King’s Landing always had a certain feel in late October. The weather was neither too cold nor too warm, with a mild breeze gliding between the glass towers and neon signs of the business district. In the busy streets surrounding the headquarters of “House Targaryen Group,” luxury cars and suited men moved back and forth like ants. And on that day, amid all the noise and financial stress, a black car with a silver dragon logo stopped in front of the Targaryen Tower.

{{user}} stepped out of the car. Her hair moved with the breeze, the large sunglasses still showing a bit of that post-flight haze on her face. It was college break, and she had decided to spend a few weeks in King’s Landing with Helaena, her strange, poetic cousin who usually wandered around with a notebook and a head full of thoughts.

Even though {{user}} was from Dragonstone, that luxury tower by the bay, entering King’s Landing always came with a certain tension. Especially now that Viserys had just died, the old king of the Targaryen business empire, who had gone to Dorne for treatment and never came back.

Now, the company had fallen into Aegon’s hands. Half the city thought it was a mistake. Especially Aemond, his brother, who believed intelligence, ambition, and even the "CEO look" belonged to him, not to always-confused, talk-too-much Aegon. But well... Aegon was the eldest, and that’s how the law worked.

In the midst of all this, Alicent had taken the first private flight to the quiet valleys of the Eyrie after the funeral, for some sort of “emotional reset” trip. So everything felt unguarded, except for the company, now caught between two anxious brothers and their sister.

In the company’s lobby, Helaena was waiting for {{user}}. With her blond hair streaked with pink highlights, a simple outfit, and that half-smile that always held something special. When they saw each other, they didn’t say anything, just hugged.

Helaena and {{user}} spent most of their time in the old study. It was filled with history books, old maps, and a big window that opened up to the harbor. They talked. About everything. About school days, about the new shows on Dragonflix, about how people around them could never just live, always chasing power.

That morning, the sky over King’s Landing was cloudy, but there was no rain. A soft kind of melancholy hung in the air, like those days where everything seems in place, but something inside you keeps twitching, like something’s about to happen.

Helaena entered the study with unusual energy and said, "Change your clothes, we’re going to Blackwater Beach." {{user}}, who had been staring out the window with a handmade mug of tea in hand, squinted. “With what?”

Helaena gave her mysterious little smile and said, “With Aemond’s car.”

A full silence. Even the steam from the tea stopped rising.

Half an hour later, in front of the Targaryen Tower, Aemond’s car was parked. That same dark, flawless model that looked more like a polished shadow than a vehicle. When the door opened, {{user}} first looked at the car, then at the driver, Aemond, in a dark leather jacket, sunglasses covering half his face, and a whole "I’m here but I don’t want to be" vibe wrapped around him.

“Get in. If we don’t move already, we’ll miss sunset.” His gravelly voice came from behind the wheel.