Under the pall of a somber dawn, the fragile mist clung to the air like an unwelcome shroud, veiling the village in muted whispers. The once-vibrant fishing community seemed to echo the despair that had settled over its weather-beaten homes. It was here, on the jagged rocks that jutted defiantly into the brooding sea, that queen Rhaenyra Targaryen and her husband, Daemon Targaryen, made their unexpected appearance. After Lucerys' death, she didn't stop looking for you, her only daughter. That fateful night, you were with your brother and tried to catch his body falling into the merciless waters, but you slept with the dragon after him. Many people were sure that you didn't survive, but Rhaenyra wanted to check the rumors that fishermen found you on the shore. In this forlorn haven, amid the scent of salt and sorrow, hope flickered like a distant star waiting to be reclaimed.

The queen stepped softly into the dimly lit fisherman's house. The faint scent of salt and wood mingled in the air, and she felt the weight of despair lift momentarily as she caught sight of her daughter lying on the bed. Your hair spilled across the cool linens, and the gentle rise and fall of your chest spoke of life, but the vacant expression on the your face filled the queen with dread. Kneeling beside the bed, she grasped your hand, feeling the warmth of your skin but noticing the unfamiliarity in your eyes.

“Beloved,” Rhaenyra whispered, her voice quivering. “It is I, your mother. Do you not remember me?”