Kinvara

The Red Temple of Volantis, 300AC

Visions were terrifying just as much as they were fascinating, solely down to the fact that they weren't wholly accurate and required a lot of interpretation. Few people were be able to pick them apart, it took years of training to get to a point where it was easy to tell. Kinvara had been practising for decades now, and she was sure she had learned her craft well. When she had been sold by her father when she was young to pay off her parents huge debt to the Red Temple, she was so young that she could not recall anything of her life before coming here as a follower, only how she had gotten here.

The Red Temple of Volantis was her home, had been for a very long time. She had studied for more than one hundred years before being deemed worthy enough to be trained in the art of the flames, and she had trained equally for the same length of time. Now, all she had to do was look into a flame for a split second to see what was happening. But lately, the visions had been muddled.

Their God was an enemy of the other True God. The only two Gods that mattered. One locked away in the northernmost parts of the Lands of Always Winter where their cell was beginning to slowly melt- it would only be a matter of time before they were let loose. Some of their minions were already roaming, and she could see bands of people combining into one massive force to prepare. But they would fail, that much was known. Much of the world has forgotten what those dreaded few years was like. Where the sun didn't even rise above the horizon and to the point that some people's blood literally froze within them it had gotten that cold. Much less of how it had ended. Azor Ahai driving a flaming sword still dripping in the blood of Nissa Nissa into the heart of the King of the Night- the chosen champion of the Great Other.

With this simple act, the Children were able to extract the dragonglass shard which was laced with spells and in doing so, entrap the soul of the monster within, burying it deep in a place only they had access to. Now, only a handful of Children remained in the world, and without the location known, there was no way to be able to set up more entrapments. Now, it's a waiting game. She walked over to one of the torches aligning the walls of her personal chambers within the Temple, staring deeply as the red and orange danced together merrily. Waiting on images to appear to find out what was happening in the world.

The first thing saw was a pride of lions running through a large field, meeting with another pride of lions in the open. One was larger than the rest, staring down at the cubs like it were judging them. Except, they weren't exactly cubs. Two were fully grown, a lioness and a lion, and the third was much smaller than the other two. The lioness roared back only for the larger one to let out a much louder roar and for her to step back in insult before running off into the wilderness. The sun was shining bright on their fur, fur so bright it looked like the worlds most polished gold. Then, the scene changed.

What was previously an open field was now a river, and she could see the smallest swimming around. The other three were nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, the animal was dragged under for a few minutes before escaping and running off, and she could see the trout almost glaring at it in response. Following after the beast and soon coming across a cage that appeared to be six feet square, just enough for someone to be locked inside. But it wasn't a person inside, it was a wolf. A wolf with its pup beside it, the other lions staring inside awaiting on the cage to be opened so they could pounce on their pray. The wolf was taking care to hide the pup with one of its legs, making sure its head was turned against its fur, clearly protecting the babe from what lay out there.

Now, there was a lion inside a cage and not the other way around, with a large wolf staring at it, not saying a single word. Simply staring into it with bright blue eyes, dark grey fur laced with a reddish brown almost blending in with the darkening night. Then another wolf walked up, with fur as bright as fresh snow with eyes the colour of the ripest strawberries in existence, standing a little taller than its litter mate. The lion backed off a little only for a loud roar to shake the ground which caused it to stop what it was doing as it looked around in confusion. Turning around to find the source of the noise, looking into the forest behind the cage and yelping in panic, the wolves still saying nothing at what was occurring.

Not long after, high walls of red bricks appeared. An animal she could not place carrying bright red eggs on its back as it ran through tunnels underground before coming to a clearing, meeting someone at a boat and handing them over for the person to place another two on their back before running back into the castle. To one being thrown against a mountain and cracking open to reveal nought but blood, then forcefully cracked open with a large blade. The remnants being presented at the hooves of a large black stag with a golden crown atop its head, the largest lion standing nearby with its head held high, a spear falling to the ground broken in half beside the eggs, and the room so dark it was as if the sun had not risen.

