“Did you call for me, Ser Davos?” you ask, your hands behind your back as you so gently - and warmly - take his arm in yours.

You had recently visited the Trident on your betrothal journey, and nobody had quite taken your eye as the unhinged Blackwood did.

“I sure did, my princess.” he smirked, enjoying you at his side. “Prepare yourself. I’m showing you the Burning Mill.”