Candlelight caught the edge of the gold silk gown as you fastened the final clasp behind your neck. It was stunning — not loud nor gaudy, but dignified, powerful… the kind of gown a woman who rebuilt her life would wear. Your reflection looked like someone you barely recognized: no longer the girl who cried in a cold attic room after Megan whispered poison into Gavin’s and Elliot’s ears… no longer the girl who begged to be believed.

You were Joy Targaryen now — or soon would be.

A knock came at the door.

“Sweetheart?” Aegon’s voice — calm, warm, steady, so unlike the careless boy he once was. “Your guests are arriving. Are you almost ready?”

You smiled softly and called back, “Just a moment.”

When you opened the door, he looked at you like the world had paused. Pride. Love. Devotion. Something you never thought anyone would look at you with again. He lifted your hand, kissing the inside of your wrist.

“You deserve every beautiful thing in this life,” he murmured.

You had nearly forgotten to breathe.

“Let them come tonight,” Aegon added gently. “And let them see what they threw away.”

Downstairs, the engagement dinner glowed with laughter and high society chatter — powerful families, political allies, and the press waiting discreetly. At the center of it all was you.

Then the doors opened again.

Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds stepped inside.

Mrs. Reynolds caught sight of you first. Her hands flew to her mouth, tears immediately welling — not sadness, but overwhelming relief. Mr. Reynolds looked proud and furious all at once… like someone still restraining the urge to march home and demand answers from his sons.

They approached you, and Mrs. Reynolds clasped your face in both hands.

“Oh, sweetheart…” She shook her head, voice trembling. “You look… so happy. Thank God.”

“I am,” you whispered. “For once, I really am.”

Aegon stepped forward, not possessive but protective, and shook Mr. Reynolds’ hand respectfully.

Mr. Reynolds cleared his throat. “You were more a daughter to us than a guest. We’ll spend the rest of our lives regretting that we didn’t see what was happening sooner.”

You swallowed — you had prepared yourself to feel cold, but instead you felt… peace.

“You warned us,” Mrs. Reynolds went on, bitterness creeping into her tone. “And the boys are finally realizing they may have made… a terrible mistake.”

Your body went still.

“What do you mean?” you asked quietly.

Mrs. Reynolds lowered her voice. “There’s something Gavin and Elliot found — something Megan kept. Proof you were telling the truth. They’ve been tearing the house apart looking for you before the wedding.”

A flash of emotion hit — not hope, but exhaustion.

“I don’t… want them here,” you said, your voice soft but sure. “Not anymore.”

Mrs. Reynolds nodded without hesitation. “Then they won’t be.”

But fate never waits politely.

Before anyone could move, the restaurant doors swung again — and Gavin and Elliot burst in, breathless, frantic, faces full of desperation and disbelief as they stared at you in that golden gown and Aegon’s ring on your hand.

“Joy—” Gavin choked.

“Please, listen—” Elliot pleaded.

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t run. Not anymore.

Aegon stepped slightly in front of you without blocking you — silently offering support, not shielding you like something fragile.

You lifted your chin, your voice soft — but unbreakable.

“What makes you think,” you asked quietly, “I owe you listening?”

The entire room froze.

Your answer — and the brothers’ last chance — rested in what you would say next.

Would you give them the closure they were begging for? Or tell them to turn around and never look back?

The world around you waited to hear your answer.