(Not entirely in line with the prompt, I'll be using an existing fantasy world, fast-forwarded into a modern setting... Be aware...) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Traffic in King's Landing was the worst.

Ed had been sitting on Flea Street for what seemed to be an eternity. No one had moved in hours, and most of the drivers had parked their cars for now, resigned to wait until the accident up ahead was cleared.

Ed missed the wide, open roads of the North, how he could drive from Winterfell to Barrowton in a matter of an hour or two, as opposed to this damnable city, where it could take that long just to make it to the next light. He missed the relative pleasantness of the drivers up there, the fact that people actually obeyed the rules of the road and rarely looked out of their window to cuss out one another. As opposed to now, where he could hear it left and right...

"Asshole!"

"Bitch!"

"Get out of my face you son of an Auroch!"

And the like. Still, Ed had to make do, the business trip was over, and he just had to make it to the airport, and from there, it'd be a smooth trip ho-

Crunch

Out of nowhere, Ed was meeting his airbag face-first, as he could see the crumplezone in the front of his car scrunch up into the small car in front of him.

He'd been waiting in this traffic for hours, and now he'd have to get fucking towed out of here. Ed was normally a patient man, but even the most patient of men are broken by King's Landing traffic at some point. Squeezing out from under his airbag, and kicking his door open, Ed found himself face to face with some punk in a Lions Jersey. Ed looked at the car in front of him, and it had honestly sustained more of the damage than his own car had. The whole truck was caved in, and looked like it could have hurt whoever was driving.

The Lions fan just kinda smirked when he looked over Edwyr. "Of course. The asshole who hit me is a Wolves fan."

Oh right, my Winterfell Wolves shirt. He looked down at it, with both twinges of anger and embarrassment flushing his cheeks.. Yeah, sure, his car was hit, he has every right to be angry about that, but me liking the Wolves had nothing to do with it.

"I-I-I didn't... I didn't hit your car... I mean I did, but it was the guy behind me that-"

Ed looked behind him, and it was a poor teenager, a redhead, with his face in his hands. Even his car had sustained more damage than mine, and it was clear that he was distraught. He might have even been sobbing, but Ed couldn't tell from his peripheral vision.

The other man simply growled. "Maybe if you weren't so fucking close to me, when that asshole hit you, you wouldn't have fucked up my trunk."

The Casshole then shoved Ed. Just in the shoulders, and didn't really send him far, but it was a clear dominance shove, and Ed wasn't about to take that from some Casterly Rock bitch.

So he socked him in the jaw.

Ed didn't remember much after that. Casshole returned the favor, they fought, and then he woke up in the hospital. There was this real cute nurse with a clipboard next to him, writing down something. He opened his eyes and gave her a tiny wave, and she smiled ever so slightly. "He's awake." She said, walking out of the room.

Ed was alone for a few moments, before a tall man, presumably the doctor, sauntered into the room. "Rough day huh buddy?" He smiled, and sat at the end of my bed. "Not really my place to tell you this, but all parties involved decided not the press charges. You don't need to worry." He looked down at his clipboard, stroking his blue beard.

Of course, a Tyroshi.

"You've sustained a concussion, multiple cuts and bruises, and two black eyes, unfortunately. But fortunately, it could have been a lot worse, had the other drives around you not had pulled you two apart."

Ed's eyes widened, just a bit, as they were still swollen nearly shut, in surprise. "The other drivers actually did something to stop us from fighting?" I murmured in shock.

"Well yeah", the Tyroshi man laughed, "Didn't stop them from taking your wallet and phone out from your car. You were still in Flea Bottom after all." He looked down at the clipboard, and back to me. "So be real, was the fight over football? I noticed you had a Wolves shirt on, and he was wearing a Lion's Jersey."

I murmured and sputtered, my swollen mouth not forming the words to defend myself, before the man started to laugh.

"It's okay, it's okay. I almost refused to treat you." He pulled something out of his pocket. His wallet, covered in the decal of the Pyke Krakens, before guffawing and walking out of the room.

Who the fuck likes the Krakens?!