SL

**Revised Love Story** In the years after the Blackfyre Rebellion, Ser Duncan the Tall roamed the Stormlands with his squire, Egg. Few knew he had a sister. Her name was **Mira**, and while her brother stood nearly seven feet tall, Mira was small—barely five feet and two inches, with the same stubborn jaw and steady grey eyes, but in a compact, quick-moving frame that made her seem like a sparrow beside a warhorse. She had spent her life as a lady’s companion and seamstress, her nimble hands and sharper tongue winning her quiet respect in modest keeps. --- Lord **Lyonel Baratheon**, the Laughing Storm, was in fine form the day Mira arrived at Storm’s End. A tourney honored his youngest daughter’s nameday, and Lyonel had already unhorsed three knights, laughing like thunder each time. His black hair flew wildly in the sea wind, and the stags on his surcoat looked ready to charge. Mira came at Lady Baratheon’s invitation, riding beside a wagon of supplies. She sat straight in the saddle despite her small size, cloak fluttering, chin lifted high. Lyonel spotted her immediately as she dismounted. “Who is that little stormcloud?” he boomed from the high table that evening, wine in hand. “She looks like she could scold my entire household into order.” Mira met his gaze across the hall, unflinching. “Only if the household needs scolding, my lord. I have no patience for wasteful fools.” Silence fell. Then Lyonel threw his head back and roared with laughter—that great, rolling sound that shook the rafters. “Seven hells, a woman with fire in her! Come closer, little one. I would hear more of these opinions.” From that night forward, he could not stay away. --- They should never have fit. Lyonel was storm and wildfire—towering, loud, impossible to ignore. Mira was small and steady, shaped by years of making herself useful without ever being seen. Yet her calm soothed the chaos in him, and his wild joy coaxed bright, unexpected laughter from her.