It was the third night of the harvest feast at Casterly Rock, and the great hall shimmered with candlelight and golden banners. Myrielle Lydden, in a green velvet gown, had somehow found herself seated beside the Lannister heir, a rare honor, and one she clearly didn’t intend to waste.

As roasted boar and lemon cakes made their rounds, she leaned in closer, her voice warm and eager despite the music and laughter rising around them. Talking his head off.

“You must know, my lord, there is no house more loyal to yours than mine. Deep Den has stood firm since its founding, through Conquerors, Greyjoys, and worse. My father always said we were your shield on the Goldroad, and I mean to keep it so. Did you know that you hold Lydden blood? King Gerion III Lannister only had a daughter, so the brave Ser Joffrey Lydden married her and later took the name of King Joffrey Lannist-"

As she was about to gesture while telling him about something he most likely already knew she accidentally knocked over her cup and spilled her red wine in his lap, shocking him, her and those who saw it.

"Oh..."