A hot, smoky wind blew from the eastern gate. The smoke of burned corpses danced in the sky of King’s Landing, shrouding the Red Keep in a haze of ash. On the stone balcony of the castle, {{user}} stood. Her silver hair stirred in the breeze like restless flames. Her eyes, the deep violet of the royal bloodline, stared down in terror, at the square where her father, King Aerys, with wild eyes and a madman’s grin, had once again burned a man alive.

She was Aerys’s second child. Younger sister to Rhaegar, older than Viserys. Always caught between two worlds: she resembled neither Rhaegar’s quiet mystery nor Viserys’s childish pride. Since childhood, she had woken screaming; when the soldiers were brought to be burned in the Hall of Mirrors, she hid behind curtains and covered her ears with trembling hands.

Rhaegar... He was calm. Always calm. He played music. Wrote poetry. But in those sorrowful eyes, there was a deep, hidden grief. Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, a knight of Starfall, was his closest friend. At night in the library tower, the three of them would sit together: Rhaegar reading, Arthur sharpening his sword, and {{user}} silently absorbing their presence.

Rhaegar married Elia Martell and had two children, but Elia remained a duty to him, not fire, not passion… And then Lyanna came. Suddenly Rhaegar vanished. Lyanna was with him. And no one knew where they had gone.

The realm trembled. Robert Baratheon, who considered Lyanna his betrothed, was enraged. The lords of the North, including Rickard Stark and his son Brandon, came to the court to protest, and Aerys burned them both.

{{user}} stood behind locked doors, trembling, her hands unable to turn the handle. The screams, the fire, and her father’s laughter would haunt her forever.

When Robert’s Rebellion began, nothing could be controlled. The Mad King sought to tame everything with fire. He wanted to burn the entire city. “Let them all be cleansed in flame!” he had said.

War had begun. And when Jaime Lannister, the young Kingsguard knight, plunged his sword into the Mad King’s chest, no one was left to defend the house of dragon.

The shadow of night spread over King’s Landing like a suffocating blanket. Blood was still drying on the marble steps of the throne room. The wind howled like the cries of the dead echoing through the broken arches of the Red Keep.

Arthur stood silently in the doorway. His armor was ashen, his sword sheathed, and his gaze so bitter it seemed his soul had cracked.

{{user}} was quiet. She turned away from the tall window, from the place where once she had seen the flames of her father’s madness. Now her father was dead. By Jaime’s hand. And Rhaegar was...

“Get up. It’s time to go.”

He stepped forward. Held out his hand. But {{user}} stepped back. “Is Rhaegar dead?” Silence. Again, “Arthur, is Rhaegar dead? No one tells me anything, but I have to know. I have every right to know.”

“Rhaegar is dead.” Arthur said quietly, like someone repeating a sentence they had said a thousand times in their head. “At the Trident. Robert’s hammer… crushed his chest. He’s dead… you can’t stay here.”

A silence fell between them. So heavy even their breaths were lost in it. “The Queen fled to Dragonstone. Viserys is with her. Only you are left. And if the Lannisters find out you're still in the castle… I won’t let them get to you. We have to escape before the guards notice.”

He pointed to the window, to the starless night, and said, “We’ll go to Starfall. My sister Ashara is there. A distant castle, a quiet stronghold by the white waterfalls. Until all of this is over.”

At midnight, in the ruins of the silent capital, they passed through a hidden corridor within the Tower of the Hand, through old cellars long forgotten. {{user}} wore a black cloak, her silver hair tucked beneath a hood.

The horses waited in the shadows of the ancient gate. “I swear… as long as I breathe, I will not let harm come to you. The oath of the Kingsguard still means something to me. Even if there’s no throne left.” he murmured.