The others appeared again, in the arms of someone- the first person she had seen in this vision- taking it into a large house on the coastline. Walking over to a chest and opening it to reveal a black egg. Then said person stared at a glass case with a stone hand within before saying something before lifting the chest and throwing it out the window into the waves below. One more scene change occurred after this, being in the snow right in front of a massive castle. One she knew to be Winterfell, the heart of the North. Where Azor Ahai had been raised all those years before, where Brandon the Builder had been raised before building structures still standing thousands of years later leaving no knowledge on how he did so. She could see the ground shaking surrounding the castle which soon broke apart, a dragon emerging from underneath the keep with scales such a bright silver it almost blinded her when the light hit against them.

"Priestess, please come."

She blinked a few times before facing Benerro, one of the oldest and most accomplished Priests there was in the Red Temple. Bowing her head in submission and following him into a meeting room where many of them were amassed. Bright red hair, red eyes, red clothing, red lips, all showing they were followers of the True God.

"The time is nearing, we need to start preparing. We need to whittle down all possible people who can be Azor Ahai and Nissa Nissa, and some of us need to go to guard said people."

It wasn't long before someone stepped into the room, catching their eyes as they weren't a follower. This was made obvious from the black and gold mask covering their face- a mark of the Shadowbinders from Asshai. A form of magic even they didn't dare interfere with which was something in of itself.

"Soon a time will come. Where dragons will once again dance, trouts will fight and some will float, lions will team up to keep semblance, and an Other will emerge from the darkest tunnel from its imprisonment. A suns son will travel to meet a dragon, a rose will sit atop a lion, sea dragons will combine with land dragons, and wolves will scatter."

Their voice was obviously female, and had an accent which was mostly Westerosi with a slight tinge of an Asshai'i accent. Something they all knew very well as they had trained in Asshai themselves and were well acquainted with it.

"One wolf will go farther north than anyone has been for many years and will meet a withering dragon. One will travel south. One will travel north. Two will remain where they are. And the last will be whisked off at the hour of the bat. A crowned stag will fall, a burning stag will stake a claim over cubs where the lioness will bite back in protection of her brood. And in amongst all of this, Azor Ahai and Nissa Nissa will be reborn."

They mumbled quietly to themselves, thinking hard on what she had seen in the flames not that long ago. It correlated, and it made her wonder if the Shadowbinder had done something for her to see what she had seen. Twirling long red hair on one of her slender fingers.

"How long will it take for them to be reborn?"

Benerro asked the question, all of them turning to face the mysterious woman whom only now noticed was wearing a ruby red necklace. One much alike their own which preserved their youthful appearance despite being hundreds of years old.

"A crowned stag will fall, a wolf will be captured. A burning stag will gather allies whilst the young stag prances through a field of roses. The swamps will open to reveal a truth which will shatter the realm. A hatchling will not come into the world, a horse falling too. From there, dragons will emerge from the flames. When this happens, they will be reborn."

The woman walked over to one of the flames, allowing her fingers to dance around inside them causing them all to give her a stunned look. They had studied the flames for centuries and none of them could do that.

"I shall be travelling to Qarth where if the visions are correct, one will be by the end of the year. They share blood with one another alongside others including myself, but I can only protect one. Who can I trust to watch over the others?"

If they weren't shocked before, they sure were now. They shared blood with her? Was this woman a descendent of either Azor Ahai or Nissa Nissa? Possible, but this was going back numerous thousands of years. Very few families keep records going back that far. That was when she reached up to pull something from her eyes. One eye such a dark blue it was almost black- the other a twinkling green which contrasted strongly against her icy complexion that just peeked out of the mask. Shadowbinders masks were made to fit a face specifically which allowed Kinvara to guess her features. High cheekbones, slim nose, slight chin, face as a whole slim but with a strong heart shape. Features common to those of the blood of Valyria. She reached under the mask to pull out long silver-gold locks in loose curls.

