Gales howled past Lynn's ears as he stood on the dragon's back, his robes whipping in the wind.
The White Walker behind him stood as still as a stone.
Lynn took something from inside his robes.
It was a mask.
Thin as a cicada's wing, it nevertheless gave off an unsettling sense of life.
Petyr Baelish.
This was a prop Lynn had made long ago.
Now it was time to put it to good use.
Lynn slowly fitted the mask onto the White Walker's face.
The instant the mask touched the White Walker's icy skin, the eyes burning with blue flame narrowed sharply!
An invisible torrent of energy poured from the mask into its mind.
It was Petyr Baelish's entire life.
From an unremarkable ward of House Tully to the Master of Coin in King's Landing.
From his abject, twisted love for Catelyn to his audacious plot to provoke a struggle between five kings.
Every lie he had told, every heart he had manipulated, the ambitions and desires he had buried deep within...
All his memories, all his emotions, every pattern of thought were forcibly poured into this body of death and ice.
Subtle changes began to take place in the White Walker's body.
Its stiff posture became relaxed and elegant.
The blue flames in its once merely chilling eyes gradually receded, revealing a glimmer of human cunning and depth.
It even unconsciously adjusted a collar that did not exist, the corners of its mouth lifting into a perfectly measured smile, at once warm as a spring breeze and chilling to the bone.
"My lord," it said.
Its voice had Petyr Baelish's distinctive, slightly husky resonance.
"Your faithful servant awaits your command."
Lynn nodded in satisfaction.
Good.
The actor was in place.
The Eyrie was the strangest and most