Dragonbone Dagger

Catelyn's heart clenched.

"Who are you?"

Her voice trembled with fear.

"Get out!"

The man said nothing.

He merely glanced at Bran on the bed with those emotionless eyes.

Then he raised his dagger.

"No!"

Catelyn screamed and lunged at him.

With all her strength, she seized his knife arm.

The man clearly hadn't expected such strength from this seemingly frail noblewoman.

The impact sent him stumbling.

"Get off me, you madwoman!"

The man growled, clamping his other hand around Catelyn's throat.

Catelyn couldn't breathe. Her vision began to black out.

But even at the brink of death, she refused to release his arm.

Summer snarled and sprang at him, sinking his teeth into the man's calf.

The man screamed and tried to kick the direwolf away.

His eyes blazed with murderous fury. He wrenched the dagger free of Catelyn's grip and poised it to plunge into her chest.

At that critical instant-

Bang!

The door burst open under a tremendous force.

Lynn rushed in first.

He saw the dagger about to pierce Catelyn's chest.

He didn't hesitate.

Lynn raised his longsword and thrust straight at the man's back, aiming for his heart.

The man sensed the deadly threat behind him.

He abandoned Catelyn and rolled clumsily aside.

The sharp sword tip scraped across his ribs, leaving a wound deep enough to expose bone.

Before he could regain his footing, several other guards of House Stark had blocked every route of escape.

A flicker of despair crossed the man's eyes.

He knew he had fallen into a trap.

He crushed the poison in his mouth between his teeth, determined to make one last desperate attempt!

"Kill!"

With a bestial roar, the man charged recklessly toward Bran's bed.

He would complete his mission.

But Lynn was faster.

In an instant, Lynn closed in on the assassin.

There was a wet squelch.

The blade pierced the man's throat with clean precision.

The man's movements froze.

His eyes bulged as he stared at Lynn in disbelief.

He opened his mouth, rasping and gurgling as blood poured from its corners.

Then he toppled stiffly to the floor.

[1 enemy killed, experience +1]

[Current experience: 7]

Just a few more kills, and I could upgrade my Light Sword skill!

Lynn pulled his longsword from the corpse.

Warm blood slid down the blade and dripped onto the floor.

Lynn wiped his longsword on the assassin's corpse. Once the blood was gone, he returned it to the scabbard at his waist.

The room fell deathly silent.

Catelyn slumped on the floor.

She gasped for breath, her face wet with tears or sweat-it was impossible to tell which.

She was utterly terrified.

The guards stood around the corpse, weapons drawn, keeping a wary watch.

Someone was secretly watching Ned's every move.

Ned couldn't act rashly.

When he heard the commotion, he all but ran over.

He saw the corpse on the floor, the shaken Catelyn, and Bran, unharmed.

Ned's gaze finally settled on Lynn.

His eyes held an extraordinary tangle of emotions.

Shock, lingering fear, relief, and... an indescribable trust.

Lynn's foresight had saved the Starks once again.

Soon, a cold glint beside the corpse caught Ned's eye.

He walked over and bent down.

It was a dagger.

Even in the dim light, the dagger shone with a luster no ordinary object possessed.

Ripples like flowing water covered its blade.

That was the unmistakable mark of Valyrian steel!

The method of forging Valyrian steel had long been lost.

Only a thousand such blades remained in the entire world.

And the western continent-the whole of Westeros-had fewer than two hundred Valyrian steel weapons.

They were extraordinarily precious.

Its hilt was made from some kind of pale bone, carved with intricate, ancient patterns.

Dragonbone.

Ned picked up the dagger.

It felt cold and heavy in his palm.

This was no ordinary assassin's weapon.

It was more like a work of art.

A treasure that would draw the eye of any lord.

In all of Westeros, only a handful of houses owned weapons like this.

The implications of using such an extravagant dagger to murder a child nearly froze Ned's blood.

Who but the Lannisters would be so lavish with their wealth?

"Clean this up."

Ned's voice was hoarse and utterly devoid of emotion.

He looked at no one.

The guards dared not hesitate. They immediately stepped forward and dragged out the still-warm corpse.

Soon, Maester Luwin arrived after hearing the news.

He supported the still-trembling Catelyn and led her away from the bloody scene.

The door closed.

Only Ned and Lynn remained in the room.

Ned walked up to Lynn.

He said nothing, merely studying the young man before him.

He looked at his pale face, his bloodstained black clothes, and those eyes that remained frighteningly calm in the firelight.

The prophecy.

The fall.

The assassination attempt.

Time after time.

This Crow who had fled back from the Wall had pulled House Stark away from the brink, proving himself through his actions again and again.

Ned raised the dagger in his hand, then held it out to Lynn.

"You saved Catelyn."

"You saved Bran."

"You've earned this dagger."

Lynn's gaze fell on the dagger.

He didn't immediately reach for it.

He recognized this weapon.

In his memories, this dagger had belonged to Petyr Baelish.

The man known as Littlefinger.

He had been Catelyn's childhood companion and was now the Master of Coin in King's Landing.

A man who had nothing but money.

He had lost this dagger to Tyrion Lannister.

And now, the dagger had appeared in Winterfell.

In the hands of the man sent to murder Bran.

It was a perfect frame-up.

A vicious trap capable of provoking a war to the death between the lion and the direwolf!

"My lord."

Lynn finally spoke.

"This is too valuable."

"Valuable?" Ned's lips twisted in a self-mocking smile.

"No treasure, however valuable, can bring back a life."

"Take it."

Ned's tone brooked no argument.

"You are a warrior."

"A fine warrior needs a weapon worthy of him."

"And you deserve it."

Ned pressed the dagger firmly into Lynn's hand.

The dragonbone hilt was cold to the touch.

Its smooth texture seemed to carry the breath of an ancient dragon.

Lynn tightened his grip on the dagger and refused no further.

No one could turn down such an extraordinary weapon.

Ned looked at Lynn.

"Lynn."

"Tomorrow, I will personally escort you and Jon to the Wall."

"Be ready."

Ned gave Lynn's shoulder a heavy pat.

He turned and opened the door. Without pausing, his tall figure quickly disappeared down the corridor.

He had to comfort his wife.

And prepare for the journey south, a journey destined to be steeped in blood and intrigue.

Silence returned to the study.

Lynn lowered his head and looked at the Valyrian steel dagger in his hand.

Its blade reflected his calm face.

He hadn't revealed Littlefinger's plot.

Muddying the waters wasn't just what Petyr wanted. It was also what an insignificant man like him most hoped would happen.