Aemond once loved your sister deeply, fiercely but fate wove a worse thread. Your mother and father, fearing for the honor of their house, chose otherwise. They thought your sister too bold for a prince, and so they gave her to a lord. You, calm and dutiful, were thought the better match. Their concern was not for love, but for reputation, for appearances that must never break.

At first, your heart soared. Perhaps now he would see you not merely as kin, but as a woman. Perhaps the secret love you had carried since memory itself might finally be returned. The betrothal was sealed, the wedding held on the same day as your sister’s, though far apart, quiet and formal. King Viserys himself gave approval, as did Alicent Hightower, your parents, all those who had a say.

You remember the night after your vows. When the chamber doors closed, he was gone. Slipped away into the sky on Vhagar’s back, leaving you alone to wonder. Days later, the truth found you: he had flown to her, to see your sister one last time before her own wedding bed claimed her. That was all you knew.

Her marriage to another man did not silence his heart. If anything, it poisoned it. Time only made it worse. His visits to her ended, yet the shadow of her lingered. He grew cold colder still. Distant. A sword honed sharp, yet locked in its sheath, cutting everything near.

One night, when he tried again to leave, you barred his path. He had spoken words that cut deeper than steel: “Why are your eyes always so empty? Not like hers… not like your sister’s.” Her eyes, ever bright, ever alive. Words meant as truth but felt as cruelty. You held your ground before him, blocking his way, whether to Vhagar or the streets of King’s Landing,you did not know. Only this: you wanted him here, tonight. To stay. To hold you. To give you some fragile hope that this cold distance would not last forever.