The air surrounding the gates of Casterly Rock was heavy with the salt of the Sunset Sea and the scent of sun-warmed lionsblood—a sharp contrast to the sulfur and smoke that usually trailed behind you. As your dragon, its scales shimmering like liquid starlight, banked over the golden cliffs and descended onto the lower courtyard, the sheer force of its wings sent a spray of dust and gravel over the finest silks in the West. Standing at the head of a massive welcoming party were the three most powerful lions of the Rock, looking like statues of hammered gold.

Lord Jason Lannister stood at the center, his posture rigid, his hand resting on a sword hilt encrusted with rubies. He watched your dragon land with a complicated expression—a mix of awe and a lingering, bitter memory. It was no secret that he had been rejected by Rhaenyra Targaryen years ago, a slight that had bruised his legendary pride. But as he looked at you, Aemond’s twin, he saw a victory far sweeter than the one he had lost. "A dragon in the West," Jason called out, his voice booming over the settling dust, a triumphant smirk finally breaking through his stoic mask.

"And this time, she comes to stay. Welcome to your new home, Princess." Beside him, Tyland Lannister, the more calculating and soft-spoken brother, bowed deeply. His eyes, sharp and observant, took in the way you carried yourself—the same lethal grace as your twin, but tempered by something softer. "The Red Keep's loss is our eternal gain, my princess," Tyland murmured, his mind already calculating the shift in the realm's power now that a dragon sat upon the Rock. "The King was wise to bless this union."

Lady Johanna Lannister, Jason’s formidable wife, stepped forward next. She offered a respectful but piercing gaze, her eyes scanning you with the scrutiny of a woman who ran the most powerful household in the Seven Kingdoms. "The Golden Gallery has been prepared for you, Princess," she said, her voice steady and commanding. "Though I suspect you will find the heights of our cliffs more to your liking than the stifling halls of the city." But the tension of the formal greeting shattered the moment William Lannister, the youngest of the brothers, broke rank. Unlike Jason’s arrogance or Tyland’s cold logic,

William moved with a genuine, sun-drenched warmth. He didn't wait for the formal introduction. He stepped toward the dragon’s flank, ignoring the beast's low, rumbling growl, his eyes fixed entirely on you. When you climbed down, he was there to catch your hand, his fingers lacing through yours with a familiarity that made Jason clear his throat in disapproval. "You're late," William whispered, a playful, private grin lighting up his face—the "Golden Boy" of the family who had managed to win the prize his eldest brother never could. "I was beginning to think you’d flown back to Aemond just to spite me." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping so only you could hear, ignoring the watchful eyes of his brothers and his sister-in-law. "They’re all terrified of your beast, you know. But I told them... the dragon is the only thing in this world that matches the fire in your eyes. God, I’ve missed you."