After leaving the Tower of the Hand, Lynd led Sansa Stark and Jeyne Poole toward the castle gates.
When they reached the square before the main gate, Queen Cersei was already there, surrounded by a large group of Gold Cloaks, with the Kingsguard protecting her at the center.
Seeing the scene, Sansa and Jeyne shrank behind Lynd, their eyes filled with worry as they glanced around.
"Are you trying to stop me?" Lynd asked calmly, his eyes sweeping over the group before him.
All those present turned anxiously to look at Cersei, not a single one daring to draw their weapon.
Cersei glanced around at her hesitant guards, a flicker of anger rising within her. Her gaze toward Lynd was filled with unease.
Then, gathering her courage, she stepped forward and said, "Prince Lynd, didn't you say you wouldn't interfere in the political struggles of the Seven Kingdoms? Why are you breaking your promise now?"
"I haven't broken it. As always, I have no interest in your power struggles. They mean nothing to me," Lynd replied, calmly reaffirming his stance. He then looked over his shoulder at Sansa and added, "I'm taking Sansa because I gave my word to Lord Eddard Stark that I would protect his daughter."
"And that's not interference in the realm's politics?" Cersei asked sharply.
"I'm not taking her without reason. I'm offering you recognition in return," Lynd said, meeting Cersei's eyes.
"Recognition?" Cersei asked, frowning.
"I asked Lord Eddard Stark directly," Lynd said solemnly. "He acknowledged that the heir named in King Robert's will is Joffrey Baratheon. So I will publicly recognize him as Lord of the Iron Throne, the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms."
"Is that true?" Cersei asked quickly, eager for confirmation.
"It's true," Lynd said, gesturing to those around them. "There are hundreds of ears here—no chance they all misheard."
The tension in Cersei's heart melted into joy. Even she, no master of politics, understood what Lynd's recognition meant. If the Chosen One acknowledged Joffrey's claim, then so would the Faith of the Seven. That legitimacy would be unshakable, no matter what arguments others might raise.
"And what about Myrcella's betrothal?" Cersei pressed further, testing her luck.
"That arrangement was made by King Robert himself. Unless your side breaks the agreement, I have no intention of refusing it," Lynd said, casting a meaningful look at her. Then he added, "But don't think my recognition will bring you any advantage. Remember this—I will not involve myself in your power games. Even if your house falls, don't expect help from me."
With that, Lynd ignored the sour expression forming on Cersei's face and led Sansa and Jeyne away from the Red Keep. Those in their path stepped aside—no one dared to stand in their way.
...
After leaving the Red Keep, Lynd brought the two girls along the end of the Kingsroad, arriving at the square before the Great Sept of Baelor.
There, the lava dragon Neltharion still lay coiled on the ground. The molten glow in its heart, eyes, and throat had grown even more pronounced, and the vapor it exhaled now glowed red. The beast looked like a black dragon from the pits of hell—terrifying and monstrous.
Crowds had gathered around the square. Though fearful, they couldn't hide their excitement as they watched the creature.
When Lynd appeared, the people rose to their feet and shouted his name—the Chosen One. Neltharion stirred at the sound, opening his molten eyes to gaze at Lynd before slowly lowering his wings to form a gentle slope.
At the sight of the lava dragon, Sansa and Jeyne were petrified. Their legs nearly gave out beneath them, and they had to hold on to each other just to keep moving.
As they neared the dragon, Lynd turned to the two frightened girls behind him.
"Follow me," he said.
With that, he stepped onto the dragon's wing and began to climb.
Sansa and Jeyne exchanged a look, then mustered their courage and followed close behind.
At the dragon saddle, Lynd reached out and lifted each of them up, settling them in place before sitting behind them. He extended his arms to hold them safely within his grasp.
After issuing a command, Neltharion rose from the square, spread his wings wide, and raced forward along the Kingsroad. In the next instant, he launched into the sky, quickly soaring high above, crossing the Blackwater Rush as he flew toward Castle Summerhall.
