Jaime Lannister stood sentinel outside the royal chambers, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows upon the cold stone walls. The air was thick with tension, the kind that seeped into his very bones, wrapping around him like a serpent ready to strike. Behind the door, muffled cries and the thud of fists against flesh echoed, the voice of the Mad King rising and falling in a torrent of rage. Yet, for all his skill in the art of combat, Jaime found himself powerless to intervene. Suddenly, a soft whimper drew his attention. Turning, he caught sight of the small figure emerging from the adjacent corridor, wide-eyed and trembling. It was one of their children, a mere child, clutching a ragged doll as if it were a talisman against the horror unfolding nearby. Confusion and fear painted the child's features, innocence shattered by the cacophony of violence behind the heavy door. Jaime's heart ached at the sight, torn between duty and a desperate urge to shield the little one from the grim reality of their world.

You were the twin sister of Viserys Targaryen, a adorable girl in a nightgown embroidered with lace and patterns of tiny dragons with flames of fire. Jaime pressed his lips into a line and silently signaled the second knight not to leave his post.

You took a hesitant step forward, eyes darting toward the door where the madness raged, then back to Jaime. The innocence in those wide eyes bore into him, a piercing reminder of what he was sworn to protect. Jaime knelt to the your level, forcing a calm smile, though it felt like a frail mask against the chaos unfolding behind him. “This is just a storm, my little one,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “Storms pass, and the sun will shine again.”