"You're supposed to be dead-"

She let out a laugh at this before tucking her hair back into the material.

"I think you of all people should know that rubies have magical properties, Benerro. It is not only the Red Priests and Priestesses who command the power to live for centuries and not age. I have simply been biding my time. The other has already done his part. It ended in him being exiled, but he done his job, and now he is fading away after becoming one with a Weirwood network in the far north. Patiently waiting on the right time to strike."

She was confused, not knowing what this meant. It seemed she wasn't the only one as some were looking at the few who had recognised who that was blanching in understanding.

"Benerro, who was that woman?"

He looked to his feet and gulped loudly, looking directly into the flame in the centre of their ring, eyes glinting in the dim lighting provided from the element.

"Someone believed to have died decades ago."

Catelyn Tully Stark

The Eyrie, 300AC

The day had finally come. It had been a few days but Lysa had finally agreed to give Tyrion a trial. It would probably be a few days too late but being late was better than doing nothing at all. Nerves were eating her up inside because she knew her sister despised being talked back to, which meant this was going to be a very unfair trial. Despite her anger bubbling up inside of her, right now she was in her sisters castle and therefore had to follow her rules. Even if she hated them.

Brynden had been coming to her room every day to catch up. It had been a long time since she had last saw her uncle considering she lived in Winterfell and him at the Bloody Gate. Relatively close to one another, but not close enough that either was easy to get to. Even now, blisters were forming on the insides of her legs from how fast and hard she had ridden to get here on time. Luckily, Hoster's men had not yet arrived which gave them plenty of wiggle room. Lysa's words spinning around in her head, trying to make sense of them all.

Lysa had told her someone had saw Tywin purchasing Tears of Lys. A poison that had no taste, no scent, and left no visible traces. How had she known the poison in question used? If the roles were switched and someone had told her they had seen the head of House Lannister purchasing it, she would've come to the same conclusion too. But Lysa was not her, and she was not Lysa. The younger regularly skipped lessons and had showed not to be the smartest person in the book. Remembering once where Edmure had painted her jewellery box and put it somewhere new in her room when they were children, and she had burst out crying that someone had stolen it. It wasn't like he had camouflaged it or anything, he had moved it to another desk and it stuck out like a sore thumb against the oak.

Something wasn't adding up, and Catelyn hoped it would come to fruition today. Because if it didn't, it was only going to make the coming months even harder. She was trying to hold off a war, but thanks to her sisters impatience and jumping to conclusions, it is on the horizon. All it takes is the final thread on the string to snap for it all to come crashing down on them. She had been given a dark green dress with black trimming and a few golden designs sewed in. It was much different to the gowns she had worn in Winterfell where there was a layer of fur always sewn in underneath to keep warm in the freezing temperatures. There was no need to do so in the Vale. It was odd to feel plain velvet against her skin directly again, but it was welcoming.

That morning she had spent sewing a few patterns, glad that her sister at least remembered one of her favourite hobbies. Something she was always doing with Sansa and hoped desperately one day Arya would do so too- although she highly doubted it. Especially the older she got where she was only getting wilder. It had made Ned chuckle, and he had remarked plenty of times that if his own sister had survived, they would've been joined at the hip. He didn't speak about her much, and any time her name was brought up he closed in on himself. By now, she had gotten to the point of if he wanted to talk about her, he would do so. It took years into their marriage before he opened up on her. Of how she was always sneaking in the nooks and crannies of the castle and often snuck out of lessons to grab a blunted sword and join in on their training with Ser Rodrik despite only being able to use a stick as she had been five at most.

"My Lady, you have been summoned. I shall escort you."

