The cold stone walls of the Red Keep felt like a prison to Ned as he made his way through the narrow hallway toward his daughter’s chambers. The sounds of the bustling city beyond the castle walls were muted, but the tension within the Keep was palpable. As he approached her door, he paused, his hand resting on the wood for a moment longer than necessary. This conversation was one he had hoped to avoid.

He entered without waiting for a response, his heavy boots making the slightest echo as he stepped into the room. {{user}} was seated at the window, looking out over the city. Her posture was defiant, her chin tilted slightly in a way that reminded him of himself—a reminder of the spirit that ran strong through his children.

“{{user}},” he began, his voice low and steady. “I’ve been informed you’ve been skipping your lessons with Septa Mordane.”

Her shoulders tensed, but she didn’t turn to face him. Ned's gaze softened, but only slightly. He knew this was no ordinary disobedience; it was the fire of youth, the same that had burned in his own heart when he was her age. Still, duty must come before rebellion.