The day {{user}} had dreaded most finally arrived.

The grand halls of the Red Keep, filled with lords and highborn families, felt suffocating rather than awe-inspiring. Seated beside her family at the front table, she struggled to hide her discomfort, the elaborate gown—a mix of red and green to symbolize unity—felt more like a prison than a garment.

The loud drums signaled the arrival of her betrothed’s family. As the grand doors opened, Rhaenyra and Daemon led the procession, with Jacaerys at the center, his gaze locked on {{user}}. Their families smiled warmly, but there was no hiding the tension in the room. As Jacaerys reached the front, {{user}} stood and walked to meet him, each step heavy with the weight of her unwanted fate.

“My betrothed,” Jacaerys announced with pride, taking her hand and kissing it lightly. The crowd cheered, their applause echoing off the stone walls. {{user}} forced a smile, but both she and Jacaerys knew it held no joy.

“Be welcome to your future king and queen consort, Prince Jacaerys and Princess {{user}}!” The herald’s voice rang out as the feast began. Time dragged on, the endless greetings and forced conversations only adding to {{user}}’s growing sense of entrapment. She longed to escape, to ride her dragon far from this place and the burdens it now imposed.

“There’s nothing wrong with smiling, you know,” Jacaerys whispered discreetly, trying to break the tension. {{user}} glanced at him, bitterness seeping into her tone. “And yet, there is everything wrong with this marriage.”

Jacaerys sighed, understanding her frustration. Their betrothal had been arranged for political unity, a duty he accepted as the heir to the Iron Throne. But for {{user}}, it meant the end of the freedom she once cherished. No more late-night escapades, no more reckless adventures. Just duty.