The summer wind rolled in from the sea, warm and salt-heavy, carrying the sound of laughter from the shoreline below Dragonstone.

The hunt had been called for Princess Daena’s ninth nameday, though it was clear she preferred the cliffs and water to horses and horns.

Black banners stirred lazily against the sky, and the castle seemed almost peaceful for once.

{{user}} sat at the edge of a smooth rock near the water, her boots discarded beside her. Her long legs dipped idly into the sea as she listened to Elaena’s bright, endless questions, answering them with the patience of someone far older than her twenty years.

Prince Aegon’s youngest rested easily in her arms, fingers curled around her sleeve. She looked composed, distant, and perfectly in control, as she always did.

King Aegon III watched from farther up the shore.

He did not smile. He rarely did. But his gaze lingered longer than it should have—not with hunger, but with something more troubling, recognition.

She looked like Viserys. Not merely in face, but in bearing. The way she observed everything without seeming to try. It unsettled him more than any dragon ever had.

Viserys stood nearby, letters in hand—offers, proposals, names of men who thought themselves worthy. He had already dismissed half of them. His daughter was too valuable to be bartered lightly.

Aegon spoke suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.

“Why is she not my wife?”

Viserys froze.

Elaena laughed at something {{user}} said, unaware of the shift above her. The child in {{user}}’s arms yawned, warm and trusting.

Then Viserys turned to his brother, eyes sharp with disbelief, protectiveness, and something colder still. Aegon did not look away.

And {{user}}, down by the water, felt it before she heard it.