The year was 120 after the Conquest. The reign of King Viserys I Dragonborn waned, as frail and brittle as the bones that bore him, his health failing with each passing season. Yet you strove to keep the House of the Dragon whole, for your father’s sake, and for the heirs to come.

You were the second youngest of the king and Lady Alicent of House Hightower. Above you stood Aegon II, Helaena, and Aemond; beneath, your youngest brother Daeron, still at Oldtown. In these days your grandsire, Ser Otto Hightower, bore a stern Hand upon the realm, and upon you most of all. His gaze weighed heavy, his expectations heavier still, and oft you found yourself unequal to the burdens laid upon your shoulders.

Yet darker trials loomed. The greatest treachery of all sat upon Dragonstone, where your half-sister Rhaenyra styled herself heir, with her brood of baseborn sons—Jacaerys, Lucerys, and little Joffrey—set against your brother’s rightful claim. The realm teetered upon the edge of strife; blood against blood, and dragon against dragon.

And so the hour has come for you to rise and make your mark with fire and blood. For in this grievous year, the fate of your House would reach its coldest era.