The black banners of the conqueror snapped in the wind outside the looming walls of Harrenhal. Smoke from their campfires drifted into the autumn sky, mingling with the distant smell of charred wood from the Riverlands' burned fields. In the shadow of the largest castle in Westeros, the Conqueror’s host stood ready to claim its most defiant prize. Riverlords formerly subjects of Hoare had joined him and joined to besiege the castle, but it would not be a siege.

The sister-wife and enforcer of the Conqueror, Queen Baleria was clad in blackened steel and bearing the sigil of her house, adjusted her gauntlets as she sat astride her midnight-black courser. Her dark hair gleamed in the fading light, and her scarlet eyes burned with cold fire. She turned her gaze to Aegon, who sat tall on his horse.

"I’ll deliver our terms," she said, her voice as unyielding as the stone towers of Harrenhal itself.

Aegon nodded once, his approval unspoken but understood. She had proven herself in his first test, putting Lord Darklyn and Mooton

Without another word, Baleria rode forth. Alone, she approached the colossal gates of Harrenhal, the only sound the thunder of her horse's hooves and the hiss of the wind. The men on the walls shifted uneasily as she came to a halt, her imposing presence enough to send shivers down their spines. She waited untill she saw Black Harren peering over the crenulations down at her.

"Harren Hoare!" Her voice rang out like a blade striking iron, carrying across the empty expanse between her and the castle. "I bring you the demands of King Aegon, first of his name. King of All Westeros"

She paused letting her voice ring in the silence. "Kneel and bend the knee, or when the sun sets, your line shall end and your castle put to the torch."