The echoes of King Aerys decree still reverberated through the Red Keep, each syllable a hammer blow to Rhaegar's heart.

Elia Martell for him. Robert Bаrаthеоn for his sister, {{user}}.

Today, that fire burned bright, fueled by a pain that twisted his handsome features into a mask of barely contained rage.

For Rhaegar, it was a hammer blow. Not only did it shatter his own carefully laid plans, but it struck at the very core of his house identity. The prophecies, whispered in hushed tones within the family for generations, spoke of the blood of the dragon needing to remain pure.

The whisperings, the old ways, the sense of destiny – all of it crashed down around him as the King’s decree echoed in his mind. Elia Martell was a good woman, he knew, kind and intelligent. But she was not the one he was meant to be with, the one who felt like a missing piece, a reflection of his own soul.

Rhaegar's boots struck the stone floor with harsh finality as he stalked through the corridors. The tapestries depicting the glorious history of his house seemed to mock him now, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the bleakness that had settled in his heart.

He bypassed the bustling kitchens and the crowded training yards, his destination clear: his sister's chambers.

He didn't bother to announce himself, simply pushing open the door with a force that startled the handmaidens within.

{{user}} was seated by the window, the late afternoon sun catching in her silver-gold hair, making it appear like spun moonlight. She was embroidering a tapestry, a delicate scene of dragons soaring above a fiery landscape slowly taking shape beneath her nimble fingers.

"Rhaegar," The unguarded hope that flickered in her expression was enough to twist the knife already lodged in his heart.

"Did you know?" he demanded, his voice rough, the carefully cultivated calm he usually wore like armor completely shattered. "Did you know he would do this? That he would sell us both like…like common merchants hawking wares?"