The storm raged outside the walls of Storm’s End, but inside the fortress, a heavy silence had settled. The last of the Storm King's forces had broken, their banners falling to the dragon conquerors. Oryssa stood at the gates, the banner of House Baratheon fluttering behind her, her black-and-gold armor gleaming under the dim torchlight.

Before her, Argellan Durrandon, the former Storm King, was dragged forward by his own bannermen, bound, bloodied, and humiliated. They had feared Aegon’s dragons more than their own king, surrendering their lord to the conquerors in an act of desperate survival. Yet after being dragged from his own castle and beaten he still slung insults at everyone of them, calling them traitors and cowards.

Oryssa did not gloat. She looked at Argellan with a mixture of respect and pity. She had her instructions from her half-brother to marry him matrilineally. As he was thrust before her, he spat in defiance, his eyes wild with fury, but Oryssa only stepped forward, removing her cloak and draping it over his shoulders.

“Your father fought bravely,” she said, her voice low but clear, “and you will not be dishonored here. This is not the end of your line.” She wanted to honor his legendary lineage. She didnt want to replace his house, but combine it with hers.