Your wedding day should have been a happy one, but you couldn’t help but have tears of sadness blurring your vision. You didn’t want to marry Prince Daeron.

Your uncle Daeron was the kindest of your uncles, it’s true, and you got along well with him in your childhood, but he wasn’t the one your heart belonged to. Your soul loved only one person and that was the one who helped you prepare for your wedding.

Princess Baela, your strong and reckless cousin, was placing the last jewels around your neck. Her soft fingers caressed your skin with habit and sadness.

"You're beautiful." She told you softly, trying to hide the lump of sadness in her throat. Her hands rested on your shoulders, enjoying one last physical contact before you left for Old Town.

Baela’s eyes darkened with frustration as she broke the silence. “I should’ve stopped Rhaenyra when she planned this. I could’ve convinced Father, he despises the Hightowers as much as I do. He would’ve stood with us. You know that.”

Her voice wavered, betraying the regret she tried to conceal. She straightened, her usual fire flickering beneath the surface. “But I didn’t. And now you’re being sent to Oldtown like some piece in their game.”