Lynn's Prophecy

The room reeked of lime and mold.

Its only window sat high up the wall.

It was little more than a narrow slit, admitting a pale, feeble shaft of daylight.

Lynn sat propped against a corner, every muscle in his body protesting.

The weakness born of hunger and cold clung to him like a disease eating into his bones.

Lynn had won his gamble on Ned Stark's honor.

Then he had used omens from the Old Gods to secure a temporary reprieve.

But this was only a delaying tactic.

One lie needed countless others to sustain it.

A prophecy needed an even more stunning prophecy to prove it.

He was like an acrobat walking a tightrope above a bottomless abyss.

The slightest misstep would smash him to pieces.

He had to increase his worth as quickly as possible, until Ned Stark felt that killing him would be a loss.

An immeasurable loss.

Lynn's thoughts raced as he pieced together fragments of memories about this world from his previous life.

The warning about the White Walkers had only been the beginning.

The Direwolf omen had been the second step.

Next, he needed to reveal something truly earth-shattering, enough to shake the entire North, perhaps even the Seven Kingdoms.

A tragedy that was about to happen and could not be stopped.

The reigning king, Robert Baratheon, and Ned Stark had been sent to the Eyrie in the Vale as children to become wards of its duke, the lord of the Vale.

Ned had arrived eight years after Robert.

The two had spent seven years together.

That had forged a deep bond between Ned and Robert.

Ned's sister Lyanna had even been betrothed to Robert, bringing them closer still.

Their foster father, the lord of the Vale at the time, had been Arryn.

Arryn had been in his forties then, with no children of his own, so he had treated Ned and Robert as his sons.

After the Mad King's son Rhaegar took Robert's betrothed, Lyanna, the Mad King had killed Ned's elder brother and father.

Then he had demanded that Arryn hand over Robert and Ned.

Those two young men were threats to House Targaryen.

Naturally, Arryn had refused and had his two wards launch the War of the Usurper.

Arryn could rightly be called Robert and Ned's benefactor.

Now, all of Lynn's hopes rested on the old lord.

Heavy footsteps sounded outside the door, interrupting Lynn's thoughts.

A creak rang out.

The heavy wooden door swung open.

The man who entered was not a guard, but an elderly man in gray maester's robes.

A chain made of different metals hung around his neck, each metal representing a field of knowledge he had mastered.

Maester Luwin.

The brains of Winterfell.

He was also one of Ned Stark's most trusted advisers.

Maester Luwin's gaze was calm and keen, carrying a scholar's caution.

He did not speak at once, merely studying Lynn in silence.

His eyes moved from Lynn's pale face to his ragged black clothes, then to the eyes that remained bright even in the gloom.

"They say you foretold the appearance of the Direwolves."

Maester Luwin's voice was gentle, betraying neither pleasure nor anger.

"I foretold nothing."

Lynn's voice was a little hoarse.

"I merely interpreted the Old Gods' warning."

"The Old Gods?"

Maester Luwin weighed the words, his gray eyebrows lifting slightly.

"You claim to have seen White Walkers, and now you speak of the Old Gods."

"Young man, do you know what you're saying?"

"I do."

Lynn met his gaze without flinching.

"I know that winter is coming."

Maester Luwin fell silent.

He walked to the room's only table and set down what he had brought.

A piece of bread, a bowl of hot soup, and a small cup of medicine.

"Lord Stark sent me to examine you."

Maester Luwin's tone remained even.

"And to hear what else you might interpret."

Lynn did not move.

He knew Maester Luwin's real interrogation was only now beginning.

Maester Luwin represented Ned Stark's reason and suspicion.

"Maester, do you believe White Walkers exist?"

Lynn countered with a question.

"I believe the accounts in our histories."

Maester Luwin's answer left no opening.

"The histories say they were driven back thousands of years ago."

Lynn shook his head.

"The histories also say no Direwolf has appeared south of the Wall for two hundred years."

Lynn's words made Maester Luwin pause.

Lynn continued.

"A she-wolf lay dead on the road, her throat pierced by an antler, lion claw marks on her body."

"The stag is Baratheon, the lion is Lannister, and the wolf is Stark."

"This is no coincidence, maester."

"This is the coming storm."

Maester Luwin turned and looked deeply into Lynn's eyes.

