Teaching Ned step by step

Ned's gaze tried to pierce Lynn's calm exterior and uncover the secrets deep within his soul.

"What else did you see?"

Against the crackle of the hearth, the question carried an unusual weight.

Lynn did not answer immediately.

He merely raised his eyes and calmly met the Warden of the North's gaze.

There was no fear in those eyes, no evasion, only a bottomless stillness.

"My lord."

Lynn's voice was soft, yet exceptionally clear.

"I know you have many questions for me."

"But prophecy is a mysterious thing. Sometimes it appears in my mind without my control."

"Sometimes deliberately seeking a prophecy demands a price beyond what ordinary people can imagine."

"The future is like branching paths in the dark. I can see that one of them ends at a cliff."

"But if you learn where that cliff is now, your haste to avoid it may make you overlook a trap beneath your feet, and you could fall into another abyss instead."

Those words were more persuasive than anything else he could have said.

Prophecy without a price was plainly impossible.

Ned's taut body finally relaxed a fraction.

He understood.

Lynn was explaining a cruel truth in terms he could grasp.

Knowing too much was not necessarily a good thing.

Forcibly overturning a foreseen tragedy might trigger a chain of even fiercer repercussions.

Once the gears of fate were forced off course, they would crush everyone who tried to resist in an even more brutal fashion.

Seeing Ned fall silent, Lynn spoke again.

"My lord, I have seen some things that will happen on this journey south. I will tell you how to deal with them, one by one."

"First, do not rush to investigate Lord Arryn's death. You need only be on your guard against Cersei, Janos, and Baelish."

"Pay particular attention to Baelish."

"Whatever he approaches you about, my lord, simply play along. But do not believe anything he says-not a single word."

"That man has no credibility whatsoever!"

"Second, if you rush to get results, the Gold Cloaks will side with whoever has the upper hand. They will betray you."

"If you want to thoroughly investigate Lord Arryn's death, you should first weaken the City Watch. Ideally, bring it under your own control."

Named for the golden cloaks they wore, the Gold Cloaks answered directly to the Iron Throne and were an important force in maintaining law and order in the capital.

At least, they were important in maintaining the appearance of order.

After King Robert's death, Ned could have controlled the situation as regent, but Littlefinger betrayed him.

That directly caused the Gold Cloaks to side with Cersei, leading to Ned's arrest and the tragedies that followed.

"Third, and most importantly!"

"King Robert is in far greater danger than you imagine."

"You need only remember one thing!"

"As long as he lives, you can live!"

"Keep a close eye on Robert's food and daily routine. Do not let him go hunting."

Ned jolted, alarm spreading across his face.

"Are you saying someone intends to kill Robert?"

"Who would dare?"

Lynn shook his head, refusing to answer.

"My lord, I can only see fragments. As for the rest, I am not very sure myself."

The lions were entrenched in King's Landing. How could a handful of people from the North hope to defeat them on their own ground?

It was simply impossible.

Lynn wanted Ned to establish a foothold and shore up his defenses first. Everything else could wait until Lynn had built up his own power and secured his position.

If he told Ned outright, Lynn feared that the rigidly honorable man would act rashly and cause irreparable consequences.

"I understand."

"I will do as you say!"

Ned nodded earnestly.

Lynn added another safeguard for Ned.

"My lord, if something really does happen to King Robert, you must support Joffrey's accession and agree to any conditions Cersei proposes, even if it means making friendly overtures or flattering her..."

"Once they lower their guard, return to the North immediately!"

"As long as you remain in the North, you will be safe, whatever upheavals occur in King's Landing!"

"There is just one thing."

Lynn looked straight into Ned's eyes and spoke slowly.

"I fear you may not be willing to bend..."

Ned swept a hand through the air.

"Rest assured, I will do as you say!"

He was no fool. Listening to Lynn's arrangements, he had caught the scent of danger.

Since he had chosen to trust Lynn, he would see it through to the end!

Even if Lynn meant to harm him, he had no other choice!

Ned gazed at the young man before him.

This crow who had fled back from the Wall, this... wild card with his mysterious gift of prophecy.

"Lynn, can I trust you?"

Lynn inclined his head slightly. There was no flattery in his tone, only the calm of someone stating a fact.

"You pardoned me, my lord. Everything I have is tied to Winterfell, and to the North as a whole."

Having received his answer, Ned stopped probing those elusive visions of the future.

He made a decision.

"Once the king leaves, you will return to the Wall with Benjen and explain to the Lord Commander why you broke your vows."

"When you return, I will give you an entirely new identity."

Ned looked at him and spoke each word distinctly.

"You will become one of my personal guards and accompany me south to King's Landing."

