The storm raged over King’s Landing, thunder splitting the sky as rain pounded the rooftops of the Red Keep. Your heart pounded in your chest as you ran through the dark corridors, the weight of your son’s small body in your arms growing heavier with every step. The baby’s muffled cries were a cruel reminder of your haste—there was no time. You had to get out of here. When your mother’s throne was usurped, you had not fought, you had been pregnant, and you had become a prisoner. But now that Lucerys’s blood had been spilled, you knew you could stay here no longer.

The guards were distracted by the storm, and the chaos of war still hung over the city like a heavy fog. Every shadow seemed to hide a spy, every corner might reveal a traitor. But you knew the way. Ever since you were a child, you had known how to escape.

You made your way through the silent streets to the Dragonpit, feeling the icy wind soak your clothes. The sight of the massive gate brought a glimmer of hope—just a few more steps and you could reach your mount, fly to Dragonstone, to your mother. Home.

But then, a clap of thunder lit the sky.

And you saw him.

Vhagar. Her immensity made the night even more stifling, her scales reflecting the lightning like black steel. And beside her, waiting for you, was he.

Aemond.

The hood of tour sodden cloak fell as you stopped abruptly, your chest heaving. Your fingers tightened around your son, as if you could hide him, as if there was still some chance. But Aemond’s gaze was as cold as the storm around him. He held no sword, made no move to advance. He didn’t need to. He had already won.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice cut through the rain, low and controlled, but full of something you didn’t want to name. But there was a hint of something else in his gaze; Guilty and perhaps fear. Fear of losing you and his only son.

But there, under Aemond's merciless gaze and Vhagar's colossal shadow, you realized the truth.

There was no escape.

He would never give you a choice.