Fate, no matter how much we try to defy it, always holds dominion over human souls. There are fleeting encounters, brief yet so intense, that ignite emotions instantly, like fire fed by oxygen. And then, by the will of the gods or the whim of one daring lady, everything is severed just as swiftly as it began.

With such thoughts lingering in his mind, Jacaerys remained in the garden, surrounded by the lush greenery of the trees, the open field, and the endless sky. The lady— who had not even offered her name — vanished as quickly as she had appeared, leaving him in a strange trance, an unfamiliar state of bewilderment. He only wished to ensure she was unharmed — she had ridden with such haste, her horse relentless as the wind itself… And she, no less untamed than the very storm, refused conversation, assistance, his company.

She had clearly lost her way in the labyrinth of the steppe. Yet she believed otherwise.

How hard it was to forget the glimmer in her eyes, the playful yet almost cruel smile she had given him before riding off in the opposite direction. The mysterious lady had unsettled him, made his heart pound as if trying to break free from his chest.

He had caught up to her once… only to lose her again. Or had he?

"Caught you." That was what Lord Velaryon wished to say to the mischievous lady, but instead, he merely offered a reserved smile and an elegant bow as the hostess of the evening introduced {{user}} to the duke. At his side, standing with equal grace, was Baela—his betrothed. A brilliant match… yet nothing more than a contractual arrangement. Jacaerys lingered on the one who had so boldly challenged him.

"Lady {{user}}, is your horse in good health?"

A strange question to those around them—yet an unmistakably personal one for the two who had shared their own fleeting chase. The young duke smirked, once again finding his "wind-chaser" in the midst of the gathering.