Those words carried more weight than any gold dragons or grant of land.

They meant Lynn could finally shed the stigma of prisoner and deserter and find solid ground on which to stand.

Even if that solid ground was the precarious House Stark.

For Lynn, who urgently needed a stepping stone, it was enough!

Lynn lowered his eyes, concealing the surge of emotion that passed through them.

"As you command, my lord."

At the other end of the banquet hall, the atmosphere was far less grave than in the study.

Seated high at the head of the table, Cersei Lannister idly traced the rim of a silver goblet with her slender fingertips.

Beside her, Catelyn wore a carefully measured smile as she responded to the queen's small talk.

Yet a lingering shadow lay hidden in those blue eyes she had inherited from House Tully.

"This is your first visit to the North, is it not, Your Grace?"

Catelyn spoke first, trying to break the awkward silence.

Cersei's gaze passed over her and settled on Sansa a short distance away.

The girl was gazing dreamily at her son, Joffrey.

An almost imperceptible smile touched Cersei's lips.

"Yes, this place certainly is... different."

Catelyn's smile stiffened a little.

"I assure you, it must seem harsh compared with King's Landing."

"When I first came to Winterfell, I was frightened too."

"Harsh?"

Cersei's voice was like the finest silk in King's Landing: smooth, yet utterly devoid of warmth.

"It is far more than harsh. The wind here could turn a woman's skin to sandpaper."

Catelyn's hand tightened around her wine cup.

Just then, a figure approached the table with a mixture of eagerness and anticipation.

It was Sansa.

She had changed into a brand-new sky-blue gown, her hair was impeccably arranged, and excitement lent her cheeks a lovely flush.

"Your Grace."

Sansa lifted her skirts and sank into a flawless curtsy.

"Mother."

Cersei's gaze traveled slowly over Sansa.

It was less the look one gave a future daughter-in-law than the appraisal of a prized filly about to be put on the market.

"Hello, little dove."

Cersei spoke with a rare note of praise in her voice.

"You are quite beautiful."

Sansa's heart leaped at the compliment.

Cersei set down her cup and leaned forward slightly, drawing closer to Sansa.

A shrewdness that seemed to see through everything glinted in her green eyes.

"How old are you, child?"

"Thirteen, Your Grace," Sansa answered obediently.

"Thirteen..."

Cersei surveyed her figure, which had already begun to develop.

"Are you still growing?"

Sansa did not understand, but she smiled and nodded.

"I suppose so, Your Grace."

Cersei lightly ran a fingertip along the side of her goblet, making it ring softly. Then she asked the question.

"Have you had your first flowering?"

The air seemed to freeze in that instant.

The flush on Sansa's face changed at once from excitement to burning shame.

She opened her mouth, but could not utter a word. All she could do was look helplessly toward her mother.

Catelyn's expression darkened instantly.

Anger at the brazen insult rose within her.

For the first time, undisguised hostility entered her blue eyes.

Here in the North, in her own home, before her very eyes, the woman had humiliated her daughter!

Cersei seemed not to notice the fury in Catelyn's eyes.

She merely lifted her goblet and gently swirled the crimson wine within, an amused smile resting on her lips.

"N-not yet, Your Grace."

Sansa's voice was barely audible.

"Oh."

Cersei seemed a little disappointed, then smiled and changed the subject.

"The direwolf embroidered on your gown is lovely. Did you do it yourself?"

Sansa seized the question like a lifeline and nodded hastily. "Yes, Your Grace."

"What a clever girl you are."

Cersei smiled kindly.

"You must embroider something for me as well."

Overwhelmed by the honor, Sansa agreed.

After curtsying, she returned to her seat almost at a run.

Cersei let her indifferent gaze settle on Catelyn again. Her smile remained unchanged, but her words were ice-cold.

"The whole of the Seven Kingdoms is waiting for our two families to have grandchildren."

Catelyn forced down her anger and managed a stiff smile. "I have heard something of that myself."

Cersei looked toward Sansa once more.

"Your daughter will be the darling of the court."

The queen spoke as though making a proclamation.

"Such a lovely flower should not be buried in the ice and snow of the North."

Catelyn's expression became as cold as the winter snow outside.

Meanwhile, once Sansa had returned to her seat, her embarrassment was soon replaced by another feeling.

Prince Joffrey was looking at her, a charming smile on his handsome face, and raised his wine cup to her from across the hall.

Boom.

Sansa felt as though her cheeks were about to catch fire.

Flustered, she lowered her head, tugging at the female companion beside her and babbling incoherently.

Trying to hide the sweetness and secret delight that threatened to spill from her chest.

She had long since forgotten the queen's humiliating question.