Arya

Prince Aelar’s new quarters were a sight to behold. The room, once the private sanctuary of Lord Eddard Stark, was now marked by the Leviathan Prince's touch. The scent of sea-salt and pine mingled with the familiar musk of old books and polished wood, creating an odd juxtaposition.

On the carved oak table, next to the heart tree carved four-poster bed, lay a gleaming cutlass with a hilt adorned with mother-of-pearl, a foreign weapon in this harsh Northern land. His belongings were scattered haphazardly around the room, a silent testament to the abrupt change in authority.

As night fell over the vanquished stronghold, a single lantern cast an eerie glow on Aelar's face. His ice-blue eyes reflected the wavering flame as he studied a parchment in his hands. A knock on the heavy wooden door stirred him from his contemplation.

"Enter," he commanded, placing the parchment aside.

The door creaked open to reveal a small figure. Arya Stark, the younger daughter, stood in the doorway. Her usual boyish attire replaced with a simple blue gown that did nothing to hide the apprehension in her grey eyes.

Aelar's gaze softened, but only marginally. "Ah, the young wolf cub." His tone was deceptively mild. "Come in."

Arya walked in hesitantly, her gaze sweeping the room before landing on the prince. "You wished to see me, Your Grace?" Her voice was steady, her stance defiant.

"Yes, Lady Arya," he replied, leaning back in his chair. "I have an... offer for you."

She squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. "I'm listening."

Aelar's eyes held hers, the cold amusement within them making her skin crawl. "You love your family, don't you?" he asked, his tone almost conversational.

"Of course, I do," Arya retorted, her mind racing to figure out his intentions.

"Good," Aelar continued, standing up and walking over to the fireplace, his hand lightly grazing the hilt of his cutlass. "Because their lives rest in your hands."

A chill ran down Arya's spine. "What do you mean?"

"Submit to me," Aelar turned to face her, his gaze piercing. "And they live. Defy me, and they die."

The room went silent, save for the crackling of the fire and Arya's ragged breath. The threat hung heavy in the air, like a storm cloud ready to burst. She stared at Aelar, the boyishness in her face replaced with a hardened resolve.

"I will do what it takes to save my family," Arya said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aelar's lips curled into a dark grin. "I hoped you'd say that."

As the prince's chilling proclamation echoed in the room, Arya knew that the game had only just begun, a game she was to play, where the stakes were the lives of those she held dear. In the heart of the conquered North, a new and dangerous chapter was about to unfold.