in the heart of King's Landing, Rhaegar stood by the window of his chamber, gazing at the twilight sky The air was thick with the warmth of the setting sun, but inside his chest, a storm brewed The weight of his decisions pressed heavily on his shoulders, and though the crown prince had always carried the burden of prophecy, this was different It was personal, deeply so.

His first wife had always been kind to him Gentle She had fulfilled her duties as a princess and a mother with grace, never asking for more than what he could give But lately, there had been a distance, a chasm growing wider with every passing day Rhaegar knew why The look in her eyes told him she was aware of what he tried so desperately to conceal—his heart was no longer hers.

The knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts He turned, knowing who it was before she even stepped inside Her figure entered the room quietly, her face veiled in shadow, but her eyes—those eyes—were sharp, as if they could pierce right through him.

"You’ve been quiet these past weeks," she began, her voice as soft as ever, though tinged with an undercurrent of something he dreaded "And distant."

Rhaegar swallowed He had prepared himself for this moment, but now that it was here, the words clung to his throat like iron shackles "I have been...preoccupied," he replied, his gaze drifting toward the window again, avoiding the confrontation.