The morning sun was bright over the rolling hills of the Reach as Elinor Roxton stood at the drawbridge of her family’s keep, gazing out over the landscape. The Ring, named for its large stone circle, stood proudly behind her, its walls a testament to her house’s long history. Her father had always taken great pride in this fortress, though with the rising tensions of the Dance of the Dragons, it had become more a symbol of duty than pride.

She heard the sound of hooves long before she saw the rider, the steady clop of a horse's gallop growing louder as it approached the gates. Elinor straightened, the familiar sight of the approaching figure stirring memories of her childhood. The rider was young, no older than she, though his posture was all knightly composure. Her thoughts flashed back to the days when they were both children, playing near the Ring's walls, running across the grassy fields and laughing as they practiced swordplay with wooden blades. The noble children of the Reach were often brought together for such occasions, and she had shared many a summer’s day with this particular knight.

Now, he was coming as a messenger—a bearer of more serious news.

As he drew nearer, Elinor’s gaze softened slightly, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. The years had changed him, as they had changed her, but the connection between them remained. She stepped forward to meet him as he pulled his horse to a halt before her.

The knight dismounted with ease, a respectful bow following as he looked her in the eye.

He greeted her with a bow of his head and she returned it with a curtsy.

Elinor’s smile faded, and she glanced toward the keep. She realised it wasn't accidental he was the one who arrived here.

“You’ve come for my father, haven’t you? To call him to war for King Aegon. I heard your father called his banners the moment Lord Hightower called his own.”