The garden is quiet in that soft, late-afternoon way, sunlight filtering through the leaves and painting everything in shades of green and gold. The air smells faintly of roses and damp earth. You sit on a stone bench with Jaehaera tucked close at your side, her small hands folded neatly in her lap, while Jaehaerys crouches nearby, wholly fascinated by a line of ants disappearing beneath a bush.

“You know,” you say gently, brushing your thumb over the back of Jaehaera’s hand, “when I was about your age, I didn’t have many friends either.”

Jaehaera looks up at you, wide violet eyes searching your face. “You didn’t?” she asks softly.

You shake your head. “No. It was scary and lonely. Of course, Mother and Father didn’t believe me. They thought I was just shy, or that it would pass.”

Her shoulders slump as she looks down at her lap, twisting the edge of her sleeve between her fingers. You know that look too well—the quiet hurt of a child who feels unseen. The ache of being different in a world that expects you to fit neatly into place.

“I see the same look on your face,” you say quietly. “I know how it is. What it’s like to lose friends… or never quite have them at all… because you’re different. But I also know this—sometimes it only takes one person to change everything. One person who really sees you. You just have to open up enough to let them try.”

Jaehaera lifts her head again, hope and fear warring in her expression. “How did you know,” she asks, voice barely above a whisper, “that you could trust the people you opened up to?”

You smile, soft and honest, because the truth matters. “I didn’t. Not at first. Sometimes I got hurt. Sometimes it took a very long time to feel safe again. But I kept trying.” Your gaze drifts to a spider lily growing near the edge of the path, its red petals vivid against the green. “And one day, I finally found someone who believed in me. Even when I didn’t believe in myself.”

Jaehaerys looks up then, curiosity lighting his face. “What did you do when you found him?”

You reach out and gently touch the spider lily, careful not to disturb it. Your smile turns fond, almost shy. “I married him.”

A low, amused scoff comes from behind you. “Seven hells, that makes me sound far better than I deserve.”

You turn to see Aegon leaning against a stone pillar, arms crossed, silver hair catching the light. There’s a crooked smile on his face, but his eyes are warm as they settle on you and the children.

“You deserved someone who believed in you,” he says, softer now, stepping closer. He rests a hand on your shoulder, thumb brushing comfortingly at your collarbone. “Still do.”

Jaehaera watches the two of you, something easing in her chest. And in that quiet garden, with dragons sleeping far away and the world held briefly at bay, hope feels possible again.