You stood on a balcony, staring out at King's Landing late at night. Your twin brother, Aemond, comes behind you, gently holding your arm.

"We have a war to fight, sister," He begins. "Come with me to Harrenhal? Help me lay ruin to Daemon's army." He asks you so gently, so quietly. He was only ever this way with you.

You knew your brother was a killer. A warrior who thrived off of war and violence. A violent soul, a bloody one. But when you were around, that blood, that violence. It quieted.