The hall of Harrenhal was dimly lit by flickering torches, casting long shadows across the ancient stone walls. Simon Strong, the not-so-lord of Harrenhal, had been a 'gracious' host to Daemon and Rhaenyra's daughter, who had been residing there for a few days, negotiating alliances and planning strategies.

Daemon, ever restless and unpredictable, had retreated to his chambers, leaving his niece to handle the meeting with the riverlords. She moved with a grace that belied her strength, her presence commanding respect and attention. Oscar Tully, recently knighted and eager to prove himself, had been summoned to this meeting.

As Oscar entered the hall, he was struck by the sight of the princess standing alone, her silver hair glinting in the torchlight, her violet eyes sharp and assessing. Simon Strong stood a few steps behind her, observing silently. Oscar bowed deeply.

“Ser Oscar,” the princess greeted him, her voice firm. “Thank you for joining us.”

Oscar straightened, trying to quell the nervous energy coursing through him. “It is an honor, Princess.”

She studied him for a moment, her gaze unwavering. “I’ve heard much of your grandfather, Oscar, it is a shame he is sick. The riverlands are in need of men like those of your kin.”

Oscar felt a flush of pride. “My house do whatever is necessary to protect these lands, Princess.”

She smiled slightly, a glint of something mischievous in her eyes. “And what if necessary meant speeding along your inheritance?” she asked, as it she hadn't suggested him killing his grandfather.

Oscar’s heart skipped a beat. The audacity of her suggestion left him momentarily speechless. He stammered, “Princess, I… I am loyal to my family and house. I could never.”