She turned her head up to face one of the guards before putting down the wooden ring with fabric after tucking her needle away. Despite having been here for a few days now, she still did not know her way to the centre of the castle from the room she had been given. It was practically a maze when you got to the portion which was built within the mountain it was situated upon. It was a calm day outside, the sky a shockingly bright blue and not a single cloud adorning it, sun shining bright from above and bouncing off the mist surrounding the area they were at which created an almost blinding effect.

Ned talked often of his time at the Eyrie. Of how at night the wind entering the castle created a soft whistling noise that was pleasant to fall asleep to. The soft breeze constantly there which reminded him of the Northern air considering it was rather humid in the Vale despite not being that southern. Dozens of flowers that were freshly picked every morning in pots aligning the white stone walls always arranged to appear like a rainbow to show off the story of the castle. Winterfell wasn't the prettiest castle to look at, but it certainly held a majesty to it. Riverrun was much the same considering it was build on a tiny island which meant their only option was to build up. But the Eyrie was beautiful to look upon.

The room was already filled with dozens of people, clearly wanting to see the show. Her sister was sat atop the high chair with her son seated on her lap which momentarily shocked her. If she was caught holding court with either of her children on her lap, she was asking to be laughed at. But what surprised her the most was that it was Lysa seated in the chair and not Robyn. Despite his age, he was the Lord Paramount of the Vale, and he couldn't rely on his mother forever. Perhaps she could convince her sister to foster him, but she doubted that would go over well. Steadily, she walked up the steps to stand beside her uncle whose lips were pressed in a tight line as he looked down on them all, clearly not wanting to be here.

"This whole thing is a shambles."

He'd whispered the words, but her trained ears had picked it up as she nodded a little to confirm she thought the same. What had Tyrion Lannister been doing in the Vale anyway? The last she heard from him was that he was travelling down the Kings Road back to Kings Landing. Had he stopped off halfway and decided to go exploring? Possible, she'd heard from numerous people the dwarf had a mind much alike his fathers and an even keener mind for his books. When he was in Winterfell, he'd either been feasting, drinking, whoring, or reading. Nothing else. Her stomach was practically eating itself now but she kept her face composed as was become a Lady.

"Bring the prisoner in."

Someone left the room now to head down to the dungeons- or the sky cells. The famous cells which were built to have only three walls so one side was always open to the outdoors, with slanted floors to top it all off. Thousands of people had fallen to their deaths this way, had been in such a deep sleep and had simply rolled over which had them at an angle where they would spin too fast and wouldn't be able to stop themselves before they were tumbling to the rocky ground below. From where she stood, she could hear her nephew boasting of how he was going to 'make the bad man fly'. Clearly she had put the thought into her young sons mind that it was Tyrion who had killed Jon, and rightfully so, he was wanting revenge. Two people walked in now with a chained dwarf between them, both with wide grins on their faces as he was pushed into the centre. It made her want to groan, way to rub salt in an already open wound Lysa...

"Tyrion Lannister, you have been brought before us for the charge of murder, do you wish to admit the charge or deny the charge?"

Now, she almost winced, and she could tell her uncle was the same. What was she doing? Not addressing someone by their title was one of the biggest insults there was, and Lannister's were known to not take a single slight.

"Aye, I admit it."

His voice was gruff, and his beard had grown to be an itchy point. Her eyebrows creased a little at the admittance and she caught her nephew bouncing on his mothers lap in excitement. Her sister tilting her head a little to the side too before nodding to someone on the ground. She watched as they walked over to a dial and begin moving it, her gut dropping as the moon door was opened. Revealing the sky underneath alongside the numerous jagged rocks that lay at the bottom. He was pushed over a little but he laughed loudly.

"Nice way to start a trial. I said I admit to murder but not who I murdered. Surely you're not that eager to get rid of me, my Lady. I thought my presence was rather enjoyable."

Brynden snorted a little at the retort, and she had to fight it back as well. Clearly this man was his father's son when it came to a sharp tongue. Even in the North, it was common knowledge Tyrion was the most alike their father, and clearly he was putting that to good use. Robyn made a sulking noise as he stopped his bouncing to glare at the small man in the centre of the room who was about to be pushed to his death. Her sisters lips curling in on themselves in anger. She had never been good at hiding her expressions despite her numerous lessons in doing so since they were nought but babes.

