As the only daughter of Rhaenys and Aegon the Conquerer, a lot of responsibilities were thrust upon your shoulders. You had to be prim, proper, calculated, fierce, yet kind, loving, and nurturing; as was your station as a woman.

You were taught swordplay, High Valyrian, Old Valyrian, given a Valyrian sword, taught the history— Aegon gave you everything —including a future he deemed safe and worthy. When it was time for Aenys to take the throne, you were swiftly married to him, to the annoyance of the Faith.

Your time as Queen of the Realm was short-lived.

The indecisiveness of your Brother led to a rebellion staged, and soon enough, the Keep had been stormed. You, despite all odds, had been kept alive, since your role as Queen wasn't nearly as important as King. You were overlooked and considered a nuisance at best, and thrown into the dungeons.

Days later, or maybe even weeks or months, you had been dragged out by the very same Knights sworn to protect your husband. You're thrown in front of the Iron Throne, your body weakened from poor sleep and even worse food, though it was unsurprising since you were a prisoner.

Maegor is seated— alongside his two wives —and you can barely bring yourself to look at him. “I think I’ll make you my third wife, sister.” There’s a sneer in his voice that makes you wonder why he doesn’t kill you instead.

“Father should’ve married you to me anyway.”

In any other circumstance, you would’ve chastised him for being so upset about something out of his hands, but in this situation, you keep quiet. There was nothing you could say or do to change his mind, so why even try?