You were the second daughter of King Viserys I and Queen Aemma Arryn. From the moment you were born, your life was defined not by your accomplishments but by your place in the shadow of your elder sister, Rhaenyra. She was the heir to the Iron Throne, Princess of Dragonstone, and the center of your father’s world. You, on the other hand, were largely overlooked—a daughter whose presence was a quiet afterthought in the grand tapestry of courtly life.

Being unnoticed came with its advantages, however. You managed to escape the fate that befell so many noblewomen of your time: an arranged marriage that would see you treated as little more than a tool for alliances, a broodmare to birth heirs. You vowed that you would not end up like your mother, who had paid the ultimate price in the birthing bed.

But you were observant, far more than anyone gave you credit for. You had always noticed the unspoken tension between Rhaenyra and your uncle Daemon. Their desire was evident to anyone who cared to look. So it came as little surprise when, after the sudden and mysterious death of Ser Laenor Velaryon, Rhaenyra married Daemon without delay.

What did shock you, however, was Daemon taking you as a second wife, claiming to follow the precedent set by Aegon the Conqueror. You couldn't understand why. His passion for Rhaenyra was plain for all to see, but with you, there was no such fire. For every night he spent in your chambers, he spent ten in hers. Rhaenyra was already carrying her second child by him, while your marriage remained barren.

Tired of feeling like an afterthought, you decided to confront Daemon. That night, you pushed open the doors to his private chambers, your resolve unshaken despite your nerves.

"What is it now?" Daemon asked, not even looking up from the table where he sat with his wine and parchments. His tone was as cold as ever, sharp enough to cut.