cersei was sitting at her vanity.
She had changed into a crimson silk nightgown, her golden hair combed impeccably, her face adorned with exquisite makeup.
As if the hysterical, broken woman of the afternoon had been merely an illusion.
She watched Lynn through the mirror. In her azure eyes, there was no anger, no fear, only a dead silence.
"You came."
Her voice was calm, as if stating a fact unrelated to herself.
Lynn closed the door, the sound of the latch falling exceptionally harsh in the quiet room.
He said nothing, simply walking to the table and pouring himself a cup of wine.
"Have you decided?"
Lynn's voice broke the silence.
Cersei didn't answer but stood up slowly.
The crimson nightgown outlined her still-voluptuous curves in the candlelight.
She walked toward Lynn step by step, lifting her chin arrogantly like a peacock approaching the altar.
"I am the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, the daughter of Tywin Lannister."
She seemed to be trying to reclaim a shred of pitiful dignity in this way.
Lynn smiled.
He put down the wine cup, reached out, and gently lifted the silk strap of her nightgown with his fingertip.
"Queen?"
His voice held a hint of amusement.
"A Queen loathed by her husband, confined here, unable to even decide the marriages of her own children?"
Cersei's body stiffened sharply.
"What do you want? Say it directly."
"I want a promise."
Lynn's gaze passed over her, looking at the pale moon outside the window.
"I want Myrcella."
Cersei's pupils contracted violently, the mask of calm finally cracking.
"In your dreams!"
She screamed instinctively.
Myrcella, her delicate golden rose.
She would never allow anyone to taint her!
"I am not negotiating with you."
Lynn turned his head, his black eyes brooking no refusal.
"You are in no position to refuse."
He advanced step by step, and Cersei retreated step by step.
Until her back hit the cold wall, with nowhere left to run.
"She..."
"I know what you want to say. She will grow up."
Lynn's voice was calm and waveless.
"By the time I return from across the Narrow Sea, it will be roughly three years later. She will be of marriageable age by then."
"I need a woman of Baratheon blood to consolidate my position."
"Even if her blood has nothing to do with Baratheon, name alone is enough."
Lynn didn't even bother using words like "love" or "affection" to disguise it.
It was a naked transaction, naked utilization.
"Why don't you marry that wild Stark girl?"
Cersei hissed.
"Aren't you close with them?"
"Arya is my woman, but that is a separate matter from political alliances."
Lynn's tone sounded like he was discussing the weather.
"Marrying Arya makes me Stark's son-in-law."
"But marrying Myrcella makes me the King's son-in-law."
"You..." Cersei pointed at Lynn, stunned by his bold and unreasonable behavior.
"Besides, a mother's promise is far more trustworthy than a Queen's promise."
Lynn reached out, gently stroking Cersei's cheek, which trembled slightly from rage.
"Promise me, Cersei."
Cersei closed her eyes, two lines of scalding tears finally rolling down uncontrollably.
She knew she had no choice.
But she gritted her teeth and persisted.
"No, not Myrcella!"
"But... you can do with me as you please."
She squeezed the words through her teeth.
Every word seemed to drain her strength.
Since she said as much, Lynn said no more.
In the next second, he scooped Cersei up and walked toward the luxurious bed draped in velvet.
"Not now!"
Cersei finally began to struggle, like a butterfly caught in a web.
"I am not ready yet..."
"I am the Queen!"
"You Northern wolf cub, let me go!"
Lynn threw Cersei roughly onto the soft bed, then looked down at her.
His gaze wasn't looking at a woman, but appraising a trophy that belonged to him.
"I told you, I want your submission."
Lynn's voice carried a chill that made Cersei's soul tremble.
"Complete submission, from body to soul."
"Missing either is not enough proof."
Lynn leaned down, whispering in the ear of the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms.
"From today on, your body belongs only to me."
"I may never touch you again, perhaps not even bother to look at you."
"But without my permission, no one else touches you."
"You remain the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, but first and foremost, you are my property."
"Remember your place."
---
When Lynn walked out of Maegor's Holdfast, the horizon was already showing the first light of dawn.
The Gold Cloaks still stood guard faithfully outside.
Seeing Lynn, they all knelt on one knee in unison.
These Gold Cloaks were Northern guards, worthy of trust.
Lynn didn't look back at the gilded cage.
He simply walked toward his manse.
Inside, Arya had fallen asleep sprawled over a mountain of ledgers, a line of drool at the corner of her mouth.
Active by nature, getting this far was truly hard on her.
Sansa sat in a chair further away, staring blankly at the horizon, lost in thought.
Clearly, she hadn't slept all night.
Seeing Lynn return, she stood up quickly, her blue eyes filled with complex emotions.
"Ser Lynn... you..."
"It's fine. Go back to sleep."
Lynn offered no explanation, heading straight for the study.
Sansa watched his retreating figure, opened her mouth, but ultimately said nothing.
She only clutched the warm cloak in her arms tighter.
In the study, a raven from the North paced restlessly.
Lynn untied the scroll from its leg and unrolled the familiar parchment.
It was Robb Stark's handwriting.
But the words were filled with frustration and breakdown.
"Lynn! You bastard!"
"What kind of monster did you leave behind?!"
"You call that thing a dragon? I call it a bottomless pit!"
"It's a greedy beast!"
"It's only been a month! It has grown to nearly four meters! Almost the size of a dire-mammoth!"
"Do you know what it ate yesterday? Three sheep! Three whole sheep! Plus two basins of berries! Maester Luwin says its appetite is still increasing!"
"Winterfell's sheep are nearly gone! The smoked meat in the stores is running low! I'm starting to consider taking it to the Twins to let it taste Frey cattle!"
"Seriously, if you don't send money back soon, I'll have to release it into the Wolfswood to fend for itself!"
At the end of the letter, in a different, childish hand, was a stick figure drawing of a mini-dragon breathing fire, with two crooked words beside it.
Rickon.
A smile finally appeared on Lynn's face.
Four meters...
Truly a magical creature.
This growth rate far exceeded his expectations.
From Castle Black to Winterfell, then from Winterfell to King's Landing.
In less than two months, it had grown this large.
By the time he departed King's Landing and returned to Winterfell, another month would pass.
By then, Winter would likely have grown into a true war beast.
At that time, flying across the Narrow Sea on a dragon...
That scene would be very interesting.
While Lynn was deep in thought, the steward Robb knocked lightly on the door.
"My Lord, a guest wishes to see you."
"Not seeing anyone."
Lynn just wanted to rest.
"But... his name is Tyrion Lannister."
Lynn paused.
The Imp?
What is he doing here?
"Let him in."
Moments later, a dwarf appeared at the study door.
Tyrion Lannister, dressed in a well-tailored dark red velvet tunic, wore a cynical smile on his face.
His mismatched green and black eyes looked curiously at Lynn, and at the study that had just changed owners.
---