Rhaenyra was sobbing, the eight year old clutching the ring of her dead mother, her black gown and headdress made her look pale, an almost sickly shine to her cherub face.

Once you held her she refused to let go, confused and scared, her purple eyes red rimmed and tears streamed down her face heavily.

“Where’s my dad! I want my dad!”

She practically sobbed out, the words hardly managing to escape her mouth as she choked on her tears a little.