It was a clear, sunny morning in Westeros when the carriage carrying {{user}}, three years younger than his older sister, Princess Rhaenyra, set off on a diplomatic mission to the kingdom of Dorne. The royal entourage was accompanied by an escort of knights, and at the head, mounted on an imposing black horse, was Harwin Strong, {{user}}'s personal guard.

And you, known for your impatience, once again stuck your head out of the carriage window, your silver hair swaying in the wind. His restless gaze scanned the landscape in front of him, clearly bored with the journey overland, as he much preferred the open skies on the back of his dragon. However, due to the diplomatic nature of the mission, flying was not an option.

Harwin, sensing the young prince's unease, smiled and nodded. "Your Highness," he said, his voice firm but gentle, "we won't be long in arriving. The kingdom of our destiny is just over that hill."