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Lyonel was close to tears. He stood in a room with Queen Cersei, Ser Barristan, Renly Baratheon, and Prince Joffrey, watching as King Robert lived his final hours. The King reeked of death, and there wasn't a doubt that he wasn't going to die.
Lyonel took this news hard. King Robert was his uncle, he had taught him how to fight when he was younger, sometimes taking him hunting with him. They shared stories of his younger days. It was what inspired Lyonel to fight. And now everyone was leaving him. His father, Sansa, Arya, and now the King. It seemed as if the Gods had cursed him.
So there he stood, unable to move, unable to say anything. He didn't know what to say. Lyonel didn't want to say his goodbyes. It would be too hard for him to let go of someone who was there throughout his entire life. Sure, King Robert never really cared for anyone but himself, but that didn't stop him from spending time with Lyonel.
"Lyonel," the King rasped, coughing out blood, "Come here."
Lyonel stepped forward, not able to look him in the eye. The King grasped his hand, which made Lyonel finally look up and make eye contact.
"My dear nephew. You've grown up before my eyes. Into a strong, brave, young man. Before I die, I want you to know, that I'm proud of who you have become. You're better than me, better than I ever was."
Lyonel couldn't say anything. He stood there and nodded, tears now running down his cheeks. His voice was hoarse, but he managed to say one thing, "Thank you, for everything."
Arya swung at Lyonel, which he blocked with his wooden stick. They went back and forth delivering blows, with the other would successfully block and respond with their own swing.
Arya's lessons had helped her significantly improve. She was indeed a fast learner. She was matching his blows, although from time to time she would end up on the ground. Yet, she was getting better.
"Left high, left low."
Once again, Arya had backed Lyonel up against the wall, but he made advances until it was Arya retreating.
