"So the King is in debt? Well, I think we all suspected as much. What with his extravagant arrangements and all that." Alora flippantly waved a hand as she and her daughter made their way down the streets. "But it seems you have many men wrapped around your finger thus far."

"Not many. I just try to be kind and-"

"Conniving. You understand people better than you let on. Where did you learn that from?"

"Well..." Lyon pandered. "There was a brothel in Winterfell. I got along well with the women there and... they taught me things."

"Leave it to the whores to know how men's minds work. We know best, of course." Lyon's mother flashed a grin, catching her eye. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by solemnity. "There's a place I want to show you. Some people I want you to meet. You may like them, but be warned they will not be outrightly kind to you."

"No one ever is unless one has to be," Lyon replied, to which she noticed a nod of approval from Alora. Together they silently made their way through the city rabble, cloaks and hoods hiding their countenances from the passerby. It was when their road became narrow and scarce of souls and light that Lyon began to worry. Instinctively her hand found the small blade at her belt.

Alora's eyes swept the area, and only when no one was in sight did she lean to a grate on the ground. "Help me with this." She said, and Lyon momentarily bent to lift it with her and set it aside. The hole revealed was large enough to fit one body at a time, and reeked of sewage. Lyon's nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Is it down there?"

"The safest places are always where nobody wants to go." Alora assured, lifting the skirts of her dress to climb down the ladder. Lyon hesitated when her mother's form became imperceivable amidst the darkness below, but she allowed the trust Alora had earned to make her descend the ladder, and pull the cover back over the hole.

It was complete darkness, and the stench clung to the walls and the air. There was a sudden spark, and suddenly a torch ignited in Alora's hands, followed by another, which found its place in Lyon's hands.

"Follow me. There are some twists and turns, but should you know to read the signs then you will find your way. Even in the dark." Alora began forward, each step echoing through the cavernous stretch. It felt like leagues that they walked and wound their way through the maze of tunnels. Rats and roaches scurried past their toes and squealed at the light. They would scamper off to some new hiding place and then be gone to Lyon's eyes. Good riddance, she thought in disgust.

"If you expect me to make nice with the rodents then-"

"Hush! We are almost there."

Lyon's words fell away. Silence consumed the tunnel, but then there was a door. Metal and locked, it seemed. But Alora strode toward the lonely door and knocked in a series of long and short taps.

"Who knocks?" A recognizably male voice answered.

"A flower in the night. And her guest."

There was a brief pause, then the lock's mechanisms came undone. Scraping against the floor, the opened and a dimly lit room was revealed to Lyon. Alora strode forward, her younger half following closely behind. They met the man who had opened the door as he shut it and secured the lock. He was massive, larger even than the Hound whom Lyon had only seen a few times. A thick black beard and hair hung to his chest, while his body was carved in a dull yet fortified leather garb. He caught Lyon's watchful eye and marched past, never breaking eye contact.

"You'll see him then, I assume." He said, speaking plainly to Alora.

"If that isn't too much trouble, Theron."

"He'll decide if she's trouble or not." And at that, his eyes burned into Lyon, but she did not cower. "Why is she here?"

"I mean to protect her. To ensure her safety."

"And why would you ever ensure someone's safety, Little Flower?"

"This is my daughter. My only daughter." Alora's hands wrapped around Lyon's arms firmly, pulling her closer.

Theron's eyes grew wider, but the look quickly disappeared. He grunted, then turned on his heel. "Follow," he ordered. Again it was an adventure through darkened tunnels, yet admittedly shorter this time. Lyon found herself waiting outside of a large wooden door that suddenly flung open before Theron could knock.

A man and woman emerged, side by side. The firey auburn hair of the man held great contrast to the dank surroundings, as did the blonde woman at his hip. Immediately they saw Alora hanging behind Theron, and they grinned wickedly.

"Dear sister, you've arrived. And not a moment too soon." The man greeted. Lyon's eyes flicked between the three, hardly noticing that Theron quickly took his leave. "And who is this lovely little kitten?"

