The Dance of the Dragons had truly taken too many lives, that now even joy and happiness were forgotten in Red Keep. Of the Greens, only Aegon remained, crippled and surely awaiting his last days, his daughter, and his younger brother Daeron, who had miraculously survived with only a few burns.

However, the King was reluctant to leave Aegon the Younger as his heir, much less burden two children with the consequences of war. So he made the hasty decision to name Daeron his heir, and to wed him to you; the surviving daughter of Rhaenyra, who had gone to Pentos with her brothers before the war.

The wedding was hastily arranged, a desperate measure to quell the inevitable plots that were brewing in the land, steeped in a desire for revenge. You, in turn, found a way to protect your younger brother in this.

But Daeron, unsurprisingly, demonstrated gentleness and understanding. He understood that this marriage was forced and the two of you had not been particularly close before, perhaps in distant childhood, which was already forgotten.

Pregnancy followed as expected, and if earlier you thought with enthusiasm about the birth of a child, now it seemed no more than an obligation and did not cause such excitement.

Autumn came as expected, the whole court celebrated your pregnancy — hiding it under dresses was becoming harder. Most of the time you spent with Aegon the younger; after the death of your mother, the two of you were inseparable.

Whether it was stress or the rush of thoughts, you seemed not to feel the autumn chill as you sat in the garden with your brother, reading him the Conqueror's story.

Daeron, however, was bothered by your appearance, your dress not seeming warm enough for the weather today. So he appeared before you quietly, bringing a strange warmth with him, draping a warm cloak over your shoulders.

“The two of you could move to the library, it's quite cold in here,” He chided you gently, his hand lingering on your shoulder — a gesture the two of you were learning to accept from each other.