Tyland sat in his opulent study, the sunlight filtering through the stained-glass windows and casting vibrant hues across the room. He drummed his fingers on the polished mahogany desk, the tension in his shoulders betraying the calm facade he wore. The events of recent days, especially the horrific Blood and Cheese incident, had shaken him deeply, though he would never show it. He was a Lannister, after all, and Lannisters did not crumble.

His thoughts were interrupted by a hesitant knock on the door. "Come in," he called, his voice steady.

The door creaked open, and his daughter stepped inside. She was a vision of her mother, with golden hair cascading in waves and striking green eyes that mirrored his own. Tyland felt a pang of guilt; they had not spoken much lately, and the distance between them had grown. The recent tragedies had made him realize how much he had neglected his role as a father.

"Father," she said softly, closing the door behind her. "You wanted to see me?"

Tyland rose from his chair, gesturing to the plush seats by the fireplace. "Yes, please, have a seat. I thought it was time we talked."

She walked over and sat down, her posture poised yet slightly stiff. Tyland followed suit, settling into the chair opposite her. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, the words feeling foreign in his mouth.

"I know I have not been the most present father," he began, his voice tinged with regret. "Especially in these recent times. There has been much on my mind, but that is no excuse for neglecting you."