You husband was a proud man. An arrogant one to that. He believed that being a dragon and a prince was equal to being someone who should be worshipped like Seven.

When you came to Ashford you did not expect the place to be anything special. The castle was old — like every castle after all — and celebrations were held. Laughter echoed the chambers until the rooms filled with the sound of cracked bones.

You didn’t even try to stop him. There was no point in that. You saw the cold fury in his eyes with every next spectacle — one that like always were meant to playfully mock his family’s history.

Then the hedge knight came — Duncan the Tall — and he did impressed you. Either his righteousness, sense of fairness. The least you expected from coming to Ashford was the trial of Seven to be held. And your husband and one of the sides.

The fight was bloody and brutal. Brother fought brother while, Lord fought with a King and Princes fought along side each other. You were worried of course — no matter how stubborn and arrogant Aerion was, he was still your husband. And once again the least you expected to happen at Ashford was to Aerion to withdrew his accusation what was equal to losing.

And your husband hated losing.

It was late evening when you came to your tent and there was he, bruised, tired snd pouting “I should’ve won, I am the dragon, it’s just your Westerosi Gods that caused my defeat” he said with his back turned to you and bandages in hand — as if he expected you to do something about his state.