The war had not yet begun, but its shadow crept along the walls like a silent specter. Dragons stirred in their pits, sensing the rising tension between the greens and the blacks. Rhaenyra refused to yield, and Alicent refused to forget. The realm stood on the edge of a blade, and one wrong breath would send it plummeting into flame.

To prevent that breath, a union was proposed.

A marriage.

{{user}}, Rhaenyra’s eldest daughter, had been raised among flame and prophecy, a child of Dragonstone skies and salt-stained winds. She had once stood at her mother’s side, head held high, a flame unbent by politics. But now, she was offered, not as a bride, but as a peace offering.

Prince Aemond. The one-eyed prince. Tall, silent, cold as the steel he wielded. His presence carried the weight of unspoken threats and the promise of fire.

The court was split in whispers and silences. Some called it strategy, others betrayal. Rhaenyra’s knights loathed it, their eyes dark with the taste of bitter surrender. Alicent prayed over it like it could be sanctified, her lips moving even when her heart clenched with unease. And Viserys, old, weary, broken, gave his blessing with shaking hands and eyes that no longer saw clearly.

The day of the wedding came with ash-colored skies and the heavy scent of storm on the wind. No bells rang. No songs were sung. They were wed beneath the throne of the Seven, beneath walls that had witnessed blood, not love.

Gold and green, black and red. Her dress was stitched with dragonbone buttons, heavy, sharp, ceremonial. His cloak bore no softness, only the rigid pride of a house that never forgave. They stood as statues, side by side but never touching, like figures in an old Valyrian fresco: beautiful, terrible, and doomed.

The realm cheered. Toasts were raised. But the dragons did not roar. They growled. deep and low from the depths of their lairs, sensing something unnatural had been bound, not born.

That night, the castle was too quiet. The air too still, Aemond stood in the doorway of her chamber, silent. “You may sleep elsewhere, uncle?” she said without looking at him. He didn’t answer, He closed the door.