The man took Lyon's hand gently in his, lifting it to his lips to place a gentle peck. Habit made her curtsy and bow her head. The golden-haired woman began to chuckle. "She's well trained, isn't she?"

"She's my daughter." Alora lifted a hand to pat Lyon's hair, smiling sweetly. "Lyon, this is Favera and Raphael. My dear brother and sister."

Lyon's eyes went to her mother. "I didn't know you had siblings."

"There is much you still don't know, but I trust you more so now. We'll have plenty of things to discover together."

"Yes," Raphael stepped away from the door and gestured inside. "Come inside, all shall be told."

Lyon blinked, for the first time in a long time feeling genuine trepidation. She did not think Alora to be the one to slink in the sewers, but then again that's what Lyon was doing below the streets of Kingslanding at that very moment.

- - -

All was explained. And soon, all became terribly frightening.

"You see, my dear, we need you now more than ever. Your mother has been a loyal supporter of our efforts... do this task for us and you will have our protection for life."  Raphael's words clung to her even in the safety of her own room.

Because the truth was, and she had always known, that murderers and thieves slunk through the shadows each night.

And the vial in her hand gave her the option to become one of those monsters in order to preserve her own safety.

To kill a man she did not even know... The thought was inescapable. She knew she could do it with her own two hands- she felt the power radiating through bone and muscle. Yet to actually commit such a heinous act was almost unthinkable. And by poison... she didn't have to see his face when he died. Just had to snag the pretty ring off of his finger as proof and bring it to Raphael and Favera.

She would do this task once for her own safety, Lyon thought. And as her thoughts evolved, she decided she'd do three others. Three more murders for the three she loved in Kingslanding. For their safety.

- - -

Lyon had been reading the same page for the past half hour. Her eyes drifted, partially closed as she tried to remain awake through breakfast.

"Lyon, are you alright? Did you not sleep?" Septa Mordane inquired. Sansa and Arya lifted their heads to watch their dozing sister.

Lyon roused herself, closing the book and shaking her head. Her plate had been emptied, but it only served to make her more tired. "Poor sleep is all. I was reading most of the night."

"You mean drinking wine." Arya grinned, at least until Sansa's foot stepped on her own. "Ow!"

"Are you well, Lyon?" Ned leaned forward, inspecting the look upon his daughter's face. "You don't look well."

"Please, my ego can only handle so much." She waved off his concern and went for the water, sipping it and relieving her parched tongue. The headache that grew seemed to be from the drinking the night before. A stress tick, she realized. A weakness. She enjoyed her drink, more so when worrisome, less so the next morning.

"We'll discuss it after breakfast." He said.

"I'll be in my chambers." Lyon rose from her chair, rattling it noisily with a grimace. She swept out of the room none too elegantly to hurry to her bed. Even the clapping of her slippers against the marble floors caused her temples to ache. But little refuge she found at her own doors when an ever so familiar Lannister hung there, hands folded behind his back.

"Ser Jaimie." Lyon curtsied. "Might I inquire as to why you loiter before my chambers?"

"The queen wishes to speak to you. Didn't tell me why. I'm quite curious myself."

"So you're to escort me." Lyon sighed. "I suppose there is no denying the queen. I'll soothe this splitting headache when I return. Let's not keep her waiting."

"Wise answer." He said, and the two made their way down the halls of the Red Keep. "Do you still practice with that sword of yours?"

"Of course."

"I still wonder why, but I suppose I should expect roughhousing from a Stark child. I hear your little sister, Arya, is quite troublesome as well."

"It's not roughhousing if you take it seriously, Ser Jaime." Lyon's hand went to her temple. She deeply wished this conversation involved fewer words. "And Arya is young. She has a right to play. Makes for strong bones and mind- perhaps she'll be better than you one day."

"Unlikely." Jaime snorted.

"Don't underestimate a Stark." Though her head wailed, Lyon managed a calculated gaze upon Jaime Lannister's face, one that stole his eyes. It wasn't long before Jaime lead Lyon to the queen's chambers and rapped his knuckles upon the door. A beckon to enter was called from within, and soon Lyon was in the queen's presence once more, the door closing behind her.