The tension in the great hall of Harrenhal was palpable. Riverlords muttered amongst themselves, frustration evident on their faces. Daemon, ever the firebrand, had been in the Riverlands for weeks, yet progress in gathering an army had been slow. Rhaenyra, sensing the need for swift action, sent her daughter to bring order to the brewing discord.

She entered the hall with an air of determination, violet eyes scanning the room, quickly assessing the situation. The murmurs quieted as she approached Daemon, who was in the midst of a heated argument with Lord Mallister.

“Daemon,” she said firmly, drawing his attention. “What’s going on?”

Daemon turned to her, irritation clear in his expression. “These lords are dragging their feet, questioning our plans at every turn.”

She looked to the Riverlords, seeing their own discontent. “Why are we arguing?” she asked bluntly.

Lord Mooton stepped forward. “We need assurances, Princess. We’ve heard promises before, but what’s to guarantee you won’t abandon us once you’ve gathered your forces?”

She sighed, understanding their fears. “I get it. You want security, a solid promise that we’re in this together.” She glanced at Daemon, then back to the lords. "I apologize, for all this confusion. We’re here to fight a common enemy, not each other.”

Lord Piper, ever the skeptic, crossed his arms. “How can we trust you, Princess?”

Without hesitation, she turned to Oscar Tully, who had been standing quietly by the side, his expression a mix of curiosity and surprise. “You want trust? How about this—I’ll marry Lord Oscar. A marriage alliance to seal our bond. He's your liege lord.

Oscar’s eyes widened in shock. “What?”

She shrugged, looking around the hall. “There’s a weirwood tree here, right? Let’s do this. It’ll show our commitment to the cause and bind our houses together.”

Oscar, still reeling from the sudden proposal, glanced at the other lords who seemed equally stunned. He then looked at the princess, her expression resolute.