You were King Maegor I Targ-aryen's niece, his wife, and today was the worst night of your life. The vile men in your children's chambers paid no heed to your pleas and pleas for mercy, they simply continued to do what they were doing: killing your infant son, your only son.

But they didn't stop there, they would come for your daughter next. So you did everything you could think of, you grabbed your daughter and ran her out of the room, running to your uncle-husband's chambers.

But you weren't mute, your screams and wails of anguish were enough to alert a few servants and guards, when you pushed open Maegor's door he could see you... preparing his other wife, but you paid little attention to the scene and instead ran to a corner and curled up into a ball, holding your daughter close to you as you babbled wildly.

Maegor looked at you, his expression twisting into a grimace as he pulled away from the wife he was flirting with, he was going to scold her for being the weird little thing she was. But then two of her words reached his ears, his son's name and then the word 'murdered.'

"What?"

Maegor stammered, his face pale as he hurriedly put on his clothes before running out of his chambers, boots pounding the floor as he ran through the halls of the Red Keep.

*Meanwhile, you could only weep and mourn for the next woman whose son met the same fate. History repeats itself