Held tightly in Lynd's arms, the two girls slowly began to relax after their initial terror. Their bodies trembled with excitement. Both wanted to scream with joy but held back, afraid it would seem disrespectful in Lynd's presence.
The lava dragon flew swiftly—what would have taken three or four days on horseback was covered in just a few minutes.
"Lord Lynd, is that Castle Summerhall?" Sansa asked, unable to contain her curiosity as the dragon circled above Redemption Town, looking for a place to land. She pointed toward the castle built atop a sheer mountain peak.
"Yes," Lynd nodded. "You'll be staying there for quite some time. When the war ends, I'll send you back to the North."
"My lord, why can't you send us back now?" Jeyne Poole asked, puzzled.
"Jeyne…" Sansa reached over and pinched her arm, clearly worried the question might anger Lynd.
But Lynd remained calm and simply answered, "If I sent you back now, it would only bring you harm. Still, if you truly wish it, I can send you to Winterfell this very moment."
"No, no! This place is fine, my lord. It's fine," Sansa said quickly, shrinking back like a startled animal.
By then, Neltharion had spotted the platform of the dragon's nest. Gliding toward it, he flapped his wings to slow his descent, then landed steadily on the stone platform.
Lynd released his protective hold on the two girls and stood up from the dragon saddle. As he walked down the sloped wing of the dragon, he said, "Don't think I was being sarcastic earlier. I gave Lord Eddard my word that I'd look after you. If you don't want that, I won't insist. Sending you back to Winterfell would actually save me quite a bit of trouble."
He paused mid-step and turned to glance at the two girls still seated on the saddle.
"Aren't you coming down? Or would you rather I send you back to Winterfell?"
"No, my lord, it's not that—we just… our legs gave out," Sansa explained shyly.
At her words, Lynd activated the Storm Dragon Rune, summoning a small whirlwind that lifted the two girls gently from the saddle, suspending them in mid-air before setting them down on the ground.
The strange and wondrous experience left both girls stunned. When they touched down, neither reacted in time and simply landed flat on their backsides.
Lynd paid them no further attention. He gave brief instructions to the handmaidens waiting nearby and returned to his study.
...
While Lynd sat in his study, contemplating the shifting tides in the Seven Kingdoms, Sansa appeared at the doorway. She stood there hesitantly, uncertain whether or not to enter.
"Come in, Lady Sansa," Lynd said after glancing her way.
Having composed herself, Sansa stepped inside and gave a proper curtsy. "Lord Lynd."
"Are you uncomfortable here?" Lynd asked. "Do you need different accommodations?"
"No, not at all. I'm quite comfortable—this place is lovely," Sansa replied quickly, shaking her head. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she asked, "My lord… could you also rescue my father from King's Landing?"
"I've already spoken to your father. It was he who asked me to save and protect you," Lynd said as he leaned back in his chair, meeting Sansa's hopeful gaze. "Before that, I had considered helping him escape. But after our conversation, I changed my mind. I believe it's better for your father to remain where he is and face trial."
"Why?" Sansa blurted out, her voice rising with emotion. Then she caught herself and added hurriedly, "I didn't mean to question your decision… I'm just worried about him."
Lynd cut off her apology gently. "Lady Sansa, there's no need to be so cautious here—not like you had to be in King's Landing. You can treat this place as if it were Winterfell. Speak freely. I'm not so petty that a young girl's concern would offend me."
"Thank you, my lord, for your kindness," Sansa said, lowering her head.
Lynd explained patiently, "Your father, Lord Eddard, made many mistakes. He concealed what he learned from King Robert. He altered the king's will. He decided who should sit the Iron Throne based on his own judgment. All these actions added up and led him to where he is now. But the gravest mistake he made was leaving Winterfell for the South. What happened to your grandfather and your uncle should have served as warning. When someone makes mistakes, they must accept the consequences—be they commoner or noble."
Sansa lowered her head and said nothing. Her expression was unreadable.
