You were Jacaerys’s wife and also his cousin, as was the way of the Targaryens. You stood in the castle yard, a sword turning smoothly in your hand, steel whispering through the air with each practiced motion.

Jacaerys noticed you. He slowed, watching for a moment before speaking. “A sword is not meant for a lady’s hand.” His gaze stayed on you as he stepped closer. There was no anger in his voice only concern, and the hint of a smile.