Lyonel POV
Lyonel sat outside the Maester's chambers, his back pressed against the cold stone wall.
Time moved strangely.
Too slow… and too fast at the same time.
He didn't know how long he had been sitting there. Minutes, maybe. Or an hour. It all blurred together. His hands were tangled in his hair, fingers gripping tight, as if holding himself together.
The hallway was quiet.
Too quiet.
No laughter. No footsteps. No life.
Only waiting.
Inside that room, the Maester worked on Hendry.
Inside that room… Hary lay dead.
Lyonel shut his eyes, but it did not help.
He still saw it.
The empty sockets. The blood. The way Hary's head had struck the stone.
He exhaled slowly, but it came out shaky.
"I didn't even know them long…" he muttered under his breath.
It felt wrong.
To feel this much.
He had hated Hary, at least a little. The arrogance, the pride, the way he spoke to Hendry… to everyone.
And yet—
He didn't deserve that.
And Hendry…
Lyonel swallowed hard.
Hendry was a good man.
A better man than most.
And now he lay broken inside that chamber because he had tried to carry his brother.
Because he cared.
Lyonel lowered his head.
"I should've stopped them… slowed them… done something…"
The door creaked open.
Lyonel shot to his feet instantly, his heart jumping into his throat.
The Maester stepped out, his face tired, his hands still stained.
Lyonel didn't wait.
"Is he alive?"
The Maester looked at him for a moment—
Then nodded.
"Yes. Barely, but yes."
Lyonel let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. His shoulders dropped slightly, tension leaving his body all at once.
"Thank the Seven…" he whispered.
Relief washed over him, but it did not last long.
A voice cut through the hallway like a blade.
"What the fuck happened?!"
Lyonel turned.
Lord Selmy stood there, dressed in hunting leathers, dirt on his boots, his face flushed with anger and confusion. He must have just returned.
His eyes moved quickly, from Lyonel, to the Maester… to the closed door.
The Maester spoke calmly, though his voice carried weight.
"My lord, one man is dead. Another is grievously injured."
Then his eyes shifted toward Lyonel.
"Only Ser Lyonel knows the full truth."
Lord Selmy's gaze snapped to him.
Lyonel straightened instinctively.
"Speak," Selmy commanded.
Lyonel nodded.
He didn't dress it up. Didn't try to make it sound better than it was.
"Ser Hary was taken by bandits," he began. "Ser Hendry and I tracked them to a mine. We fought them… killed them."
He paused.
His throat felt dry.
"We found Ser Hary… alive, but…" he hesitated for just a moment, "…they had taken his eyes."
Lord Selmy's jaw tightened.
Lyonel continued.
"We tried to get him out. Hendry carried him… but when they climbed… they fell."
Silence.
Heavy.
"Who died?" Selmy asked quietly.
Lyonel met his eyes.
"Ser Hary."
For a moment, Lord Selmy said nothing.
Then—
He slammed his fist into the wall.
"Fuck!"
The word echoed through the hall.
He turned away, dragging a hand over his face, breathing hard.
"Lord Caron…" he muttered. "He will not take this lightly."
Lyonel didn't respond.
He didn't need to.
They both knew.
After a moment, Selmy turned back to him, his expression grim.
"You should leave."
Lyonel blinked. "My lord?"
"Go back to Blackhaven," Selmy said firmly. "Or anywhere else. Just not here."
His voice lowered slightly.
"Lord Caron is not a reasonable man. He is proud. Vengeful. And he will want someone to blame."
His eyes locked onto Lyonel.
"And you are an easy target."
Lyonel felt something tighten in his chest.
He had just been knighted.
He had just begun his path.
And already… danger followed him.
Still, he nodded.
"I understand."
Selmy studied him for a moment, then sighed.
"You may stay the day. Rest. You look like hell."
Lyonel almost smiled at that.
"Thank you, my lord."
Selmy turned and began walking. "Come. I'll have a room prepared."
Lyonel followed.
They walked through the halls of Harvest Hall in silence. Servants moved out of their way, whispering quietly. Word was already spreading.
It always did.
Death travelled faster than ravens.
Eventually, Selmy stopped a passing maid.
"Take Ser Lyonel to a room," he ordered. "Prepare a hot bath."
The girl nodded quickly. "Yes, my lord."
Selmy looked back at Lyonel once more.
"Rest," he said simply.
Then he left.
Lyonel followed the maid in silence.
Up stairs.
Down corridors.
Through doors.
Until finally—
A room.
Simple, but clean.
She prepared a bath for him.
Lyonel removed his armour slowly.
Each piece felt heavier than it should have.
As if the past days clung to it.
When he finally sank into the hot water, his body almost gave out beneath him.
He exhaled deeply.
For the first time since the mine…
He felt warm.
Still.
Safe.
But his mind did not rest.
It wandered.
Back to the mine.
To the fight.
To Hary.
To Hendry.
Then forward.
To what came next.
He stared at the surface of the water.
"I can't go back," he muttered quietly.
Blackhaven…
It felt distant now.
Like something from another life.
Slowly, his thoughts settled.
North.
Not home.
Not safety.
Something else.
"The Riverlands…" he whispered.
And then—
"Harrenhal."
The name felt heavy on his tongue.
Like fate.
Like something waiting.
Lyonel leaned back in the bath, closing his eyes.
He was no longer just a boy from Blackhaven.
He was a knight now.
And the world ahead of him was only growing darker.