The Red Keep stood silent under the heavy pall of night, its shadow stretching across King’s Landing like a smothering hand Atop the Iron Throne, Daemon Blackfyre sat victorious, his eyes cold, his heart a steel trap of ambition fulfilled The civil war that had torn Westeros apart for years had finally ended, and Daeron’s bloodline, the rightful heirs to the throne in the eyes of many, lay broken and scattered—save for one.

The daughter.

She had been the last to be brought before him, a remnant of a family he had sworn to obliterate Her father, Daeron, had fallen on the battlefield his cries lost in the roar of war, his crown taken by force Her brothers were hunted down, slain like animals in the woods And her mother—Daemon had ordered her execution, her head placed on a spike outside the gates of King’s Landing as a warning to those who still harbored loyalty to the old regime.

The girl was no warrior, no threat, and yet her existence gnawed at Daemon like a thorn buried deep under his skin She represented everything he had fought against—the bloodline that had denied him his birthright, the softness of Daeron’s rule the people’s loyalty to a family he had come to despise.

Now, she stood before him, her face pale, her eyes filled with defiance despite the pain etched into her every movement Her dress was torn from the long days of captivity her wrists bruised from the shackles that had bound her since her capture.

Daemon rose slowly from the Iron Throne, the metallic creak of his armor filling the hall as he descended the steps toward her Blackfyre, the sword that had sealed his claim to the throne, gleamed darkly in the firelight.

"I should have had you executed along with the rest of your family," he said, his voice low and dangerous.. "But I wanted you to see what your father’s weakness has wrought. You’ll live to witness the death of everything your bloodline stood for."