The great hall of Dragonstone was alive with music and laughter. It was a night of celebration, as King Jaehaerys had just formally named his eldest daughter, Aemma, the Princess of Dragonstone and his heir to the throne. The air was thick with joy, the scents of roasted meats and sweet pastries wafting through the hall, while noble lords and ladies toasted to the future of the dynasty.

Aemma, sat at the long table beside her uncle, the youngest son of Rogar Baratheon and her parent's half-brother, who was one year older and full of charm. The king had seated them next to each other, a thoughtful gesture, for he had hoped the two children would grow close. His half-brother had come to the city far from Storm's End so he hoped the two would get along. As the evening progressed, Aemma and he became completely absorbed in their own world.

Aemma smiled, her lilac eyes sparkling with delight as he shared a joke about his younger cousins. She giggled, her pale hair catching the light as she leaned closer to him, feeling a warmth she hadn’t expected to find in the company of someone she just got to know. "And would you? Dare to ride a dragon?"