Arya was punished as soon as she returned to the Red Keep—an outco that was inevitable, especially after Lynd ntioned that he had taken her to a brothel. The severity of the punishnt increased significantly, and in the days that followed, Eddard began to look at Lynd with a faint hint of disapproval.
Lynd didn’t appear at the Red Keep again for so ti, choosing instead to stay in the encampnt outside the city.
As more nobles and knights from across the realm arrived for the tourney, the number of people seeking an audience with Lynd continued to grow. Eventually, he had no choice but to return to King’s Landing and take refuge in his residence within the city. In the evenings, he would attend various noble banquets by invitation.
The day before the tournant began, Lynd returned from a banquet hosted by one of the Red Keep’s powerful lords. His attendant handed him a fresh intelligence report, just delivered by operatives stationed in King’s Landing.
Flipping through the report, Lynd found it concerned Littlefinger. That day, Littlefinger had secretly t with a visitor from Lorath at one of his brothels. The two had spoken at length before the Lorathi finally left at dusk. Lynd’s agents had tried to follow him but eventually lost track.
“Lorathi?” Lynd murmured, puzzled.
Lorathi were easy to recognize. They often dyed their hair half-red and half-white, and they liked being addressed in the second person.
As soon as he saw the report, one na ca to Lynd’s mind: Jaqna. According to his knowledge from the books in his past life, Jaqna should have already arrived in King’s Landing by now.
Just as Lynd was about to send soone to confirm Jaqna’s whereabouts and intentions, Jaqna herself appeared—silently slipping past the Chosen Sons guarding the residence and standing calmly before him.
“I didn’t expect the one tailing to be yours. Soone is... a little surprised,” Jaqna said, her tone calm.
Despite her words, she looked anything but surprised.
“I was just about to send soone after you. You’ve saved the trouble.” Lynd waved off the Chosen Son who had approached after hearing the commotion, then gestured for Jaqna to enter. “So, what brings you to King’s Landing?”
Once inside, Jaqna answered evenly, “Soone is here to seek justice—justice that should have been served over a decade ago.” She looked at Lynd and asked, “Is soone planning to interfere?”
“Your revenge is justified. I have no intention of stopping you,” Lynd replied with a shake of his head. “I only want to know what dealings you have with Littlefinger—and whether they involve the Faith of Doom.”
“The Faith of Doom?” For the first ti, Jaqna’s usually impassive expression flickered with genuine surprise. “Why would soone be involved with the Faith of Doom?”
Lynd explained that Littlefinger had once had close contact with followers of the Doom cult. Jaqna was clearly taken aback—this was news to her.
As High Priestess of the House of Black and White, Jaqna understood the nature of the Faith of Doom better than most. But unlike Lynd, she didn’t see them as enemies. To the Many-Faced God, all death-related deities were simply manifestations of itself—including the one worshipped by the White Walkers beyond the Wall.
With a solemn tone, Jaqna said, “Our cooperation has nothing to do with the Faith of Doom. I’m only helping to spark a war between the North and the Westerlands.”
Lynd imdiately ford a likely theory but asked anyway, “And how do you plan to start it?”
Jaqna hesitated before replying, “Hire soone to assassinate a certain noble’s second son—the one currently in a coma—and leave clues pointing to another.”
“So that’s it,” Lynd thought, then spoke aloud. “You want Lady Catelyn to believe that Bran was pushed from the tower because he discovered Jai and Cersei’s affair, don’t you?”
Jaqna paused, clearly not expecting him to guess their sche so easily. But she quickly recovered and nodded. “Yes.”
Lynd’s voice dropped. “As far as I know, when Bran fell, Jai and Cersei weren’t anywhere near that ruined tower. They were with the king.”
“That’s true—they were by the king’s side,” Jaqna admitted. “But there was soone else who wasn’t. They didn’t appear until after... sothing had happened.” Her expression briefly darkened but quickly returned to normal.
She hadn’t nad the scapegoat directly, but based on the intelligence Lynd had received and the subtle shift in her deanor, he could guess easily enough.
“You’re planning to fra the Imp,” Lynd said, surprised. Things had twisted around again, only to circle back to the beginning.
Jaqna nodded, then asked, “Does soone wish to intervene?”
“No,” Lynd replied, shaking his head.
Jaqna looked at him with a puzzled expression. “You are not... friends?”
“Tyrion is my friend,” Lynd said with a sigh. “But I already tried to save him. He refused. Since he’s chosen his own fate, he’ll have to live with the consequences.” Then he asked, “So that ans Lady Catelyn is already on her way to King’s Landing?”
Jaqna’s surprise was now fully apparent. Before she could regain composure, she asked in confusion, “Was that a guess? Or... have you been monitoring Winterfell all along?”
Lynd didn’t answer. Instead, he gestured toward the door. “You may go. I won’t interfere in what you’re doing, but I don’t want any of it touching Sumrhall. Understood?”
“Soone understands.” Jaqna bowed slightly to Lynd, then turned and stepped out into the night, disappearing into the shadows beneath the surrounding trees.
As she vanished from sight, Lynd let out a long sigh. He could sense that Jaqna hadn’t shared her full plan—there were still parts she kept hidden, likely out of caution.
And he understood why. At this point, everyone in Westeros knew about his son Augustus’s betrothal to Robert’s daughter, Myrcella. That alliance made him, indirectly, a Lannister in-law.
Whatever the case, events were now proceeding according to script. All Lynd had to do was wait for the curtain to rise—and when the ti was right, reap the rewards he’d been waiting for.
