Forsaken Bloodlines {HP x GOT}

Chapter 6.3: Responsibility

Author: I'm back guysss!!!! RESEARCH DEFENDED and it's SUMMERTIME!!!!

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As the herald signaled for the first petitioner, Lyanna settled into the Iron Throne, hands resting lightly on the arms of the newly forged seat.

The first petitioner stepped forward—a frail-looking man in threadbare clothes, his cap twisted in his hands. He bowed low before he spoke.

"Your Majesty," he began, his voice rough with age and hardship. "I come on behalf of my village outside the city walls. The winter has been harsh, and food has been scarce. We lost too many livestock to sickness, and the grain stores ran low. If we do not receive aid, we will not survive until spring."

Lyanna studied him carefully. The crown upon her head was not just a symbol of power but of responsibility. These were her people now. She could not allow them to starve.

"Master of Coin," she called, turning to Tyrion. "Do we have the means to send grain and livestock to the outlying villages?"

Tyrion, ever quick, was already scanning through a series of parchment reports. "We do, Your Grace. However, our stores are not limitless. We must also prepare for the city's needs." He tapped his fingers against the wood. "If we were to ration accordingly, we could provide aid without depleting our resources, but it must be done wisely."

Lyanna nodded, then turned back to the petitioner. "You will have the aid you require. A shipment of grain and healthy livestock will be sent to your village by week's end."

The man's eyes widened with relief. He fell to his knees, bowing his head. "Thank you, Your Majesty. May the gods bless you a thousand times over."

Lyanna inclined her head. "See to it that the food is distributed fairly among your people. If I hear of any hoarding or mistreatment, I will not be so merciful."

The man quickly nodded, understanding the weight of her words.

As he was led away, the next petitioner approached—a woman in slightly finer garments, though still of common birth. She was flanked by two young boys, no older than ten.

"Your Majesty," the woman said, bowing. "My husband was a soldier in the Queen's Guard, but he was slain in battle during your conquest. I ask only for the chance to work—to provide for my sons. I do not seek charity, only opportunity."

Lyanna considered this for a moment.

"You are not asking for coin," she said, voice thoughtful. "You are asking for the means to earn it."

The woman nodded firmly. "Yes, Your Grace."

Lyanna turned to Ser Davos, her Master of Laws. "Are there any openings in the Red Keep's kitchens or within the city's trade guilds?"

Davos, ever practical, scratched his beard. "The kitchens are always in need of extra hands, and the city's weavers could use another pair as well. A strong woman willing to work should have no trouble earning her keep."

Lyanna returned her gaze to the widow. "Then you shall have your chance. Report to the steward of the Red Keep tomorrow. If you are as hardworking as you claim, you will have steady wages to care for your sons."

Tears welled in the woman's eyes as she fell to her knees. "Thank you, Your Grace. Thank you."

Lyanna gave a small nod, watching as they were ushered out.