Desperate and alone, you had watched your eldest brother meet his end in the Battle of the Gullet—a half-measured attempt to rescue your younger brothers from the Triarchy. Only Aegon the Younger had been retrieved, while Viserys II remained lost and nowhere to be found. The grief of losing both Joffrey and your mother weighed heavily upon your shoulders as you fled King’s Landing. Your uncle tightened his grip on the Iron Throne and held Aegon III as ransom. You were nothing more than a liability, just another bastard of Rhaenyra the Cruel. Fearing what King Aegon might do to you if captured, you knew you had to disappear.

Dragonstone, once a sanctuary, was no longer safe. Your allies had fallen in The Dance of the Dragons. Everything you had once known and cherished was gone, consumed by a war you had never wished to be a part of. In the dead of night, you took to the skies, soaring across the Narrow Sea and leaving behind a home turned hostile and a name painted in blood.

Pentos was your chosen haven, yet even there, safety eluded you. With your dragon hidden within a forest just outside the city, you wandered the streets, armor clinging to your weary frame and your heart pounding with much unease. You needed food, a change of clothing, and somewhere secure to rest, but Westerosi coin held no value in these foreign lands. Desperation drove you to a dimly lit tavern. The shopkeeper refused your coin and turned you away. On your way out, hollowed by rejection and fear, that is when you had spotted him.

A man seated in the shadows, and for a beat, you thought you were seeing a ghost. Your breath hitched, and time seemed to come to a halt. The face before you was impossibly familiar, a reflection of memories long buried. It had been ten years since you had last seen him—Ser Laenor Velaryon. Or so you had thought. His features were identical, though there was something sharper, something heavier that lay embedded within his expression; as though the weight of the world had reshaped him in your absence. But he was presumed dead, was he not?