“My lord, Lord Eddard is here,” the steward announced as he hurried into Lynd’s study.
Lynd paused briefly, then instructed, “Let him in.”
A short while later, the steward returned, leading in Eddard Stark, dressed in plain clothes, accompanied by his captain of guards, Jory Cassel.
Lynd looked at him and said, “Lord Eddard, shouldn’t you be preparing for tomorrow’s tournant? After all, the event is being held in your honor.”
“There are far more important matters to deal with. The tournant is the last thing I care about. If I could, I’d stop it right now.” Eddard made no effort to hide his distaste. Then, turning serious, he said, “Prince Lynd, I’m here to ask if you’d consider lending a sum of money to the Iron Throne.”
“A loan?” Lynd blinked in surprise, then asked in a low voice, “You haven’t spoken to King Robert about this, have you?”
“No,” Eddard shook his head. “Is that important?”
“I once offered to lend money to King Robert,” Lynd sighed, “but he refused. He preferred borrowing from the distant Iron Bank, from the Lannisters he despises, or even from Highgarden, whom he holds in equal contempt. But he would never borrow from . Do you know why?”
“Damn it...” Eddard cursed softly. Having grown up with Robert Baratheon, he imdiately understood the reason.
Lynd’s tone grew solemn. “If I lent the money now, that would only wound Robert’s pride more than anything else. I’m sorry, Lord Eddard, but I can’t.”
Eddard said nothing more on the matter. Instead, he moved on, pulling out a sealed envelope and handing it to Lynd.
“I found this in the bedroom of the Tower of the Hand. It appears to be a letter Jon wrote before his death. It never reached you. I don’t know whether he didn’t have ti to send it, or never intended to. It was hidden deep in the crease of a book—very well concealed.”
Lynd’s expression faltered. His relationship with Jon Arryn had never been good—hardly cordial enough for private correspondence. Even official decrees sent from King’s Landing weren’t written in Jon’s hand, but copied by scribes and sealed.
Now, suddenly, a secret letter—unmailed—had been found by Eddard? Lynd couldn’t help but recall his earlier eting with Jaqna and began to suspect so ploy.
Still, despite his doubts, he took the envelope, broke the wax seal in front of them, and unfolded the letter inside.
After reading it, Lynd frowned, confusion evident on his face.
“What does it say?” Eddard asked, curious.
Lynd didn’t answer. Instead, he handed the letter to Eddard.
Eddard quickly scanned the contents. His expression mirrored Lynd’s.
The letter was brief. Jon Arryn had written asking Lynd to relocate a group of people to the Sumrhall territory, including a list of nas and addresses for easy tracking. There were dozens of nas in total.
From the variety of nas and locations, it was clear they weren’t from a single family. Most of them lived in brothels—hardly what one would expect from people of notable background.
“Could these be Jon’s bastards?” Jory Cassel muttered after glancing over the letter.
Eddard shot him a sharp glare but couldn’t completely dismiss the thought. He had already learned that Jon had visited several different brothels shortly before his death. Now, seeing those sa addresses listed here, suspicion was inevitable.
“Prince Lynd, what will you do?” Eddard asked.
Lynd considered it for a mont. “I don’t know why Jon wrote this, but since it was one of his last wishes, I don’t mind honoring it. I’ll arrange for all the people on this list to be brought to Sumrhall and looked after.”
“Thank you,” Eddard said sincerely. Then he asked, “May I make a copy of the list? I’d like to investigate who these people are and what they ant to Jon.”
“Of course,” Lynd nodded. “But do it quickly. I’ll be returning to Sumrhall as soon as the tournant is over. These people will likely leave with .”
“Understood.” Eddard picked up a quill and parchnt from the table and quickly copied down the nas and addresses. Then he left Lynd’s residence with Jory Cassel.
...
Instead of returning to the Red Keep, Eddard and Jory imdiately set out to visit the addresses on the list, one by one, eting the people nad.
They were all young—the oldest barely into their teens, the youngest only a few months old. And it quickly beca clear that these were not Jon Arryn’s bastards.
They were Robert’s.
Every single one of them, boy or girl, had the thick black hair and striking blue eyes that marked the Baratheon line. So of the boys looked almost identical to Robert as a child.
With the truth in hand, Eddard returned to the Red Keep—unaware that every step he had taken was being watched.
His visits to each location and his encounters with those children were compiled into detailed reports, which were swiftly delivered to the Queen’s chambers.
“Damn it... he’s found them. He’s already found them!” Cersei hissed, panicking as she read the intelligence.
Jai, standing beside her, pulled her into his arms, gently stroking her. “No, not yet. If he had, he’d have co straight to us, not gone back to his chambers and acted like nothing happened. Eddard Stark is not soone who hides things well.”
Cersei took a deep breath, calming under Jai’s touch. “You’re right. If he knew, he’d confront Robert first. So he doesn’t know—he can’t know.” Then she asked, “What do we do now?”
“There’s no need to panic yet. Things haven’t reached the worst,” Jai said, shaking his head. He picked up another intelligence report, scanned it, and frowned. “Before he visited those places, he went to Lynd’s residence.”
“You think he’s working with Lynd Tarran?” Cersei asked.
“No,” Jai shook his head. “Lynd stays out of politics. Besides, his son is set to marry Myrcella—he’s a natural ally. But... he probably knows why Eddard went to those places.”
With that, Jai stood, pulled on his clothes, and said, “I’m going to pay Lynd a visit. See if I can learn anything. Don’t do anything reckless—and don’t try to confront Eddard Stark.”
“Alright,” Cersei nodded, watching as her twin brother left the room.
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