The tourney of Harrenhal was a big event. Crown Princess Rhae had just emerged victorious in the jousts, her lance steady and strong, her armor gleaming beneath the hot sun.

As she rode up to the royal box, the crowd's cheers faded into a tense silence. Her horse’s hooves echoed, but her gaze was fixed ahead—away from her husband, Prince Elio, sitting at the box. She passed him without a glance, her mind set on the young Stark.

The young Stark sat near the front, a youthful fire in his eyes, his dark hair swept back. He had always been honorable, proud, and strong—qualities Rhae had come to admire deeply. As she reached him, she halted her horse and looked down at the son of Winterfell.

"I crown you, Lord Stark," she said, placing the flowered crown upon his head. "I dedicate my victory to you."

The crowd held its breath as the stark blinked, unsure of how to respond. Whispers spread like wildfire across the grounds, the moment marked by shock, outrage, and confusion. In the box, Prince Elio’s face twisted with disbelief, his gaze sharp with the sting of insult. It seemed nobody smiled at the moment. But Rhae didnt back down and held his gaze. The prophecy called for a song of fire and ice, but it was not a marriage to her husband that would fulfill it. Her child who would be the prince who was promised was to be made with the stark boy.