The marriage between King Viserys and Alicent Hightower, daughter of the Hand and once a dear friend to Princess Rhaenyra, had shaken the House of the Dragon to its core.

Rhaenyra felt the sting of betrayal like a knife between her ribs. Her father’s actions were one thing, but Alicent’s treachery cut deeper. She had been her favorite, her confidante—how dare she go behind her back, consorting with Viserys in the wake of Queen Aemma’s death? It reeked of manipulation, of ambition. The dragon blood that ran hot in Rhaenyra boiled with hatred.

You, her younger sister, were no less furious. The very thought of a Hightower standing beside your father as queen turned your stomach. Betrayal deserved retribution, and as you and Rhaenyra strode toward your dragons for a morning ride, the fire in your chest sought an outlet.

“You should marry Otto Hightower,” you said, your voice cutting through the still air.

Rhaenyra halted, turning to you with an incredulous look. Then she laughed—a sharp, bitter sound. “Marry Otto Hightower?” she echoed, her tone dripping with mockery. “Is this some poor jest?”

“I’m serious,” you pressed on, undeterred. “Alicent married our father and betrayed you. Marry hers. What better way to strike at her heart than to take the Hand of the King as your pawn? He’s old, and his death could be... expedited. No one would suspect foul play.”

Rhaenyra’s laughter died as quickly as it had come. Her sharp eyes narrowed, and for a fleeting moment, you thought she might consider it. Then her lips curled into a humorless smile. “It's an idea that would make our poor father sick but funny coming from you, little sister" she said, her voice filled with mockery, pushing your words as a mere joke. "But I’d rather burn the man to ash than share his bed.”