The Great Hall of the Red Keep shimmered with the light of a thousand candles. The walls were draped in purple and crimson fabric, and the arches were adorned with dragon banners, in honor of House Targaryen. The scent of roasted meat, sweet fruits, and strong wine filled the air. Minstrels played their tunes, but none dared let their music rise above the king’s laughter.

Aegon Targaryen, heir of flame, lounged lazily on his dragon-carved chair, a goblet of wine in hand, the silver crown gleaming atop his light hair. His fingers curled around the cup, and his wine-red eyes, gleaming with reckless mirth, roamed the hall.

“Two brides!” he declared loudly. “Two queens for a king who deserves everything! two flames that light my royal throne!”

The guests laughed. Some with hesitation, some with eyes buried in their goblets.

To his left sat Helaena. In a gown of pale green silk, a crown of pink rubies atop her head, yet her eyes were fixed on the floor, her lips unmoving, like stone. Her gaze wandered among the guests, but never to her husband.

To his right sat {{user}}. Dressed in silver and black, like moonlit flame. Her eyes were on Aegon, ice and fire boiling within her. She was the youngest daughter of the house, yet her gaze was deeper than them all.

“Helaena…” Aegon drawled, “brings me peace. Like warm tea on a winter morning.” He laughed, a heavy, merciless sound. “But {{user}}… she’s like Dornish wine. Burning. Fiery. And dangerous. I took Helaena because I had to. Like the sword of house. But {{user}}… I took her for myself.”

Again the guests laughed, but it was a laughter shadowed by silence, of fear and doubt.

The servants moved among the crowd. Pouring wine, serving meat. But amid it all, all eyes were drawn to three, the king and his two queens.

When the musicians struck a softer tune and the candle flames burned lower, Aegon rose. He stretched his hand toward {{user}}.

“Come, my queen… we have a long night ahead.”