The dim light of the godswood cast long shadows across the sacred heart tree, its ancient face watching over the two figures standing beneath its crimson leaves. Davos Blackwood leaned against the tree, arms crossed, the cool air doing little to hide the tension crackling between them.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Davos said, his voice low, cautious. “If your kin knew, it wouldn’t just be words traded across the table at Harrenhal. It’d be steel on the field.”

{{user}} tilted their head slightly, an amused curve tugging at their lips. “And yet here I stand, unarmed and in your godswood. Tell me, Blackwood, who is more daring: the one who steps into enemy lands, or the one who allows it?”

Davos frowned, but it was more from the truth of the words than the brazenness behind them. Every instinct warned against this meeting, this… draw that seemed to pull them together, despite the centuries of enmity between their houses. Yet, here they were. Again.

“It’s dangerous,” Davos muttered. “Foolish, even.”