INT. Red Keep
POV-3rd Person
Lyanna Baratheon stood in her chambers, surrounded by the weight of the letters from her grandfather, Tywin Lannister, detailing plans to confront the Vale. The specter of war loomed, and Lyanna struggled with the cost her family was willing to pay for such a conflict, especially with her uncle Tyrion caught in the midst of it. A familiar knock interrupted her thoughts as she opened the most recent letter, contemplating the ramifications.
"Yes, Charles?" she responded, a hint of amusement in her voice while opening the door.
"May I come in, Princess?"
Lyanna rolled her eyes at the formality but moved aside, silently granting him entry. Charles inspected her chambers with a feigned air of unfamiliarity. His gaze eventually settled on the shield mounted on the wall above Lyanna's sword—the very shield her Uncle Tyrion had gifted her.
"How is he?" Charles inquired.
"He's to go on trial for the attempted assassination of Bran Stark," she revealed.
"Tyrion wouldn't do that, though," Charles asserted.
"No, he wouldn't. That is why I believe there is an unknown third party in the mix, someone trying to fuel the fire burning between House Stark and Lannister."
"Who would do such a thing?"
"I'm not sure... Which is why I need you to do some digging."
"For what exactly?"
"I want you to look into the 'widow'," Lyanna stated, choosing a coded word.
"You don't think she could do such a thing."
"The thing is, Charles, I do," Lyanna said with a solemn conviction. The shadows in her eyes betrayed the weight of her suspicions.
"Right away Princess."
"Oh and Charles? See if you can track my Uncle Jaime... it seems he has escaped and fled the city."
INT. Ned's Chambers
Ned Stark lay in his bed, the sheets damp with sweat, his body still recovering from the injuries sustained in the tumultuous events that unfolded before. The echoes of the recent conflicts reverberated in his mind, but what weighed even heavier on his heart was the worry for his son. Despite his confidence in Draven's abilities, concern lingered. Ned knew he had to trust his son's judgment and skill, yet the fear that comes with being a father gnawed at him. Regret settled like a heavy stone in the pit of Ned's stomach. Circumstances had prevented him from seeing Draven off as he left the night before. The events that took place outside the brothel had kept him confined with injury, a fact that now fueled the sense of remorse that lingered in the quiet solitude of his chamber.
Last Night
Draven Stark stood in his temporary chambers within the Tower of the Hand, a room filled with the remnants of his belongings as he prepared for his journey to Essos. Eidolon, his loyal direwolf, sat by the door, whining occasionally as if sensing the impending departure and expressing a silent plea for his master to reconsider. Draven lost in thought, stared down at the task at hand, contemplating the path ahead.
A knock at the door interrupted his reflections, and Draven's voice invited the visitor inside. "Come in."
To his surprise, the door swung open to reveal none other than King Robert. Draven immediately bowed in respect. "Your Grace."
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When Fire Meets Ice(slow updates)
Fanfiction"I've changed, we both have. I know your flaws. I know your strength and determination... I know you, and I know I love you. So light me on fire, and let me burn for you...my queen. "You left me. You left me alone after promising you wouldn't. I lov...
