The Greens’ attempt to seize the throne did not last. The Blacks crushed them swiftly—and with them, your house began to crumble.

Your family had pledged their swords to Aegon, and for that, they were nearly wiped from history. King’s Landing became a city of shadows, the Kingsguard hunting down every soul who had sided with the defeated.

You avoided the dungeons, but not the dread. Yet still, you walked the streets draped in your house’s colors, defiance stitched into every thread. Perhaps that was what caught the Lord Commander’s eye.

One night, as their blades chased you through the alleys, you found sanctuary in the Sept—where steel could not touch you. But it was there the Rogue Prince found you instead.

His gaze was a chasm, and something primal in you recoiled. He saw it. And in his eyes, there flickered something between contempt and hunger.

You slipped away that time, but luck is a fickle thing. He was always there, lurking, as if you were the only prey worth his time. A cat toying with a mouse. You thought he’d drag you to the square, that it would end with a headsman’s axe... but fate had other designs.

"Choose me or the fire," he growled, his breath hot against your neck. His hands hard as iron clenched your dress, tearing at the seams. Behind him, his dragon’s breath scorched the stones beneath your feet, its heat a reminder: time was running out.

It was a choice, but not an escape.