The whistles of cold storms filled Dragonstone. Visenya the Conqueror and her son Maegor were staying here. They had built their own world, far from Aenys and Aegon.

As Visenya twirled her wine goblit in her hand, she heard the door to her chamber creak softly. She grabbed her dagger and stood, but it wasn't an assassin. It was just... a little girl.