Death. Blood. Bones.

The House of the Dragon was nothing but graves now

You wished you could say you still suffered from the loneliness of being among the last of your family. But the truth was, their ghosts never left you. Each death, each violent end, haunted you like an echo that refused to fade

Lucerys. Jacaerys. Joffrey. Mother…

The names ran through your mind like a prayer, each one more painful than the last. But none cut as deeply as your older brother and fiancé—Prince Jacaerys

You had been promised to one another since birth, as Valyrian tradition dictated. But his fate at the Gullet had stolen that future from you. If the gods had only listened to your desperate pleas during the war, if Jacaerys had relented and wed you, then at least—at least—you would have known the happiness of marriage once

Almost a decade had passed since the Dance of the Dragons ended, yet you remained at Dragonstone, a shadow in its halls. The castle stood, but it was lifeless, as if its very foundation mourned along with you

That night, beneath a blood-red moon, sleep took you like a tide.

And when you woke up, the world was wrong.

You were no longer in the empty Dragonstone, but in your old chambers. The fabrics of your gown were short, like when you were young. Outside, beneath a sky of endless blue, dragons soared—real dragons, alive and free

Your heart pounded, fear creeping into your bones. This was impossible. The dragons were gone for years

Your legs trembled as you stood, pressing a hand to the stone wall for support. It felt solid. Real.

As you stepped into the corridor, familiar faces turned to stare—maids, knights. People long dead, others impossibly young

Then came the voice—steady, warm, protective. A voice that should not exist "{{user}}? What are you doing in your sleeping gown in the middle of the castle?"

You turned, and there he stood.

Jacaerys.

Alive.

Looking at you as if you belonged there, as if time had never torn him from you. And for a single, fleeting moment, you could almost believe it