The heavy scent of blood still lingered in the Throne Room.
Donnel's corpse had been dragged away, and the floor scrubbed, but dark red stains still seeped from the crevices of the stone slabs.
The fervent excitement on Robert Baratheon's face had faded, replaced by a sullen gloom.
He glared at Cersei, standing not far away.
His nominal wife had just been absolved of all charges thanks to the victory of his most trusted knight. It was the greatest irony in the world.
Even though it was all prearranged, it still left a bad taste in his mouth.
"The Gods... have made their judgment."
Robert squeezed each word through his teeth.
"Queen Cersei Lannister is innocent."
He waved his hand in disgust, as if swatting away a fly.
"Now get out! All of you, get out!"
The nobles, as if granted a great pardon, retreated hastily. No one wanted to cross the King while he was in such a foul mood.
Cersei curtsied slightly, then turned, her spine stiff and straight. Escorted by two deferential Kingsguard, she left the oppressive hall.
Her confinement was lifted.
She was free.
---
Maegor's Holdfast.
When Cersei stepped back into the opulent cage where she had been imprisoned for days, the Gold Cloaks at the door were gone.
Everything in the room was exactly as she had left it.
Yet, it felt completely different.
She walked to the window and pushed it open.
Afternoon sunlight and a breeze rushed in together, stirring her long golden hair.
She looked down at her private garden, then out at the bustling city of King's Landing, feeling as though a lifetime had passed.
But in this newly regained space of freedom, a faint, lingering shadow remained.
The shadow of Lynn.
Subconsciously, she touched her inner thigh.
Bang—!
The door was shoved open violently, interrupting her thoughts.
Jaime Lannister rushed in.
His face wore the wild joy of a survivor and an irrepressible passion.
"Cersei! We won!"
He strode forward, opening his arms, intending to pull her into a tight embrace.
However, the moment his hands were about to touch her shoulders, Cersei recoiled like a frightened cat, taking a sharp step back to avoid him.
Jaime froze mid-motion, the smile on his face solidifying.
"What is it?"
"Don't touch me."
Cersei's voice was cold, devoid of any warmth. Her azure eyes held a distance Jaime had never seen before.
"What?"
Jaime thought he had misheard.
"Cersei, we should celebrate! I..."
He stepped forward again, trying to take her hand.
Smack!
A crisp slap echoed through the room.
Using all her strength, Cersei slapped Jaime hard across the face.
"I said, don't touch me!"
Jaime was completely stunned, clutching his stinging cheek. The love in his green eyes was replaced by shock and confusion.
"Are you mad?!"
"I'm not mad."
Cersei looked at him without a shred of guilt.
"I'm just tired. I want to be alone."
"Tired?"
Jaime finally lost his composure.
"You almost died just now! And you're telling me you're tired?"
He stepped forward, gripping her shoulders tightly and shaking her.
"Tell me, what happened?! Was it Lynn? Did he say something to you?!"
Jaime wasn't a fool.
Lynn's god-like dual swordsmanship, the duel that appeared to be fought for Cersei but was actually an exercise in total control, and now Cersei's utterly abnormal behavior...
Everything reeked of something wrong!
Cersei's body began to tremble violently.
Lynn's warning echoed in her ears like a demon's curse.
"Your body belongs only to me."
"Not to Jaime, and not to any future lovers."
"Don't force me to send my Gold Cloaks to fetch you."
"And by the way, that mole on your inner thigh is truly sexy."
No, Lynn knew everything!
She didn't want to be under his thumb ever again!
"Let go of me!"
Using all her strength, Cersei shoved Jaime away.
"Get out!"
"If you hadn't gotten yourself injured, would I have needed Lynn as my champion?!"
Cersei screamed hysterically.
She grabbed a wine goblet from the bedside table, then a mirror, hurling everything she could get her hands on at Jaime.
"I don't want to see you again! Get out!"
Jaime dodged clumsily.
Looking at the woman who seemed to have lost her mind, his heart filled with confusion.
He gave her a long, deep look.
His eyes were full of disappointment and pain.
He said nothing more, simply turning around and slamming the door as he left.
The room finally fell silent.
Cersei felt as though all her strength had been drained away. She slid down the wall to the floor.
Burying her face in her knees, she let out a suppressed sob.
---
The next day, inside the Throne Room.
Lynn was bidding farewell to Robert.
"Your Grace, the unrest in King's Landing has been quelled. It is time I fulfilled my promise to cross the Narrow Sea and bring you the heads of the Targaryen spawn."
"But before that, I must return to Winterfell to attend to some private matters."
Robert Baratheon was drinking sullenly, agitated.
He glanced at Lynn, then at the stoic Ned standing beside him.
The fire of his anger burned hotter.
These two Northerners felt like two great mountains pressing down on his chest, making it hard to breathe.
"Go, go!"
He waved his hand dismissively.
"Get out of here! Take your men and crawl back to your frozen North!"
He didn't want to see Lynn for another second.
"Ser Lynn!"
A clear, childish voice suddenly rang out from the entrance of the hall.
Everyone turned to look.
Princess Myrcella, holding up the hem of her pale yellow dress, came running in.
After spending time with him, she no longer feared Lynn; instead, she felt curiosity and affection toward him.
She looked up with her porcelain-doll face, her emerald green eyes filled with a plea.
"Are you going back to Winterfell?"
"Yes, Princess."
"Then... then can you take me with you?" Myrcella gathered her courage and spoke loudly.
"I want to see the Wall in the North, and I want to have snowball fights!"
During her days at Lynn's estate, she had experienced unprecedented freedom and joy.
The magical soap, the moving stories Sansa told, and the "improper" games Arya led her in—all of it was a hundred times more interesting than the dull etiquette lessons in the Red Keep.
She didn't want to go back to that gilded cage.
At these words, Ned Stark frowned.
And Cersei, standing in the crowd not far away, went instantly pale!
Myrcella... how could she...
Hadn't she explicitly warned her?
Robert paused for a moment, then looked at his daughter through drunken, bleary eyes.
Seeing Myrcella's brilliant Lannister gold hair and those green eyes identical to Jaime's, an uncontrollable wave of disgust surged in his heart.
"You want to go to the North?"
Robert's mouth twisted into a strange grin.
"Good! That's great!"
He slapped his thigh hard, as if he had made a brilliant decision.
"Go! Let Lynn teach you what Northern discipline means!"
He pointed at Lynn, then at Myrcella, laughing loudly.
"Save you from staying in King's Landing every day, learning bad habits from your venomous mother!"
"Your Grace! This is improper!"
Cersei finally couldn't hold back a scream.
Sending a princess to the North—that was tantamount to sending a hostage!
"Shut up!"
Robert's laughter cut off abruptly as he roared at Cersei.
"Since when do you have a say here?!"
"She is my daughter!"
"If I say she goes, she goes!"
Cersei swayed, nearly collapsing to the floor.
She looked pleadingly at her brother Jaime, only to find him watching the scene coldly, his eyes devoid of any emotion.
It was over.
It was all over.
Lynn bowed slightly, his voice calm and rippleless.
"As you command, Your Grace."
He walked over to Myrcella and extended his hand.
"Princess, if you please."
Myrcella cheered and unhesitatingly placed her small hand into Lynn's large palm.
Holding Myrcella's hand, Lynn walked out of the Throne Room step by step under Cersei's utterly despairing gaze.
In the long corridor, sunlight filtered through the stained glass, casting dappled shadows.
Jaime Lannister stepped out from the shadow of a stone pillar.
He watched the retreating figures of Lynn and Myrcella, and in those green eyes, a cold and dangerous flame ignited.