"Who do you confess to murdering then? You are on trial for the murder of my husband Jon Arryn. We have word from a verified source your father tasked you in doing so-"

"Which then makes my father the murderer and me the scapegoat. Can't have it both ways, Lady Arryn."

This made her sister fume more, her face beginning to go red. She opened her mouth to say something but Tyrion cut her off.

"I wish to confess."

If Catelyn didn't feel dread before, she certainly did now. His body language spoke of someone who felt no guilt or remorse, but she did catch the small scoff that came onto his face as he said the scapegoat part. Meaning he either found it insulting, or stupid. Her uncles words coming into her mind from when they had cornered her sister. Tywin would not risk his heir whilst his golden son still wore the white cloak of the Kingsguard, and the Kingsguard was for life. Understanding rushed over her now as she realised that Tyrion couldn't have done it. He had been in Casterly Rock when they had travelled North after the Hand had died. There was no plausible way he could've gotten to the capital then back to there in such little time. Even if he had, it would've been common knowledge he had been in the capital because everyone knew of the deformed Lannister.

"You wish to confess your crimes?"

Robyn had now resigned to annoyingly tapping his tourney sword against the large chair, clearly bored of this. Gods, this was embarrassing.

"Yes, my Lady."

Lysa looked to her son with a tiny grin now, her blue eyes flashing maliciously beneath the ocean shade.

"The sky cells always help. Speak, Imp."

Seven hells Lysa! What are you doing?! She'd already insulted him, and now she was doing even more so? Had she ever listened in on any of her court lessons? She slid over on the large chair to leave enough space for her son to climb off her lap and tuck in beside her, practically having to squish in to the tiny space. Aye, it was true people referred to him as the Imp, but openly in court in front of people? She had managed to talk her sister out of killing him and instead trial him which should've been enough to placate Tywin, but clearly she was desperate for revenge and didn't want to wait. Jaeron was going to be furious when he found out. He wasn't ready to make the step yet, but if this farce carries on he's going to need to come forward a lot sooner than he wants to.

"Meet your gods as an honest man."

It didn't miss her sensitive ears the emphasis she put on the word honest, and from the way Tyrion's eyebrow quirked meant he had noticed this too. He looked to the ground before letting out a long sigh. Clearly for effect. What was he planning?

"Where do I begin, my Lords and Ladies? I'm a vile man, I confess it. My crimes and sins are beyond counting. I have lied and I have cheated. I have gambled and I have whored. I'm not particularly good at violence but I'm good at convincing others to do violence for me."

Immediately, she knew what he was playing at. Getting people to hate him so when he gets to the point, no one is going to be shocked. A tactic only the most masterful manipulators use.

"You want specifics, I suppose?"

It went quiet for a few seconds as he eyed Robyn with a scared expression, portraying his inner plans with his outer appearance. Something that would fool a lot of people but she was no fool, she saw right through it.

"When I was seven, I saw a servant girl bathing in the river. I stole her robe and she was forced to return to the castle naked and in tears. I close my eyes and I can still see her tits bouncing. When I was ten, I stuffed my uncle Kevan's boots with goat shit. When confronted with my crime I blamed a squire. The poor boy was flogged and I escaped justice. When I was twelve, I milked my eel into a pot of stew and I made them cry into the stew which I believe my wonderful sister ate- at least, I hope she did. I once brought a jackass and a honeycomb into a brothel-"

"Silence!"

Lysa's single word rang through the room louder than a bell of surrender. The few people who had been snickering as the dwarf continued with his stories immediately stopping in what they were doing to put on blank faces once more. Her sisters face was almost as red as her hair now.

"What happened next?"

If it weren't for the severity of the situation, she would've laughed at her nephews question. But now was not the time to laugh or jape.

