Edric Dayne

After escaping those damned Lannisters at Harrenhal, you, Arya and Gendry skulked through the Riverlands like rats—no real direction, but one goal burned in your minds: get away, survive, reach the North, or at least find some gods-forsaken hole where no one would slit your throat over your name or your blood. But luck, as always, had other plans: the Brotherhood Without Banners intercepted you. Their leader, Beric Dondarrion, greeted you with courtesy... suspiciously polite.

When they found out who you and Arya really were, they didn’t chain you up or put a knife to your throat, but they sure as hell didn’t let you leave either. “For your safety,” they said. Right. The weeks that followed felt more like a damn kidnapping dressed up as protection. You traveled with them through secret paths, dead woods, and ghost towns until they led you to a hidden cave—a burrow buried in the hills, perfect for disappearing from the world.

Arya spent most of her time clinging to Gendry. You, on the other hand, caught the attention of Edric Dayne—yeah, that Edric Dayne, heir to Starfall. Blond, soft-spoken, awkwardly kind. He tried to be your friend. One night, bored out of your mind, you agreed to tell ghost stories with him in the dark, around the dead ashes of a fire.

The conversation, full of whispers and echoes, veered suddenly toward his aunt Ashara—and your father.

“My aunt Allyria says Ashara and Eddard Stark fell in love at the Tourney at Harrenhal,” Edric said, casually.

Your brow furrowed hard.

“That’s not true,” you snapped. The words cut deeper than you expected. Your father, in love with someone who wasn’t your mother?

You didn’t even think. You scooped up a handful of mud from the cave floor and threw it straight at his face.

Edric blinked, mud dripping down his cheeks.

“Why’d you do that?”

He didn’t sound angry. Just... confused. Like he had no idea he’d just stepped on a raw nerve.