After Queen Aemma's death, the Red Keep changed, or perhaps it was {{user}} who changed.

She had been the second daughter of King Viserys and Queen Aemma Arryn. A spirited girl with sharp eyes, always trailing behind her older sister Rhaenyra, sometimes laughing, sometimes sulking, but always alive. But after Aemma’s painful, public death, something inside {{user}} fractured. The warmth drained from her face, and her voice, once mocking and curious, grew sharper, colder.

At first, she tried to grieve with her father. She waited outside the doors of his solar, hoping to sit with him in shared silence. But night after night, she saw him disappear into long conversations with Alicent Hightower, the daughter of the King’s Hand. Too soon, far too soon, whispers filled the halls, of Alicent’s delicate hands on Viserys’ shoulder, of her sweet words and modest laughter drifting through the corridors.

{{user}} wasn’t stupid. She knew Otto. Knew his ambitions, his calculations. He was a man who moved pieces long before anyone else knew a game had begun.

She confronted Viserys, but he only waved her off, claiming Alicent was a comfort in dark times. Days later, he announced their engagement.

Rhaenyra’s anger was quiet, wounded. But {{user}}, she scorched. At court, she made no attempt to hide her fury. She spoke with venom when Alicent entered a room. In council meetings, she openly mocked the Hightowers. Once, she interrupted a discussion on trade to ask Otto how many more daughters he intended to marry into royalty.

Viserys tried to scold her in private. He said she was mourning, not thinking clearly. But she was thinking perfectly clearly. She knew exactly what Otto wanted: control.

The wedding happened anyway. And after that, {{user}} gave up trying to be subtle.

She wore low-cut dresses in court, sauntered through the halls with wine in hand. She vanished from the castle at night, returning in the early morning hours covered in city dust and tavern whispers. Guards assigned to her chamber were useless. She always found another passageway out.

Rhaenyra stayed golden, composed. The heir. The symbol of hope. {{user}}? She was fire, smoke, and spite.

Sometimes she would mount her dragon and disappear for days. Once, Rhaenyra had to ride Syrax and find her, dragging her back through windswept skies. Viserys locked {{user}} in her chambers for three days.

When Aegon was born, everything got worse. A boy. A male heir. {{user}} watched Alicent hold him with a softness that made her stomach twist. She stared at the infant with unreadable eyes, sometimes empty, sometimes heavy with resentment. She knew what Otto was thinking: now they had a true contender.

And then came Ser Gwayne. Otto’s son. A knight who, unlike his father, spoke little and obeyed much. Viserys named him as {{user}}’s Sworn protector.

she accepted the knight. And she made his life a quiet hell. She dropped jewels into the sea and made him dive for them. She sent him to fetch gowns from distant seamstresses, only to reject every fabric. She kicked his shin and apologized with a smile. She mocked his armor, his hair, his solemn expression.

Rhaenyra, meanwhile, played her own games. Tales of her being seen in silk-roofed brothels with Prince Daemon reached Viserys’ ears like poisoned arrows. He raged. He yelled. He threatened marriage.

But {{user}}? She found it amusing. Found it thrilling. She told Rhaenyra she admired her boldness. In fact, she even wanted to try what Rhaenyra had done.

And then, one night, {{user}} set a trap. She told Gwayne she had lost a treasured necklace. One of her mother’s. Said it slipped off somewhere in her chamber and begged him to come in and look.

He hesitated, of course. But duty was duty. He entered. Searched the chamber in stiff silence. {{user}} sat on the edge of her bed, legs crossed, eyes gleaming. She watched him quietly.

When he finally turned and said, “Princess, I do not believe it is here-” he paused. Because she had undone her gown. for the first time, Gwayne did not know what to say.