"What do you think you are doing?"

She spoke each word of that sentence clipped, almost like she was straining herself to say anything to the man. Clearly, her hatred ran deep for the dwarf. Her top half bent forward ever so slightly that from where everyone else was stood, wouldn't have noticed it. But she could see it, and she knew that one bad move from the Lannister would have her sister attacking him.

"Confessing my crimes? That's what you brought me here to do, was it not?"

Lysa had a vein beginning to pop in her neck, and Catelyn knew she had to step in before this turned uglier.

"Lord Tyrion, you are accused of carrying out your father's order to poison Lord Jon Arryn."

"Well, I'm very sorry. I don't know anything about that."

That was what she had feared, and what she had realised herself. One of the things her father had trained her mercilessly on was how to tell if someone was lying. And she could tell from the way he spoke and his body language and the fact he didn't break eye contact once that he wasn't lying.

"You've had your little joke. I trust you enjoyed it. Mord, take him back to the dungeon, this time find him a smaller cell with a steeper floor-"

"Is this how justice is done in the Vale? You accuse me of crimes, I deny them. So you throw me into a cell to freeze and starve? Where is the King's Justice? I am accused and I demand a fair trial. This is not a fair trial-"

"You have been tried and you have been found guilty-"

"By who? No judgement has been passed yet."

Ouch, he'd gotten her there. Lysa stepped back a little as she clearly realised this too but wasn't about to stop. Why was she so desperate to have him killed?

"My son is Lord Paramount of the Vale-"

"Pardon me, my Lady. I thought one had to be sixteen to officially be such? Therefore he should have someone ruling in his stead and him shadowing. I am guessing it is yourself doing so? If it is, I weep for the Vale."

And now the threats were happening. It was only a matter of time before they began to fall from the Lannister's mouth.

"It is clear I won't get justice here, but I will get it. I will let the gods decide. I demand a trial by combat."

The silence that followed was such that if a pin was dropped, it would echo loudly. If Lysa wasn't furious beforehand, she certainly was now. But due to custom, if a trial by combat was demanded, it had to carried out.

"We will adjourn and meet again within the hour. The trial by combat will commence then."

Mord reached forward to shackle Tyrion once again as everyone left the room. Once it was only them in the room, Catelyn wasted no time in walking over to her sister and smacking her across the face.

"What are you playing at?! You're starting a war here idiot!"

"Leave my mother alone!"

Brynden stepped between her and the mother and son, knowing a huge fight was about to break out. It was nothing new with them, he'd had to do so since they were little girls.

"You dare to lay a hand on me?! I am Lady of the Vale-"

"And I am Lady of the North which last I checked is considerably larger than your Kingdom."

Ocean eyes flashed again at this, clearly not liking the fact she had a better political position than she did.

"Cat's right Lysa. You already took Tyrion and sent ravens to every bloody Lord in Westeros accusing him of murdering your husband when you have little to no evidence. Then you put him in the sky cells where he could've fallen to his death. Not only that, you're not giving him a fair trial and are accusing him openly and throwing a tantrum when he is giving valid points-"

"He murdered my husband!"

Brynden rolled his eyes at this in exasperation.

"Are you listening to yourself, Lysa?! Who is Lord Tywin's only heir?"

She went quiet at this.

"I thought so. Now give up on this revenge you are desperate to get. Because if you don't, you're going to have the Eyrie and Riverrun be repeats of Castamere."

Catelyn winced at those words. She didn't want to say it aloud, but he was right. The lion had trapped and drowned hundreds of people solely because Lady Ellyn Reyne was desperate to become Lady of Casterly Rock only for it to backfire. And out of spite, did not pay taxes to Tytos who was known to be pious. She dreaded what the same man would do if his heir was murdered unjustly.

"Mummy, I want to see the bad man fly."

Lysa cradled her sons head at this, glaring at the other two with all the hatred she could muster.

