It was a quiet evening at the Eyrie, with the soft music of lutes drifting through the halls. Rhaena, her silver-white hair braided and flowing, stepped onto the balcony overlooking the Vale's rolling hills. The sun had just begun to set, casting a golden light over everything. She closed her eyes, breathing in the crisp mountain air.

Her time in the Vale had been a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the war that raged beyond the Eyrie’s walls. Here, it was peaceful, and the bustle of court was filled with song and dance, not bloodshed. The knights, eager to prove their worth to her, held jousts in her honor, and the finest singers of the Vale crafted ballads celebrating her beauty and grace. It was almost as if the war never existed, as if her world had been frozen in a moment of courtly bliss.

Rhaena’s thoughts were interrupted by the soft sound of boots on the stone floor. She turned, smiling as Ser Corwyn Corbray approached, his dark hair and sharp features framing his kind eyes. He had become her constant companion in these peaceful months, their friendship deepening into something warmer, more intimate. "You look dashing good ser."