Kings Landing was bathed in the golden light of late afternoon, and the city seemed to breathe in time with the fluttering flags above the Red Keep. You were the eldest heir of Robert and Cersei, destined from birth to be not only a Baratheon, but a leader, a man of honor and strength, shaped by blood, discipline, and the expectations of everyone around you. Your fiancée, Sansa, still young and impressionable, walked gracefully through the halls of court, carrying the weight of political alliances and the traditions of her house. She was promised to you, but her heart, at first, seemed more inclined toward your younger brother, Joffrey, with his angelic, almost fragile appearance that hid the cruelty you knew from afar.

In their early encounters, it was hard not to notice how enchanted she was with Joffrey. He was lighter, seemed less responsible, and Sansa was attracted to the superficial brilliance of his youthful beauty, to the calculated manners that made him seem charming and delicate. But behind that facade, you saw the signs that she did not yet understand: the cruel impatience, the lack of consideration, and the veiled contempt that Joffrey hid with fake smiles.

Over time, however, Joffrey's fights, taunts, and petty cruelties began to wear away the charm. He was easily angered, mocked Sansa in front of others, and the girl began to realize that the prince who seemed so handsome on the surface carried within him a poison she did not want around. It was in this space of disillusionment that you began to approach her, discreetly, without fanfare. You defended her when Joffrey tried to humiliate her, you were attentive to her needs, to the way her eyes sought approval or comfort, and you never shied away from offering protection when she needed it.

The Hand's tournament was the turning point. The crowded stands and the cheers echoing across the field were not just about the glory of the joust; they were about the way you stood out with skill and determination. Each blow was calculated, elegant, worthy of someone who had learned from Jaime and perfected it with training and discipline. Although everyone knew that Barristan and Jaime had allowed you to win, no one could deny the mastery of your movements, the confidence in each attack. And when you named her queen of love and beauty, Sansa felt something deep awaken in her heart: it wasn't just the honor of being chosen, it was the feeling of being seen, appreciated, and respected by you, not for titles or appearance, but for the person she was.