"He will, my boy. We will get justice for your father."

Now, her uncle threw his arms up in disgust at her actions before walking away, her following behind equally shocked at the display.

"I always thought you were the one to inherit my brother's stubbornness. I now stand corrected."

A small snort left her at this as she took a cup filled with water, gulping it down quickly to try and calm herself down. There was a table filled with an array of cheeses, meats, and fruits. Taking a small amount to curb her hunger and nothing else. It only seemed like minutes had passed before they were summoned back. She let out a long sigh as they made their way back to where they were, noticing now that Lysa had a few guards surrounding her. The dwarf was marched back in and she groaned a little as she saw the purple bruise on his eye confirming he had been punched by someone. She's digging an even bigger hole for them all with her actions. One that was beginning to get increasingly more difficult to get out of.

"Lord Tyrion, you have asked for a trial by combat. Ser Vardis has agreed to be my champion, one of the best swords in the Vale. As you are aware with trials by combat, the only way for them to stop is by confession, one kills the other, or the judge calls for it to end. State your champion."

Tyrion looked around everyone, thinking long and hard about who would be best to do so. He must've noticed he was outnumbered because all these men were loyal to her sister. She didn't doubt whoever was chosen would allow themselves to be killed to deem it proof.

"I'll fight for the dwarf."

The man who walked forward wasn't wearing any crests, nor was he wearing any armour. If she had to guess, she would've thought he was just someone tagging along.

"State your name, Lord-"

"Save your courtesies, my Lady. I'm not a Lord. just a lowly sellsword who likes to poke his nose in drama."

The man was carrying himself with an air of arrogance and confidence combined. Which meant one of two things. Either he was an expert with fighting which was a fair possibility considering he was a sellsword. Or he thought of himself as better than he was and was making up for his lacking with his attitude. Tyrion smirked a little at the man as he was led to the side as the knight stepped into the area around the still opened moon door. Without any warning, the sellsword swung with a furious pace, the Knight clearly surprised by this but blocking the attack easily. At first, it seemed to be a standard honourable fight, but the second the other champion pushed him into one of the many pillars, it became both a sword fight and a fist fight. Neither were giving ground. The crowd having to separate multiple times to give them space so they wouldn't be hit too.

Eventually, they both managed to make it to the centre of the room again, both holding one another in a stance about to throw the other through the moon door. Catelyn's breath hitched at this because if both of them died it would mean a second trial, and she knew that would seal the dwarf's death. This was the only chance there was for him to walk free from this madness, and to say she was terrified was an understatement. She was gnawing away on the inside of her lip and she bit down hard as the sellsword was able to pry the Knight's sword from them, both still struggling to push one another off the edge. But then he twisted, and from the grip he had took the Knight with him, which locked him into an awkward position. He raised his sword and placed it against his neck before looking to her sister, silently asking if she was going to call it off. Instead, her sister yelled out for Ser Vardis to fight back and do her proud. The Knight tried to get out of the grip but this only led to him wincing in discomfort as his arms tightened even more. Upon realising she wasn't going to call it off, the sellsword closed his eyes before thrusting the sword at an angle that went from his shoulder down into his heart. The Knight ceased movement at this as he was thrown out of the moon door, his blood raining down on the rocky ground below. The sellsword was breathing hard as he quickly cleaned the sword before sheathing it, walking over to the dwarf.

"Can we make him fly now?"

Now, she chanced a look at her sister. She looked like she had been sucking on the sourest lemon from Dorne, but she knew what had happened. In the eyes of the Seven, Tyrion was innocent. To spit on the Seven's ruling was one of the worst sins in their faith.

"The gods have deemed the Imp innocent. Have him escorted from the Eyrie by nightfall-"

"I want to make him fly!"

Bloody hell, how was she raising this child? No manners, and still hiding under his mother's skirts.

"I will leave by nightfall sister, I shall escort Lord Tyrion out myself and depart at the Kings Road."