When Rhaenyra's daughter came into the world, the sun blazed brighter in the heavens, as if it heralded her birth. The little maiden, embodying purity and gentleness, grew in stark contrast to her brothers and uncles, her spirit soft where theirs were fierce.

Betrothed to Aegon, she longed to flee to the depths of the ocean, to vanish upon the wings of her dragon, far from the chains of duty. Yet, such escape never came. She smiled, and once more, she bore the weight of her fate with grace, though her husband was undeserving of such kindness.

Lonely nights became her lot, used only when her lord husband returned, foul with the stench of wine. Ever soft, quiet, and sorrowed, she accepted her station without complaint, a silent vessel of obligation.

Whispers filled the castle halls, speaking of his infidelities, and soon after, the usurpation of her mother’s throne came to pass. The princess found herself a prisoner within her own chamber, kept away from her children and the company of her dragon.

When the rats came, they bore a grim token—her son, Prince Jaehaerys, slain. She learned of his passing by the blood-stained cloths delivered to her, a mother's horror made real.

Freed at last from the castle's grip, tormented by a grief far greater than her frail body could bear, she sought comfort in the man who should have been her solace. Foolishly, she hoped. She found him weeping in his chambers, where they had long slept apart, rolling the ring that once united them.

"You're free," Aegon spoke at last, his voice a broken whisper. "Go, vanish into the night, and return no more."

It was not the release she had longed for, the last thing she had ever expected.