"You seem well versed in southern heraldry."

"A deserter from the Night's Watch should not know such things."

Lynn's heart gave a violent jolt.

It was a trap.

He had behaved far too unlike an ordinary man of the Night's Watch.

"I wasn't born into the Night's Watch."

Lynn lowered his eyes, his voice growing subdued.

"Before I donned the black, I had a family too. I read a few books."

It was a weak explanation, but it was the only one he had.

Maester Luwin did not press him.

He merely pushed the cup of medicine toward Lynn.

"Drink it. It will do you good."

Lynn stared at the murky liquid in the cup without moving.

"Maester."

He lowered his voice further, deliberately lending it a hint of mystery and unease.

"The Old Gods' warning extends beyond the North."

Maester Luwin's brows drew together.

"What do you mean?"

"The heart of the storm is not in Winterfell, but in King's Landing."

Lynn raised his head and fixed his eyes on Maester Luwin.

"No matter how high the harpy flies, it cannot escape fate's hunt."

Maester Luwin's pupils abruptly contracted.

The falcon.

House Arryn of the Eyrie.

Jon Arryn.

The Hand of the King.

The Warden of the East.

Foster father to both Ned Stark and Robert Baratheon.

Throughout the Seven Kingdoms, he was a symbol of stability and order.

"What exactly are you trying to say?"

For the first time, a barely perceptible tremor entered Maester Luwin's voice.

Lynn knew he had seized the man's full attention.

He leaned a little closer and spoke with deliberate emphasis, in a voice only the two of them could hear.

"The Hand of the King, Lord Jon Arryn."

"He is already dead. The news simply hasn't reached us yet."

"He did not die of illness or old age."

"He was murdered."

Boom!

Those words were like a thunderclap exploding inside Maester Luwin's head.

His face instantly turned deathly pale.

He instinctively stepped back, striking the table behind him with a clatter.

"Nonsense!"

Maester Luwin's gentleness vanished as he snapped at him.

But he could not conceal the horror in his voice.

"Do you know what you're alleging? This is treason!"

"I haven't accused anyone."

Lynn leaned back against the wall.

His body trembled slightly from weakness.

But his gaze remained steadfast.

"I am merely relaying the warning I saw."

"Soon, a raven from King's Landing will bear witness for me."

"The king will travel north and invite Lord Ned south to take Lord Jon Arryn's place."

"And that will be the beginning of every tragedy."

Lynn paused, his eyes fixed on Maester Luwin.

"If this is mishandled, Lord Ned will die in King's Landing too!"

A deathly silence settled over the room.

Only Maester Luwin's heavy breathing remained.

He stared at Lynn as though he were a demon that had crawled out of hell.

Every word this deserter spoke struck precisely at the rawest nerves in Westeros.

From the White Walkers in the North to the plots in King's Landing.

All of this went far beyond any lie a deserter could invent.

This was no lie.

This was... a prophecy.

A prophecy so terrifying it was suffocating.

A long time passed.

Only then did Maester Luwin find his voice.

"Who else have you told these things?"

"Only you, maester."

Lynn answered respectfully.

"Remember, you must not tell anyone."

Maester Luwin drew a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

He picked up the bread and hot soup from the table and pressed them back into Lynn's hands.

This time, his movements were no longer casual. They carried a force that brooked no refusal.

"Eat this."

"Stay alive."

"Until the raven arrives, you must stay alive."

With that, Maester Luwin turned and strode out of the room without another glance at Lynn.

The heavy wooden door closed once more.

The sound of the lock clicking into place echoed through the empty corridor.

Lynn leaned against the wall and let out a long breath.

Cold sweat had soaked his back.

He knew he had just walked along the edge of a precipice again.

But his gamble had paid off.

He had thoroughly entangled his fate with Arryn's death, Ned's journey south, and the murky waters surrounding them.

Lynn picked up the bowl of now-lukewarm soup and gulped it down.

Warmth flowed into his stomach, driving away some of the chill.

He had to survive.

He had to grow stronger as quickly as possible.

Lynn's gaze settled once more on the panel only he could see.

[Experience: 0]

Now, he needed to earn Ned's trust.

Only then could he regain his freedom.

Instead of being locked in this little room, unable to do anything.