It wasn't until a long silence passed that she finally looked up, tears welling in her eyes.
"Then, my lord… could you save my sister Arya? She's been missing since that day. I'm so worried about her…"
"You don't need to be," Lynd replied. "Arya has her own fate, and it's not the same as yours."
He looked at Sansa steadily. "I asked your father—if only one daughter could be saved, who would he choose? He hesitated for a long time, but in the end, he chose you. His reason was that you're too gentle. In his eyes, you wouldn't survive long in a place like King's Landing. Arya, on the other hand, has a much better chance of surviving on her own."
Sansa clearly hadn't expected that. A deep sense of guilt stirred in her heart—as if she'd taken her sister's only chance to live.
So, she couldn't help but say, "Lord Lynd, may I trade places with Arya? Let her come to Summerhall, and I'll return to King's Landing?"
"Absolutely not," Lynd rejected her request without hesitation. "Instead of wasting time with these thoughts, you should focus on learning how to make yourself stronger—so you can do more than sit in your room all day embroidering and dreaming of some knight coming to marry you. When you return to Winterfell one day and become Lady of the castle, if you're still like this, the wolves of the North will tear you apart."
"Ah?" Sansa was stunned, quickly correcting him. "My lord, you must be mistaken. I'm not the heir—my brother Robb Stark is the rightful Lord of Winterfell."
"I'm not mistaken. Think it through, and when you understand, come tell me," Lynd said, offering no further explanation. He picked up the bell from his desk and gave it a light shake, summoning a maid. "Take Lady Sansa to rest. And get them warmer clothes—mornings here can be cold, and what they're wearing won't do."
With that, Lynd watched the maid escort Sansa away, then turned his gaze back to the map of Westeros spread across the table. He reached into a small box and drew out several miniature flags, placing them on the map—at Castle Golden Tooth, the Twins, Moat Cailin, and the Prince's Pass.
...
Over the past two days, the events unfolding in King's Landing had spread rapidly across Westeros—and even rumors had begun to drift across the Narrow Sea.
From King Robert's death… to the claim that Eddard Stark had conspired with Stannis to forge a will and usurp the throne from Robert's eldest son Joffrey… to Eddard's failed coup and subsequent imprisonment… to Joffrey's coronation as Joffrey I… everything had erupted in quick succession, leaving the realm reeling.
Yet none of it compared to the shock that followed when Lynd appeared in King's Landing—riding a dragon—to pay his respects and stand vigil over King Robert's body. The sight of the dragon alone had outshone all other news.
What drew even more attention was the official declaration issued shortly afterward from Summerhall. In it, Lynd acknowledged the legitimacy of King Robert's will and pledged to honor it—publicly recognizing Joffrey I as the rightful heir and ruler of the Iron Throne.
The announcement stunned the realm. To many, it seemed inconceivable. Given that Lynd was the most powerful lord in the Seven Kingdoms, most expected him to remain silent—if not capitalize on the kingdom's chaos. With the realm splintered and rival houses eyeing the throne, it seemed the perfect opportunity for Lynd to join the game himself and stake a claim.
Even Tywin Lannister, Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock—Joffrey's own grandfather—had yet to publicly support his grandson's legitimacy. For Lynd to be the first to take a stance left everyone baffled as to his true intentions.
But the second declaration from Summerhall made his position clear.
This second message was brief, blunt, and impossible to misinterpret: Lynd had no interest in the Seven Kingdoms' struggle for power. No one was to try to drag him into it. As long as it didn't interfere with the larger battle against the White Walkers, he would not take part in the fight for the throne.
Had Lynd said this in private, perhaps it would've been dismissed as empty words. But this was a public declaration—delivered through the Faith of the Seven itself—making it impossible for anyone to doubt his intent.
And once the statement was made, many who had ambitions in the ongoing conflict felt a sudden, almost physical relief, as if a great weight had been lifted from their shoulders. With the realm's strongest power stepping aside, the path to the throne seemed a little more open—and some bold minds began to stir with ambition.