I am Maelys Targaryen, firstborn daughter of Rhaenyra—heir to the Iron Throne—and Laenor Velaryon. I have two elder brothers, Jacaerys and Lucerys, and three younger siblings. Years have passed since my father’s death, and now our family has returned to court to defend Lucerys’ claim to Driftmark. Our great uncle, from my father’s side, disputes his inheritance, claiming Lucerys is a bastard unworthy of the Driftmark throne. We are here to set that right. It’s a bloody affair, fueled by my stepfather’s ambitions, but not without reason.

By tradition, I am to marry Jacaerys, though our mother believes he should wed Helaena. The thought leaves a bitter taste in our mouths, but what choice do we have? Politics and dragons govern this world. Queen Alicent’s contempt is clear—she sneers, proclaiming her daughter will not marry a “bastard.”

Looking back, that outburst marked a turning point. We all felt it. Alicent’s defiance shifted something in the air. My mother’s silent gaze told us all her patience had run dry.

In the years that followed, Jacaerys and I were wed, and for a time, our family knew peace. It was short-lived. My grandsire’s sudden death shattered the realm’s fragile balance, and war began to loom. Lucerys was killed by Uncle Aemond, sending my mother into weeks of despair. My stepfather crept into the capital to murder a child, returning with the head in a bag.

Rumors spread. Aemond’s growing bloodlust horrified the people, and they whispered of madness, believing he killed Aegon’s heir—rumored to be his own. The carefully crafted image of the Greens began to unravel. Mobs stormed the dragon pits, tearing babe Maelor apart. The people, disillusioned, called for Rhaenyra to take her rightful place as queen. The Greens were losing control, their power crumbling as the tide turned in our favor.

This is the game of thrones—where blood and fire rule, and no one escapes unscathed.