The halls of the Hightower felt colder than she remembered. Ceryse sat by the arched window of her chambers, hands folded in her lap, staring down at the bustling city of Oldtown. News had come, Maegor was on his way.

She had dreamed of this moment, longed for it in the quiet of her exile. She thought back to the day she wed him, how her heart had swelled with pride to be the wife of a valyrian prince. He had been so young then, but strong, fierce... hers.

She had failed him. No children, no legacy, only cold nights and distance. And yet, she had loved him, still loved him. Beneath the steel and fire, there had been something else... something softer, something hers.

Her fingers trembled as she smoothed the skirts of her gown. Would he still want her? Would he see how much she had missed him? Was he even here for her or to settle things with the faith? She looked out her window untill she saw it in the sky. Two dragons coming from the north. She knew those dragons well enough. Her king had come.