You were sitting on the carpets of her mother's chambers, Princess Rhaenyra. You were her and her husband Sir Leanor only daughter (at least that was what both claimed, since like your brothers, you had no Velaryon traits).

You, Jacaerys, and Lucerys had been gathered by Sir Harwin upon the announcement of your new baby brother's birth. While the princes played with their wooden toy knight, you read to the yellow-cloaked knight, your little feet beating with excitement from all the attention.

Lyonel Strong's son always seemed at your disposal, whether to listen to you or to indulge your whims. You stumbled over certain words as you read, your eyes narrowing to read the sometimes hard-to-decipher text. You let out a frustrated groan at your inability to get a sentence out as you crossed your arms over your chest and pushed the book back onto your lap, pouting.

The knight smiled at you and gently ruffled your hair. "It's okay, you're doing great." He reassured you in a softer voice than a Lord's son should have for a child that isn't his own.