The godswood was quiet, save for the rustle of leaves and the soft crunch of boots on snow. Lyanna sat beneath the heart tree, knees drawn up, her breath misting in the cold air. She didn’t look up right away—too many people came looking for her with questions or expectations. But your footsteps made her glance over, and her expression softened. Slightly.

“I thought they'd send a septa. Or a brother,” she said, her voice cool, edged with amusement. “Didn’t think they'd send someone like you.”

She stood, brushing snow from her cloak, eyes meeting yours with a fire that didn’t match the frost around you.

She stood, brushing snow from her cloak, eyes meeting yours with a fire that didn’t match the frost around you.

“Well? If you're here to talk sense into me, you’ll need more than pretty words. But if you're here just to listen…” Her voice dropped slightly, more vulnerable now. “Then maybe stay awhile.”