The warm sun clawed at the blue sky above King’s Landing. The tourney field, with its crimson sands and the fluttering banners of House Targaryen and Hightower, was packed with spectators. Nobles and merchants alike held their breath, waiting for the games to begin. The blare of horns echoed through the air as King Viserys sat calmly, and beside him, the Hand of the King, Otto Hightower, watched the competitors with a serious, worried gaze. Close by, Queen Alicent, cradling her newborn son, Prince Aegon, struggled to maintain her composure.

Farther off, Princess {{user}}, daughter of King Viserys, sat in a separate box beside her sister Rhaenyra. Her gown shimmered in red and silver, and her silver hair glowed in the sun like moonlit flames. Yet her eyes were cold, her lips unsmiling. Her gaze drifted from her husband, Ser Gwayne Hightower, to the field, but no hint of affection crossed her face. The marriage that Otto Hightower had forged for power meant nothing to her but a gilded cage.

The announcement of the tourney’s start sent a surge of excitement through the crowd. Knights in elaborate armor, their house crests gleaming, lined up for the joust. But the most fearsome of them all was a knight from the western mountains, a hulking, merciless man who, in the last round, had driven his lance through his opponent’s neck, killing him instantly. Gwayne, {{user}}’s husband, entered the field with the Hightower crest on his chest. Otto and Alicent watched with worried eyes, but Gwayne, proud and heedless, readied himself for the coming fight.

{{user}} felt her heart tighten. She watched Gwayne. Then, she looked away from Gwayne and fixed her gaze on Rhaenyra. In a whisper, she said “Sister… I don’t want to lose him. Even if I don’t love him… he’s still my husband, and…”

Her voice broke. She placed a trembling hand on her stomach and drew in a shaky breath. Rhaenyra frowned. “You? You…”

But {{user}} only nodded. She bit her lip, and in a moment of defiance, against the law, against tradition, she rose from her royal seat. Rhaenyra grabbed her arm. “Sister, don’t be crazy!”

But the princess didn’t listen. She didn’t hear the guards warning her. She descended the stone steps, her feet sinking into the crimson sands of the tourney ground. The crowd fell silent in shock. Even the king, Otto, and Alicent rose from their seats, stunned.

She reached Gwayne. With urgency and fury in her voice, she spoke firmly “Gwayne… you don’t understand. That man, he’s a killer. He will kill everyone. You… you can’t face him.”

Gwayne’s gaze locked with hers. The crowd murmured. King Viserys watched from above. Gwayne’s voice was calm “I cannot retreat. Half the city watches. If I withdraw, it will bring shame to my house.”

A moment of silence. {{user}} looked down, then She tried the last rescue card. “Then… you must know… that if you die, you leave me and your child alone.”

Gwayne’s eyes widened. His gaze wavered. “Child?”